Down the hall, I walk into the laundry room to see the ironing board is already set up with the iron turned on.

Damn. The woman has a sixth sense, I swear, and it goes way beyond that “mom sense” she tries to claim. She’s a fucking psychic.

I press the shirt until there isn’t a crease in sight and put it on. I do up the buttons and roll my sleeves up to my elbows, the tree tattoo curving around my wrist and snaking up my forearm exposed. Running back upstairs, I reach to grab my stuff from the nightstand, but I catch my reflection in the mirror.

My arms don’t fill out this shirt.

And . . . shit. I don’t wanna be the guy that works out before the date, but hot damn, Mom just verbally shoved my balls back up into my gut, so a workout it is. I unbutton my shirt and throw it on my bed then drop to the floor. I get into push-up position and drop my body, doing ten in quick succession. Glimpses of my reflection in the mirror show tensed muscles. Then, I grab the shirt and put it back on. This time it’s much-better-fitting around my arms, so I grab my stuff before I go back down and all but run out of the house to avoid any more awkward run-ins with my family.

The last thing I need is another once-over from my mom.

I have got to get my own apartment.

I drive across town, doing my best to ignore the black car that came into view just behind me almost as soon as I left my house. Looks like Ella followed Marc’s instructions and tipped off the media about tonight’s date.

My stomach twists as I turn off Main Street and make it through the intersection just before the light goes red. The black car gets stuck behind it, and my lips tug up into a smile. I’m fucking delighted about it, and my laughter continues as I pull up outside Jessie’s house and jump out, leaving the truck still running.

The front door to her house opens and a girl’s voice rings out “Screw you!” before it slams. I hover by the truck, simultaneously hoping the screw you was and wasn’t to me, and wait.

The click click of a pair of high heels sounds, getting louder as they get closer, and I look up as the gate opens.

Her red hair is curled and swept over one shoulder, contrasting with her bright blue dress in the most stunning way. Her eyes are brushed with nothing but mascara, and her lips are as red as her hair, pursed and pouty. Her dress flares at her hips, stopping just above her knees, and as I drag my eyes down farther, I swallow at the sight of the black heels hugging her feet. The same ones I fucked her in, I’d bet anything.

“Are you tryna kill me?” I ask, opening the door of my truck for her.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Right now? No. But don’t push your luck.”

Her feistiness makes me laugh, and I take her hand, helping steady her as she pulls herself up into the truck. “I’m just being a gentleman,” I tell her when she shoots me a suspicious look. “And I’m under orders to make this as believable as possible, so if you see camera flashes, go with it.”

“How very gentlemanly of you,” she retorts dryly, swinging her smooth legs fully in and setting her purse on her lap.

I press my lips to her fingers and wink. “I’m a work in progress, sunshine.” I grin mischievously and walk around to my side, feeling her unamused gaze on me. By the time I get in and pull away, she looks like she wants to torture me by peeling off my skin, layer by layer, and throwing me into a pit of pure vinegar.

I glance at her as I drive through town, but she’s ignoring me. Her eyes are fixed on the side-view mirror. The reflection of the black car fills it, and Jessie purses her lips as she studies it following us.

“Company already. Nice.” The words are dripping with sarcasm.

“You knew what you were getting into when you—”

“Careful how you word the rest of that sentence, rocker boy.”

I smirk. “—decided to fake date me.”

“Yes. Which just happened to coincide with the moment you declared yourself my boyfriend in front of Shelton’s biggest gossips.” She rolls her eyes.

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again. You looked like you were about to lose your shit, and my hero complex kicked in. I can’t help bein’ this alpha.”

Jessie scoffs. “Well, Mr. Hero Complex, not every woman is a damsel in distress. We don’t all need a knight in shining armor to gallop in on his alpha horse and save the day. Some of us are perfectly capable of saving ourselves.”

“Next time I’ll leave you to it.”

“Sure you will. That’s why we’re here at some dumb fancy restaurant. It doesn’t have shit to do with your hero complex. It’s so you can use me for publicity to promote the album you don’t even have songs written for yet.”

Her honesty strikes through me like a knife.

She turns in her seat, finally bringing her eyes to meet mine. Blue and bright and scathing, she glares at me with enough anger to make my balls shrivel up into my gut. “Yeah. You forget I’m friends with your family. You might not listen to them, but I do.”

A hint of vulnerability is running through her voice. It mixes with the truth of her words, and guilt snakes its way through my veins. She’s right—Ella did try to tell me. And I didn’t listen.

Jessie reaches over and puts her hand on the steering wheel as the lights turn red. “You know what? Take me home. I didn’t agree to be your public bitch, Aidan. I didn’t sign up to be your freakin’ publicity stunt. I’m not fancy dresses and high heels and perfectly coiffed hair. I’m Spanx and bare feet and a messy twist on top of my head. I’d much rather slob it out on my sofa than go and impress a ton of people I don’t care about. I’m not the girl your manager wants me to be.”

“Are you wearing Spanx right now?”

“Excuse me?”

I smirk at her squeak and glance at her, a grin threatening when I see her jaw go slack and her eyes widen. “Are you wearing Spanx right now?”

“What does that have to do with you taking me home?”

“Just answer the damn question, Jessica Law,” I demand, seeing the restaurant we’re going to.

“It’s Jessie!” she snaps. “And yes! I am wearing Spanx!”

“Okay.” I pull into the parking lot. “Can you run in those shoes?”

“They’re five inches tall. I can obviously run a marathon.” Amusement glimmers through the annoyance in her eyes, just for a second, and her cheeks twitch as she fights the obvious curving of her lips.

“Trust me.”

Jessie

Trusting Aidan Burke is the very last thing I want to do.

In fact, I can’t think of anything worse. It’s akin to having a rusty six-inch nail hammered through my Achilles tendon. But there’s something. . . . There’s something in his voice, an understanding softness laced with gentle laughter that makes me want to trust him. Just for tonight—for right now.

Would it hurt, really? Would trusting him right now really kill me?

And it’s not like I don’t have weapons on my person. Stilettos can be lethal.

“Okay . . .” I say slowly as he pulls into an empty parking space. “What are you thinking?”

He grabs my headrest and twists his body, looking out the back window. Involuntarily, my eyes drop to the tattoo curving around his forearm. The pine trees stretch up, the black ink standing out against his lightly tanned skin, and I can’t stop myself from tracing every minute detail of the branches that stretch out and envelop his lower arm.

“Let’s go.” He yanks his keys from the ignition and shoves his door open, jumping out and running to open mine before I’ve even registered his words or movements. “That doesn’t mean sit there like a lobster waiting to be boiled, Jessie.”

“Shut your face!” I laugh, unbuckling my seat belt and swinging my legs around the seat.