Fall (VIP 3)

“Unexpected,” Whip says before coughing “manwhore” under his breath.

I flip him off, then pin Scottie with a look. “The last woman I touched was …” I grimace.

“Ms. STD Panties?” Rye supplies.

Both Sophie and Brenna flick his ears.

“Hey!”

“Don’t shame her like that,” Sophie says. “Not with the way you go carousing.”

“Amen,” Brenna says.

Rye scowls and rubs his ears. “Can we stick to Jax’s problem?”

Brenna shoots him a repressive look but then turns serious. “We were thinking that if you were in a relationship …” Her gaze darts to Stella. “Something serious that conveys you’ve settled down.”

I jerk upright, my hand sliding from Stella’s chair. “Brenna …”

She ignores my warning. “Stella, I know this is a lot to ask—”

Alarm races up my spine. “Hold on one—”

“But would you consider posing as Jax’s girlfriend for a couple of weeks? We’d pay well.”

“Are you off your fucking nut?” I shout, pushing back from the table. The chair teeters behind me. “I just got Stella to forgive me for calling her an escort, and here you are asking her to play girlfriend for hire?”

I’m so pissed I can barely see straight. “Bloody, fucking … I am not some broken pot you need to glue back together. You don’t fix me. You had no right to trample in here and—”

“John.” Stella grabs my hand and squeezes it. From the way she says my name, I’m thinking she’s called it a few times.

The entire table is silent, my mates staring up at me with varying expressions of discomfort or shock. All but Stella, who gives me a wane smile. “It’s okay,” she says. “I know this wasn’t your idea.”

“You bet your sweet arse it wasn’t,” I snap, still shaken, then let out a breath. “Button, I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t be. They’re only trying to help.” She’s still holding my hand, and I thread my fingers through hers as I sit back down. Stella glances at a grim-faced Scottie and a pissy Brenna. “I can do it.”

“No,” I cut in, barely keeping my voice level. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Stella’s eyes narrow. “You need a girlfriend. I am a professional. We both know that.”

It’s a kick to the cods, honestly. Though part of me wants to laugh—after all, I’d tried to hire her less than a week ago. Only I don’t particularly find this funny. It hurts.

“Excuse us for a moment,” I say to my friends, my eyes on Stella. I hold onto her hand firmly and lead her out to the terrace. She stomps along behind me, obviously expecting a fight. Just as well, since she’s going to get one.

Chapter Seventeen

Stella

* * *

John in a true temper is a sight. From what I know of him, he’s either the easygoing “you do you” rocker or, if he’s in a mood, a smarmy ass. But this is different. His lean body is practically vibrating, all those ropy muscles pulled tight and standing out against his golden skin as he strides out onto the terrace and rounds on me.

Green fire lights his eyes. “What the hell, Stella?”

The lack of a nickname feels like a punishment. And how messed up is that? I slide the glass door shut because I’m not having this conversation with his friends listening on. “Why are you opposed to this? Not a week ago, you wanted the same thing they’re asking of me.”

High color works over his cheeks. “I admitted that it was a stupid, dickhead thing to suggest.” He takes an agitated step in my direction. “What I can’t understand is why you’d agree now when it clearly upset you before.”

I shrug. “You didn’t need me before. Now you do.”

“You’re wrong if you think I didn’t need you before.”

The look in his eyes has my pulse kicking up. “But you don’t now? Now, when you need to be seen with a girlfriend. I don’t understand you.”

How can he not get that I want to help him? Out of all the people in my life, I want to help him most of all. And he won’t let me.

John rakes a hand over his hair. “I don’t want to be another asshole who employs your services.”

“They aren’t assholes, John. It’s my job. One that I like.” Or used to. Now, I’m not so sure.

He frowns off into the distance. “Maybe they’re not at first. But the ones who want to keep the friendship and the payment?” His gaze collides with mine. “You were right, you deserve more. Don’t you forget that.”

“I’m not forgetting it,” I say, throwing up a hand in frustration. “You need to be seen steadily with someone. I can do that for you.”

“Can you?” he snaps, his nostrils flaring.

“Yes,” I snap back. “Again, what the hell is your problem?”

He takes another step. “Two hours ago, I had your tits in my hand and my tongue down your throat—”