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She perks up instantly. “Oh! Hold on, he’s been expecting your call.”
There’s a rattle of metal and what sounds like people shouting orders. Eventually that familiar voice picks up. “Journey. I’m glad you called.”
Jay’s voice is warm butter. My shoulders relax.
“Me too.”
“How was the interview?”
I sigh. “Interesting. How about I tell you everything over dinner?”
He must have moved into another room because there’s no more rattling or shouting. “How about right now?”
“Now?” I ask. “But you sound like you’re pretty busy at work.”
He clears his throat. “I…uh…make my own hours. I’m taking you to lunch right now.”
I hesitate. “You don’t have to do that. I can wait until tonight. Maybe I’ll go to the JFK Assassination Museum, or find a mall to window-shop. I’ve never been to Dallas before.”
Jay snorts. “Window-shop?”
“Or I can take a nap at my hotel.”
“Where are you staying?”
I tell him the name of the crappy motel I’m staying at in Plano, and he makes a choking sound. “Hell no, you’re not going back there. Where are you right now?”
“I’m outside the Rushmore Hotel in a little pedestrian plaza by the fountain,” I tell him.
“I’ll be there in five; hold tight.”
His words are assertive and commanding, sending a tiny spark down my spine, landing somewhere between my legs. My panties are starting to feel sweaty, and it’s only 79 degrees Fahrenheit, according to the sign at the bank across the plaza.
And so I wait, wondering if he knows what he sounds like when he says I’m simply not returning to my hotel. He means just for the moment. But the way he said it could make a girl think he’s never letting me go back there, ever.
Don’t I wish.
Right at the five-minute mark, a huge luxury SUV pulls up to the curb in front of me. I’m confused at first, because Jay is not behind the wheel. Then, the back door opens, and Jay exits the vehicle, his long legs loping toward me as I stand at the fountain.
Asking why he takes a bus when he can afford an Uber Black would be rude.
“Hi,” I say, hoping I’m not smiling too big. After that interview with Chef Richard, Jay is quite a sight for sore eyes. “It’s nice to see a friendly face again so soon. Are you sure you’re not too busy?” I ask.
“Friendly” might not be the best word to describe the face Jay is making right now. He exudes sternness and determination, like something is bothering him and he needs to do something about it. With one arm around my waist, Jay sweeps me off the curb and buckles me into the back of the Uber.
He says nothing more until the car pulls away, but he still doesn’t answer my question.
“How does sushi sound?” Jay asks, tapping away at the ride app.
My stomach rumbles. I laugh, “I think you have your answer to that.”
He stuffs his phone into his pocket and looks up at me, his arm resting on the back of the seat. Jay’s body is pivoted toward me, his eyes scanning my face.
“When did you last eat?”
I smile. “Breakfast. This morning. With you. Remember?”
Jay glowers at me humorlessly.
