found a modicum of relaxation and decided to shower. Once she came out, she checked her phone, surprised to see a call from Jaxon, and her stomach twisted with, dare she admit it, excitement? Despite the infamy, she liked the man, dammit.
When she tapped the play button, the rough sound of his voice caused tremors of awareness throughout her body.
“Hi, Macy. I’m calling to check on you again. Call me back this time.”
She stood in the bathroom, towel wrapped around her body, Jaxon’s cell number just waiting for her to use. Before she could chicken out, she dialed his private number.
“Hi,” she said, trying not to sound breathless, husky, or any other sexy adjective she could think of. Just returning the call of a friend, not the man she’d slept with.
“Hey. How are you?” he asked.
“Oh, just the center of attention everywhere I go,” she joked. Sort of. Today had been an easy day recognition-wise.
Of course, his groan sounded sexy. “Shit. I’m sorry. I hope it’s just a nuisance? Because it’ll blow over.”
She stared down at her nails and decided to tell him. “I don’t think so. I was served with custody papers today. Apparently I’m an unfit guardian.”
“Dammit.” He paused and the silence grew between them.
“It’s not your fault,” she said, knowing from Bri he’d been read the riot act by Austin, even though they all agreed he hadn’t done anything wrong being in his own driveway. It was the accumulation of issues that was Jaxon’s problem.
“I can’t help feeling responsible. How about we meet at an out-of-the-way place and talk?” he asked.
She glanced down at the towel and then in the mirror at her wet hair. “I need about an hour,” she said, figuring that included travel time. “Text me where and I’ll see you there.”
“Sounds good. And Macy?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry to drag you into my mess.”
She smiled at that. “As I recall, I went willingly.”
He was laughing as he ended the call.
Chapter Four
Jaxon waited for Macy at Central Ave., a bar and grill he frequented but one that was dark, with a bartender who’d kick anyone’s ass if they bothered a customer. Famous or otherwise.
“Hey, Beckett. I’ll have a Bud Light.” Jaxon spoke to the owner and bartender he’d known for years.
“You got it.” Beckett reached for a beer and popped the top, sliding the bottle across the counter.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“You already know, don’t you? You watch TNZ along with the rest of America.” That photo of him and Macy hadn’t just gone viral, every entertainment, social media, and television show had picked it up, probably because she was a fresh face and someone to speculate about.
“True but it’s my job to get you talking,” said the man who was as much a friend as a bartender.
About a decade older than Jaxon, Beckett Halstead had inherited the bar from his father and knew every customer who came through the door.
Jaxon didn’t want to go through a woe-is-me story. He’d already dragged a good person down with him. Hearing that Macy had a serious custody issue on her hands had him feeling extra guilty. He had no doubt that photo had provided the ammunition her stepmother needed to go ahead with her threat. “I really don’t feel like talking.”
Beckett nodded as he wiped down the bar with a rag. “Okay, well, just know this. As soon as the next big story hits, you’ll be yesterday’s news. You just need to ride it out.”
If only it were that simple.
Jaxon scrolled through the social media on his phone, getting lost in other people’s curated lives, when he sensed someone slide into the chair beside him, looking exhausted. No less pretty but pale, tired, and wiped out.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m just going to eat a quiet meal, head back home, and crash until Hannah gets home from school.” She let out a tired sigh that sounded exactly like how he felt.
“Well, you need to have something.” He gestured to Beckett. “Get the lady a…”
“Club soda,” she said. “I really can’t drink. The last thing I need is to have a problem driving home or for my sister to smell alcohol on my breath.”
“Club soda and your lunch on me,” Jaxon confirmed with the bartender.
She propped an arm on the bar. “Is this you being charming?” She swung her legs around to his side of the stool, turning toward him.
He grinned. “It’s me being a friend.” It was his way of reaffirming their