Beneath the Hood (Sugarlake, #3)

by Emily McIntire

Alina May Carson, also known as Lee. The sweetheart of Sugarlake, and my best friend for the past decade. I’ve been her sucker since we were kids—when she plopped down in my Mustang Fastback, grabbed my dad’s dog tags and told me “real was beautiful.” The chain dangled by my heart, but her fingers tangled into my soul, and I wish like hell she’d loosen her grip. Realize that I need her to let go. It isn’t fair for her to hold on so tight when she doesn’t let me hold her back.

Sometimes it’s nice to feel wanted, to be the center of someone else’s everything, even temporarily.

Why he gives me a nickname when he won’t give me the time of day is beyond me.

“Be careful, please. You could hurt yourself,” he murmurs next to my ear. Blowing out a shaky exhale, my stomach clenches. “Careful, Jackson. It almost sounds like you care.”

He doesn’t treat me the way everyone else does, and in a world of perfect photos and staged happiness, there’s something intensely gratifying about the realness of his irritation. The rawness of his anger. I like knowing I’m the one who draws out the passion that hides beneath his laid-back charm. The truth is, I’m addicted to Jackson’s hatred.

I’ve tricked the world into thinking I’m somebody, when really, I’m nothing more than what they pay me to be. A walking, talking billboard. But I’m damn good at it.

I can’t give her stories, but I can give her thirty minutes in the stock room closet.

“Babe, who’s this?” Arms slink around my waist, my heart jumping at the voice, my skin sizzling from the touch. Goddamnit. Blakely peers around the side of me, her fingers lightly scratching against my abs, making them tense against her palms. I stare down at her, my brow quirking. She looks at the bartender. “I’d love a water.” The bartender clears her throat, eyes dimming as she straightens and nods. “Sure thing.” I grab Blakely’s hands, intent on pushing them away, but instead my fingers tighten around hers, moving them from around my waist and dragging her until she’s standing in front of me. My hands slide up her arms, goose bumps sprouting underneath my fingertips. My cock is fucking aching, and what the hell am I even doing? Clenching my jaw, I take a step back, dropping my hands. “Cute, babe,” I say. She laughs. “I was doing her a favor. Saving her from those atrocious pickup lines.” My lips twitch, amusement dripping through my chest. “See, that’s your first mistake.” “What is?” Her head tilts to the side. “Thinking I need lines.” My eyes follow her tongue as it peeks out, swiping along her bottom lip. She shrugs. “So maybe I was saving you. Honestly, it was pathetic. She looked like a sacrificial lamb, waiting for the big bad wolf to eat her up.” I lean in until my lips are next to her ear. “Maybe I was hungry.” She sucks in a breath, her supple cleavage brushing against my chest. My heart slams against my ribs as I think of how her tits would feel wrapped ...

“I’m not getting attached. I just… he doesn’t treat me like everyone else.” I shake my head, huffing out a laugh. “He doesn’t even like me. How pathetic is that? The realest person in my life, and he can’t stand the sight of me.” Sierra tsks. “He seems to like the sight of you just fine if that picture’s any indication.”

In my world, consent is an illusion, an act put on for the masses. It’s all fake. And Jackson is just so damn real. But I’m not. And that’s why I know I’m going to agree even before my head starts to nod. Even though there’s a sour taste on the back of my tongue, and a weight pulling down my chest. Because I’ll do anything to rise to the top. To be seen.

He’s my anchor. The only thing keeping me from being lost in tumultuous seas. And even though it makes me weak, I let him keep me steady until I’m able to stand on my own.

“It’s not the place that’s bothering you, Blakely. It’s the thoughts.”

So, I’ll stay in my spot. And I’ll keep coming back, so she isn’t alone. The lighthouse to her darkness, guiding her through the shallow waters.

“Sometimes... you just need to know you aren’t alone.”

I’ve happily been Lee’s shield, protecting her from the impact every time her world crumbled, but if I continue to jump and say how high whenever she comes running, I’ll never move on. And I have to move on. It just sucks I’m losing my best friend in the process, at least temporarily. Maybe one day I’ll be able to hear her voice—look her in the face and not feel my heart fracture from the longing that slices through it. Won’t feel the disappointment wrapping around my chest and sinking into my gut, knowing the guilt in her eyes is because she doesn’t love me back. It isn’t her fault, after all. You can’t choose who your soul aches for. It’s my stupidity that’s to blame. For seeing all the signs and not listening to them. For believing I’d be okay with second best if it meant she was mine for even a moment. For falling while she was busy waiting for someone else.

Chase. It always comes back to Chase. I’m missing her, and he never has to. Not anymore.

“Did you have a purpose for coming in here or are you just hanging around to annoy me?” I bark out a laugh. The audacity of this girl to think that I’m the one annoying her. “That’s cute, princess.” I lean on the reception counter. “So, what are we doing tonight?” Her head cocks as she stops moving. “What makes you think we’re doing anything?” My hand covers my heart. “You don’t want to hang out with me anymore? You’ve been begging for weeks, Blake.” She clicks her tongue. “Guess you didn’t live up to my expectations.” I scoff. “I am extremely offended by that statement.” “Facts don’t care about your feelings.” She smiles. My eyes narrow. “Did you just quote Ben Shapiro to me?” She laughs. “He’s a quotable guy.” My forehead scrunches. “Is he? Give me another one then.” “Bring a bucket and a mop.” I grin. “I’m pretty sure that’s Cardi B.” She lifts a shoulder. “Some might say his best quotes are from her.” Shaking my head, I bite back a chuckle. “Sometimes it’s so hard to forget how young you are.” “Well, maybe you could use a little youth and vitality in your life.” She winks.

“Just so you know, I wasn’t trying.” Her body falters from the steady up and down motion. “Trying at what?” “To meet your expectations.” She sucks in a breath. “Maybe you should.” I smirk. “Be careful what you ask for.” She stops moving entirely, her breasts grazing the edge of her desk. “I know exactly what I’m asking for.”

“Don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry for being real with me. I’m sorry that I brought you here.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “We don’t have to do this, I just thought it would be fun.”

“Can I have Blake back?” I ask. Her brows furrow. “What?” “This” —my free hand gestures toward her body— “isn’t the girl I’ve been with all day. This is the Blakely the rest of the world gets. I don’t have any interest in her.” She flinches, trying to pull away, but my hands reach out and cup her jaw, gripping tight enough to make her stay. “I want the real you, Blake. Let me have her.”

I have no clue what I’m doing. There’s no reasoning to my actions. No thought of what tomorrow will bring, or how we’ll handle what’s inevitably going to come if we decide to be together. Her father. The public. My heart skips at the thought, my stomach jumping into my throat as I realize that’s what I want. I want to be with her. I want to try. Now, I just have to hope she wants that, too.

I never thought he’d want me. Never realized that maybe all the joking and the forward advances were harder to resist than he showed. Now that I know there’s a chance, I can’t help but wonder how we’re supposed to navigate everything. Our lives are polar opposites, both of us having a million different reasons for why we shouldn’t be together. Why we shouldn’t explore these feelings that have come out of nowhere and slapped me upside the head. My dad would kill him. Sierra would kill me. But he also makes me happy. Safe. Grounded. And I don’t have much of that in my life, so I’ll do everything in my power to keep him—even if it has to be in secret.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Not sure what he’ll say or how I’ll react. But for the first time, in as long as I can remember, I think I’m excited for the unknown.

When you’re used to living a certain way, you become accustomed to it, never questioning the things you may be missing.

“I want to know you. Even the parts that hurt.”

“I don’t know her, obviously. And I don’t know what your story is. But if this is hurting...” She taps her fingers against my chest. “I want to be the remedy.”

“What was it like growing up here?” My voice echoes off the high ceilings in the dining room, bouncing around the ten empty chairs at the table. Blakely shrugs, her fingers toying with the edge of the bloodred placemat. “Like anywhere else, I guess.” I snort and she looks up, her eyes sparking. “What?” “Like anywhere else?” I mock, a teasing grin on my face. “That’s a good answer for the cameras.” Her cheeks bloom pink and I lean in, resting my elbows on the table. “Now give me the real one.” Slowly, the mask drops, a dark melancholy filling up her eyes. Her entire body slouches, like she’s finally giving herself permission to show the weight of perfection that rests on her shoulders. She swallows. “Lonely.” I’m not surprised at her answer. My gut sours as I try to imagine a childhood through her eyes. With butlers and nannies and no parents in sight. With bodyguards, and the bitter truth of why they’re needed. My mom and I may not have had much, but we always had each other, and I’m thankful as hell to know that’s what really counts. “And what’s it like now?” I ask. She glances up at me. “Right now?” I nod. “Right now.” Her eyes drill through mine, making my stomach flip and my chest fill with... something. “Like you’re the only person who’s ever given a damn.”

“Do you know what I love about you?” I suck in a breath. “I don’t—” “No?” he interrupts. “Let me show you.” His hands drift up my sides, goose bumps leaving a trail behind them. His palm reaches my face and he cups my jaw. “I love your mouth.” His thumb brushes over my lips, his touch lingering until I’m sure he can feel the heat of my skin blooming underneath his fingers. “Every time you speak, the world quiets so I can listen.” My stomach tightens. His hand moves down, tracing along my neck, his touch branding me with every pass. Emotion swells in my chest and I squeeze my eyes closed. His hand wraps lightly around my throat and my gaze springs open, a flare of desire curling through my insides at the dominance in his position. “I love your eyes,” he continues. “The way they show me all your truths. No one has ever consumed me with a single look, but you...” He blows out a breath. “You fucking wreck me.” I swallow and his grip tightens, making heat pulse between my legs. What is happening? His hand slides slowly from my throat, tracing along the edges of my collarbone. My core contracts. He continues his trek down my arms until his fingers reach mine, twining them together and wrapping them around the front of my waist. “I love your hands. The way they fit so goddamn perfectly in mine.” His fingers weave back and forth between mine, tingles racing up my arms. My knees grow weak from his perusal and I press further into him until the back of my head rests against his ches...

“I love your heart,” he whispers. “I would spend the rest of my life worshiping at your feet, so long as I got to experience every beat.”

“Your worth has nothing to do with how you look, Blake. It has to do with who you are. That’s what makes you beautiful.”

“Don’t hide yourself from me. Let me see you.”

“Karen, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Blakely?” “As long as it takes for you to realize you’re wasting your breath,” she snaps back.

“You can’t miss something you never had.” I lift a shoulder, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “Really?” he chimes in. “Sometimes I think that makes you miss it more.”

“They gave him two options. Go home on hospice and die in peace, or continue to fight and most likely die painfully, bleeding out in a hospital bed.”

“Three months later, my mom packed us up and moved us to Sugarlake, Tennessee.” “And that’s where you met Alina?” She hesitates on her name. “Yep.” I sigh, a small smile crawling on my face. “She pranced on my porch and shoved her mama’s banana bread into my hands. I was a dick to her, because I was just… buried in my grief.” I shrug. “But then a few days later, her neighbor Chase came around. And he, well—Chase saved me from myself, I guess.” The middle of my chest throbs from old wounds that never healed. “I doubt he knows it though.” “How’d he save you?” Blakely asks. “By being the asshole that he was.” I laugh. “He was so damn broody. He didn’t pry, never asked questions. Didn’t push me to deal with things I wasn’t ready to face. But he showed up in my yard every day and sipped on the beer I convinced Sandra from the corner store to buy us, and just kept me company.” I chew on the inside of my cheek. “He gave me friendship when I had nothing and I’ll always be grateful to him for that.”

It’s a heady feeling, having the person who is your pillar of strength be at your mercy.

His brows draw in as he watches me and his hands come up, pushing my hair behind my ears and framing my face. This is his move, I’ve realized. He likes to touch me—likes to grab my face and force my eyes to stay on his. “Are you still with me?” he asks. Nodding, my teeth gnaw on my lip. “Yeah, I just…” I sigh. “I’m a little nervous.” He nods. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.” “No, I’m definitely ready.” “Are you sure?” He tilts his head, his arms wrapping around my waist. A bit of bravado pushes its way forward, his reassurances calming the panic that’s wanting to take root inside of me. I know if I act like I’m unsure, he’ll stop, and I don’t want him to stop. I want to know what it feels like when he lets go completely. Want him to lose himself inside me and never find his way out. Rising up on my toes, my lips skim his ear. “Jackson, if you don’t, I’ll go find someone who will.” His hands tighten around my waist, his grip bruising. He bends, his lips skating along the rim of my ear and sending frissons of excitement tingling down my back. “The only man that will touch anything on you, is me, princess.”

“Do you want to feel me come inside you?” he whispers against my ear. Goose bumps sprout along my overheated skin. “Want me to shoot so deep, you can never get me out?” My stomach tenses. “God, yes. Put your cum in me,” I plead.

“Sometimes I’m happy my mom died before I could know her,” I blurt out. Jackson’s head turns toward mine, his eyebrows raising in question. I huff out a laugh, covering my face. “I know, that sounds terrible. It’s just, I was thinking about what you told me earlier, about your dad, and... I can’t imagine having to go through what you did. Knowing what it’s like to have him and then to lose him, I—” My voice catches, emotion blocking the airways in my throat. He lets out a heavy breath, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “Don’t compare our grief, baby. You don’t have to know something to mourn its absence.”

“I don’t know how anyone could be in your presence and not fall in love with everything that you are.” My heart stalls. “Are you...” I hesitate, my voice wobbly with emotion. “Are you saying you love me?” A slow smile creeps on Jackson’s face, so perfect it makes my chest ache. “Yes, princess.” He presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “I love you. I didn’t know what love was until you.” My heart soars, flying so fast it makes me dizzy. He loves me. Suddenly, a giggle bubbles up my throat and I let it out, delirious from the gamut of emotions I’ve felt in the past few hours. “I love you too, you know.” He smirks. “Oh, I know.” Scoffing, I lift up on my shoulder, peering down at him. “You are so cocky.” He laughs, dragging me down until I’m laying half across his chest. “But you love me.” I grin. “I can’t help it. Turns out, you’re extremely lovable.” He hums, the vibration from his chest skittering across my skin. “You think so?”

“Does this mean you’re mine?” he asks. My hand reaches up, scratching at his stubble. “Only if you’re mine, too.” His face warms and he dips down, pressing our lips together, showing me all the ways he loves me.

I may want to show him to the world, but I don’t want the world to steal him away.

“You once told me I’d find the everything kind of love… that it would knock me on my ass. Do you remember that?” Her eyes gloss over as she nods, her hand coming up to rest on her heart. “Jax, are you tellin’ me you’re in love with this girl?” Something warm and tender fills up my chest. “Yeah, sweetheart. She’s my everything.”

I love him too. I just hope he doesn’t remember how much he loves her.

“Guys grope, B. That’s what they do. Especially when you wear your cute little outfits and prance around on stage with your tits and ass in their face.” My chest burns. “Excuse me? Are you saying it’s my fault he got handsy?” “I’m saying you should know by now what to expect with who you are and the reputation you put out to the public.” She brushes a strand of hair from her forehead. “You’re the one that picks my damn outfits, Sierra!” I shriek, pointing to the racks of clothes. “You think I want to be seen in this shit? I don’t care about any of it. Any of it.” Sierra’s eyes widen and she sits back against the couch cushions, blowing out a slow breath. “Well…” she speaks slowly. “That’s something you should have realized before you chose this career, Blakely. And correct me if I’m wrong, but a few months ago you had zero problems with any of this, and now all of a sudden you don’t care?”

“What are you doing?” Sierra asks, her voice rising in pitch. “Leaving.” “You can’t leave, Blakely, we have tons to do tonight.” “I don’t care, Sierra. You’re spending your time trying to set me up on a date with a sexual harasser and telling me not to be with the man I love, and for what? Because he doesn’t fit some bullshit standard?” “That’s exactly why!” she screeches. “He doesn’t fit the standard, Blakely. Your standard. He’s too old, and too middle-income. It doesn’t look good. It won’t look good. When you started your career you had two choices. Do you remember? You either become someone they can relate to, or someone they wish they could be. And you chose the latter, so guess what, you can’t have everything you want. Because dating some nobody who is almost a decade older than you? That’s not something most people wish for.” My hands reach up and tug on my strands. “This is so stupid.” She shrugs. “It is what it is.” Huffing out a laugh, I try to ignore the Mack truck that’s barreling through my insides going a hundred miles an hour. “Yeah, Sierra. It is what it is. I’m leaving.”

Opening my eyes, I walk over to Kayla, my hand coming up and whipping across her face, the sharp sting of my palm satisfying every single cell in my body. Her head rolls to the side, a surprised gasp leaving her lips. “What the fuck?” she squeals, her hand covering her cheek. I point at her. “That’s for making me think you were someone I could trust.” I turn around, shouldering past Lennox, and slam the door behind me.

How can someone who feels so perfect for me have so many people against us?

“You know, I had the most interesting conversation with Karen the other day. She was convinced that you and Jackson Rhoades were friendlier than what she felt was appropriate.” My breath catches and as I walk toward him my steps are slow, wary of his eerie calmness, not sure what to expect when I reach his side. But out of all the scenarios that raced through my mind, this wasn’t one of them. My stomach plummets, my hands dropping the bag of spinach to the floor as I see what’s on the screen. Pictures. Lots of pictures, all of Jackson and me. Embracing in his car. Holding hands. Kissing on his front porch. “Oh my god,” I breathe. “There’s an article, too, if you’re curious. An anonymous source and a taxi driver, both eager to part with your secrets for what I’m sure was a hefty check.” His voice is cutting and I feel every slice as he knifes lacerations into my chest. “Dad, I—” “How long, Blakely?” “Look, it’s not—” “I asked how long?” His hand smacks the counter. Swallowing thickly, my fists curl into themselves, my eyes glancing down. “Not that long,” I murmur. “Before or after I asked him to watch out for you?” My heart clenches. “After.” His eyes flare. “Did he force you?” “What?” I gasp. “No, Dad, it isn’t like that. I love him.” He laughs, running a hand through his dark locks. “You love him. Of course you do. Well, I hope you can love him from afar because after I’m through with him, he’ll never step foot in California again.” My breath stutters, his words reachin...

“Blakely! Blakely! Do you have anything to say about you and DJ Andelo?” She smiles, her hand looping through his arm, leaning in close like she’s meant to be there. Like it’s him that she fits perfectly with, when I know that it’s really me. “Just that we’re happy, and finally ready to go public. Tell the world.” She gazes up at him, a beaming grin on her lying face. Douchebag smirks down at her, and I want to reach through the screen and cut off his oxygen until I feel the life leave his pathetic body. My heart thrashes under my skin, disbelief pouring through me. Something’s not right. “What do you have to say about the recent pictures of you and Jackson Rhoades?” My heart stalls like a stuck clutch, my breath sticking in my throat as I wait to see what she says. They know who I am. They have pictures. I look closely, searching for a sign, some signal that she’s struggling. That it’s a performance. That she’ll call me later with an explanation. I’m desperate to see something that explains why she’s choosing someone else over me on national television. But there’s nothing. Not a single flinch or counted breath. “Jackson Rhoades is a family friend,” she says. I scoff, nausea curdling in my stomach. “Someone doing my father a favor while he was too busy to watch out for me himself. While I enjoyed his company, there’s nothing else to tell.” She shrugs. “What about the pictures?” another reporter yells out. I hear a gasp to the side of me, the receptionist staring at me w...