The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 591

She accepted the call, instantly met with the faint whistle of wind and the steady rhythm of a man's breathing. "I'm out front."

Amy's scalp prickled with nervous energy. Her hand shifted from her chest to tightly clutch the lapel of her blazer.

She had only casually asked Petty to mention it; if Jay didn't want to come, it wouldn't have been a big deal, she would have just driven herself to Misty Vale.

But now, he was actually sitting right outside.

Her colleague, having finished packing, turned to her. "Hey, you want to grab lunch nearby before we head back to..."

"I'm covered for lunch! Someone's picking me up. Bye!" Amy blurted out, already sprinting toward the exit in her heels, her bag over her shoulder and her winter coat clutched in her hands.

She rushed down the front steps.

She instantly spotted the sleek black car idling by the curb. All the windows were down, and Jay's striking profile was impossible to miss.

As she approached the curb, three of the car's windows hummed upward, leaving only the passenger side rolled down.

Jay turned his head slightly to look at her. "Get in."

Fighting to keep her breathing steady and her face cool, Amy reached for the passenger door handle. But the exact second his gaze landed on her, she forced herself to look away, tipping her chin up stubbornly. "Thanks for the ride."

Just as she was about to slide into the front seat, a thought struck her. She couldn't look desperate. He'd told her multiple times that they weren't a match, that she wasn't his type. She couldn't let him think she was throwing herself at him.

Slam. She shut the passenger door with a sharp click, took a step back, and yanked open the rear door instead.

Jay sat motionless, one hand draped over the steering wheel, the other resting lightly on the handbrake. The moment the passenger door slammed shut, his long, sculpted fingers slowly curled into a tight grip over the leather brake handle.

Amy slid into the seat directly behind the driver. She was a woman who valued her life, and she'd read somewhere that behind the driver was the safest spot in a car crash.

Feigning absolute nonchalance, her eyes drifted to the hand gripping the brake.

Damn, she cursed internally. Even his hands are ridiculously gorgeous. I want to hold it.

The entire drive to the estate passed in suffocating silence.

Amy spent the trip boring holes into the back of Jay's head, mentally drawing angry little circles. What was this man's problem?

"Yeah," she replied without looking up. "I had it when I got in. Where could it have vanished to?"

Without a word, Jay pulled out his own phone, tapped his recent calls, and dialed her number.

A second later, the upbeat intro of an English pop song echoed through the cabin.

Amy traced the sound.

Somehow, her phone had slipped into the narrow storage pocket on the interior of the rear door. She'd been so busy glaring at Jay the whole ride, she hadn't even noticed it fall.

But before she could reach for it, Jay had already stretched his long arm into the back, plucking the white phone case adorned with pink polka dots out of the slot.

Suddenly realizing who was calling her, a cold spike of horror shot through Amy's skull. "Put it down!" she shrieked.

It was too late. He hadn't ended the call.

Glaring right up at him from the brightly lit screen was the glowing caller ID: The Man I Can't Conquer.