Jaked, page 20
"Glad?" he said. "I'm supposed to be fuckin' glad?"
"Jeez, what are you worried about?" My voice grew sarcastic. "That he stole the good silver?"
"You think I give two shits about…?" Jake's eyebrows furrowed. "What the hell is good silver?"
"I don't know," I said. "It's just an expression. I think it means nice silverware."
"Okay, I don't give two shits about silverware."
"Then what is it?" I said. "Cash? Coins? Something else?"
"Not some thing," he said. "Some one."
"Who?"
Jake's voice grew deadly serious. "You."
Chapter 47
I stared up at him. "What are you talking about?"
"The 'thing' that Vince wants to steal," Jake said, "is you."
"Oh stop it," I said. "He does not." I forced out a laugh. "I mean, he already has Bianca, right?" I lowered my voice with mock sincerity. "I think his work here is done."
"You think it's a joke?" Jake said.
"Of course it's a joke. I've met the guy like two times."
"Yeah," he said. "You did. And if you think he's not interested, you're nuts."
"Fine. Then I'm nuts."
"And," Jake said, "he knows you're important to me."
"How would he know anything?"
"He's smart," Jake said. "He knows."
"How?" I repeated.
"He knows me."
"Yeah? Well here's what you need to know," I said. "Vince showed zero interest in me last night."
Jake's gaze met mine. "Right."
"It's true," I said. "I mean, he was friendly. But not friendly-friendly."
"You disappointed?" Jake said.
My jaw dropped. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"The way it sounds," Jake said, "You showed interest in him."
"Get real. I did not."
"Uh-huh."
"Oh come on," I said. "Is this because Bianca said I was 'drooling' over him? Seriously? You're gonna believe her? Over me?"
Jake glanced away. "Forget it."
"No," I said. "I want an answer. Who do you believe? Me? Or Bianca?"
Jake said nothing, and I felt my temper rise. I liked him. I liked him so much, it hurt. And probably, I had always been at least a little in love with him. But enough was enough. Maybe it was time to call my sister for that ride.
Looking for my phone, I turned away.
Jake's voice, quieter now, carried across the small distance. "You," he said.
I didn't bother to look at him. "What?"
"I believe you."
"Yeah. Sure you do." I scanned the nearby bed and spotted my phone on the far pillow.
"Luna," Jake said.
I whirled toward him. "What?"
His dark gaze met mine. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too," I said, turning back toward the bed.
I felt a hand on my elbow. "Just listen," he said.
With a sigh, I turned to face him.
"I'm an asshole," he said. "I know that." He pushed his free hand through his hair. "But do me a favor. Pretend I'm not. Okay?"
I gazed up him. Standing there, he looked so tough and so forlorn, with his muscle-bound body and haunted eyes. I didn't know what to say.
Somehow, I managed to speak. "I don't even know what you mean by that."
He let out a long breath. "I mean," he said, "let's get the hell out of here. Forget Bianca. Forget Vince." His voice softened. "Forget all the stupid shit I said."
Desperately, I wanted to. It would be so nice to hit a rewind button, to go back to this morning – before Bishop, before Bianca, before talking to my sister, and before the Vince thing, whatever it was.
As if sensing my weakness, Jake moved closer. He leaned toward me until our lips might have touched. "Say yes," he said.
I felt myself swallow. I'd like to say yes to a lot of things. I felt the threat of a smile.
He moved a fraction closer. His voice was very quiet. "Come on. Say yes. You know you want to."
He was right. I did want to. But unfair or not, I wanted something in return. "If I forget everything you said, will you forget about me hiding in your closet?"
Finally, his lips brushed mine. "Done."
An hour later, we were strolling through the same mall I'd visited with Bianca. But this time, I was actually having a good time. Okay, a great time.
As we walked from store to store together, I had to laugh. "You know what?" I told him. "I can't believe we're actually at the mall."
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because when I was in high school, this would've been my ultimate fantasy."
He gave me a sideways glance. "Shopping?"
"Actually," I admitted. "It would've been shopping with you."
His eyebrows rose. "So, you wanted to shop with me?"
In truth, I had wanted to do a lot of things with Jake. Some of those things, I had done this morning. And last night too. And if my luck held out, I'd be doing those things again before I slept. Part of me wanted to those things right now, maybe in the back seat of his car, or in some abandoned dressing room.
What was it about Jake that brought out my inner hussy?
I gave him a sheepish smile. "I didn't only want to shop with you."
He grinned over at me. "Yeah?"
The guy way too smug for his own good. "Uh, yeah," I said. "I wanted to do each other's hair too."
The smugness disappeared. "Please tell me you're joking."
Jake had nice hair. It was dark and thick with a mere whisper of a wave. Earlier today, it had drifted through my fingertips like silken magic. I wanted to mess his hair up, not style it, or braid it, or brush it, or color it. But Jake didn't need to know any of that. The way I saw it, a little fear might do him some good.
"And after that," I told him, "I figured we could give each other makeovers and talk about boys."
He stopped walking. "Come here," he said, pulling me close.
Laughing I fell into him, savoring the feel of his strong arms wrapped around my waist. Around us, other shoppers circled past, but I couldn't seem to make myself care.
He leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Lemme tell you something," he said.
"What?"
"If you talk about another 'boy,' someone's going to be very unhappy."
"Really?" I pulled away to blink up at him. "Who?"
Jake gave me a cocky grin. "Him."
With an epic eye-roll, I grabbed his hand and tugged him forward. "That's it," I told him. "We're getting facials too."
In the end, we stuck with shopping. And the more we shopped, the guiltier I felt. My old pair of sorry suitcases had held nearly nothing. And the stuff that had been in those things? It was mostly crap. It was cheap, second-hand, or both.
In contrast, the replacement stuff was expensive, brand-name, and stylish. No matter how many times I tried to steer us toward cheaper stores or at least toward the clearance racks, Jake wouldn't hear a single word of it.
Within a couple of hours, we were loaded down with way too many festive shopping bags filled with everything I'd been missing and then some. There were jeans, sweaters, shirts, pants, skirts, shoes, a couple dresses, and enough lingerie to make me blush, especially when Jake threatened to muscle his way into the dressing room to watch me try it on.
Laughing as he tried to drag me into yet another store, I pulled against him. "No," I said. "Seriously. We need to stop."
"Why?" he said, giving me a gentle tug forward. "You tired?"
"It's not that," I said. "But come on." I glanced down at all the bags. "This is way too much, and you know it."
He propelled us forward anyway. "How do you know what I know?"
I knew he was spending a lot of money. And I knew I'd never be able to repay him. And yet, I also knew he didn't expect me to.
In some ways, it was absolutely wonderful. In other ways, it just didn't seem right. But for the last couple of hours, I had argued nearly to the point of awkwardness. If I argued any further, I'd just be ruining the fun for both of us. Plus, he'd threatened to make me walk back if I gave him any more trouble.
I recognized a bluff when I saw it. But it was such a sweet bluff that I couldn’t call him on it. So I smiled up at him and tried a different approach. "For one thing," I said, "I know you haven't bought anything for yourself."
He flicked his gaze toward the nearby store. "I will," he said. "In there."
I glanced at the sign above the entrance. "But that's a woman's store," I said. "They don't even sell guys' stuff."
He grinned. "I know." He tugged me forward. "Now come on."
Chapter 48
Inside the store, he scanned the displays as if looking for something in particular. He stopped at an elegant display of silk blouses in a wide array of colors. He pulled out a pale blue one and held it against my skin. He shook his head and returned it to the rack.
For all his size and masculinity, he was reminding me of a toddler in a toy store. I had to laugh. "What exactly are you looking for?" I asked.
"I'll know it when I see it." He reached for a different blouse. This one was creamy white with a classic cut and little pearl buttons all the way down the front.
He held it up in front of me and nodded. "That's the one," he said.
I raised my eyebrows. "Is it now?"
He handed the blouse over. "Try it on. We'll see." He held up a hand. "No, wait."
"For what?" I said.
"You need a skirt," he said. "Something black. And short."
"Actually," I said. "I have one of those. Remember?" I'd been wearing a short black skirt the morning he'd shown up at Maddie's apartment.
He gave a slow nod. "Yeah. I remember."
That reminded me of something. "Where is that skirt, by the way?" I hadn't seen the thing since taking it off to shower a couple days earlier.
"Probably at the cleaners," he said. "It doesn't matter. We'll get you a new one."
"I don't need a new one," I said. "The old one's fine, really."
He flashed me a grin. "Hey, this stuff is for me. Remember?"
I gave him a dubious look. "You're planning to wear a skirt?"
"Sorry, no more questions," he said.
"You don't look very sorry."
"That's because I've been thinking about this for a while."
"How long?" I asked.
He stopped to give me a look that, I swear, made my toes tingle and core ignite. He leaned close, and his voice was nearly a caress. "I've been thinking about this since yesterday morning."
The words were completely innocent. And yet, all of a sudden, the store felt a whole lot hotter. I almost wanted to fan myself. No. I definitely wanted to fan myself. With his shirt. He'd just need to take it off and–.
From just behind me, I heard a crisp female voice say, "Can I start you a dressing room?"
I whirled around and nearly knocked over a nearby mannequin. Color shot to my face, and I stammered out, "Oh. Yeah. That'd be great. Thanks."
The clerk reached out for the blouse. "Here, let me take that for you."
"She'll need a skirt too," Jake told her. "Something black." His gaze dipped to my legs, still clad in those yoga pants. "Short, but not too short. Let's leave something to the imagination." He grinned over at me. "Right?"
Oh God. I was imagining all sorts of things right now. Wordlessly, I nodded.
Inside the dressing room a few minutes later, I studied my reflection in the mirror. The outfit was the infinitely respectable and yet somehow a lot sexier than I would have imagined. Before entering the dressing room, I had promised Jake I'd let him see me in it before I took it off.
Almost embarrassed, I opened the door to the dressing room and peeked my head around the corner. Jake was sitting in one of two chairs just outside the shallow dressing room hallway.
He looked up. "Do I get to see the whole thing?" he said. "Or just the collar?"
"I gave him a flirty smile. "I don't know. Don't you want to leave 'something to the imagination'?"
"Not that much," he said. "Smart-ass."
I moved forward, revealing the whole outfit. Jake gave a slow nod. The sales clerk appeared around the corner and stopped to look. "It looks like you have a winner," she said.
"Well, technically, it's for him," I said. "I'm just modeling it."
Ignoring the taunt, Jake turned to the sales clerk. "Got any scissors?" he asked. "She's gonna wear this out."
"I am?" I looked down at my tennis shoes. It suddenly occurred to me that this might explain why a few stores ago, Jake had insisted on buying me some black heels for no apparent reason.
When the clerk left to retrieve some scissors, I lowered my voice and told Jake, "You're awful devious. You know that, right?"
He reached into one of our shopping bags and pulled out the exact shoes I'd been thinking of. "Don't you know it," he said.
I was just slipping into the new shoes when the clerk returned with an oversized pair of scissors and started removing tags. When she finished, Jake accompanied her to the register while I ducked into the dressing room to grab the clothes I that had been wearing.
When I finished gathering them up, I sidled up to Jake at the register and paused. The clerk was ringing up second outfit exactly the same as the one I was now currently wearing. I gave Jake a perplexed look. "What's that for?" I asked.
Jake shrugged. "You seemed to like it. I figured you'd want a set for you, too."
"Oh," I said, conscious that the sales clerk was listening. "Thanks. That's really thoughtful." Even if it made absolutely no sense.
After Jake signed for the purchase, we headed straight to the car and hit this amazing Italian restaurant on the way back. Looking around the place, with its upscale décor and even more upscale patrons, I could see why my yoga pants weren't exactly appropriate.
We laughed all the way through dinner, about silly things ranging from the idea of him actually wearing that little black skirt to the pros and cons of schoolmarm-themed attire. So far, I was having the best day of my life.
It was funny too, because the day hadn't all been terrific. Parts of it had sucked pretty bad, actually. But the parts that were good? Well, those more than made up for it.
We were halfway through dessert when a stranger appeared at our table. It was an elderly lady in upscale, conservative clothes. I braced myself, wondering if I'd been laughing too loud at what Jake had just been telling me.
He had spent the last few minutes giving me a blow-by-blow, literally, about the first time he'd gotten thrown in jail for fighting. The story shouldn't have been funny. But the way Jake told it, even going so far as to mention that he'd lost a meatball sub in the cop car, I just couldn't stop laughing.
But now, looking at the lady standing beside our table, I clamped my lips shut and tried to look respectable. In college, I had worked at enough restaurants to know there always seemed to be that one obnoxious table, where people laughed way too loud and weren't nearly as funny as they thought they were.
Were we that table? God, I sure hoped not.
But when the woman started to speak, I knew that something else was going on entirely.
Chapter 49
The woman leaned over our table. "Excuse me," she said. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help but notice…" She turned to Jake. "You're that Jake person. Aren't you? You know, the guy who does all those fight videos?"
"It depends," he said with a grin that somehow managed to look boyish. "You're not looking for a fight, are you?" He held up both hands. "Because I don't want any trouble."
She practically giggled. "You are so bad," she told him. She turned toward me. "Isn't he?"
Reaching for my wine glass, I gave a long, dramatic sigh. "You have no idea."
Turning back to Jake, she lowered her voice. "Well, the thing is," she said, glancing around, "I just wanted to tell you that I'm glad you kicked some Chainsaw ass."
Sputtering, I almost choked on my wine. At the choking sound, the woman's gaze swiveled back to me. "Well, I am," she said, "and I’m not sorry for it either." Her eyes narrowed to mere slits. "Did you see what that fucker did last Saturday? Shameful – that's what it was."
She turned back to Jake and said, "Next time, kick his ass harder."
"Yes ma'am," Jake said.
Somewhere behind me, I heard a female voice call out, "Grandma!"
I turned in my seat and spotted an attractive girl about my own age. She was giving the older woman an exasperated look. When the girl saw me looking at her, she winced. "Sorry," she said as she approached our table. "She's real, uh, sociable."
"What Chloe means to say," the woman said, "is that I call 'em like I see 'em." She gave Chloe the steely-eye. "Someone's gotta do it. Damn politicians won't. Fuckers are all liars and crooks, if you ask me."
Across from me, Jake was nodding. "Can't argue with that," he said.
For the first time, Chloe's gaze landed on Jake. She froze. "You're Jake," she said.
The girl's grandma poked her in the side. "I know," the older woman said. "I was just telling him that." She lowered her voice. "But I think he already knew."
I glanced at Jake. He was giving the girl an odd look, like he thought he might know her from someplace. I wanted to groan. This was never good. I already knew way too many of Jake's former flings. Then again, she didn't look like a fling. Maybe she was fan?
Chloe was still giving Jake that perplexed look. "Did you get our invitation?" she asked.
Jake leaned back in his chair. "So you are that Chloe," he said. "Yeah, I got it."
"Well, you'd better come," she said. "It wouldn't be the same without you."
The older woman looked from Jake to Chloe. "What the hell are you talking about?" she said.
Chloe reached for the woman's elbow. "I'll tell you at the table." Before hustling the woman away, Chloe turned back and said, "Nice meeting you both."
I watched them go and then turned to Jake. "So you know her?"
Jake shook his head. "Nope."
"But she sent you an invitation?" I said. "To what?"
"Her wedding."
"Oh stop it," I said. "Why would she send you a wedding invitation?" I felt the color drain from my face. "Oh my God," I said. "Is this one of those weird stalkery things, where she thinks she's marrying you?"
