“Sarge might like naps too.” Sarge does not look like he takes naps. Sarge looks like he rips the faces off of terrorists for fun and that’s putting it mildly.
There was a lot of commotion in the animal shelter when Jake and I walked in. Not just because he’s the sexy man about town he is, but because there was a retired police dog who, if they couldn’t get him to perk up, they were going to have to euthanize. Apparently, Sarge’s officer, the only one he ever had in his six-year-long career, was killed in the line of duty. They tried to reassign him, but he was too bonded with his partner and had fallen into a deep doggie depression.
Sarge was eventually turned over to this shelter to see if someone between them and Purple Paws could rehabilitate him, but it was no use. He wanted to follow his human across the rainbow bridge. That is, until Jake walked in.
We then learned Sarge’s partner had the same tone of voice and cadence as Jake. He also had a similar build and carried himself in the same manner, as he was a soldier with the 101st before he was an NYPD officer. A truer hero there never was.
The minute Sarge heard Jake and I playfully bickering about the cats that he swears he doesn’t even like which is a complete and total lie, he perked up. The minute he saw Jake walk past his kennel, he claimed him as his human. And who was I to stand in the way of a true bromance? So somehow, I’m going to have to explain to eight very spoiled felines that they now share their domain with a ninety-pound German Shepherd. A German Shepherd who used to love running six miles a day with his partner.
I sure hope Gus likes dogs.
“Careful, Jake,” I wink at him. “Your halo is showing.”
“Just don’t tell the others,” he laughs. “But I’ll show you anything you’d like.”
I roll my eyes at him but smile anyway. “Oh fine. Welcome to the family, Sarge.”
“Hooyah!” Jake shouts as Sarge lets out a bark.
They thankfully loan us a leash and a collar, although Sarge is impeccably trained. We load him up in the SUV to the surprised looks of Gus and Joe.
“If you could please take us to a pet store, that would be great,” Jake says politely.
Joe drives us to the nearest pet superstore, and I follow behind the boys while they look at everything. The manager is more than happy to help Jake find everything he could ever need for Sarge. We have bowls and food, leashes and collars, but the best part is watching Sarge check out all the toys. As a working dog, his options were limited, but as a retiree, his life is wide open, and his new human is going to make his remaining years beautiful; I can just tell.
When Sarge finally chooses a pink stuffed octopus that squeaks and a tennis ball, we head back to the car after paying for all of the accoutrements Jake needs for his new furry bestie. I might have even excused myself to cry in the bathroom, because I’m apparently a crier now.
We head to Open Arms, where I get to walk Jake and Sarge around and show them all the facility will do when it’s finally open.
“This is fucking amazing,” he says after we walk through one last time, and Jake meets all the on-site personnel and thanks them all one by one.
My phone rings as we load Sarge up into the SUV and head home. I pull it out of my bag and see it’s Jules.
“Hey, girl,” I answer. “Can we have an impromptu night in instead of out?”
“Yeah, but why?” she asks.
“Because Jake just adopted a retired police dog, and I don’t want to just dump him in the house with all the cats and bail. Pizza and wine in? I know where Jake hides the good stuff.” My offer makes him laugh, and I know Jules hears it too when she answers.
“And where will the good senator be?”
“With us at home,” I explain before rolling my lip into my mouth and biting down.
“A casual night at home with the senator everyone wants to interview?” she asks, and I can hear the wheels spinning. “Now that’s an offer I can’t pass up.”
“Take off your press hat,” I demand. “This is strictly a friends dinner. Jake is off limits.”
“Is he now?” she prompts.
“He is.”
“Now this, I can’t wait to see.” And with that, she ends the call.
“Should I be worried?” Jake asks. “I didn’t realize you were besties with the shark of Eagle News.”
“Jules?” When he nods, I explain, “Oh yeah, I’ve known Jules since freshman year at NYU. She’s a shark all right, but she’s loyal to a fault. She’d take a bullet for me and vice versa.”
“Good to know,” he says before turning back to hug his new dog for the remainder of the ride home.
When we pull up out front, cameras snap and click. Jake climbs out of the SUV and holds his hands up until everyone stops moving.
“Hey, all,” he begins. “I’m going to ask you not to take pictures right now. And I know it’s your job and how you put food on the table for your families, but it’s for an important reason. Today, Grace and I met and fell in love with a retired NYPD K-9 officer at the shelter where she volunteers. His name is Sarge and his partner was Juan Garcia, the officer who gave the ultimate sacrifice last month here on our own streets.
“Sarge was not doing good, friends. He was going to be euthanized, because he no longer wanted to be in this world without Juan. But somehow, he decided it would be okay to go on with me.
“Now, I don’t know how he will react to the media yet, so let’s play it by ear. Please. For Sarge?”
When Jake is done speaking, I notice a few are wiping their eyes, but everyone is quiet and all cameras have been put away. Jake escorts Sarge and me up the steps and into the house. He drops a quick kiss to my lips before changing direction again.
“Order some pizzas, please?”
“Sure.”
And then he turns on his heels and walks back out the open door, where Sarge and I stand watching him as he slips his phone from his jeans pocket. Jake starts asking for the names and contact info of every paparazzi who honored his wishes for Sarge with the promise of an interview opportunity when Sarge is ready. Everyone leaves with a smile on their face. And I now know why he is going to be the best president. Jake managed to take a tense situation and turn it into something everyone could live with.
Jules arrives in jeans, a T-shirt with a leather jacket over it, and heels just before the pizza delivery kid, who looks a little starstruck at her. She is always dressed to the nines, but that’s just her. She never judges me for my love of casual Saturdays.
Jake takes the pizza into the den and sets it on the coffee table while Jules and I follow behind him.
“I’ll give you two a minute to talk about how awesome I am in the sack while I go grab some wine from the cellar,” he says on a wink with a smile, flashing his dimples.
“Shit,” she says when he leaves the room. “That smile is lethal in person.”
“Tell me about it,” I droll.
“No, you tell me all about it,” she says. What the hell happened?”
“I’m in love with him.”
“I can see that,” she hisses. “It’s plain as the nose on your face. Is he really good in bed or was it just talk?”
“He’s the best.” I sigh.
“Then what the hell are you complaining about then?”
“Did you not hear the part where I said I was in love with him?”
“And he’s clearly in love with you,” she says gently.
“Ugh. No, he’s not, and it’s terrible,” I admit, burying my face in my hands.
“What’s going on, Grace?”
“Everything,” I answer as I wipe my face on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “It’s all a lie… or at least it was. Now, I think I’m really falling for him.”
“What? You’re not making any sense. I think you better start at the beginning.”
“You’re right,” I agree. “I’m just so mixed up about everything. I don’t even know where to start.”
“The beginning is usually the best spot
,” she says gently.
“The Monday after our dinner, an unmarked package was left for me at my office. It held pictures of Jake and I in Clear that looked, well, compromising.”
“In Clear?” she asks me. “So you did go talk to him?”
“Not on purpose, no. I was going to walk past him and give him the cold shoulder but my heel caught on a freaking dessert spoon that someone had dropped and he caught me before I could hit the ground.”
“Well, that was chivalrous of him,” Jules adds.
“With his hand on my ass and his face on my neck,” I say pointing to the side of my neck and accidentally drawing attention to the pink marks he left there earlier.
“That is some fantastic beard burn you’re sporting today,” she laughs.
“This isn’t funny,” I admonish, but really it kind of is so I give her a goofy smile.
“My apologies. Do go on.” She waves her hand like the Queen.
“These pictures could ruin my reputation, his isn’t fantastic, or it wasn’t at the time.”
“You’ve done well to clean him up,” she agrees.
“So, I called him, hating every minute of it,” I press on. “Jake said we should meet at a hole in the wall place he likes to go to. He said he could solve all of our problems if I just married him.”
“And you agreed.”
“I did but the whole time, I kept thinking it was fake and it would end as soon as he was elected,” I admit. “But…”
“But the sex is real and so are your feelings,” she finishes for me.
“Yeah and it really stinks.”
“Grace, I don’t think you have anything to worry about here,” Jules says softly. She’s always thought the most of me and usually she’s correct. I’m smart, I’m funny, and I’m the whole package, but now she’s completely wrong. A man like Jake Chancellor won’t settle down. Sure, he will for a while, but then he’ll rip my heart out. A leopard can’t change their spots.
“I wish you were right,” I whisper as tears pool in my eyes again.
“Honey, I know they covered a lot at NYU and that fancy law school of yours—”
“Harvard,” I add helpfully.
“Yes, that,” she says as she rolls her eyes. “So you should know that a man like sexy Senator Jake doesn’t give a woman what has to be a family heirloom like the one on your ring finger if he doesn’t love her.”
I look at my hand and remember his less than romantic proposal, and I wince. “It’s probably a good fake. We’re only engaged because of the optics.”
Jules has the audacity to throw her beautiful head back and laugh.
“That’s not a fake,” she says on a smile. “I would know. And my optics tell me that man is crazy about you.”
Just then, I hear footsteps coming up the stairs from the basement.
“Well that man is coming back now, so be quiet,” I grit out.
“We’re not done here.”
“Yes, we are,” I growl before pasting a smile on my face just in time as Jake walks back in the room.
“I heard Grace promise you the good stuff, so I figured I’d get the really good stuff out,” he says as he drops two bottles on the coffee table and pulls a bottle opener from his jeans pocket.
“I like you,” Jules says unceremoniously.
“I like you too,” he replies, gifting her with his megawatt smile again.
“Jesus,” she says. “That should be registered with the state. How do you keep your panties dry?”
“I don’t.” I shrug, making Jake laugh.
“To be fair, I just rip them off anyway, so the point is moot,” he admits.
“And I am officially jealous,” she sighs. “Feed me pizza and wine so I can drown my sorrows.”
“Something tells me you are perfectly fine just the way you are, Julia Fairchild,” Jakes appraises.
“Right you are, Senator.” She winks. “So, I hear you went to Open Arms today after conning the cat lady into taking on a dog.”
The dog in question looks up at Jules lovingly when she pinches off a bite of sausage for him.
“It’s amazing,” he says after taking a bite of his own pizza. “What made you decide to help veterans?” He looks at me.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I ask him. “Everyone needs a hand sometimes. Just because they are some of the bravest people in the world doesn’t mean they don’t need or deserve a helping hand every now and then like anybody else. So to answer your question though, it started with the Purple Paws dogs from the shelter and went from there. The more I learned, the more I wanted to do to help. No one should feel so low that they want to take their own life.”
“Thank you,” he says when he clears his throat. “It means a lot to me.”
“I can see that,” I reply softly.
“I had a friend in Bud/s and he just couldn’t take it,” he explains. “No one knew he was suffering until he wasn’t anymore.”
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him.
“It was a long time ago.”
“So what made you choose the Naval Academy?” Jules asks, doing her best to change the subject.
“It pissed off my dad.” He laughs.
“Oh dear,” I mumble.
“My dad always wanted me to go to an Ivy League school, so I could be the best politician ever. But I really wanted to be a SEAL. So when I was granted a football contract to the Naval Academy, I took it knowing full well I would have a military contract to serve when I was done playing ball.”
“That’s impressive, Senator,” Jules says, and I couldn’t agree more.
He shoots her a self-deprecating smile. “I’m not that noble,” he says. “I got what I wanted out of it and the added bonus to make my dad mad. But I still had to come home when my contract was up and join the family business. I’m just lucky Rick came too.”
“Speaking of Rick,” I segue. “Have you heard from him?”
“He’ll be all right. He just needed to lick his wounds,” Jake says cryptically as he eyes Jules. He is obviously not wanting to divulge too much in case tonight really isn’t off the record. “There’s a history there between him and Cara.”
“I got that. Why didn’t you tell me when she got here yesterday?”
“I had never met her before,” he explains. “And you didn’t tell me her last name was Donovan. How was I supposed to know?”
“That’s true.”
“Well, I think it’s time for me to go,” Jules says.
Jake and I show her to the door before we clean up the den and then climb the stairs. We undress each other before climbing into bed, where he once again, make loves to me until I fall apart in his arms before I fall asleep feeling safe and cared for, even if not loved. Things with Jake feel good and real, even if they’re not real at all.
Sarge falls asleep on his brand-new dog bed by the window and has happy doggie dreams.
And we did all of this not knowing the end was near. Again, I’m so fucking stupid.
“Bells are ringing for a certain IT Couple.”
Chapter 17
Smitten
Pain sears through my body before focusing on one point of contact, and I hold my breath until spots dance before my eyes. I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth, and then the pain dissipates before it is inflicted again from a new area.
“We can no longer be friends, Cara,” I grit out.
“For Christ’s sake,” she snaps. “Quit being such a big fucking baby. You’re not the one whose ex-husband is lurking around somewhere in this house. And having to travel for work with him later this week.” And she’s not wrong. Rick is somewhere in this house with Jake. They’re probably drinking beer and eating pizza and not being tortured by their friends.
“How are you doing with all that?” I ask. I try and take a good look at here to see if she look like she’s really alright but my eyes won’t stop watering so I can’t see anything clearly.
“It is what it is,” she sighs. “We’ll fig
ure out how to be professional.”
And then she rips off another strip.
“I’ve decided that you’re fired,” I tell after I try and fail to catch my breath.
She laughs, and Goddammit I want to rip her hair out until she’s baldheaded.
Riiipppp! She yanks off another cloth strip from somewhere on my body. I don’t even know from where anymore. When Cara came over early this morning to prep for the engagement pictures of the century, I thought it might be a soak in the bath and a face mask, maybe some mani/ pedi action. Not waterboarding and bamboo shoots shoved under my fingernails before all of my body hair was ripped out by the roots.
“I think this violates the Geneva Convention.”
“You’re ridiculous.” She rolls her eyes. “What you need is a gag.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“That was the last one, you candy ass,” she says before taking a rough scrub brush, dipping it in a sugar scrub, and applying it to my entire body while I lay on a foldup massage table covered in white towels. And by apply, I mean scrape off a layer or two of my skin.
She applies a less abrasive one to my face then takes washcloths and runs them under warm water to wipe it all off before using a dry, fluffy towel to dry my body. When all is said and done, Cara brushes rich lotion onto my skin and then wraps me up in a big, fluffy robe that dwarfs me, but I don’t care. I’m no longer being ripped apart. Don’t get me wrong; I love good-quality primping, but this wasn’t primping. This was North Korea level torture.
She gives me a light snack of cheese and apple slices with a big bottle of water. I narrow my eyes on the light meal.
“Do you really want to have pizza-face skin and a big bloated belly in pictures that will be on every media news outlet by four o’clock tomorrow afternoon?” she asks me on a raised brow.
“No,” I sigh before nibbling on an apple slice.
I sit patiently like a good girl while Cara wraps sections of my hair around a big barrel curling iron and then rolls them up on my head in big loops she secures with pins. When she’s done with my hair, she files and paints my nails in a soft nude.
She applies more makeup than I would wear on a normal Tuesday, but it’s beautiful, classic. Soft pink blush highlights my cheeks, and my eyes are accentuated with smoky taupes and shimmery nudes. She swipes a soft pink on my lips and the look is perfect.
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