Home Sweet Home

by Sarah Title

  “I don’t care, I want to hear it.”

  “I got into a fight in jail.”

  Grace sputtered out a laugh. That was not at all what she was expecting.

  But Jake didn’t laugh.

  “Wait, you’re serious?”

  “I did a lot of stupid stuff when I was a kid. When I was a senior in high school, I got busted for underage drinking. Todd was just a cop then, but he was dating my sister. He saw what a pain I was to her, so he persuaded her to let him teach me a lesson, let me wait it out in jail overnight.”

  “Oh, my God. What did your mom say?” Grace really couldn’t imagine Marilyn leaving her son in jail, even overnight.

  “Mary Beth didn’t tell her. Made up a story about me staying over at Kyle’s or something.”

  “Did it scare you straight?”

  Jake snorted. “Not hardly. I was a punk. I thought I was tougher than all those guys in there. I was younger, and I was faster. But faster only gets you so far when a guy outweighs you by about a hundred pounds and you’re in a cage together.”

  “Jake,” Grace said again, “you could have been killed.”

  “Nah, he just got in one good punch, and then some other guys pulled him off. Todd paid my bail and took me to the hospital. I think it hurt him more than it hurt me.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “I’ve never seen Todd scared before, or since. I think he thought Mary Beth would never speak to him again.”

  “He almost got you killed.”

  “Yeah, well. He’s always been good to MB, and I was acting like a punk.”

  Grace just stared at that crooked profile. She wasn’t sure she would be so forgiving.

  Of course, she was confident she wouldn’t last even the idea of a night in jail.

  “Anyway,” Jake said, “that’s how I broke my nose.”

  “And now you’re cursed to carry the scar of your misspent youth, huh?”

  “Yup. No plastic surgery for me.”

  Grace stilled. Was he doing it again? Bringing up how different they were? She didn’t want this nice night to end on a sour note, so she told him the truth.

  “I like it. It’s kind of... sexy.”

  His crooked smile broke out again, and he kept his eyes on the road.

  When they got to Grace’s house, she was almost sorry to say goodnight. Apparently so was Jake, because he got out of the truck with her. He walked around and opened the tailgate. She thought he might be getting his tool belt, but it was late and she didn’t want him to fix anything. She wanted them to be friends. She was just starting to say as much when he came around the truck to meet her at the front door.

  “You don’t have to—” Then she saw a gigantic box of cat litter.

  “Is that for me?” she asked.

  “Will belongs to one of those warehouse club things. I got a deal.”

  “Jake, that’s—”

  “It’s no big deal, okay? I just thought, since you ride your bike everywhere, that it would be hard to carry.”

  He was right. The smallest container of cat litter she could find had been fifteen pounds. She had to take her old lady wheeled cart into town to pick it up.

  So, not only was she a single woman with a cat, she was seen around town wheeling a shopping cart full of cat litter.

  And she lived in a house called the Spinster House.

  At least Jake had saved her from any further cat litter humiliation. In time, she’d be able to function as a normal member of society. Tonight, she’d be satisfied with cat litter.

  “Thank you,” she said, and impulsively stretched up to kiss him on the cheek.

  “No big deal,” he mumbled, then reached around to open the door she’d unlocked.

  She was momentarily distracted by his jeans. More specifically, the way his jeans stretched over his butt. Damn that perfect butt. And the way his triceps strained with the weight of the tub of cat litter. Good Lord, this man made cat litter look sexy.

  “You coming in?” he asked with a smile.

  She followed him in, leaned down to pet Mr. Bingley, then pointed Jake to the downstairs powder room, where the litter box was more or less hidden under the sink.

  He came out, followed by the cat. “Thanks again,” she told him. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

  He just shrugged and she shook her head. Sometimes Jake could be so thoughtful. It almost made her forget that he was such a pain.

  Jake didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to stay—of course not, he didn’t like Grace. As he continually reminded himself. Because he kept forgetting.

  He still didn’t like professors. They were smug and overbearing and looked down on people like Jake, people who didn’t think it was fun to always have your nose in a book. Not that Jake didn’t read. What was the point of having a library card if he didn’t use it? And aside from having a knack for fixing things, the main thing he and his dad had in common was a love of suspense and thrillers. If Jake had read Jack Reacher when he was a kid, he would have dropped everything and gotten on a bus to save the world.

  But professors managed to take the fun out of reading. He remembered when Henry was new at Pembroke and Marilyn had him over for dinner. Will liked to show off his cooking, and Marilyn liked talking to new people, even if she had to drag her adult children into it. When she told Henry about Jake’s paperback reading habit, Henry feigned interest and started talking about the sociological implications of perpetuating a dangerous kind of masculinity, blah blah blah. Jake wanted to talk about the sociological implications of his fist in Henry’s face.

  And now Henry was sniffing around Grace, and they would sit around and talk about sociological implications and high art and Jake was getting bored even imagining it.

  No, he wasn’t getting bored. He was getting jealous. Grace wasn’t like the other professors he knew. She knew how to laugh at herself, and at him. She was smart, sure, but she was also actually interesting, and she could talk about other things besides literature. And he hated to admit it, but she had kind of a hot-for-teacher thing going on. Her clothes were cute and fun and totally appropriate, but no matter how many cat sweatshirts she wore, she would never erase the mental picture he had of her in that bathing suit.

  Doesn’t matter, he told himself. Even if, by some miracle, she liked him despite his being a total jerk to her, it could never work. They had nothing in common, essentially. It wasn’t so much that he thought Grace was too good for him. Just that they were, well, different.

  Man, he really needed to fix something right now.

  Instead, he just had Grace in front of him, toying with the string on her hoodie. She looked toward the powder room and let out the most pathetic sigh he’d heard since Kyle found out Missy had to work late.

  “What’s that forlorn sigh for?” he asked her.

  “I’m not forlorn!” she protested. “I’m just . . . pensive.”

  “About cat litter?”

  “A little,” she said. “Not really specifically about cat litter, more about how excited I was that you brought me cat litter. And because I live in the Spinster House.”

  “Grace, this isn’t the Spinster House.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I’ve lived in this town my entire life. They publicize the heck out of any little bit of local news. If the Spinster House was suddenly not where it was supposed to be, we’d all know.”

  Grace sighed. Again. “Well, even if it’s not the Spinster House, it’s certainly turning into a spinster house.”

  “What is your deal with spinsters?”

  “I don’t know! It started as a joke between me and Jane, and then the cat sweatshirts started, and it was funny for a while. It still is funny, with her. But now it feels like I’m fulfilling some sort of prophecy. Doomed to a life of spinsterhood. And the thing is, I don’t really mind. I feel like I should mind, but I don’t.”

  “You don’t mind becoming a spinster?” Jake had a few spinster au
nts, and he wanted to reassure Grace that she had a long way to go before she turned into Aunt May or Aunt Tess. She needed to wear her hair in a bun and work on growing a little hair on her upper lip. And she would have to get a roommate; spinsters always lived in pairs.

  Then he remembered that Aunt May and Aunt Tess weren’t sisters, and that they only had one bedroom.

  Not exactly where he wanted the conversation to go.

  “I admire the sensible shoes of the spinster,” Grace said, as if she wasn’t privy to Jake’s internal monologue. Which was good. “And I like cats. And the being-single part, I like that. Oh, God, I am totally a spinster.”

  Jake raised an eyebrow. He had never met a woman who was happy being single. Well, except for Aunt May and Aunt Tess, and he wasn’t getting that kind of vibe from Grace.

  Not when she raised her eyes slowly. Not when they met his and he felt a jolt go through him.

  Her eyes still on his, she just shrugged. Then she took a step forward.

  He thought he should take a step forward too, but when he went to lift his foot, he realized he had already closed the distance between them.

  “You like being single, huh?” He brushed an errant lock of hair out of her face.

  “I like some parts about being single,” she admitted.

  He was curious about that. Really, he was. She was smart and warm and funny. It seemed a shame that she didn’t want to share that with someone.

  But he really didn’t want to get into a conversation about her relationship status right now. He just wanted to put his arms around her, and to see where that would lead.

  So he did.

  As soon as his hands skimmed her waist, hers came up around his neck and she pulled him in for a kiss. He’d kissed her once before, right over there on the living room floor. Why had he waited so long to kiss her again?

  “I thought I had sworn off men,” she said, breathless, in between kisses. “But now I’m not so sure.”

  “I changed your mind, huh?” He nudged his hips against her, just so she could feel how much he appreciated her decision to swear back on to men.

  She looked up at him and smiled like a cat. Then she wiggled out of his arms and he was about to protest, to reach for her because surely she was not done with him yet, when she grabbed his hand and led him up the creaking stairs to her room.

  The stairs creaked and her bed squeaked and Grace couldn’t hear any of it over the pounding beat of her heart. She wished she had picked up some of the clothes strewn about the room or maybe didn’t have quite so many books piled within easy reach of her bed because the nightstand was too full. But then Jake walked in behind her, the hall light giving him a halo he didn’t deserve, and he whipped his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

  She gulped. Not because she was afraid, but because . . . gaaah. He was perfect. Sculpted, but not too beefy. He had a fair amount of hair on his chest, which she loved, and that “v” on hips that she loved even more. She didn’t think she had ever seen one of those in real life. He unbuttoned his jeans, but before he could get them over his hips, she hopped off the bed.

  Jake let go of his pants and reached for Grace, just as she’d hoped he would. She stepped into him, but not so close that she couldn’t explore the contours of his chest, run her fingers through the rough hair there, then follow the trail lower.

  “Why are you still wearing this?” he asked, tugging at the hem of her T-shirt. But she wasn’t done exploring him yet, so she ducked down out of his grasp and ran her tongue along that “v.” She was becoming obsessed. She wanted to make sure it was real.

  Jake cursed, but it was the good kind of curse, the kind that said he was surprised but not displeased with the sudden turn of events. She ran her hands up his sides, then back down, taking his jeans with her. She took a moment to appreciate the tone of his legs on the way down, then again on the way up when she hooked her fingers in the waist of his boxers. She looked up to give him a teasing grin, but Jake was looking at the ceiling. His fists were clenched and his neck was straining and—was he praying?

  Grace let loose that teasing grin anyway and pulled his boxers gently down to join his jeans at his ankles, and then there he was, big and thick and bobbing in front of her. She licked her lips and reached out to take hold of him . . .

  But found herself suddenly picked up by the armpits and thrown onto the bed.

  “Sorry,” Jake grunted at her. “I want this to be good for both of us.”

  That would have been good for me, too, she wanted to say, but the way he was stalking over her on his hands and knees left her a little tongue-tied. She opened her mouth as soon as he kissed her and when she felt his hands under her shirt she thought, well, that’s it, I’ve melted. But Jake persisted and licked a trail up from her waist to her neck, pulling her shirt up and over her head as he went. She wiggled out of her shorts while she waited for him to take the initiative with her bra. When he didn’t, she started to do it herself; she didn’t mind. But then Jake stilled her with a hand on her arm and she looked up at him, surprised, but lay back down, hands at her sides.

  “What is this?” he asked, running his hands gently over the whole front of her.

  “Boobs?” She was teasing him, but also hopefully directing him.

  “I never would have guessed . . .” He traced a finger around the edge of her bra. It was one of her more serviceable ones, gray cotton, designed for comfort. Jake’s finger followed the bright pink lace sewn to the edges, then spread his fingers over the polka dots on the gray fabric. Grace tried her hardest not to arch into his touch, not to look too eager, but when he leaned down and kissed between her breasts, then ran his tongue along the outside of the lace, she didn’t care how she looked.

  She felt good. He felt good, the rough stubble of his cheeks brushing against her belly-flop sensitive skin, the calluses on his hands scraping gently as he ran his hands down over her hips, taking her underwear with him.

  He spent more time—more time than she thought she could stand—trailing kisses all over her skin before he finally nudged her up and took her bra off. She really liked what he was doing, but she was ready for him to get on with it.

  He must have felt that same mad impatience because he cursed and attacked her mouth and she held on, attacking back, as he worked his hips between her legs and settled in against her.

  The feeling of him hard and bare against her brought her back to reality. Grace mentally ran through the contents of her bathroom cabinets, which was hard to do when Jake’s hands and mouth were running through her contents. But she managed because she knew this would get even more dire soon. She was ninety-seven percent sure she didn’t have any condoms, although there might still be that glow-in-the-dark one that Jane gave her as a joke last Halloween. Whatever, it would work. It was safe to put something glow-in-the-dark in her body, right?

  But then Jake bit her neck and she squeaked.

  “Get out of that head of yours,” he said, gently licking over the spot, then trailing kisses along her chin and up to her mouth. “I’m trying to turn you on to men again.”

  “Jake,” she said breathlessly just as he kissed her. He probably thought she was just sighing in pleasure. Which she was doing, but she also needed to apprise him of the condom situation. But as she tried to push his shoulders up she got distracted by how wide they were, and how the muscles played beneath her fingers as he shifted to pull her closer.

  “Hey.” Jake nipped her chin. “Stay with me, here.”

  “I know, I know. But I don’t have any condoms,” she said in a rush before he could distract her again.

  He looked at her blankly, then rested his forehead on hers. Then, in a rush, he was out of bed. Oh, God, she thought. Is this the end? She didn’t want to have unprotected sex, but couldn’t they, like, do other stuff?

  “Don’t look so panicked, I ain’t leavin’,” he said, digging something out of his discarded jeans. He came up, muscled and victorious, a foil wrapped priz
e between his fingers. Before she could think of something clever to say to show her appreciation, he was back, his whole body covering hers, then inside of hers, and the only clever thing she could say was a loud, appreciative moan. He paused, brushed her hair back, so she wrapped her legs around his hips and he got the message and moved. She picked up his rhythm and they were moving together, his eyes locked on hers until she threw her head back and shouted, then he shouted, and they collapsed into each other.

  “I should go,” Jake murmured into her neck. Grace was glad he said it, because she was about to and she didn’t want him to get offended. He felt good, if a bit heavy, lying half on top of her, their sweat-slicked limbs tangled in the sheets. She could get used to this kind of entanglement.

  Which was exactly why he needed to leave.

  “Okay,” she said, and brushed the hair on the back of his neck. He had really good hair. It was thick and wavy and she liked that it was a little too long, because it gave her fingers something to play with as she worked up the energy to kick him out.

  She looked over at the clock, but they had knocked it off the nightstand in their fervor. And what fervor. She stretched as best as she could underneath Jake, tilting her head back to look out of the open curtains. It was definitely late, and not quite early. He could probably get out unnoticed by Mrs. Wallace and her neighborhood watch.

  “I should be able to avoid your neighbors if I go now. What time is it, anyway?”

  She smiled up at him and he kissed her, hard and fast. He started to get up and she wanted to pull him back, to tangle the sheets up with him a little more, but she had to let him go. He was definitely trouble, and she was determined to avoid romantic entanglements.

  Determined.

  He climbed out of the bed, tripping over the sheets and pulling them to the floor. She sat up just enough to pull them back onto the bed. She was cold all of a sudden. She watched him step into his jeans, then look vaguely around the room for the rest of his clothes. His hair was sticking up in the places where she had toyed with it, and standing there, looking tired and a little confused in just his jeans, he was the most perfect combination of sexy and cute she had ever seen.