Naked Love

by Ann, Jewel

  “I’m working tomorrow, but I can take a break at ten. And the last thing you should do is avoid Jake.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  Bethanne skips back toward the moving van. “You’ll see.”

  * * *

  “You going to sleep all day?”

  I hide my head under the pillow of the twin bed in Deedy’s sewing room. She said the bed belonged to her younger brother who died. Nothing creepy about sleeping in a dead person’s bed on sheets that must be the lowest thread count ever.

  “Dad, I’m still on West Coast time. Leave me alone.”

  He tickles my foot peeking out from the veil-thin sheet.

  I jerk and draw my knees to my chest. “Stop!”

  “It’s 9:30. Deedy made breakfast, and yours is cold. I’ll warm your coffee up, just come share your beautiful face with us.”

  I shoot up, batting at the matted hair on my face. “9:30? Shit! I’m going to be late.”

  “Late for what?”

  I stumble toward my suitcase, rifling through its contents. “I’m supposed to meet Bethanne at the cafe at ten.”

  “Deedy’s neighbor?”

  After failing to find my Alexis floral romper, I unzip my second suitcase. Of course, it’s at the bottom. “Yes. Bethanne works at that Sage Leaf Cafe. She’s finding Swarley and me a ride to L.A. so you don’t have to stress over me going by myself.”

  I shove him toward the door. “I have to get ready. My makeup will be hideous at this rate and don’t even get me started on my hair.”

  “But Ave—”

  Click.

  I jump into my outfit, paint on a terribly hurried layer of makeup, a little antiperspirant, and gather my long hair into a messy bun before flying past my dad and Deedy canoodling on the sofa, straight out the door. “Would someone feed Swarley?” I call just before the door shuts behind me.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I make it to the cafe by 10:05. Deedy probably would have loaned me her car, but I haven’t decided if I’m ready to ask her for favors. She might misconstrue my desperateness as approval of her engagement to my dad.

  My lonely dad … I still can’t shake the guilt from Bethanne’s revelation.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late. I forgot to set my alarm, and my body is on West Coast time, and—”

  Bethanne waves off my apologies. “It’s fine. I’m running a few minutes late for break anyway. We’re pretty chill around here.” She slides a pile of chopped mango into a container and snaps the lid on it.

  I glance around at the vacant cafe. “Are you open?”

  She laughs. “Yes. We survived the morning rush, and in about an hour we’ll be filled to capacity with the early lunch crowd.”

  “Huh … the one in L.A. is always packed.”

  “Milwaukee isn’t L.A.”

  I nod. “You can say that again.”

  “Can I get you a drink? Some breakfast?”

  “I’m good. Well … maybe a cup of coffee?”

  “You got it.” She gets my coffee as I climb onto a barstool.

  “I have coconut sugar, almond or coconut creamer, cinnamon …”

  “Black is great.” I take a cautious sip.

  “Well, since you’re the only customer at the moment, I’ll get Jake and we’ll get your travel dilemma fixed.”

  “Jake? Wait … why do you need him—”

  Mr. Tatted Muscle Man saunters through the door from the kitchen, looking all showered and sexy. Not sexy. Gah! Why did I think that?

  “Just get out of the shower?” Bethanne flicks at a drop of water hanging from one of the tips of his messy, blond hair.

  I stare at his T-shirt—speechless.

  He glances down as if he doesn’t know what it says. “It’s new, Paige. Do you like it?”

  My gaze snaps to his. “Avery.”

  Bethanne giggles. “Jake owns every obnoxious T-shirt ever made.”

  He rubs his hand over his chest like he’s caressing the words.

  Eat Pussy Not Meat

  “Your boss lets you wear that?”

  “Jake’s the boss.” Bethanne sets a glass of water next to my coffee.

  He smirks.

  “I know. It was mentioned yesterday.” I narrow my eyes. “Hence the mason jars being a precious heirloom from your grandmother.”

  His smirk blooms into a full-on grin.

  I rub my lips together. Dang, I forgot to gloss them. Retrieving my gloss from my handbag, I bring up my phone’s camera to use as a mirror.

  “Taking a picture of my shirt?” Jake asks.

  I roll my eyes, holding up my phone. “Not a chance. I just need to gloss my lips. I only had a half hour to throw myself together this morning.”

  “I took a shower and dressed in under ten minutes.”

  “Good for you.” I pucker my lips, giving them one last inspection before capping the gloss and tossing it back in my bag.

  Bethanne clears her throat. “You two are so fun together. I love your flirty banter.”

  I stop the coffee mug an inch from my lips. Jake sets the blender on its base, brow drawn tightly as he shoots Bethanne a WTF look.

  “So …” She slaps her hands on the counter and drums her fingers a few times. “Jake, Avery and her dog need a ride to L.A. Her car died, and it can’t be brought back to life. Can you think of some way she could get to L.A.?”

  I don’t know where this is going, but I have an uneasy feeling slithering across my skin.

  He returns his attention to the blender, filling it with fruit, greens, and protein powder. “Buy a new car.”

  “She can’t afford one.”

  I feel like I’m on trial, and Bethanne is my lawyer.

  He purses his lips to the side and hums. “Looks like she better get a job and save up for one.”

  “She probably has one. In L.A.”

  That’s not an accurate statement, but I keep that to myself.

  “Well, sorry. I’m a chef, not a fixer.” He dismisses Bethanne by starting the blender.

  She plants her hands on her hips, waiting for him to finish blending. I cup my coffee mug with both my good hand and my gimpy one, attempting to hide behind the steam.

  “Jake Matthews…” she pipes up the second he shuts off the blender “…you know exactly what I’m suggesting.”

  Oh god. I cringe. He has an extra car and she’s suggesting he loan it to me. Then what? He flies out to L.A. to drive it home. Well … that might work. If he owns this cafe, then he must own the one out there. Surely he visits that location. But that doesn’t solve the issue of my dad not wanting me to drive home alone.

  “I’m not simply driving out to L.A. I’m taking a trip. Taking my time. Enjoying my time alone to recharge just like I do every summer. It’s kind of a personal trip I take by myself.”

  Oh no. No. No. No. She’s not suggesting I go with him.

  “Two years ago you took Mo.”

  “That was different.” He pours the drink into one of those heirloom mason jars and rinses out the blender.

  I don’t know if I should join in on this conversation, insist that I don’t need help, or just stay out of it because I do need help. So I do what I do best when I’m nervous—primp.

  Fishing out my makeup bag, I powder my nose, even out my eyeliner, apply more mascara, and pluck a few eyebrows.

  They continue to bicker like a married couple and like I’m not right here, half listening to them, half trying to remember the date of my hair appointment.

  “Look … does she appear to be a camper?”

  When the chattering ceases, I glance up. What were they saying? Bethanne looks constipated like I’m doing something wrong and she’s disappointed in me. Jake has a smug look like I just proved some point for him.

  I think back. Does she appear to be a camper?

  “Oh…” I shrug “…I’ve camped before. It’s only for what … two, three nights?”

  He rests his palms on the counter in front of me.
I untie my hair and work it back into a neater bun.

  “As long as I want. That’s how long my trip is. No rushing. No schedule. I’ll get there when I get there.”

  Shit. I glance at my thumbnail. It’s chipped and rough along the edge, so I look for a file. I know there’s one in my bag, but I can’t find it. After removing most of the contents onto the counter, I find it.

  “Hello?”

  Filing the rough edge, I look up.

  “Did you hear me?” Jake frowns, glaring at the file in my hand.

  “Uh … yeah.” I keep filing. “You like to take your time driving to L.A. That’s fine. My job is … flexible.” I bite my lips together so he doesn’t see my I-don’t-have-a-job expression.

  Jake chuckles, shaking his head. It’s a wicked chuckle. Why is he giving me a wicked chuckle? What did I miss?

  “Jake …” Bethanne says his name like a plea. “Just help her out. You might enjoy the company.” She shoots me a look, a cue of sorts.

  Okay, I guess I’m up.

  “Yes.” I give him a toothy grin. “I’ll be excellent company.”

  He shifts his attention to the dumped-out contents of my purse on the counter. Bethanne takes a step back so he can’t see her. She holds up her hands in a prayer gesture and mouths, “Say please.”

  That feels like begging. I’m not good at begging. I’m more of a briber or manipulator.

  He sighs. “I don’t think it’s a good idea—”

  “Please!” I said that. Whoa! Where did that come from? My need to get home is more desperate than I thought.

  Jake inspects me with nervous apprehension wrinkling his face.

  I slowly bring my hands to my chest in prayer position, mirroring Bethanne. “Pretty please.” Gah! Another chipped nail. I hold out one hand, inspecting the jagged edge. I’m never going back to that nail salon.

  “Two weeks chip-free my ass,” I mumble.

  “Avery is Tommy’s daughter … Deedy’s friend.” Bethanne says between clenched teeth.

  “Fuck …” he mumbles, rolling his eyes. “Okay, Princess, I’ll take you to L.A., but your crown won’t make it there in one piece.”

  My brows jump up as my breath catches on a gasp. Princess? I will myself to bite my tongue and play nice with my driver, but my poor tongue will be swollen by the time I get back to the Deedy’s house.

  “Tiara.”

  “What?” He squints at me.

  I put everything back in my purse, avoiding his scrutinizing gaze. “You implied I’m a princess…” I shrug, keeping my head bowed “…which is cool. What woman wouldn’t want to be a princess? But then you insinuated I have a crown, which would be incorrect because only kings and queens wear crowns. Princesses wear tiaras.”

  His hands ball into fists, still propped up on the counter.

  I risk a glance up, my lips quivering into a nervous smile. “So either you think I’m actually a queen or you must mean my tiara will not make it to L.A. in one piece. Which…” I rub my lips together to hide my nerves “…is not going to be an issue since I left my tiara at home. I usually only take it on girl getaways.”

  Bethanne snorts a laugh, buckling over and resting her head on Jake’s back. “Oh my gosh …” Her body shakes with laughter.

  He’s going to strangle me. I swallow hard, feeling grateful for the first time that my dad has Deedy to keep him company when I’m dead.

  In an unexpected twist, a tiny grin forms along his mouth. “We leave in two days.”

  “Two days?” I shoot a teary-eyed Bethanne a questioning look. “You said next week.”

  Jake clears his throat. “It’s two days now. After forty-eight hours, my common sense will catch up to what I’ve agreed to do and you’ll be out of luck again.”

  I stand, slinging the straps of my bag onto my shoulder. “Two days is perfect. The sooner I get home the better.” I offer my hand.

  “I said I’m leaving earlier, but I’m still not rushing. You won’t hurry me. You won’t complain. You won’t be a child, nagging me with incessant Are we there yet’s. Got it?”

  How long does he think it takes to drive to California? I withdraw my proffered hand since he shows no interest in sealing the deal with a friendly handshake.

  “Got it. Give me your phone and I’ll give you my number.”

  Bethanne grabs his phone from the counter behind them and holds it up to his face to unlock it. He ignores her, giving me a blank stare accented with the occasional blink. I enter my information into his contacts.

  “I don’t know Deedy’s address. Message me and I’ll send it to you when I get there. Or … duh. She’s Bethanne’s neighbor. Deedy, for some reason, thinks highly of you.” My eyes start to roll, but I stop myself.

  He nods slowly.

  “She’s planning on marrying my father. Reason number one why I need to leave as soon as possible. I’ve hit my limit of shocking, life-changing news.”

  Jake shoots Bethanne a squinted look.

  Her nose wrinkles. “I forgot to mention the new man in Deedy’s life is in town. I helped move him into her house yesterday. And … they are getting married. Sorry … I should have told you.”

  “What am I missing?”

  They both say, “Nothing,” at the same time, which means it’s something.

  * * *

  Two days later, I say a sad goodbye to my father. A part of me feels like I’ve lost him. Maybe this is how a father feels when he gives his daughter away at the altar. He gave Sydney away. Will he ever give me away? Or will this be it … me giving him away?

  “What’s happened to you?” I sit on my larger suitcase to close it.

  My dad leans against the wall by the door, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not following.”

  “You’re letting your baby girl hitch a ride with a complete stranger. A guy. And you have no misgivings about it?”

  “Deedy trusts him implicitly, so I trust her judgment. And I’ve prayed for your safe return to L.A.”

  I lug both suitcases to the door of the sewing room. Hopefully Deedy trusts Jake implicitly to carry my suitcases to his vehicle.

  Dad cradles my face, and I rest my hands over his. “Did you call Sydney back yet?”

  I nod. “Yesterday.”

  “Good.” He smiles.

  I miss his fatherly touch, the comfort only a father can give.

  “Have you heard the saying Love doesn’t divide, it multiplies?”

  I blink back the tears.

  “My precious daughter, how do you think God can love every single person on this earth? I’m sharing my life with Deedy, but the love I have for you and Sydney can never be shared. Not with each other and not with Deedy.”

  I set a few tears free.

  “And I’m not giving Deedy the love I had and will always have for your mom.”

  “Bethanne said you were lonely.”

  He gives me a small smile. “I was but that’s life. Peaks and valleys. I thanked God for my life, and I even thanked him for the years I’ve had by myself to reflect on my life—the love and loss. Then I asked him for … something.”

  He rubs his thumbs over my wet cheeks. “I didn’t even know what that was until a friend of mine told me about the church chatroom.”

  “Anthony cheated on me.” A sob breaks free. I’ve been waiting to say those words that have been locked up in a prison of denial for days. “And he’s taking away the spa. Now I don’t have a job. And my hand may never be the same. A-and … and I’m almost thirty with no direction, no other skills.”

  “Oh, Avery, Avery, Avery …” He pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. “Have faith. Embrace this time in your life and be open to the lessons life has to teach you.”

  “I am. I’ve learned to hate all men except you.”

  He chuckles. “I fear you’re distracted by the little details and therefore missing the bigger picture. Be open to let miracles grace your life.”

  “Jake’s here,” Deedy calls
from the living room.

  I fish a tissue from my purse. “My makeup …”

  “Go do your thing in the bathroom. We’ll get your stuff loaded up, and I’ll make sure Swarley is ready to go too.”

  I kiss my dad on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  After fixing my smeared makeup and using the bathroom one last time, I grab my handbag and meet everyone in the driveway. Jake scratches his head while staring at my luggage, one hand planted on his hip.

  “Hi.”

  He looks up at me with slightly narrowed eyes. My gaze drops to his T-shirt with a duct tape X over the front of it.

  Silence is Golden

  Duct Tape is Silver

  “In case you needed a reminder.” He grins.

  I frown. “That’s a red pickup truck.”

  “Sorry, did you request a different color?” Jake slips his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

  “Where’s the RV?”

  “RV?”

  “Recreational vehicle.”

  He shakes his head. “I know what it stands for. I just don’t know why you’re talking about it.”

  “Because you said we’re going to camp along the way.”

  “We are.” He points to the bed of the truck. “See, there’s a tent, two sleeping bags, a cooler, a camping stove, a hand-powered blender, camping chairs, food, and other miscellaneous supplies. But there’s no room for two large suitcases, a duffel bag filled with dog supplies, and a dog bed.”

  “You think I’m going to sleep in a tent? In a sleeping bag?”

  Jake gives my dad a polite smile. I’m sure behind it he’s choking on his words, but why would he offer to give us a ride if he didn’t have room?

  “Avery, how would you feel about us shipping one of your suitcases to your apartment?” Deedy asks.

  “I have stuff I need in both suitcases. I’d have to repack both of them, and I can’t guarantee I can get everything I might need for the trip into just one of them.”

  Jake grumbles as he hops into the bed of the truck, reshuffling everything. After a few minutes, he retrieves ties from under the backseats, heaves my two suitcases onto the pile of camping supplies, and secures everything with the straps.

  My dad whistles for Swarley to get in the backseat, then he and Deedy thank Jake for his generosity, which is crazy because how well do any of us know this tattooed, muscle-bound serial killer?