by Ann, Jewel
“I am.” I spread my legs for him last night. It’s killing me to submit to him again, even if it’s just a guise.
“A handful of spinach, a banana, two dates—pitted—coconut water, and a scoop of Cordyceps powder.”
“Cordyceps?”
He shrugs off his tank top. I remind my eyes to keep my gaze above his neck.
“Mushrooms.”
“Reeeally …” I fail at keeping cool. Jake likes mushrooms in his smoothie. Well, isn’t that just fate?
“Yes, really. You should try them.” He slips into the tent. “Do you know where everything’s at?”
“Yes, Jake. I’ve watched you flaunt your morning routine. It’s predictable.”
When he comes back out, I flash him a smile.
“You’re in a good mood today. You forgive me for your shirt?”
Not ever, you monkey-spanking asshole.
“Mmm …” I nod, biting my tongue.
“I’ll be back in ten.”
I continue nodding as he disappears around the trees toward the shower facilities.
In the back of the truck, I riffle through the cooler and plastic containers to get his smoothie shit out. He has three bananas left. I scarf down two. If a guy goes down on a girl, all food becomes communal. Cringing, I try to forget about what his tongue did to me because that same tongue probably did that same thing to Deedy.
Retch …
I contemplate how much of my special mushroom to add to his smoothie, not wanting it to impart a noticeable taste. Half-sies feels about right. It’s not like I want him dead—okay, maybe I do, but …
Dear Heavenly Father,
Please don’t let this kill Jake. Seriously, I mean it. My gut says it won’t, but I need your magical powers as a backup in case things go wrong. I would never survive prison, but I’m sure you know this. Oh, and of course the guilt and remorse. I’m not suggesting prison is my number one concern, clearly human life trumps that—even Jake’s. Once things between us feel a bit more even, I promise to act my age, and try to do what Jesus would do a little more often. Please forgive my moments of sin. I’m only human.
“The water is extra cold today.”
My heart springs into my throat as I turn toward Jake’s voice.
Be cool, Avery!
“Big surprise.” I hand him his smoothie, once again reminding my gaze to ignore his bared chest, dripping hair, and those perfect flip-flop clad feed.
“Where’s yours?”
“My what?” My eyes narrow.
“Your smoothie?”
“Already drank it.”
“What did you think?”
“It was good. Hope you don’t mind, but I used two bananas in mine.”
He takes a sip of his smoothie. “Mmm … you did good.”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to keel over.
“Go shower. Let’s hit the road as soon as possible.”
“Good idea.” I hustle to get my stuff and run to the shower. Of course I want to get on the road, but mostly I need to be close by if he dies. There will be a body to bury—I mean … 9-1-1 to call.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Oklahoma. Just as I suspected.
We make it two hours down the road. I start to think I should have used the whole mushroom. The good news—if I can really look at it like that—is Jake’s still alive.
“Fucker!”
Jake’s body tenses with my outburst. Swarley whines, making his own adjustments in the backseat to hide behind Jake instead of me.
“I hate you! I. HATE. YOU!” I roll down my window and throw my phone out into the ditch.
“Av-er-y …” Jake rolls up my window.
Clenching my teeth, I will away the tears. Anthony Fucking Asshole, chocolate-mousse liar, cheater, hateful man doesn’t deserve my tears.
“Ave?” Jake rests his hand on my leg—this brings out the tears.
I don’t want his kindness and sympathy.
“He had my cell phone disconnected,” I whisper, swatting at my tears.
Jake squeezes my leg.
“Anthony wanted to marry me and he wanted to fuck his cook. Oh … and he wanted me to be okay with it. I said no. Now he’s …” I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Do you want me to kick his ass?”
My head snaps to the side, meeting his quick glance filled with concern and sincerity. “You’d beat a man up to defend my honor?”
“I’d do it as a favor.”
“For me? Or …” I wrinkle my nose as that stupid reel of Deedy in the throes of passion flashes in my head again. “How do you know Deedy?”
He shrugs. “What does it matter?”
“Oh … it matters. It matters a whole helluva lot.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s marrying my dad.”
“So?”
“Please … please don’t be this way. Don’t make me spell it out for you.”
“Sorry, Miss Valedictorian, but I must be the idiot who doesn’t understand.”
“Did you have sex with her?” My voice booms, but I’m not sure why. I blame it on Anthony and his uncouth way of handling a breakup that’s his fault.
Jake waits a few seconds. It’s a yes or no answer. There’s no reason to wait, unless he’s formulating a lie.
“I’m trying to figure out how my sexual history is relevant to you or your dad.”
It’s a yes. I cuff a hand around my neck as if I can manually keep the vomit from coming out. “If you did to her what you did to me … and she’s going to be my stepmom, and my dad has probably put his mouth where you put …” I retch.
Jake pulls off the road. “Get out. Don’t you dare vomit in my truck.”
I jump out, bending over into the ditch. Nothing comes out, even after a few more gags that make my eyes water. This is payback, that bitch named Karma, for all the men I’ve slept with who have daughters close to my age—or younger. This is what I get. Life is cruel.
Gentle hands pull back my hair. I reach up to stop him.
“I know, be careful with your hair.”
I nod, standing straight when I’m certain those two bananas are not coming up.
“I didn’t have sex with Deedy,” Jake whispers in my ear, sliding his arm around me just above my chest. He pulls my back against him and kisses my shoulder.
It’s kind.
I didn’t know he could be kind.
It’s intimate.
I didn’t think I wanted to feel intimacy with him or anyone.
“We didn’t have sex, but you …” I can’t say it.
“I haven’t been physical with Deedy. Is that what you want to know?” He kisses my shoulder again as his other hand slides around my waist over my exposed midsection below my crop top, but just above my high-waisted shorts.
I hate myself for wanting his touch. He hasn’t earned the right to touch me like this, but at the same time, I feel like that’s exactly what he’s trying to do right now. If there were other cars passing by, they’d have to wonder what’s going on, but Jake loves the roads less traveled, so I doubt anyone will drive by unless they are lost.
“Ave …” His lips move to my neck. “I’m sorry.”
I’m in who-knows-where Oklahoma, falling apart from the inside out, with a man who plays me emotionally and physically like no man before him. Buried beneath layers of self-loathing, resignation, and the total whiplash from my life hitting a brick wall, I let myself take the affection that’s being offered.
“Jake …” I swallow, weak in the knees and breathless. “Deedy said you’re trustworthy and kind. I need that Jake. Can you show me that Jake for one day?”
“Yes.” He turns me in his arms and kisses me. It’s possessive, but not entitled. I feel wanted, but not guilted. I grab his shirt and hold him close to me.
He lifts me up and sets me back in the passenger’s seat. We break apart, panting, eyes wild with need.
Swarley whines.
J
ake opens the back door to let him out. Before I can worry about a leash or poop bags, those lips I hate to love crash against mine again. He kisses me like he’s pissed at me yet desperate to get more. It’s intoxicating and frightening. I know my demons, but his feel scarier than mine. He makes me feel like a war he must win.
“Spread your legs wider, Ave.”
I obey. His hand inches up my inner thigh as his tongue makes slow strokes against mine.
I tug at his shorts, popping open the button.
He freezes, pulling away as his hands halt mine. “Stop.”
I’m bad at sex. That’s why he’s stopping. Or he doesn’t trust me to follow through. I’m a tease. He’s too smart to let me fool him twice, but I’m not fooling him. I’m ready to throw off my clothes alongside the road in broad daylight and let him fuck me blind.
“Jake …”
Sweat beads along his brow, accompanied by shallow breaths.
“Fuck …” He turns and vomits—over and over.
I cover my mouth in horror and then … in recognition. Oh my god, I poisoned him.
Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!
What if he dies? He can’t die. The one day he’s not awful, I poison him. Me and my stupid need to get revenge.
I don’t know what to say? Do I tell him why he’s vomiting? He’ll hate me. This morning I didn’t care if he hated me, now I kind of don’t want him to hate me—or die.
Easing out of the truck, I pat his back with a gentle hand. “Jake, are you okay?”
He expels one more round of smoothie—and my secret ingredient—before wiping his mouth. “No. I’m not okay.” The pasty white sheen of his skin worries me. It’s like his body has settled into the color it will be in his casket.
“Here.” I grab his water bottle from the truck.
“Thank you.” He takes it.
“No need to thank me.”
Awkward.
Jake rinses and spits, before drinking several long swigs. “Did the spinach feel slimy to you?”
Biting my lips together while cringing, I shake my head.
“It feels like food poisoning. What the hell did I eat that was bad?”
My eyebrows lift. “I-I don’t know.”
I poisoned you. I’m so incredibly sorry.
How do I fail at something as simple as revenge? He blew his disgusting wad onto my expensive T-shirt. He called me a princess, diva, and bitch. The list of reasons why he deserves to come close to dying is so long, I can’t even see the end of it with binoculars, but … when I’m not hating Jake, I kinda like him.
“We have to go. Get Swarley.”
“Go?”
“Just do it!” He walks around the truck, hunchbacked.
I get Swarley in the truck, and Jake fishtails back onto the main road.
“You’re um … going a bit fast.”
Eighty.
Eighty-five.
Ninety.
Holy shit! We’re burning down the road at ninety.
“Jake, I think you should slow down.”
With a permanent grimace, he shakes his head. Within minutes, we pull into a gas station. I’m not sure it’s even open or still in business. Jake nearly falls out as he opens the door then hightails it around the side of the building, buckled over and waddling like he has something stuck up his ass.
Swarley whines.
“Shh! I know. It was wrong.” I bite my chipped thumbnail, nose wrinkled. “Please don’t die,” I whisper.
Fifteen minutes later, Jake emerges from the side of the building, looking like a corpse.
“I’ll drive.” I hop out and hold open the door.
“I’ll drive,” he mumbles with a weak voice.
“No way. You can barely keep your eyes open. Food poisoning can be very serious. We can’t have you vomiting while driving, and we don’t really know that it’s poisoning … uh food poisoning, that is.”
On a shallow sigh, he nods and climbs into the passenger’s side.
“Let’s find the nearest hotel,” he says as I buckle into the driver’s seat.
Who knew all I had to do was poison him to get linens and an actual shower?
Terrible thoughts. Who celebrates poisoning someone?
“Okay.” I restrain my slight enthusiasm.
Jake falls asleep while I pass up the nearest hotel that I’m certain is the kind that only rents by the hour. When I find a chain name that I recognize, I park the truck and tap his arm. “We’re here.”
Peeling his eyes open, he grumbles. “Get a room. Any room.”
“Okay.” I wait, holding my purse. This isn’t how I wanted to confess my predicament, but given my phoneless status and credit-less situation, I have no choice. “I have less than five dollars to my name. Anthony’s brother is a banker and he’s managed to freeze all of my lines of credit, including my checking account and all credit cards.”
Jake doesn’t even respond with a look. Keeping his eyes closed, he tosses me his wallet.
“Oh …” I cringe. “I realize you’re more of a camper, but hotels require a photo I.D. and a credit card. My I.D. won’t match your credit card, and your credit card won’t match my I.D., so …”
He grumbles, pawing for the door handle. I jump out and run around the truck, opening the door for him. Draping his big arm around my shoulders, I help him into the lobby. After securing a room, I take him straight up to it and help him into bed. Before I can get his shoes off, he dashes to the bathroom.
“I’ll just … get Swarley and our bags. Okay?”
A disgusting noise sounds from behind the bathroom door. I’m not sure which end is releasing the toxins, and I don’t want to know.
Jake spends the rest of the day in the bathroom, refusing to let me in except to hand him water, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and a bag that has activated charcoal. He’s such a Boy Scout, always prepared to be poisoned with mushrooms.
Gulp!
“Hey.” I jump out of bed, muting the TV. “Are you feeling better? What can I get you? I ordered room service.” I point to a tray of food. Most of it’s gone because … two bananas.
Taking a deep breath, he shakes his head. “No food.” Collapsing onto the other bed, he rests his arm over his forehead. “I’m empty. Nothing else can come out of this body.”
“You’re going to live, right?”
“I think so.”
Thank god!
“What can I do? You need to hydrate. Coconut water?”
“I’m not thirsty.” His voice is weak like the rest of him. He’s this pile of muscle and tattooed skin, but I’m certain I’m stronger than him right now.
“You have to hydrate. I’m going to get you something. Stay put.” I grab my purse.
“You have no money,” he murmurs.
I don’t. No money. No phone.
“My wallet.”
I nod even though he can’t see me. After taking a twenty from his wallet, I brush my fingers over the top of his bare foot. It twitches beneath my touch. “I’m really sorry.”
Like really sorry.
“It’s not your fault.” His red-streaked eyes peek out from under his arm.
I brought the mean giant to his knees. There should be a victory party. There should be gloating. There should be this grand sense of revenge and accomplishment—but there’s not.
Faking the tiniest of smiles, I slide the money into my purse, whistle for Swarley to follow, and leave before guilt cracks me and my confession pours out of my pathetic conscience.
* * *
After a quick trip to a small store and an even quicker walk to let Swarley work out his own bowel issues and eat his dinner, I carry the bag of electrolyte water and coconut water to the hotel room on the third floor.
“Go lie down,” I whisper to Swarley upon seeing Jake curled onto his side, sleeping.
Setting a water on the nightstand, I sit on the edge of his bed. Jake shifts a fraction without opening his eyes. My hand moves to his face, my pa
lm hovering over his cheek for a few seconds—giving me a chance to admire his soft skin, marred with only a few pearly scars. When I let it rest on his cheek, he opens his eyes.
“Hey.”
I smile past the gnawing guilt of being such an awful person. “Hey,” I whisper.
“I think the charcoal did its job.” He drags in a slow breath and releases it in one quick whoosh through his nose.
“Does that mean you’re feeling better?”
Stretching out, he nods. “What time is it?”
“Ten-fifteen. Since you’re feeling better, I’m going to jump in the shower.” I jab my head toward the coconut water. “Hydrate.”
“Yes, Dr. Montgomery.” Something resembling a grin plays along his lips.
I try to mirror his kind sentiment, but I can’t because I poisoned him.
Gah!
“Don’t wait up for me. I’m not getting out of the shower until I’ve drained all the hot water.” Grabbing my clothes, I give him a don’t-give-me-shit-about-it look.
“Do I want to know what you do in the shower?” He scoots up to a forty-five-degree angle and laces his hands behind his head. It does good things to his abs—really good things.
“Probably.” I wink.
Why? Why did I wink? Why did I say probably in my most seductive voice? I can either want him for sex or want him dead, but I need to pick one before the next orgasm or accidental poisoning.
A hotel shower has never felt so good. Jake’s asleep again by the time I emerge from the steamy bathroom. After re-taping my two fingers, I sit on the edge of my bed, watching Jake as I try to comb through my wet hair. Swarley lumbers onto my bed.
“No.” I try to shoo him off. He ignores me. The second I snuggle into my spot, I smell dog breath and feel it warm and moist against the back of my head.
“Not cool, Swarley.” Throwing off the covers, I sit up. There’s room in Jake’s bed. Maybe he’s out of it enough that I could catch a few hours of good sleep and crawl back in the flea bed before Jake wakes up.
Making the stealth transition from my bed to Jake’s, I manage to get positioned next to him without him stirring. Sleep takes me quickly, and I don’t move an inch until morning.