by M. Leighton
I turn around to face him. He’s so close I can count the dark stubble that dusts his cheeks.
“So how do we do this?”
Without taking his eyes off mine, Jake winds his arm around my waist, pulls me in tight against him, then lifts me off the ground. “Just hold on to me. I’ve got you.”
I don’t know if it’s just in my head or if Jake means to make that sound like more than the obvious. Either way, my brain, spinning with drink and fear and anticipation, interprets his words differently. In some ways, I think Jake does have me. My attention, my attraction, my curiosity, my desire—but what comes next? Some part of me anxiously awaits the answer to that question. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to let go of the old Laney long enough to enjoy what I find.
My arms slip easily around his neck and my legs intertwine with his, leaving no space between us. We fit together perfectly, like our bodies were designed with the other in mind.
“Ready?” he asks as he watches me intently. Again, in my mind, it seems he’s asking me about so much more.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
With a grin, he pulls back on the rope, steps up onto the bottom of the tire and pushes off. We swing way up into the air, enough for my stomach to drop, before Jake lets go.
Then we’re flying.
And I’m falling.
Down, down, down we go, and I hear Jake’s whoop just before cool water engulfs us. I can still feel the heat of his body and, even as our momentum slows and I begin to swim upward, Jake never loosens his hold.
We break the surface at the same time. Jake’s laughing as he shakes his head, sending droplets of water in every direction. When his eyes meet mine, they’re sparkling.
“Well?” he asks.
“That was awesome.” My heart is still hammering, although I’m not sure if it’s from the swing or from Jake’s legs tangling with mine. “Thank you for doing it with me.”
His smile turns wicked. “There are many, many things I’d like to do with you. I hope this was just the beginning.”
“There are?”
“Oh, I think you know there are.” I smile into his eyes as his arm tightens around my waist and he drags me slowly toward shallower water. He stops when his feet hit solid ground. Mine are still dangling freely. My head spins with purple drink. My stomach flutters with anticipation. My heart races with excitement. “Tell me to kiss you,” he commands in his gravelly voice.
Uptight Laney would pause to consider. And then politely decline. But today . . . right now . . . she’s not here.
I don’t give it a second thought. I want him to do it; I want him to kiss me. “Kiss me,” I whisper.
His lips twitch with satisfaction just before he lowers his head to mine.
The touch of Jake’s lips is familiar, yes. His lips are firm yet yielding, and, even after eating, he still tastes vaguely of cinnamon. But in all other ways, this kiss is different. There’s promise in it, the promise that this is where the ride starts, that this is where I have to take a deep breath and really jump into the unknown.
His mouth teases mine until it opens and he can slide his tongue inside. As it tangles with mine, stroking it, licking it, his hands skate down my back. He angles his head and deepens the kiss. I’m caught up in sensation as his palms cover my butt and then slide down the backs of my thighs to pull my legs around his waist.
With the intimate contact and no one to jerk on the reins, heat explodes between us. An urgency flourishes between us, making lips hungry and hands desperate. Suddenly, none of this feels too soon or too rushed or too dangerous. It feels just right.
Out of breath, Jake drags his mouth away from mine, trailing it to my ear, where he nips at the lobe. “I was thinking earlier about rubbing my hand over your wet panties, about what it would feel like to put my fingers inside you.” He groans. Chills shoot down my back and my nipples tingle into tight points that beg for the brush of his chest against them. “You know I’m going to do that, right? Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But it will happen. You’ll be mine, Laney. Before all is said and done, you will be mine.”
With his words ringing in my head, he crushes his lips against mine again, threading the fingers of one hand into my wet hair as his other hand presses my hips against his.
It’s not until I hear a delighted squeal that I remember we aren’t alone.
Reluctantly, I pull my mouth away from his. My thoughts are foggy. I can’t think right with him touching me, kissing me, talking to me this way.
Dazedly, I look around, prepared to be mortified. But no one is paying us any attention. Jake had enough sense to pull us to the bend at the edge of the cove, practically hidden from the view of the others.
“Don’t worry. They can’t see.”
“I know, but still . . .”
I lean away. The spell is broken. This conversation, this moment deserves privacy. Of course, privacy could mean that we’d get carried away. And I’m not sure yet just how far it’s safe for me to let Jake carry me. I’d thought there was no danger of me getting attached to him, but as I look at his handsome face and think of the great care and consideration he’s shown me today, I worry that Mr. Wrong might start to feel like Mr. Right.
* * *
My shorts are finally dry. Well, Hannah’s shorts are finally dry, I should say. After Jake and I got out of the water, we sat on a log in the sun to let our clothes dry. It took just long enough that my head finally began to clear.
And indecision set in.
Am I really capable of engaging in even the most casual of relationships and banter with a guy like Jake? Earlier, I definitely thought so, but now . . . It seems that no matter how badly I get hurt or how much fun there is to be had on the “other side,” I’m still the same girl at heart. Some like it wild, but not me. At least not forever. I still want the same things. A man to love me more than anything. A man to put me and our family first. A man to build a life with. And I’m not crazy enough to think that Jake is that guy.
I might be crazy enough to wish he was, though.
I notice the low position of the sun and start to feel guilty about running off the way I did, without so much as a word to my parents. Yes, I’m an adult, but it was a really inconsiderate thing to do.
“I think I should probably head home,” I say to Jake when the music dies down again. Saltwater Creek has played intermittently since we arrived, and they’re actually quite good. I don’t really want to leave yet. The thought of curling up next to Jake, after dark, in front of the fire I can see them building on the beach area, is extremely tempting. But . . .
Jake is agreeable about leaving. He doesn’t seem to have any preference for staying or going.
He’s quiet on the drive home, but I don’t think that really says much. I get the feeling he’s not one for small talk.
It’s fully dark by the time we reach town. “You know, you could just drop me at my parents’ house if you wouldn’t mind. I can get one of them to take me to my car in the morning. It’s getting late.”
Jake shrugs. “Okay.”
“It’s not far from here.”
“I know where you live.”
“You do?”
“Everyone knows where the preacher lives.”
He falls silent again. He guides the Jeep competently through the turns that lead to my street. I study him surreptitiously from beneath my lashes. The sharp angle of his cheekbones and the sculpted edge of his lips are highlighted by the soft glow of the dashboard light. He doesn’t seem mad or upset, or inconvenienced. He just seems like . . . Jake.
Handsome, charming, sexy Jake.
Jake who sets my blood on fire. Jake who I can’t get out of my head.
“Home sweet home,” he says lightly as he parks at the curb in front of the house I grew up in.
I grab my rumpled clothes and purse from the floorboard and reach for the door handle. “Thanks, Jake. I had a good time.”
“My pleasure,” he re
plies.
He seems . . . off somehow, but I can’t put my finger on it. I want to ask, but there are a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t, why I shouldn’t even care.
“Well, good night.”
“Good night.” I start to climb down, but Jake’s voice stops me. “Oh, wait.” My heart speeds up in anticipation. Jake cuts off the engine and pulls the keys from the ignition. He works one free and hands it to me. “Here. I won’t be there for a few days. It’s a round-the-clock shift at the fire station. Let yourself in, make yourself at home. Call my cell if you have any questions about anything.”
I take the key from his fingers. “How will you get back in tonight?”
He waves me off. “I didn’t lock the door. Besides, we have a spare key hidden in one of the barns.”
I nod and give him a small smile, feeling bereft that the night is ending like this. So cool. So casual. So disappointing in the face of what happened earlier.
You’ve got no one to blame but yourself. Besides, you should be pleased. Jake Theopolis is a complication you don’t need.
“Sweet dreams, Laney,” Jake says as I’m shutting the door. I look back, but he’s already pulling away.
But I could’ve sworn I saw him grinning, and that elevates my mood considerably. That seems a little more in character for him. Enough to bring a delighted smile to my face.
I’m still grinning in pleasure as I walk through the unlocked front door of my parents’ house. When I shut it behind me and hear nothing but unnatural quiet and the tick of the mantle clock in the living room, my guard goes up immediately.
There’s trouble brewing.
Quietly, I creep toward the steps. I feel like a teenager again, trying to avoid a confrontation that will end in a lecture and then me being grounded for all eternity.
Only I’m not a teenager. And I’m beginning to resent that I still feel that way when I come home.
“Laney, can you come here?”
My father. And I recognize that tone.
My stomach drops.
Curling my clothes into a tighter ball, I straighten my spine and walk to the living room. I smile casually when I stop just inside the doorway. “What’s up?”
Both my parents look like I’ve just slapped them across the face. And they’re both staring at my wad of clothes.
“Laney, what on earth?” Mom asks, holding a hand to her throat like I just announced I’m pregnant or joining a cult.
“Where have you been, young lady?” Daddy asks.
“Out.”
I know such a short answer will only incur more questions and more wrath, but I’m still feeling a bit defiant from the taste of freedom I’ve enjoyed all day.
“Out where? And with whom? And whose clothes are those? Because I know they’re not yours.”
“And just how do you know that, Daddy?”
“Because my daughter would never dress like that!” he booms.
“And what’s wrong with this? I’m not showing anything inappropriate. And, for what I was doing, this was actually quite concealing.”
Mom gasps.
“And just what were you doing?”
“Swimming. Is that a problem?”
“Where?”
“A place called the Blue Hole.”
My father’s face turns red. “You know you’re forbidden to go to places like that.”
“Yes, Daddy. I know I was forbidden to go to places like that. But that was before I went to college, became an adult, and got a job out in the real world.”
“Just because you’re a few years older doesn’t make places like that any more appropriate. Or the people that frequent them.” I say nothing. There’s no arguing with him when he’s like this. “Who were you with? Who took you to that hellhole?”
I grit my teeth. This will just be icing on the cake. “Jake Theopolis.”
“Laney, I’ve told you—”
I interrupt my father’s blustering. “I know, I know. You don’t think he’s good company. You don’t think he’s the right kind of friend to have. You don’t approve. Well, you know what, Daddy? I like him. He’s kind and he helped me when I needed it today. And I think you’ve misjudged him.”
“And just what would Shane think about you spending time with someone like that?”
He thinks that’s what will cinch up his argument. A veiled threat to tattle on me to my fiancé.
Ha! He’s my ex-fiancé!
“I don’t care, Daddy. And it doesn’t matter. How many times do I have to tell you that we broke up?”
“Well, until you give me a good reason, I’m not giving up on the two of you. Shane’s a good man. The right kind of man. Good for you. You need to hang on to him. And cavorting about with a person like Jake Theopolis could ruin what you have with him. And I won’t stand for that. Someone has to look out for you, do what’s best for you.”
“Maybe so, Daddy. But you’re not it. From now on, I’m the only one that’s looking out for me. And if I ever find someone I feel like handing the reins over to, I’ll be sure to let you know. But until then, back off!”
With that, I whirl away from my stunned parents and storm up the stairs and to my room, slamming the door behind me.
If they want a teenager back in the house, I’ll give them one!
* * *
Between that devilish drink I had at the Blue Hole, the drama with my parents, and the miniscule amount of sleep I was able to get after it, I’m tired and cranky by the time I drive back home from Jake’s Monday.
As I pull up in front of the house, I wonder absently why Mom’s car is parked on the street at the curb rather than in the garage. When nothing comes to mind right away, I shrug it off and grab my stuff from the passenger seat to head inside.
Something wonderful teases my nose when I open the door. I inhale deeply, feeling better already. “I’ll be back down after I change clothes, Mom!” I call, aiming my voice toward the kitchen as I head for the stairs.
In my room, I dig through my still-packed suitcase and pull out some yoga pants and a T-shirt with a rip at the neck. I’m hoping my most comfortable clothes will bring me good luck. Maybe my parents can just leave last night where it belongs—in the past.
Maybe.
I hope.
I jog back down the steps and make the right that will take me through the dining room and into the kitchen. I see the table is set. Quite formally, actually. I think back for a second to any plans Mom might’ve told me about, but I come up with nothing.
Again.
I stop dead in my tracks after one step into the kitchen. My mouth drops open and all thought flies out of my head when I see what’s waiting for me.
Or, rather, who.
Sitting at the island, still dressed in his work clothes, is Shane. My ex fiancé. The man I have no desire to see or speak to ever again.
At first, I’m just confused. I look to Mom then to Dad, asking, “What’s he doing here?”
Shane stands and walks to me, reaching out to put his hands on my shoulders. I flinch at his touch, backing away from him. “Laney, we need to talk. And your father thought this might be a good time for us to do that.”
His voice is well-modulated, purposely made to sound reasonable and confident. But all I hear is the voice of a liar. Of the man who broke my heart and betrayed me. With my best friend.
I’m flooded with disbelief. This can’t be right. My parents would never, never be so manipulative and inconsiderate.
I lean to look around Shane’s shoulder, expecting to see some sign of outrage at his lies. Or at the very least something to show me that he was gravely mistaken.
But that’s not what I see at all.
I see the support of my parents. But not for me. For my ex fiancé.
It’s an ambush.
“You did this?” I whisper, addressing my father. My throat is closed around a knot so large it feels like a fist. “Please tell me he’s wrong. Please tell me this is just a misunderstanding.”
My mother has the good grace to bow her head. This obviously wasn’t her idea.
My eyes slide back to my father, standing tall and proud and unapologetic behind the island. Behind Shane.
“How could you?” I can barely squeeze out the words, but I know they are easily intelligible in the absolute quiet of the room.
“I can’t let you make a mistake with that Theopolis boy that you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”
With an ache in my chest that feels like a raw and bleeding cavern, I turn away from my father. “The only two mistakes I’ve made, Daddy, are trusting Shane and coming back here.”
Without a backward glance, I retrace my footsteps back up the steps, throw my few toiletries back into my suitcase, grab my purse, and go right back out to my car.
As I’m pulling away from the curb, away from the home and the people that seem barely recognizable to me right now, I have no idea where I’m going. I just know I can’t stay here.
TEN: Jake
I’m tired. Not from overexertion like I might’ve been after a forty-eight-hour shift in Baton Rouge. No, this is from boredom. From being static for the better part of two days. It’s no wonder there’s only a dozen guys on the entire fire department force here. There just isn’t enough activity to keep many people busy.
I worked an extra eighteen hours, bringing my total to sixty-six hours straight. I was hoping to at least get some kind of call where I could exercise my response skills, but no such luck. It was just . . . quiet.
Damn.
Since it’s the middle of the night, I figure I’ll get a few hours’ sleep then get up and go for a run. At least working here at the orchard is a little bit stimulating. There’s more to do than eat and play cards and watch television.
I stretch my neck as I pull into the long driveway that leads to the house. I’m missing Baton Rouge and all its excitement and activity, right up until I see the dusk-to-dawn light shining on a familiar blue car parked in front of the garage. The sight pushes Baton Rouge—and every other desire, for the most part—to the very back of my mind.
“What the hell is Laney doing here at this hour?” I ask out loud as I recheck the dashboard clock to make sure I’m not missing something.