Real Kind of Love

by Sara Rider

“Hey, Grandma Jean. Is it within the rules to ask for help?”

  The older woman raised the glass of lemonade in her hand. “Ding, ding, ding! The scarecrow has a brain after all! Took you long enough to figure it out. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t get there. That’s the secret to a long, happy relationship. Sometimes you just need to sit down, shut up, and let the other person run the show.”

  He handed Clem the cannon and sat back to watch her work her magic. She crossed her legs, set the pipes in her lap, and wrenched them apart. “First rule of spud cannons: don’t mix PVC with ABS. Now hand me that glue gun.”

  He watched in awe as she worked. Her movements were precise and effective, as though she had a set of plans mapped out inside her mind. Within a few minutes, Andrew and Mike handed off their cannons to their wives and joined him, dragging along the cooler full of beer with them.

  “Glad you finally figured this out. I was getting sick of trying to do it myself but Grandma Jean said we weren’t allowed to ask for help until you figured out that it’s always best to ask your woman the right way to do things,” Mike said, handing Jake a beer. “That’s how Chastity and I met. She caught me looking over her shoulder on our biology exam in junior year.”

  “Don’t forget the part where your cheating landed us both in detention,” she said, slamming a new end cap onto the back of the cannon.

  “But there’s where I finally got some one-on-one time to woo you with my charm.” He leaned back on his elbows and grinned. “I covered the chalkboards with the words ‘Go out with me, Chastity.’ She only gave in because I promised to erase it before next morning’s homeroom class. The rest was history.”

  “And thanks to my brother’s stubbornness, I met Clover a few years later,” Andrew said. “Hey, how did you and Clem end up dating?”

  “Oh, uh, we met at—”

  “At the steampunk festival at the library,” Clem supplied quickly. “I volunteer every year, remember?”

  “Yeah, but how did you two actually starting dating?” Andrew pressed.

  Jake shifted forward. The dry grass suddenly felt like spikes beneath his legs, like the weight of the lies made it impossible to be comfortable no matter what position he was in. He took a long swing of beer. “Finally got my head out of my ass and asked her out.”

  Clem’s eyes flicked to his, flashing a brief look of panic.

  “Wait a second,” Jean called out. “I might be old, but I swear my granddaughter told me she found her steel ovaries and asked you out.”

  Shit. It was only a matter of time before their lies started to catch up with them. “Yeah, that’s right. She did. But only because she beat me to it. It took me years to work up the courage.”

  Clover looked up and frowned. “Years? Clem never told us you’d known each other for that long.”

  He winced. “Ah, no. I meant that I’d been seeing her around at events like that for years. I guess she never really noticed me until recently.”

  “All done,” Clem said, jumping to her feet. “Time to put these bad boys to the test once and for all. Who’s got the bag of potatoes?”

  The competitive nature of Clem’s family proved an easy distraction for the lies, but even as they set up the cannons along the small bit of rocky shore in front of the cabin, Jake couldn’t shake his unease. He might not know what it took to make a relationship last, but he sure as hell knew that lies were the fastest way to end one.

  A piercing whistle pulled him from his thoughts. Frank stood at the edge of the grass, looking every bit the former navy lieutenant commander he was with his arms crossed. “Listen up, men. I’ve survived boot camp. Three decades of active duty. But none of that compares to the challenge of raising a household of women. These girls are my greatest achievement in life and I don’t intend to hand them off to just any man. You need to be strong enough to fight any battle for the woman you love. Brave enough to throw yourself in front of a train if you need to. But that’s not enough. Not even close. You also need to be smart if you want to make a relationship last.”

  “Guess you’re screwed,” Andrew whispered to Jake.

  Frank pointed a meaty finger at him. “Don’t think you’re not replaceable, too. Just because I let you marry my daughter, doesn’t mean I can’t get rid of you just like that. There’s a reason you’re required to prove yourself again.”

  “Aw, Frank. If you got rid of me, who would crawl under your porch to get rid of the family of raccoons that keeps coming back every spring?”

  Jake looked down to avoid giving away the fact he was suppressing a laugh. The competitive but warm dynamic between Frank and his sons-in-law was something he couldn’t help but envy. It was so far from the relationship he had with his own father. If anything, it reminded him of his friendship with Eli.

  “Now, before we start the competition, safety first.” Frank passed around pairs of safety goggles before diving into a comprehensive list of precautions while Jake and the guys set up their cannons. Since he knew shit-all about potato cannons, he tried to pay attention to everything Frank was saying, but it was hard not to get distracted by how cute Clem looked in the oversized clear plastic glasses. They were launching into the lake, which was so large, there was no risk of hitting anything. And while there were neighboring cabins in the area, they had yet to see any other person on the lake since they’d arrived.

  Darlene came around with the bag of potatoes next. He plucked one from the bag, but dropped it back in when Clem silently shook her head.

  “Why don’t you choose?”

  “My pleasure.” She beamed as she picked out a round, medium sized, red-skinned potato. “This here is the winner.”

  “You’re up first, Jake,” Frank said.

  “You’ve got this,” Clem encouraged as he stuffed the potato down the long barrel. He filled the chamber with a healthy dose of hairspray and picked up the igniter.

  “Wait!”

  He dropped the igniter and whipped his head around to see Ellie and Millie rushing toward him, tears streaking their pale little faces.

  “You can’t shoot Mr. Twinkles!”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Twinkles!” One of them cried. “We put him on our floatie so he could get a suntan and now he’s floating away!”

  “Oh no,” Clover groaned. “Mr. Twinkles is the toad they found by the water the other day.”

  Jake strained his eyes, and sure enough, he spotted a bright yellow floatation ring with a strange green blob on top drifting out in the water.

  “Wait, aren’t toads land creatures?” Chastity asked. “Can they even swim from that far out?”

  The question seemed to erupt a thunderstorm of tears and wailing from the girls.

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” Clover said, trying futilely to comfort her daughters.

  Crap. He could feel his decision solidifying in his mind even though his instincts protested. “I’ll go save him.”

  The girls cheered him on like a hero as he jogged down to the dock and climbed into one of the kayaks that had been left out. It took a good five minutes to paddle out to the toad, but once he got there, he had no idea how to actually rescue the damn thing without it jumping off to the great blue beyond.

  With agonizing slowness, he reached his paddle into the middle of the ring and dragged it toward him. The squat, wart-covered animal croaked so loud, Jake nearly tipped over in his kayak. He steadied himself with his paddle, took a deep breath, and carefully reached for the creature.

  “Easy now,” he muttered before realizing it was ridiculous to be talking to an amphibian. So close now…

  A boom erupted like an earthquake, the only warning before the searing pain exploded in his shoulder. The world went a little fuzzy after that, but he swore he could hear Clem screaming his name as he crashed into the water.

  He wasn’t dead—yet—but Jake was starting to wonder if he would make it back from this vacation alive. He blinked a few times, glad to realize he wasn’t at the bottom of t
he lake, but the two deceptively cherubic little faces staring down at him made him think it was only a matter of time. For now, he was damn relieved to feel the grass beneath his hands.

  “Thank you for rescuing Mr. Twinkles,” the one he thought was Millie said, tiny bottom lip trembling.

  “We’re sorry we made the cannon go off and hit you,” Ellie added with a sniffle. “Mommy says we’re grounded until we’re eighteen years old if you live.”

  “And three-hundred and twelve years old if you die, so you can’t die.”

  “I’ll try my best.” Jake pushed up onto his elbows, wincing from the ache in his shoulder

  “Careful. You have a big bruise.” Millie pressed her fingers into his shoulder to show him the spot, and his eyes nearly rolled back into his head from the searing pain that shot right through to the tips of his fingers. “Daddy said he and Uncle Mike would only save you once, so you can’t get hurt again. Promise?”

  “Give him some space, girls,” Clem said, coming into view with a frosty bottle of beer in her hand.

  “Thanks.” He reached for it, needing a drink more than ever right now, but she pulled it out of his grasp and shook her head.

  “For your shoulder.” She pressed it against the bruise and frowned. “I’m so sorry, Jake.”

  “Nah, it was worth it as long as I get to be your hero.”

  She leaned forward, letting her hair brush against his cheek, and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “Haven’t you figured out yet that you already are?”

  “Stop canoodling in front of the children and send that man over here,” Grandma Jean called out. “Grab a seat and have some lemonade with me. I’m going to give you some valuable advice.”

  He climbed to his feet and pulled up a lawn chair to the shady section of the grass where Grandma Jean was sitting.

  “Be a dear and fill me up.” She pointed to the plastic, two-liter bottle of lemonade at her feet. “And make sure to pour yourself one, too.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not a fan of lemonade.” He unscrewed the cap and topped her red solo cup off.

  She pointed a shaky, wrinkled finger at him. “That wasn’t a polite offer, son. It was an order. Now have a drink with me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He poured a glass for himself and took a small sip, barely able to keep from spitting out the liquid the moment it hit his tongue. “This isn’t lemonade,” he managed to say after swallowing.

  She patted his cheek. “Of course not. It’s vodka with just a dash of Fresca for color. How else do you think I handle spending so much time around this crazy family? I figured you needed something a little stronger after nearly losing your head.”

  “Surviving was sufficient, thanks.” He set the cup on the grass, making a mental note to dump it when she wasn’t looking.

  “Well, don’t get too comfortable. You might have passed the challenges my son and dingbat grandsons-in-law set out for you, but that doesn’t mean you’ve won me over yet.”

  “Please tell me you’re not going to make me go on a quest to find the rarest mineral on the planet or anything like that.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m simply going to give you some advice.”

  “Thank god,” he muttered.

  “See, you’re thinking you’re going to get off easy just because I’m asking you to listen, not go cliff-jumping or grabbing logs from the fire with your bare hands. I’m too old for those kinds of shenanigans. But sometimes facing the truth is a lot harder than swimming a couple miles or getting hit with a flying potato. And the truth is a lot of young people get all excited by the romance of new relationships. Flowers, jewelry, fancy dinners. But none of that matters when you’re as old as I am. I lost my Albert five years ago, and we were just as in love the moment he died holding my hand as we were on our wedding day.”

  “I’m listening.”

  She reached her hand out and he took it in his. “That’s good. I doubt most men your age are interested in the words of an old lady like me. But Clementine is an old soul. She’s shy and quiet, but she’s a romantic at heart. Real romance isn’t about the flashy gifts and adventures. It’s about the times you share a laugh together over something no one else finds funny. Looking forward to seeing each other every time you’re apart. It’s about what’s in your heart. You need to hold tight to those quiet moments when you can surprise her with love and kindness. And when you fight, make certain you’re fighting for your relationship. Not against it. And most importantly, it’s about honesty and commitment.”

  Everything Grandma Jean was saying were the kind of things he’d heard before. The kind of trite advice doled out in Hollywood movies and Valentine’s Day commercials. Hell, he’d spent enough hours sitting at the dinner table listening to his parents make these kinds of statements. But her age-thinned voice imbued the words with a gravitas he couldn’t help but respect. Instead of flying past him, her advice landed on him like wet cement, slowly hardening and squeezing his chest.

  “So now you know the last challenge. I’m asking you to look me in the eye and promise to do right by my granddaughter.”

  Honesty and commitment. All he had to do was make a simple promise and enjoy the last twenty-four hours of this trip in peace.

  But he couldn’t do that today. Not on the day he was supposed to make the same commitment to a woman he’d been with for twelve years. He hadn’t even thought about that fact until a few seconds ago.

  The countdown to his wedding day had felt like his own personal doomsday clock ticking closer to the end until his relationship with Kelly exploded ten months ago all on its own. Now, Grandma Jean was asking him to make the same kind of commitment to a woman he wasn’t even dating.

  Take away the sex, and the only thing he and Clem had together were lies. That wasn’t a future. It sure as hell wasn’t relationship. Not even close.

  Grandma Jean squeezed his hand, prompting his response.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t make that promise right now,” he said, watching the disappointment settle on her face. “But I know what I have to do.”

  19

  Clem crept into the bathroom, knowing full well she was overreacting. The shower had only been on for a few minutes, but she wanted to make sure Jake hadn’t passed out or worse after getting hit by a red creamer flying at thirty miles an hour. The near drowning that followed hadn’t exactly been fun to witness either. Jake swore he was fine, in spite of the ugly bruise marring his otherwise perfect shoulder, but she wanted to see for herself.

  And maybe she just wanted to see him.

  Over the last few days he’d torn down her inhibitions, and she’d reacted like a caged tiger finally set free. It was like her libido didn’t understand the laws of physics. No matter how many times they tried to quench the heat between them, her desire for him just burned hotter.

  Even the sight of him in the small shower stall with shampoo running down his broad, muscular back spiked her arousal. He was fine, which meant she should probably just creep back out as quietly as she came in. Probably.

  She would—just as soon as she managed to tear her eyes away from what could only be described as an ass so perfect, it would make sculptors weep.

  “You can stop hiding behind the towels, Clem. I know you’re in here.” Jake turned around and ran his hand through his wet hair.

  “I’m just making sure they’re fresh.”

  “Look fresh to me.” He turned off the tap and swung the glass door open. From the look in his eye to the hard length of his erection, there was no equivocation in his intention.

  She blindly pulled a towel off the rack and thrust it toward him. He took the towel from her outstretched arms, stepping so close he locked her body in against the wall.

  “You’re all wet,” she said throatily.

  “I’m betting you are, too.”

  She felt like one of those dishes at a Greek restaurant that gets set on fire. Utterly combustible. A slow grin spread across his lips, ratcheting her
curiosity.

  Who was this woman who shamelessly ogled a man while he showered? She didn’t recognize this side of herself, but she’d been having a hell of a time uncovering it. Who knew she could become aroused simply by watching a man run white terrycloth over his chest?

  Not just any man. This man.

  Jake was the one who’d set her free.

  With careful deliberation, he folded the towel and placed it back on the rack, never once taking his eyes off her. He didn’t move or reach for her—just stood still and let her take her fill of his gorgeous body.

  Lean muscles covered in droplets of water, a week’s worth of scruff on his jaw, and sex in his eyes.

  The purple bruise on his shoulder looked angry and painful, but it was also a reminder of how much he’d done for her this week. He didn’t flinch when she traced the mottled edges, nor when she replaced her fingertip with her mouth. He cupped the back of her head as she worked her way to his neck, running her tongue along his skin.

  “I’m sorry about this afternoon,” she mumbled into this throat.

  “I got hit by a potato, not a bullet. My pride was the only real victim.”

  “Your shoulder says otherwise.”

  “I told you I’m fine. You don’t have to feel guilty.”

  “I don’t—” She sucked in a breath. “Okay, you’re right. I feel a little guilty.”

  “See? It feels good to be honest with yourself.” He reached his hands under her shirt, stroking the undersides of her breasts.

  She tilted her head back with a soft moan. “Feels even better when you do that.”

  “Then confess all your worries and fears, Clem. I’ll make them all go away. I’ll make you feel so good.”

  Her breath hitched. It was just dirty talk, but it felt like more than just fleeting words designed to seduce. It felt real. Only, she couldn’t tell him the one thing she wanted say—that she was afraid about this coming to an end. About never feeling this kind of passion or excitement with anyone else. There was no going back from that kind of confession. “There’s one more scene in Forbidden Sins I could use a little inspiration for.”