He was confused. “Take what, Dad? What would Apple take if she knew what happened?” Sure she’d be horrified, but she’d never take anything. She’d just never see him in the same way again. And that would really suck. Because sometime around three in the morning he’d finally submitted to his higher nature and got honest with himself. He needed her belief in him. Her light and sweetness. Her faith in the goodness of him. It kept him going.
And he was willing to do almost anything to keep it—like avoid giving her straight answers to her questions for fear of her rejection no matter how guilty it made him feel.
Why, he hadn’t yet figured out. And honestly he was afraid to. This was some significant shit. And like a pussy, he wasn’t exactly ready for significant.
Now his father was shaking his head frantically and tugging at his hair, concerning Jake. “She can’t have it! It’s mine. Mine!”
Sadness fell over him, having been through this so many times before. Rising to his feet, he pulled his father in for a tight hug, knowing that’s what he needed. “Shhh, Pop,” he said into his hair, cradling Verle’s head under his chin, feeling every bit of the love and weariness that went with being his son. “It’ll be okay. I won’t tell her, I promise.”
Verle hiccupped, his body hunched and feeling small to Jake, but calmer. “What will you say?”
“I don’t know,” Jake said with a sinking feeling, hating this new predicament. “But I’ll think of something.” Squeezing his father’s shoulders gently, he turned them toward the shack. “Hey, let’s get some work done, okay? Help take our minds off things by working with our hands. That always cheers you up.”
His dad nodded and hiccupped again. “Does, yeah. I like that.”
Relieved to see Verle perking up some, Jake added, “I was thinking we’d start simple with Harvey’s old book collection.”
“He has a first edition of Moby Dick.”
“No shit?” That was impressive. Harvey had always been full of surprises. Apparently he still was, even after his passing. “You want to keep it?”
“Yep. Want Huck Finn also. I like that story. Tom Sawyer too. Oh! Want all the Harry Potter series too. Make sure we keep those separate. I ain’t lettin’ those go!” he finished with a good-natured grin, coming back around.
“That’s my pop.” Jake smiled back and pulled him in for a hard squeeze as they climbed the rickety front steps. “You know I love you, right?”
“Sure as the sun comes up each morning,” Verle replied, patting Jake’s hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good boy.”
“Sometimes.”
“All the time.” He squeezed Jake’s hand, held it briefly before dropping it and stepping away. “Now let’s get to work.”
And apparently that was enough cheesy sentimentality. Amused, Jake pushed open the front door and was instantly transported to a simpler, earlier place in time. The only concessions to modern living were electricity, a tiny kitchenette, and a compostable toilet that had been attached to the house through a door in the far wall. It made going in the winter a real adventure.
They crossed the single-room dwelling, navigating around a rough-hewn wooden table and between a set of twin beds until they were standing in front of the bookcase. As tall as the ceiling and twice as wide, it spanned the entire shack wall and was crammed well past full with books in varying states of condition. Several were tossed on top of the neat stacks with loose pages sticking out, like Harvey had run out of places to store them and had made them fit, come hell or high water.
Jake smirked as his chest warmed at the thought.
“Hey, I’m going to start on this side,” he said to his dad, shifting to the left side of the case and reaching for a random book up top. “Why don’t you start on the other? Anything you want to keep, toss it gently on the bed behind you. We’ll make sure those stay.”
“What about the ones I don’t want to keep? Where should I put them?” Verle asked, holding a worn copy of Turn Gold into Cash. He gave it a frown and thrust it out toward Jake. “You take it. I don’t like that one.”
Confused, Jake brought his hand down from the shelf, a book in his fingers. Without looking at it, he took the how-to from his pop. “What’s wrong with this one?”
Verle made a face and growled, turning his attention to the shelf in front of him. “Gives away trade secrets.”
Whatever that meant. Shrugging it off, Jake placed it on the other bed and said, “Gotcha. So just use this bed for the donations.” The library could probably use some of them.
Apple.
It was like the two things were conjoined: Apple and the library. He couldn’t think of one without the other. Which was disconcerting when just a thought of the place gave him a damn semi now.
Shaking his head, Jake looked down at the book he was still holding. In his hand was an old ratty Bible. He went still. Then he brought it to his face, scanned the cover. Flipped open the front page.
And came face-to-face with his ancestor’s handwritten signature and a date.
“Fuck me,” he said on a heavy breath.
A real artifact of history right here in a dilapidated old miner’s shack. Harvey had kept it here the whole time. An actual relic from the first founders of Fortune—from his family.
Apple had to see this.
Jake’s slightly trembling fingers curled around it protectively. Jitters started in his stomach, equal parts excitement and nerves. God, she was going to love this. Just truly love this tangible piece of history. He could just so perfectly picture the smile that would sweep her pretty face.
“Hey, Pop. I’ve got to run to the truck. I’ll be right back.”
Jake left his dad grumbling to himself in front of the bookcase and tucked the old book safely in the front seat of his pickup after wrapping it gently in an old flannel shirt. When he was done he took a deep, reassuring breath and looked up at the brilliant blue sky. Was it wrong that he just sincerely, really wanted to make Apple happy?
“Of course it’s not wrong,” he mumbled to himself, kicking at a rock by his feet and feeling suddenly insecure.
It was just scary as fuck what it meant.
Chapter Nine
A FEW DAYS later, Apple was busy shelving books in the nonfiction section of the library when a shadow fell across her vision. It had been a particularly bustling morning, unusual for this time of year. With school recently started up again, most of the summer reader foot traffic had died down. Still, it did her heart good to see so many people coming through. To her it was just more proof of the one true fact she held dear: libraries were awesome.
“Can I help you?” she asked as she placed a historical account of the British Isles back on a shelf.
“Actually, I came to help you, my dear.”
Spinning on her flats, Apple came face-to-face with one of Fortune’s biggest and most notorious gossips. Her mood plummeted right through the floor. And it had been such a lovely morning. Sigh.
“Good morning, Mrs. Browley. Pray tell, what is it that I am in such dire need of assistance with?” She loved to channel Jane Austen when annoyed.
“Sound womanly advice . . . and maybe a bit of a well-intentioned warning as well,” the old helmet-haired busybody stated matter-of-factly. Her bifocals slipped down her nose, and Apple could swear the woman sniffed them right back into place. Literally. And with a whole lot of unconcealed disdain. What had she done to make the woman so ill-tempered? Fail to keep all the seasons of Murder She Wrote in stock in the DVD rental section?
“I’m all ears,” she said with a smile, clasping her hands politely in front of her and remembering to play the professional. “Advise away.”
“I’d so hate for your reputation to be sullied, you know. Or for you to lose your job.” Mrs. Browley was nodding emphatically, her blue-tinged fluff of curls rigidly holding in place from probably about a liter of Aqua Net. “Good girl like you needs to be warned about such things, about making unsavory pacts with men.”
Agitation began to creep under her skin, and her smile turned a notch tighter. She just knew this had something to do with Jake. In the past week she’d overheard enough rumblings to know she was on the local gossip radar. Why? She still really had no idea. “Thank you for your concern. I promise you there’s nothing untoward going on here at the library or elsewhere.”
“You work for a public, government-run institution, young miss. Misappropriation of property is grounds for firing, you know. I’d so hate to see that happen, as you’ve been such a gold-standard role model for the town’s youth to date.”
Now she was grinding her teeth. “Is my job in jeopardy here, Mrs. Browley? Can you tell me exactly what you’re accusing me of?” Feeling herself start to amp up, Apple took a deep breath and said baldly, “Is this about Jake Stone?”
“Of course it is!” the old woman hissed. “There’s a lot floating on the wind about the two of you as of late.”
Apple had enough. Gripping the shelving cart like it was her lifeline, she was about to push past the old woman and thought better of it. Instead, she looked Mrs. Browley square in the eye. “The only thing going on between me and Jake Stone is words. I’m talking with him about getting the Bachelors to do an event here at the library. That is all. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have books to shelve.” Damn busybody.
The old woman just gaped at her with wide blinking eyes behind her bifocals as Apple brushed past, chin high in the air.
Yeah, that’s what she thought.
Four Weeks until Deadline
APPLE STARED AT the words typed in bold on her laptop screen and fought the urge to scream. Though it was after hours at the library and she was busy making headway on her book, it still felt somehow profane to do such a thing. Unruly noises in the public library? For shame.
Sighing, she reached for the number two pencil she’d shoved into her thick bun and began jotting some notes down. Mostly she was fact-checking dates at this point about Fortune’s settlement timeline. Because of the way things had gone down with Jake, she still didn’t have any answers to her biggest questions.
But she sure did have a whole new slew of them. And none of them were about Fortune. They were all about Jake and that comment he’d made about wanting her. Part of her couldn’t help wondering if he was just trying to intimidate her. But why would he do that?
It didn’t make sense.
And now she was officially distracted from her task. She blamed it squarely on the memory of how Jake’s eyes had blazed so hot and intense when he’d been naked and mere inches from her bare breasts. There’d been such a charged energy. Sure she’d known he was interested in seeing them, but the heat of his response had been completely unexpected.
Standing up, Apple walked barefoot across the wood floor toward the entrance, having kicked off her shoes to stretch her toes the minute the doors had locked. It was one of her quirks—going barefoot. Every chance she got. It made her feel happy and carefree like a kid. And well, she figured that everyone needed to feed their inner child.
Speaking of which, having the library at her fingertips for research sources was great. She was heading to the reference section to see if there was anything good she could dig up, since she and Jake had been distracted the other night and she hadn’t gotten any more answers. Deep down she secretly hoped like crazy that she’d get another chance, at both the questions and his nakedness. Wow, that had been something to see.
She had just crossed in front of the entrance doors when a knock scared the shit out of her. Apple gasped and spun toward the sound. Through the glass in the door she could see it was Jake. The sun was just starting to set, and he was backlit by a warm glow, making his hair shimmer bronze and dark gold.
She reached for the door, unlocked it, and swung it open. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“And a good evening to you too.” Jake stepped over the threshold.
The very sight of him had butterflies taking flight in her tummy. Which was funny because she’d never really considered herself the mountain man type. “You need to shave.” His stubble had almost reached the tipping point into beard.
“Don’t knock the beard, juicy fruit. It has its uses.” His eyes lit with a wicked glint.
She scoffed. “For straining soup, maybe.”
He took a step toward her, his broad shoulders swallowing her view of the entrance. “Among other things.” His gaze dropped to her just-visible cleavage.
“What, like rug burn?” She was missing something, obviously. What good is a beard? And then it hit her. “Oh!” Friction. Duh.
The raw sex appeal in his smile then had Apple taking a step away nervously. But he only leaned his butt against the circulation desk and crossed his arms, making his pecs bulge beneath his navy blue Two Moons Brewery and Pub T-shirt. “Now you’re thinking.”
He hadn’t given her that dark angst-filled look again, but she was suddenly feeling agitated and out of sorts anyway. She crossed her arms and demanded, “What are you doing here? I haven’t seen or heard from you since you kicked me out last week.”
“It’s hardly been a week,” he scoffed.
Eye roll. God, men just loved their technicalities didn’t they? “I said last week, not that it’s been a week. And that’s not the important part of what I said anyway.”
He broke eye contact, looking at the window behind her where the sunset was framed gorgeously, all bright orange and fuchsia and purple. “I’m sorry that I got edgy.”
She cocked her head and studied him. “Yeah, why did you? What was that about?”
He slid her a look. “You really don’t know?”
“I never claim to understand the workings of the male mind. I just end up looking like an ass when I do.” Like the time junior year she’d been convinced Tyler Bradshaw wanted to ask her to the prom, so she’d tried to beat him to the punch. Only she’d been humiliated in front of the entire class when she passed him a note and he shot her down in front of everybody. It had been mortifying.
“I’ll save you the trouble then.” Jake smirked, one corner of his sculpted mouth lifting.
He took a step toward her, and Apple spun around, suddenly excited and nervous and unsure. Only she didn’t really know where to go, so she just ended up doing a full circle, stopping when she was facing him again. “Well, that didn’t work out at all,” she grumbled under her breath.
Jake gave a short laugh, taking another step. “Problems, juicy fruit?”
“Well, yeah.” She tossed him a look full of consternation.
“I can help you with that.”
“You could help me with my damn book too, you know. Why are you making it so hard?”
Something that looked a bit like regret flashed across his eyes before they shuttered and went unreadable. “I’m sorry, really I am. I have family commitments.”
Apple’s own gaze narrowed, and she stepped away, moving toward the big picture window overlooking the river. “I don’t understand that. How could there be family commitments that keep you from talking about your family? If that were true, wouldn’t that mean—” She broke off. “Wait, are you hiding something?”
Again something shadowed his gaze briefly. “It’s complicated.”
So yes, yes he was.
Perfect. “What’s so difficult about helping someone else out?”
“You’d be surprised.”
Apple planted her hands on her hips, the large window at her back. “Try me.”
“I can’t.” He looked upset about it. “But I did come here to bring you something.”
She ignored his last statement and pressed, “Why not?” She really wanted to know. There was under a month left until her deadline, and she still didn’t have what she needed. It was stressing her out like crazy. And now this late in the game, it was just dawning on her that he might be hiding a secret from her too. Aneurism anyone?
He didn’t answer.
So she pressed on. “If I agree to do another thing with you,
will you talk?” At this point there wasn’t much she was unwilling to do.
His eyes changed, lighting with humor and something else, something entirely naughty. Then he smiled. Phew. There went her brain function.
“Wait a minute. You never showed me what you brought.” She darted a glance over his shoulder at the encroaching darkness outside. It was getting late. More to the point, it was after hours. At the library.
Jake didn’t hang at the old mill just for kicks.
“No, back that up,” he said, his gaze roaming over her face, pausing on her lips before trailing slowly to the valley between her breasts. “I want to hear more about this thing you’re willing to do.”
“I want to finish my stinking book, but that’s not happening today, now, is it?” Apple looked him square in the eye.
Jake seemed to consider and rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. “Well, now, it’s quite the pickle, us wanting different things.”
“It is not!” she exclaimed. “It’s easy, it really is. You and I made an agreement. As in, you agreed to tell me some key information that I need.”
“And I will.” He took a step closer.
Recalling a particularly unpleasant conversation that morning with Mrs. Browley, the judgmental old busybody, Apple frowned right at him.
“Do you have any idea how quickly word is spreading around town about our conversation at Two Moons?”
Jake looked like he was biting his lip to keep from laughing, the dirty rat. “No, I don’t. Want to enlighten me?”
Getting worked up about it all over again, Apple planted her butt on the windowsill ledge and crossed her arms, raising one hand to adjust her slipping glasses. “Everyone is expecting the Bachelors to do some event here at the library now.”
He moved closer, just a single step, but she could feel his energy increase exponentially. “I recall, yeah, but we didn’t agree on it. So why the expectation?”
Talking Dirty Page 10