I looked across the street, ignoring how easily I could make him a rebound and be completely satisfied with my decision until I fell for him—because I would fall for him.
“Want teriyaki for dinner?” I asked. “My treat.”
“Sounds good to me, and absolutely not your treat.”
I narrowed my gaze on his as he stood up and reached for my hand.
“You’re used to getting what you want,” I stated.
“Not always.” He grinned and kept my hand in his as we jaywalked across the street to grab dinner and settle in for a night of blog reconstruction. Sounded absolutely unsexy and completely in the friend zone. Just how I thought I wanted it.
We still had a solid couple of hours of sunlight. The sun didn’t go down until around nine, and maybe by then, my blog would even be up and running. Jake pulled into my driveway and put the car in park. He tilted his head and glanced through the windshield at the maple tree in Mrs. Coleville’s yard before turning the engine off.
“See. The tree is way taller than the photo in the paper.” He grinned, turning his attention back to me.
“I suppose.” My hand rested on the door handle, and I looked around Jake’s car. “This is a really nice car. If your tent doesn’t work out this winter, I’d probably just sleep in this. What is it, anyway?”
He laughed and shook his head. “It’s a Volvo XC90.”
My hand glided along the charcoal leather seats, and I scanned the interior, which had touch screen features and wood inlays on the dash.
“I like it, but it doesn’t seem like a car for a farmer.” I chuckled and climbed out of Jake’s SUV.
I stood up and stretched, trying to bat down the tiny bit of nerves settling into my belly at the thought of Jake coming inside.
“I’ll grab the food,” he said, shutting his door.
I nodded and glanced toward the street to see Coco wandering aimlessly in the middle of the road, sniffing pieces of pine needles and whatever else she’d found stuck to the pavement. I glanced over at Mrs. Coleville’s house, and she wasn’t outside. Actually, it didn’t even look like she was home.
“I’ll be right back. Coco’s at it again.”
Before Jake had a chance to respond, I’d jogged over to the street and called Coco, who acted as if she didn’t hear me. I spotted a car barreling in our direction, and my pulse spiked.
“Coco, come,” I commanded, only to see the back end of her continue to move in the opposite direction. The car was coming at a high rate of speed, even though the speed limit was supposed to be no more than twenty-five miles an hour. “Coco, come.”
She turned and looked at me, and I swore I saw a smirk underneath her glossy fur before she turned back around and stared straight ahead at the car coming toward us. It would only take one wrong move, and Coco would be flat as a pancake.
I waved my hands to get the driver to slow down, but it almost looked like my gesture made them speed up. In fact, I was sure that was what happened. The driver had to have seen me, but probably not Coco.
“Come.” I tried one more time, my heart rate beating recklessly in my chest at the thought of Coco getting run over. I glanced at the car and back at Coco, who had no intentions of stopping. “Coco, come. Now.”
Coco was only a couple of feet away, tail wagging, wandering ahead, and the car only seconds from us. I knew what I had to do. There was no time to waste.
I lunged at Coco, grabbed her, and wrestled the fur ball into my arms as the car sped by, narrowly missing us with not even a second to spare.
I’d saved Coco.
Again.
My head spun in an endless loop of almost having to scrape Coco from the pavement right when Jake threw us all to the ground. It wasn’t until he was on top of us that I even realized a motorcycle had been right behind the car and would have taken us out.
We lay on the concrete, Jake’s arms somehow cradling me like an iron fortress, as Coco managed to stay unharmed and ready for the next adventure. Her head popped out between the crook of my elbow with her body sprawled next to my side with steady, easy breaths. She didn’t even seem to be the slightest bit terrified.
I, however, was ready to call it quits. My heart rate wildly drummed in my chest, and my breathing was uncontrollable. The way Jake’s body wrapped around mine took most of the fall from our tumble, but he didn’t seem dazed.
“You okay?” he asked softly, his warm breath skating over my scalp as he held me tightly.
I nodded, my head still pressing against his chest with Coco squirming to get free.
“I’m afraid to let go.”
“Of me or the dog?” His voice was gravelly and low.
“Both,” I breathed. Even though we were still on the side of a road, I felt safe in his arms.
“Let’s get you up.” He brushed his hand along my cheek, and every part of me responded to his touch in a way I’d long since dismissed.
Jake looped his arm around Coco and slid the little beast away from me. He slowly brought me upright.
I sat in a daze as he kneeled next to me with Coco tucked in his arms, and I knew this man was completely irresistible.
“I didn’t even see the motorcycle.”
“I gathered that.” A smile teased his lips. “I’m not sure if it’s you or Coco who has the death wish.”
“Definitely Coco,” I assured him, still clutching his hand. “I actually like this little thing called life, even though my part in it is pretty small.”
His eyes glinted with curiosity, and he narrowed his gaze on me. “How do you figure?”
“I’m like a little ant in the scheme of things. Granted, I’ll make my little anthill super cute, and I’ll fill it with lots of friends and books, but it’s not like I’ll make a footprint that anyone will notice.”
“I think you’re wrong about that,” he said, shaking his head and pulling me across the street. “Let’s get Coco back to Mrs. Coleville and get to dinner before it’s cold.”
“I don’t think she’s home. She has a busier social life than I do.” I grinned as Jake tapped on her front door.
A minute passed by, and I glanced at Jake. “See? I’ll email Mrs. Coleville, and I’ll take the troublemaker home with me.”
“You’re braver than I am,” he teased, handing Coco over so he could go get our bags of takeout.
“Doubt that.” I chuckled, securing Coco under my arm.
I headed to my front door and snuck a peek at Jake as he picked up the plastic bags off the hood of the car. If he’d gotten to Coco and me even a fraction of a second later, tonight would have turned out quite differently. A shiver shot through me as I unlocked my front door and pushed it open.
A pink bra dangled from the banister, which I quickly snatched off the railing. I glanced behind me to make sure Jake didn’t see. I’d forgotten I took it off last night on the way to bed. I was so easily distracted.
I scanned the area for a quick place to hide it and tucked it behind some books on a small bookshelf I had in the entryway . . . all safe.
“The food is still warm,” Jake said, coming through the doorway holding the food and my purse that I’d somehow managed to forget I owned.
He stopped and looked around, studying the space like he was at the Louvre. I shut the door behind him and placed Coco on the floor. She scurried off toward the living room.
I’d had a lot of fun making this place my own. Between choosing the Billowy Breeze paint color—which was a perfect shade of blue—or recruiting Sophie to help find the exact rug or pillow I imagined for the space, I’d had a blast creating a space that was completely me.
After the divorce, I’d had just enough money for a down payment, and it made sense to buy rather than rent, since I had no plans to leave Fireweed.
Ever.
“I don’t think I could imagine a better place for you.” Jake grinned, and a shot of happiness ran through me. When I’d been married to Rich, everything I chose was always vetoed and eve
ry project I finished was laughed at. It was refreshing to hear a compliment from a man about . . . well, anything.
I glanced around and admired my handiwork. The entry was pretty cute, if I did say so myself. I’d placed a couple of blue-and-white-striped pillows on a small bench next to the bookshelf, and Sophie found a nautical themed chandelier, sea glass included, that hung above us. The wood floors had been refinished in an espresso brown by the previous owners. A ton of built-in shelving in every room displayed my ever-growing collection of books, and I honestly couldn’t think of a better place to call home.
“Thanks. I really love it.” I motioned toward the dining room, which was on one side of the foyer. The living room, where Coco trundled off to, was on the other. “Follow me. We’ll put our food on plates and at least pretend we’re civilized.”
His smile widened, and he nodded as I led him through the dining room, which led directly into the kitchen. The built-in hutch in the dining room was stuffed with books instead of plates and glassware. I wondered if he noticed. Did I look like someone who never left the confines of my house?
“Great kitchen.” Jake set the bags on the small island on wheels I’d bought when I’d last been in Seattle. It added the last little bit of space I needed.
The white kitchen cabinets gave the impression that the space was much larger than it actually was, but the white tile counters and bright blue walls with red accents made the kitchen feel perfectly homey. I loved it.
“Everything was painted bright white when I bought it, and I wanted to liven the room up. Blue is my favorite color, in case you hadn’t noticed.” I motioned at my blue cotton top and white pants. “Sophie helped pick a color that didn’t make the kitchen feel smaller.”
“And Sophie is . . .” Jake asked.
“Oh, sorry. She’s my sister’s best friend. She’s also engaged to Anthony Hill.”
He nodded. “Oh, yeah. Fireweed’s own rock star.”
“That’d be him.” I reached for a couple of plates and felt Jake come up behind me. The energy in the room changed, and I wondered what would happen if I spun around.
Or was it all in my head?
I had a terrible habit of imagining emotions that never existed. I’d see love where none existed and hope where there should be none.
“Anything I can do?” he asked, placing his hands on my shoulders. A small quiver darted through me, and I nearly sank into him, but instead, I nodded and brought myself back to reality.
I was newly divorced, and now was my time to figure out what I wanted in life. I loved my career, my friends, my family, and my home. Maybe that was all I needed in life, but I’d never know if I jumped into one relationship before officially moving on from my last one.
“Glasses are in the cabinet next to us. There’s beer and soda in the fridge or, of course, water from the tap,” I answered.
“What would you like?” He slid his hands up and down my arms, and the friction Jake’s touch caused on my skin was nothing compared to what it did to my insides.
It was like I’d never been touched by a man in my adult life . . . and I suppose, that was somewhat accurate. I’d guess that Rich was more reptilian than homo sapiens.
Was there ever going to come a day when Rich didn’t pop into my head? What if he had ruined me?
I let out a silent groan.
“Water would be great.” I placed the plates on the counter and grabbed some silverware from the drawer. “Oh my God. I almost forgot. I need to text Mrs. Coleville.”
“Go for it. I’ll carry our food into the dining room.”
“Thanks.” I dashed to the entry and pulled my phone out of my purse that Jake had so graciously brought in.
I emailed Mrs. Coleville a quick message and put my phone back in my purse as Jake carried in both plates and water glasses in one trip.
“Wow. I’m impressed,” I said, watching him place everything gracefully on the dining room table. “I’d have dumped it all over the floor if I attempted all that.”
“Practice makes perfect. I used to wait tables in college.”
I made my way over to where he was standing and smiled.
“Did you just willingly divulge information?”
“I guess that is what happened.” He chuckled and pulled out the chair for me. I took a seat and watched him slowly walk to the other side of the table and sit down. He just didn’t seem like a recluse.
“The soap from your mom’s farm is amazing. It smells so wonderful. Please tell her thank you for the extra bars.”
He nodded, grinning. “So tell me about this blog you run.”
“Well, I started one several years ago, and my ex thought it was ridiculous, so I closed it down.”
Grrr. There I went again, pulling Rich into something that had nothing to do with what I needed to say.
“You’re kidding,” he said, his brows furrowing. “Why would he care?”
“That’s kind of how our relationship went . . . but enough about him and that whole mess. I don’t know why I always find the need to tell you everything I disliked about the guy.” I grinned and poked a piece of broccoli with my fork.
“Divorce sucks.” He took a sip of water, his eyes steadied on mine. “It takes a while to go through the withdrawals.”
“You’ve been through it?” I asked, my brow arching.
“Yup, and I plan on never going through it again.”
“I’d say that’s a mighty fine goal.”
He laughed, and I relaxed slightly with the realization that this dinner really did fall into the friend zone. No one in their right mind would begin discussing ex-spouses and divorce on a first date.
“Is that why you moved to Fireweed?” I asked.
“I’m not completely sure what brought me here.” He took a bite of chicken and glanced out the front window overlooking my garden. “But I’m glad that whatever it was landed me in your dining room.”
“You just like the excitement Coco has added to your life.”
“That could very well be the case, but something tells me I’d like hanging around Fireweed’s own librarian even without Coco.” There was no doubt about it. His smile was dazzling, and so was he. Everything about him was a scrumptious combination of the men I’d read about and loved. “You’re intriguing and I think—” He stopped himself, and I’d say if eyes could smile, his were beaming.
“What?”
“I think I know why I was meant to come to Fireweed.”
Shake it off.
He probably didn’t mean exactly what I wanted him to mean.
Jake was sitting on the couch with the laptop, and I’d made myself at home in the armchair across from him. Coco curled into his side as he continued to work on my blog, and it was impossible not to fall a little bit for those two.
“I’ve got a Steamy Sunday post set to go live, and the following Monday is a cover reveal.” His eyes narrowed at the screen and he whistled. “Now that’s a cover.”
My heart stalled. I rarely ever participated in cover reveals, but I thought this would be a fun one to share with my readers. Besides the obvious romantic appeal, the setting was gorgeous, and it made me think of adventure, and lately, I’d been intrigued with the idea. I just hadn’t counted on a man who could very well model for one of these covers to be staring at it while I attempted to act disinterested.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I joked. “I don’t have any reveals set up.”
“So this shirtless guy crept onto your blog without your knowledge? Part of the hack?” His brow arched, but his expression remained blank. “I’ll just delete it.”
“Don’t do that. Maybe it will bring a little more traffic to my blog,” I offered, feigning innocence.
Jake’s eyes locked on mine, and a smile crept along his lips.
“As long as you’re sure you want to keep it.”
I nodded, smiling, and looked out the window. It was so easy hanging out with Jake, and that was a tad d
isconcerting.
“So you said your husband didn’t like Island Reads?” Jake asked out of the blue.
I’d kind of thought we’d put talk of the exes behind us.
“He didn’t care for anything that I did. He hated that I worked, but he hated that I came home and read even more. He didn’t like me to have much of a hobby in general. I think he liked it best if I watched him at all times and catered to him. Not that he was around much to cater to in the first place, but it’s all in the past and I’m totally over it now. Can you tell?” I teased.
“Why in the world would someone care if you read or not?” He shook his head. “I love to read. I haven’t had as much time as I’d like to devote to it lately, but I still manage to sneak in a couple of books per week.”
“A couple of books?”
Dream man.
“They’re not necessarily fiction, but some are.” He looked at the screen and smiled.
“What?” I asked, crossing my arms.
Hopefully, he didn’t come across tomorrow’s Teaser Tuesday post. I’d happened to come across a couple of great sentences that may or may not describe a certain way a woman should be kissed.
“Interesting passage. I might need to switch up my genre preference.” I swore, he nearly growled those words.
“I doubt you could handle the heat.”
“Practice makes perfect.” His eyes focused back on the screen, but the corners of his mouth tipped up.
“Well, if you look at last Tuesday’s snippet, you’d see I love all genres. There were a couple of sentences about this guy rock climbing that would knock your socks off. His words made me feel like I was literally hugging the face of a boulder with my own fingers. It was almost impossible to pick out only a couple of sentences to share. I wanted to post the entire passage. I still get chills from what I read. It wasn’t actually a book that I quoted. It was from his blog.”
His eyes darted to mine, and I saw a glint of misplaced amusement.
“If you’re into nonfiction, you might like him. Although, he writes his nonfiction as if it were poetry . . . I mean, his imagery is something I’ve never read before, and he manages to tap all the senses, so by the time you finish, you think you’ve lived a million lives. You might be into more cut-and-dried material. I can tell you that, for someone like me, who is completely not a badass, I love getting to live vicariously through his words.”
Forever Love on Fireweed Island (Island County Book 4) Page 7