JAKE (Leaves of a Maple Book 2)

by Haley Jenner

  “Hmmm….” His bottom lip turns out slightly in thought and he nods his head. “Appreciated, Red.”

  Waving my hand, I dismiss his unnecessary gratitude. “Just being honest.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jake

  Placing the caliper over the new brake pads and rotor, I pull the rag from my back pocket and wipe the retaining bolts clean. Heavy metal pulses through the garage loudly, minimizing the sound of shouts and tools dropping to the stained concrete floor. I don’t mind it, Steve hates it. Only reason the boys have it blaring is cos’ he isn’t here. Not saying he hates metal completely, just hates the decibel the boys feel the need to entertain themselves with. I find it numbing. I let it remove me from the moment and allow complete focus on work.

  Coating anti-seize over the smooth section of the retaining bolts, I move to replace the bolts into the caliper, tightening them into place. Replacing the wheels onto the Ranger, I tighten the wheel nuts until they're flush with the hub. Lowering the vehicle, I move to re-tighten the nuts again when it meets the ground. Both sides now complete, I jump into the driver’s side, pumping the pedal until I feel pressure. When the pedal no longer drops to the floor, I smile, satisfied with the job. Starting the car, I pull it from the garage and into the parking bay out front. Dropping from the car, I lock it as I walk towards the office.

  Falling into Steve’s seat, I flick papers around the desk looking for his invoice pad and a pen. “Need a fucking office girl,” I grumble to myself, locating a pen to scribble on the pad. Estimating labor, detailing parts and noting the cars make and model, I finish by signing the bottom. Steve can work out the dollar signs. Stretching my arms in the air, I crack my shoulders, groaning at the release of pressure. Walking toward the small kitchen to the side I grab a cold bottle of water and down its contents quickly. Pulling my cell from my coveralls, the empty bottle crumples in my hand instinctively as Aubrey’s name displays on my screen. Glancing around the room, I relax slightly at my lack of company. I suddenly feel cagey, wanting complete privacy, concerned with the ridiculous thought that one of these jokers would be able to decipher Aubrey’s text from a look at my grease stained face.

  Unlocking the screen, I turn, leaning against the wall to give myself full view of the doorway and any incomers.

  Aubrey: Jake, it’s Aubrey. Hope it’s okay that I texted you. Promise it’s not about…. Anyway, I need your help with something for Annabelle and Archer. I’ve had one of my photos from the wedding framed and I want to hang it in their room. Kind of a surprise. You have a key right? And maybe able hands to help me hang it??? A x

  Breathing deeply I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. After everything originally went down, Aubrey would text me on the regular. The messages would range from a platonic and simple greeting to her admitting she missed me and requesting we talk. I felt an unwelcome sense of satisfaction every time I’d hear from her. It was wrong. Shit, we both knew that. That’s why I never reached back. Never once responded. Every single unanswered text made me feel like an asshole, but I was always trying to do the right thing. But from that very first moment, the right thing felt so wrong, so forced.

  Standing in Steve's office, I convince myself there's no harm in responding now. I made myself heard at Archer and Annabelle's wedding, and she seemed to understand. I frown at the memory of Aubrey so down and hurt by my distance. But this, a single text is innocent enough. We were always friends, kind of. What type of person would I be if I didn’t help her out? It’s a favor for Archer and Annabelle anyway.

  Jake: I do have a key and able hands. Both work throughout the day, I could bail early one afternoon to help out. Just let me know when. J

  I contemplate adding a kiss at the end for an eternity. But in the end, I know I shouldn’t. Friends. That’s it. Nothing more. No more flirting. No more innuendos. That shit had to die when my cock decided to rule my stupid fucking brain.

  Eyes focused on the screen of my phone I wait like a tool for her to respond. “Fuck. Why do they have to listen to that shit so loud. Like nails in my fuckin’ eardrums,” Steve grumbles, startling me from my place against the wall.

  “What?” I cough out, hiding my phone behind my back, standing upright.

  Looking at me with narrowed eyes, Steve watches me with obvious curiosity. “You drunk?”

  “Wh-what?” I stumble, clearing my throat and moving to drop my cell into my back pocket.

  “You’re actin’ like I just caught you jerkin’ off in my office. What’s going on?” He moves to the sound system, turning it off with a shake of his head.

  “Don’t be fuckin’ ridiculous. Just in my head and you startled me is all. All good.” I wave him off, moving to drop the empty bottle, still crushed in my hand, into the bin.

  Offering a skeptical nod, Steve moves to his desk, shuffling papers. “What the fuck, Jake, why’d you….Oh. Stevie, it was you,” Tobias, our apprentice walks into the office, clearly irritated at his music being shut off.

  “Yeah. It’s me. Not really feelin’ the need to have nails forcefully hammered into my skull,” Steve retorts, lifting his chin, indicating we should both return to work. Grumbling under his breath, Tobias rolls his eyes, moving from the office. Sharing a small smirk with Steve, I follow the pissed off apprentice back into the garage.

  Later that night, lying in bed, I try not to think about how seeing Aubrey will feel. It was always inevitable, seeing her again. Shit, she’s Annabelle’s best friend. Interactions with her couldn’t be avoided, no matter how hard we tried. She’d texted back by the time I’d finished work and tomorrow I get to spend the afternoon working in close proximity with her. Punishment or reward? I’m not yet sure. I want to see her. So fucking bad. But I can’t help but think that in itself spells disaster.

  I shouldn’t be hanging to see her. I shouldn’t be counting down the hours until I get to see her smile, to smell the sweetness that radiates from her skin. And I sure as shit shouldn’t be hoping that I’d somehow get to touch her, or see that fucking wink. No, I most definitely shouldn't be hoping for any of that. The fact that I am, the notion that I want that, should be enough for me to cancel. To text her and tell her something has come up, give Steve my key and let someone else help her. Bennett, Toby, Steve, they're all viable options. All safer avenues to take. But my willpower when it comes to Aubrey is limited at best. Think that's been made abundantly clear.

  The next day at work, the hours drag. I check the clock continuously, cursing at how slow it moves; how five fucking minutes feels like hours. How every time I hear a car pull into the lot I rush to see if it’s her.

  By early afternoon, I relocate to the office, losing myself in the myriad of paperwork covering Steve’s desk, trying to distract my overeager brain. By the end of the day, I finally hear her soft voice in the garage, and I have to stop myself from turning my chair over in a rush to see her. I hear her throaty laugh and Tobias’ quiet flirtation, which peaks my irritation. Little fuck.

  Finally, counting through as many Mississippi's as I can muster, I move slowly from the office. Pulling the rag from the back of my coveralls, I wipe the excess grease from my hands and lean against the doorframe watching her. Her light washed jeans hug her slender frame easily, a worn black T-shirt falling a little bigger than necessary over her frame. Her leather jacket sits mid waist, a charcoal scarf warming her neck. Her long red hair is artfully piled on top of her head, her long fringe hiding one eye from view. Black Converse high-tops finish her effortless look. Purposefully casual, she still looks fucking amazing and my need for her spikes as her eyes scan the space for me. Meeting my eyes, her attention on Tobias ceases completely, his conversation lost in her ears as her eyes travel the length of my stained work clothes before settling back on my face. A faint smile eases her mouth up slightly, and I return the gesture.

  “Strawb’ries,” I greet softly and her cheeks blush indistinctly at the endearment.

  “Hey, J-Babe,” she returns, movin
g closer to my position in the office. Reaching me, she leans in slightly, pushing up on tiptoes to kiss my cheek. I inhale her scent and stop the groan lodged in my throat from escaping. “Motor oil and mint,” she closes her eyes with an exhale, and I quirk an eyebrow up in question. Shrugging her shoulders, she disregards my silent question, twisting her neck to look behind me. “Stevie here?”

  It’s all rather incestuous really; Stevie, my boss, also happens to be Aubrey’s stepdad. Seems I like to keep things a little too close to home.

  Stevie’s cool, laid-back and easygoing. He’s more of a father-like figure to me than my boss in reality. Took me under his wing almost immediately from the moment I walked through his office door asking for a job. He’s taught me everything I know as a mechanic and a whole lot more about life in general. He’s a good guy and he loves Aubrey as if she were his own. I think in a way she is, she’s definitely more like he and her mom than she is her dad.

  Shaking my head, I stand to full height, moving back into the office. “Nah, headed out about half an hour ago. Said he’d catch you tonight.” Turning my head over my shoulder, I take in her movements, following me into the small space. “I…ummm… I’m just gonna change.” I indicate to my backpack, and she nods, eyes scanning the office. I wait a moment for her to leave, but she doesn’t, continuing her perusal of the office. “Aubrey, much as I’m cool with you seeing me naked, the guys out there’ll have a field day with you being here while I change.”

  Her blue eyes go wide as she swallows deeply, realizing her error. “Of course. Shit, sorry. I didn’t… I’ll just, ah, wait outside,” she indicates back towards the garage and I offer her a small smile. A blush works up her porcelain skin and I watch her exit the room, pulling the door closed softly behind her.

  “This was a bad idea,” I whisper to myself, pulling the grease-stained coveralls from my body.

  Sitting in Aubrey’s passenger seat, we’re thrown into a not so comfortable silence as she drives through Carnation toward Annabelle’s place. “Thanks for helping me with this,” she breaks the quiet and I glance over at her, noticing her fingers flexing on and off her steering wheel in a nervous tick.

  Dragging my hands through my hair, I shift in my seat. “Don’t mention it. Looking forward to seeing the photo.”

  After what feels like an eternity, but also not long enough, Aubrey pulls into their driveway and throwing the door open, I fold from the car quickly. Turning towards Aubrey, I throw her my keys. “It’s the blue one.” Leaning into the back seat, I slide the large frame from the back seat, balancing it in my arms as I move toward the house. It’s covered in brown paper, so I can’t see the image, but it’s large and heavy.

  Aubrey holds the front door open for me as I side walk through, careful not to hit the frame. Moving toward the stairs, I hear Aubrey’s light footsteps behind me. “Need a hand?” she questions.

  Shaking my head, I climb the stairs and place the package carefully onto the bed. “I’m gonna grab Archer’s tools. Be back in a sec,” I inform her, already moving from the room, not waiting for her response.

  I’m being distant, I know that. But I don’t know how to act around her anymore. Our default communication was always shameless flirting. But now we’ve crossed a line. A really deep fucking line and I’m not actually sure how to navigate our friendship going forward.

  Grabbing what I need from Archer’s shed I meet Aubrey back in the bedroom. She’s removed the paper and bubble wrap from the frame and I watch as she circles around the space, lips pursed to the side as she thinks. “I’m thinking above the bed,” she tests, talking more to herself than to me. “That wall is out,” she indicates toward the far back wall. “Too many windows, the effect will be lost. Plus, that mirror in that corner is too big to move and some of the photo will be lost underneath.” Turning toward the left-side wall, her lips move left and right, contemplating. “I don’t like this wall for it either, the door will open onto it. Also, you won’t see it when you first walk in. Soooo, I think….” She turns on her heel, pointing toward their bed. “It has to go over their bed,” she turns to me, expectantly. “What’dya think?”

  Tipping my lips up into an unsure smile, I shrug. “Decorating ain’t really my forte, Strawb’ries.”

  “Please just look at the photo. Tell me if you think it’ll make the best impact there,” she encourages, pointing unnecessarily to the frame.

  Moving toward the bed, I place Archer’s tools on the carpet and focus on the image currently housed on their comforter. The impact is instant. “Shit Aubrey. That’s… wow.” I glance up at her. Her thumb is at her mouth; the nail being dangerously close to being lost between her teeth.

  “You think they’ll like it?” she questions modestly.

  “Aubrey, it's amazing. You’ve caught them perfectly. They’ll fucking love it,” I praise.

  I don't exaggerate my declaration. I don't need to. It’s true. The photo is really something else. Black and white, encased in a thick dark frame. It's a moment captured on their wedding night, Archer and Annabelle huddled together. Archer’s neck is bent into the left side of Annabelle’s neck, farthest away from the camera lens, his lips at her neck. He’s obviously whispering something solely for her ears, and the look of complete lust captured on her features is blinding. Annabelle’s eyes are closed over, a slight shade to her cheeks; a shade you can only assume is a light blush, based on the black and white of the photo. Her full lips are slightly agape; the photo having been taken mid-gasp. It’s overtly sexual in the most private way. It’s phenomenal.

  Turning to Aubrey, I shake my head in awe. Hoping my completely honest reaction will dissuade her uncertainty. “Fuck, you’re talented. It’s one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen. You’re right," I nod, indicating to the wall she suggested. "Above the bed is where it should be. Immediate impact on entering their private space.”

  Her eyes glass over in appreciation at my words and the effect my simple compliment has, shocks me. The level of emotion projected from her over my admiration is confounding. As though praise for her work is uncommon.

  Moving to embrace me, her arms wrap around my neck, and I pause for only a moment before surrounding her body in a tight hug. “Thank you,” she whispers just below my ear, and I feel it all the way to my dick. Closing my eyes, I pull from her hold before the need to touch her escalates. Clearing my throat, I avoid eye contact as I move toward the bed and shift it out of my way.

  The next hour passes in a blur. We work seamlessly together in a comfortable quiet. Aubrey passes me tools at my soft-spoken requests and she directs placement of the frame in low tones. We measure. We test. We re-measure. We contemplate. We decide it’s perfect to double back and reassess just once more. Eventually we agree we've found it and we finish the job with shared smiles and giddy excitement. Standing back to admire our work, Aubrey bumps my shoulder with hers, elation radiating from her bouncing feet.

  "Oh, Jake! It's amazing. Look at the way the afternoon sun hits it," she gushes, hands on her cheeks. I can't contain my smile at her enthusiasm. The buzz she's got from doing something special for Archer and Annabelle is infectious and as dangerous as being in her company has been, the ability to be involved is too good to want to pass up. Throwing an arm over her shoulder, I pull her into my side and drop a kiss on the top of her head.

  "You did good, Strawb'ries. They're gonna be seriously stoked with this." Her body relaxes into my side on a silent sigh, complete contentment in the moment. Reaching up, she intertwines her fingers in mine as they rest over her shoulder.

  "We did good. Thank you for helping me. I really didn't trust anyone else to want perfection the way I did with this. Making sure it was done right was really important to me. I knew you would get it," she explains in a hushed tone, her eyes moving up to meet mine under her thick lashes.

  It would take nothing to bend down slightly and take her mouth. To taste her lips. Feel the stroke of her tongue against mine. Just one small sample.
That's all I'd need. Just a hint of what we shared to keep it alive in my memory. Her blue eyes scan mine, dropping repeatedly to my lips. Reading my need? Or showcasing her own? I knew this was fucking dangerous, and when I finally admit that to myself, I find the sliver of willpower my brain was searching aimlessly for. I press my lips to the edge of her mouth before pulling away quickly, not allowing either of us the chance to escalate it. On a loud sigh, I pull from her embrace, squeezing her fingers briefly before reclaiming my hand.

  "Aubrey? You here?" Annabelle's voice carries up the stairs, and we both turn in the direction of the bedroom door.

  "You know I always pictured them finding this as a surprise, but I'm actually really excited to see their reaction," she speaks over her shoulder at me before moving closer to the door. "Yeah. Up here. Archer with you?"