by Kim Jones
“Jake always goes above and beyond to make sure his…guests…are taken care of. From what I can tell, he’s treated you no different. So imagine my confusion when you tell me he is an asshole.”
Blood floods my face. Hearing this, I feel I’m the true asshole. But my stubborn pride has me grasping at anything to aid in my defense. “He has yet to say something nice to me. You know, he didn’t even tell me I looked pretty. He said, ‘You’ll do.’”
“Do you really need to be told you’re pretty?”
“Yes,” I deadpan.
“I see.”
“He also told me he’d introduce me to Ed. Even get him to play me a song. He hasn’t done that either.”
“Ed?”
“Ed Sheeran. The singer. He’s here. At your party. Where have you been?”
He ignores me as he melts butter in a skillet. “I heard you had an issue with Briggs tonight.”
I cringe at the reminder. “Something like that.”
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“Sure wouldn’t.”
“Are you okay?”
“Sure am.”
He shoots me a chastising look then grabs a knife to cut the loaf of fresh bread next to me. “I have the feeling that if I ask you to tell me the truth about the reason you’re here, you will.”
“All you have to do is ask.”
He tosses the bread in the skillet. Slathers it with cheese. Adds some spices. All while I watch him work. Sipping my beer. Enjoying comfortable silence with a man I never thought I’d enjoy comfortable silence with.
“Eat first. Then we can talk.” He sets a plate in front of me.
He cooked me a grilled cheese sandwich.
I would cry if I wasn’t so damn hungry.
Within minutes, I have devoured the entire thing. “That was delicious.”
“I know.”
I grin at the cocky man. Surprisingly, he grins back. And like Jake, he is stunningly handsome when he smiles.
“So you want the truth…why? What does it matter?” I ask, propping my elbow on the counter and getting comfortable.
“It doesn’t matter. Jake is a grown man. He can do whatever he wants. I’m just curious. And I can’t get answers from him, so I’m asking you.”
I take a swig of my beer. With it, I find a little courage. “Can I be frank with you, Mr. Swagger?”
“I’d very much appreciate it if you were.”
“You’re full of shit.”
His brow lifts. Before he can say anything, I continue.
“You didn’t seek me out to make me a sandwich. Just like you didn’t leave your guests just to satiate your curiosity. The truth matters to you. And if you want me to be the one to give it to you, then I’m going to need to know the real reason why.”
He curls his lips in a lopsided grin. “Perceptive little thing, aren’t you?”
“No. I’m just really nosey.”
He says nothing for several moments. Then, as if he’s decided to not give a damn, he loosens his tie and leans back in his chair. “Jake never acts on a whim. His strategy is to be three steps ahead at all times. He’s meticulous like that. Always has been. I know my grandson well enough to know that you were never part of his plan. He acts as if he had no choice but to bring you here. And I need to know why the man I’m about to give my company to is acting so out of character.”
“Wow. Yeah. That’s a good question. Wonder why he wouldn’t just tell you the truth instead of risk you doubting his ability to run your company?”
“Probably because he doesn’t know I’m leaving it to him.”
I nearly fall off my stool. “What? He doesn’t know?”
“No. And I’d appreciate it if you kept it between us.”
Why must he burden me with such a huge secret? It’ll nearly kill me to hold this in. Like, literally take all my willpower not to chant, “I know something you don’t know.”
“So if he doesn’t know you’re giving him the company, what does he think will happen when you retire?”
“He assumes I’ll remain sole owner after and leave the board to run the company for me. But the only way for me to fully retire is to walk away completely. So I plan to give him sole ownership and he can decide whether he wants to appoint a board, run it himself or merge his company with mine.”
“Wait. Y’all don’t work together?”
“We are two separate enterprises. He invests in people’s ideas. I buyout entire corporations. His passion is helping people. Mine is money. I’ve worked hard my whole life so that one day I could enjoy the fruits of my labor. But I don’t want to watch everything I’ve worked for fail without my leadership. I don’t see Jake giving up his company to run mine, but I have no doubt that he will make sure the company continues to thrive under his ownership and the direction of the appointed board. He won’t fail. He doesn’t know how.
“But what if he says no? That he doesn’t want the company?”
He chuckles at that. “Power is a very addictive thing, Penelope. Jakes possesses it now, but with my company, he’ll define it. And he’ll have my company and everything that goes along with it. Nothing you say will change my mind about that. But it will satiate my curiosity. And though you doubt that’s my reason for being here, I can assure you it’s not. I just want to know the story behind my grandson’s unusual behavior.”
I sigh. Why couldn’t I have been born into a wealthy family? Jake is so damn lucky. He’s going to be a gazillionaire. Thanks to me. And I’ll get nothing.
Story of my life.
“Okay, Pee Paw. I’ll tell you.” I point my finger at him. “But if I do, then you owe me one.”
He nods once. “Fair enough, Miss Hart.
“Well…I guess I should start from the beginning. So you should get comfortable. And probably have another beer.”
“In my head, I’m thinking robots. And when I think robots, I think Transformers, right? So with a straight face, I asked…” I pause to stifle another giggle and then tilt my head to the side and narrow my eyes. “Are y’all gonna like, turn into a Camaro or something?”
The entire kitchen erupts in laughter. Loudest of them all is the deep, baritone of Jesse Swagger. Grandfather. Or as he’s now agreed to let me call him, Pee Paw.
We, along with the kitchen staff, have spent the past half hour making fun of all the Miss Sims at the party. The employees had some interesting stories to share. I, of course, had mine. And Pee Paw simply listened. He shook his head in disgust at some of the things the women had done, and laughed heartily when they got back a little bit of what they gave—which seemed to always be the case.
But before the staff had returned and the fun times began, I told Pee Paw everything. From start to finish. Again, he just listened. Once the truth was out, we’d talked about my life back in Mississippi. My mother. My writing. The ups and downs of living in a small town.
Then he’d opened up about his life. About his late wife who passed when Jake was only two years old. About his son, Jake’s father, who’d married Jake’s mother, his high school sweetheart, his first year in college. That he was an English Professor who didn’t have a corporate bone in his body. And, along with Jake’s mother, had joined the Peace Corp later in life and was now teaching English to children in a village in Africa.
I’d had so many questions. I wanted to know about Jake’s childhood. When the last time was that he saw his parents. Were they close? Did he have commitment issues? On a scale of one to ten, what were my chances of getting him to marry me?
But then the staff returned. In the few seconds we had left alone before they made it to us, Pee Paw took my hand in his. Fixed me with a thoughtful gaze. And did something I’m sure a man like him has only done a few times in his life.
Apologize.
He told me he was sorry for accusing me of, basically, being a whore. And for treating me as such by insinuating I had no dignity, lacked intelligence and was beneath him—a man who made an honest living.
I accepted his apology.
A bond was formed.
And now I’m pretty sure he loves me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he started sending me birthday cards with hundred dollar bills and telling people I’m his long lost granddaughter.
A throat clears.
Silence descends.
I don’t have to look to know it’s Jake standing behind me. He has the typical That Guy presence—the kind that can be felt before it’s seen. I glance over my shoulder anyway. Because it’s been a while since I last saw him. And though I’ve spent the past hour staring at the older version of him, there’s nothing quite like the real thing.
His gaze moves to me, perched on my stool. Cold bottle of Bud in my hand. Legs crossed. Split in my dress exposing an indecent amount of thigh. Then he looks over at Grandfather. Jacket off. Sleeves rolled up. Tie loosened. Beer in hand. Lit cigarette dangling from his lips. Leaned back in a swivel chair he’d snagged from the employee lounge.
Jake takes in the rest of the room—wait staff, chef and prep cooks in white coats all sipping whiskey or beer. Sitting on counters, milk crates and a couple leaned causally against the wall. Eventually, his eyes find me again.
“Penelope.”
I nod. “Jake.”
I applaud his stoic expression. For the most part, he appears unaffected by the scene before him. But I can see the questions in his eyes. The uncertainty. The burning need to storm over to me, grab me from my stool, haul me in the cooler and demand I tell him what the fuck is going on.
Then check my temperature with his big thermometer…
Grandfather stands and unfolds the sleeves of his shirt. “It’s been a pleasure, but I believe it’s time for me to get back to my guests.” He fastens his cufflinks and takes the jacket offered to him. “Thank you, Geoff. It’s been a pleasure. As always.”
“Pleasure is mine, Mr. Swagger. Congratulations on your retirement.”
They shake hands. Grandfather makes eye contact with each employee, silently acknowledging them with a nod. Which I find sweet. Then he turns to me as he straightens his tie. “How do I look?”
“Like a stud.”
He glances at Jake and smirks. “Hear that? I’m a stud.” He shoots me a wink, gives one final nod to the room and with a breath, transforms from cool Pee Paw, to Jesse Swagger. “I’ll be making my speech in ten. I expect you there,” he says to Jake as he crosses the room. He pauses when he’s next to him and leans in to say something I can’t hear.
I nearly fall off my stool in an effort to listen. Jake’s eyes lift to me as Pee Paw claps him on the shoulder then strolls out of the kitchen.
The chef starts barking orders. The staff groans, but everyone gets to their feet and soon the kitchen is chaos once again.
Jake’s big body shadows mine as he comes to stand right in front of me. “It seems you’ve bewitched my Grandfather.”
I shrug. “Bewitching is what I do.”
“Since when are the two of you best friends?”
“Since I finally convinced him I wasn’t Miss Sims and he learned the error of his ways and apologized to me.”
“Bullshit.”
“Cross my heart.” I cross my heart.
He helps me to stand and his hands fall to my hips. He studies me with a soft expression. I look up at him. At those lips. Wondering if he will kiss me. Suddenly needing it so bad I almost ask for it. His eyes follow his hand as he lifts it to my face and tucks back a loose strand of hair before he feathers his thumb across my temple.
“What am I going to do with you, Penelope Hart?”
Fuck me.
Love me.
Marry me.
Feed me chicken wings….
I swallow hard. “I have a few ideas.”
“I have a few of my own, baby.”
I’m not sure if it’s his words, how he whispered them, the softness in his eyes, the fact that he just called me baby—the most original, yet swooniest endearment ever—or the gentleness of his touch that has me feeling tingly all over. Like I have Pop Rocks in my veins. The back of my ears tickle. A heavy warmth weighs in my chest. Yet there’s this hollow ache I can’t describe. It’s one thing to be turned on by him sexually. This…this is something different.
I like it.
But I don’t like that I like it.
Loud applause and cheers can be heard from the ballroom. Jake blinks and the mist in his gray/green/blue eyes fades.
“We need to get back to the party.”
He takes the beer from my fingers and tucks my hand in the crook of his arm. I spend the entire walk trying to distract myself from the feeling. I do this by thinking about turtles.
Snapping turtles.
Sea turtles.
Box turtles.
Ninja Turtles.
Turtles in a half shell.
“Turtle power!”
Fuck. Me.
“What is it about this hallway that makes you say stupid shit?” Jake asks, never slowing stride as he stares down at me with that you’re-out-of-your-fucking-mind look.
“You try not chanting the song when you think about Ninja Turtles.”
“I don’t have to. Because I don’t think about Ninja Turtles. Or any of that other random shit in your pretty little head.”
I gaze up at him and smile. “You think I’m pretty?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You said my head was pretty.”
“Well it better be for the amount of money David Michael charges.” He opens the door to the ballroom before I can respond.
Pee Paw’s voice commands the entire room. Deep and strong. His words smooth. Confident. Powerful. The speech is more than a thank you or a farewell. It’s a testimony to greatness. A promise that anything is possible with a little patience and a lot of hard work.
Shit’s good.
When he thanks the entire room for forty years of memories, we’re standing just to the right of the makeshift stage next to Cam. And I’m clapping the loudest. I really want to pull a Julia Roberts and roll my fist in the air while I let out a “Whoop, whoop, whoop!” But Jake would probably kill me. And Pee Paw probably wouldn’t approve of the outburst either.
“As you all know, my dear friend Ed Sheeran is here tonight…”
Pee Paw looks at me. My mouth falls open. I silently relay him a message as he waits for the crowd to stop clapping.
You shut the fuck up, Pee Paw Swagger! You didn’t tell me he was your friend! Ed who… You sneaky, studdly old fart!
“And as a favor to me, he has agreed to perform a song so that I may return a favor I owe to my Grandson Jake’s lovely date, Penelope.”
Where the fuck is my phone….
Emily is not going to believe this shit!
“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Ed Sheeran.”
I’m still gaping. Staring at the fiery orange hair of one of my celebrity crushes as he takes the stage. Willing him to look at me. So that I may use my silent message relaying power to tell him, “Yes. I will have your babies.”
But before I can wave like a fool to get his attention, Cam pries my opened clutch from my hand. Then I’m whisked around and embraced in the arms of Jake Swagger.
And I
Cannot
Breathe.
That Pop Rocks, ear tickling, warm chest, gaping hole feeling is back. Because Jake’s smile is…everything. Maybe it’s for show. To prove something to his grandfather. Keep the women from sinking their teeth into him. So he looks handsome in the pictures being taken by all these damn flashing cameras. And it scares the shit out of me because I don’t care if it’s fake. It feels real.
He doesn’t hold me like a lover.
He holds me like a woman.
And it’s not awkward.
Or crowding.
It’s possessive.
And comforting.
We fit.
We are the perfect fit.
The song is Perfect.
Seriously.
> Ed’s singing Perfect.
“Relax, Penelope. Or do you just want us to stand here and not dance while every eye in the room is on us?”
I look around and sure enough, they’re all watching. The dance floor is empty. It’s just us. I take a breath and relax into Jake’s firm hold. His smile widens and he winks. Then we’re moving. Not in that slow spinning circle way like how normal people dance. No, he has to Jake Swagger the shit out of it and waltz us across the floor in long, graceful strides. And I have no clue what the fuck I’m doing. But somehow, I’m doing it. Backwards at that.
I mirror his steps. Move when I feel his push. His hand at the small of my back reassures me. If I miss a step, I have no doubt he will just tighten his hold, pick me up and carry me around the floor. My credentials for That Guy didn’t even include being a good dancer. This is all Jake.
“Ready?”
“Huh?”
“To turn. You ready?”
“What?! No! Wait—“
Too late. He pushes me away from him. Releases my waist. Tightens his grip on my hand. Spins me. And before I can fuck it up, pulls me back to him. Never breaking stride.
“Don’t do that again,” I snap, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I just did a swirly spin move and didn’t fall on my face.
He laughs. The sound reverberates through his chest and thunders against mine. “You told me you knew how to dance.”
“I do. I’m gonna show Ed my river dance as soon as this song ends.”
He laughs.
Again.
His chest does that rumbling thing again too.
I really like it.
He twirls me.
I do not like that.
“Would you quit?”
“Why? What are you afraid of?”
“Um…falling on my ass and embarrassing myself in front of Ed.”
His eyes flit toward the stage. “First you tell my Grandfather he’s a stud. Now you’re worried about impressing Ed? Are there any other men I need to know about?”
My smile falters a little.
His does too.
“I should have never left you alone with Briggs.”
“How did you know about that? You weren’t even around.” I refrain from saying he was with a slut. Even though I really want to just so he can assure me he wasn’t.