by Marti Shane
“You’re drunk” Jake accused.
“I am.” He shook the bottle, taking another swig. “We can be together,” he announced, making Jake’s blood boil. He hated Jax being Mason’s dirty little secret. “I get to be his gay poster boy in his next campaign. It’s all about the timing.”
“Go home Mason. Sleep it off.”
“I want to sleep with you.” He pointed the bottle at Jake. “I don’t want to be a secret anymore.” Well, fuck. Jax needed to hear what Mason had to say, but he was drunk. A black car crawled up the ally earlier than expected.
“That’s your ride. Come on, let’s go.” He hooked Mason’s arm over his neck, prying him from the steps.
“I drove,” Mason protested.
“Which was stupid.” Jake hauled his weight, Mason’s feet uncooperative as they made it to the car.
“Come home with me,” Mason tried tugging him into the back seat.
“I’m Jake, you fucking asshole,” he gritted out, shoving him back and slamming the door. Too little and way too fucking late after five years. Man, Jax deserved more.
“I can’t remember what I saw in him,” Jax said from behind him, the car backing away. “It seems like I’ve just been trying to fix him for years.”
“He thought I was you. Said he came out to his Dad.”
“He’s tried that line before. He still has to keep the secret until his Dad thinks it’s right for the campaign.”
“So, does his Dad really know?”
“Who cares?” Jax kicked the gravel at his feet. “I’m out.”
“Says the gay man.” He wrapped an arm around his shoulders, walking him to his truck. Jax was relaxed, not worked up at all. He called over a thanks to Sam before climbing in, her dial-a-ride saving them both some grief. “Drive safe.”
Sam was distracted on her phone, scrolling screen after screen.
“Thank you,” Jake told her, climbing in the driver’s seat. She glanced up, a slight shrug as to say don’t mention it. “You’re not the only one with family drama.”
“You could’ve told me” she said, tapping at her phone. He took the damn thing, dropping it in the console. “You could’ve told us Mason was your client”
“He’s not.”
“You just have secret service on speed dial?”
“That wasn’t secret service.” She rolled her eyes. “They work for his dad’s campaign.”
“So his dad’s a client?”
“No. I despise politics. I extended a professional courtesy.”
“To the firm his Dad uses?”
“To Jax,” she snapped, and then shied from the confrontation. “I had the means, so I used them.” Crisis management. He couldn’t separate Sam from her job. She couldn’t put full sentences together at dinner until his Mom realized Sam overheard her. Sam averted crisis, pouring what felt like genuine affection at his mother to put her at ease. She’d done the same for Jax. Mason crisis averted with the tap of her app. “I could’ve left it alone, but I need to get to bed sometime soon.”
“Did you mean what you said to my mom?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I’m worried you’re not always…open.”
“Isn’t that the definition of closed off?” She used air quotes around the phrase his mom used. “What do you want from me? I could’ve run out of the room crying or pretended I hadn’t overheard.”
“You handled it fine.” He pulled her hand to his lap, searching for words. “Better than fine. I’m worried because you have such a rough start. I don’t want you holding a grudge.”
“It stung, but I deserved it. Can’t you just let it go?” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask about Mitch’s parents. Were they close? Did she ever take his mom to lunch in three years? Considering this was her first time to Cross City, maybe not.
“My family’s important to me,” he said.
“I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand with hers before withdrawing it to her lap. “I can’t explain how it feels.”
“Can you try?” He pulled her whole body across the console, positioning her in his lap.
“You can’t fix it, Jake,” she argued. “No one can fix it.”
“You did…with me.” He realized, her guard non-existent with him. Her hand ran his jaw, eyes curious on his.
“It’s natural with you.” She nibbled his lip, making him want more. She had a point, their connection effortless. She cherished her inner circle and in time he had to believe she’d cherish his. He relished the feel of her lips on hers, his heart an unguarded door. Setting aside his mother’s warning, he welcomed Sam in.
Chapter Eighteen
Sam could get used to her new normal, Jake’s sleepy voice at her ear.
“Morning, Beautiful.” His hand wandered between her thighs, his breath tickling her neck. It was barely morning, he and Jax starting work at the butt-crack of dawn. She didn’t care. He woke up fully charged every morning, body spooning hers and wanting more. Her body woke in response to his, a warm bloom of pleasure blossoming at her core.
“Hmm.” She moaned her response, legs parting for him to slip inside. His hand cupped her breast, securing her back to his chest as he drove in deep. His tongue ran the column of her throat, his hips in a deliciously lazy rhythm. “Mmm.” She found the hard muscle of his ass, nails digging into the flesh demanding more. He thrust harder with a growl, his rhythm staying the same.
She rolled to her belly, back arched to accept him deep. Her knees found purchase on the mattress, and Jake draped her body with hard muscle and warm skin. His fingers threaded hers above her head, his thighs pushing hers wide as he drove inside. The headboard slammed, the clock rattling on the nightstand in the distance as her hearing began to fade.
“Jake!” she cried out, the sound muffled in her ears as her body wound tight. He quickened his pace, thrust almost punishing as his hands held hers tight.
“With me.” His words floated over her haze of pleasure, pulling an eruption from her core. The muscles in her thighs and ass seized, her walls feasting in delightful pulses around his length. He stayed inside her, pulling them to lay on their sides. His breaths were heavy, broad chest rising and falling against her bare back. His lips were on her shoulder, her neck, and her ear. “I like mornings.”
“I like Friday mornings.” She ran her hand along his ass. She’d worked out a schedule to work every other day in Cross City, but Nick and Jake had demanded Fridays be hers. Because she hadn’t taken the two weeks off, she could only work four days a week. She’d been against it until now. Laying sated with Jake still inside her, she was content with her new normal.
“I’ve got a surprise for you.” Jake sank his teeth into her ear, sliding from between her legs.
“You’re washing the sheets?” She rolled to her back, his mouth covering her breast. She loved how he helped himself, feasted on her when he pleased. Her fingers raked his cropped hair making him grown.
“I’m washing you in the shower.” He got to his feet, lifting her easily from the sheets and carrying her off for round two.
A morning of love making could only be made better with bacon and eggs, and Jake made the best. She manned the toaster and coffee pot, adding in some fresh pineapple to ease the guilt.
“Aren’t you supposed to work out?” she asked Jake, thinking she needed to get back into a routine. Turning, spatula in hand, he did a Magic Mike move with his abs. He was a goof most of the time, which she was growing to love.
“It’s my week off.” He flipped her bacon to the plate, liking his a bit crispier than hers. “Travis has a set-up in the South barn. I’m going to start working out with him next week. What about you?” His blue eyes swept over her bare legs. She wore his shirt and nothing else for breakfast, something she knew he liked. “What’s your pleasure?”
“A four-inch heel and lots of sex,” she countered, tossing the hot toast to their plates. “I’m not going near Travis’s torture barn.” She liked a good run an
d a row machine, maybe even a boxing session with a trainer from The Royal. Flipping tractor tires and burpies weren’t her thing.
“You better lay off the bacon then,” Jake teased, pulling her strips to his plate. She snagged one, holding it between her teeth. “Or we need to have more sex.” He took half, swatting her on the ass.
“What’s my surprise?” she asked after breakfast. Jake was pulling on his boots on the porch, the worn leather evidence of his hard work.
“Top drawer.” He tilted his chin towards the dresser. She slid open the top drawer of the dresser they shared, a black box nestled under his socks with a fluorescent orange bow. “Don’t open it,” he warned through the screen, already on the porch. “Get dressed.”
Sam danced around with one leg in her jeans, excitement squirming in her gut. She stabbed the other leg through, zipping and snapping as she eyed the oddly wrapped box. What was with the color? Was he taking her hunting, because killing Bambi was not her thing. He shook his head at her choice of flip flops, demanding real shoes instead. Less impatient than she, he swept her up with the box, shoes and socks in hand. He settled her on the ATV, the screen door slamming against its frame.
Jake climbed off the ATV at the East Barn, Sam tying her shoe as she peered through the morning fog. He presented the box, her heart racing as she pulled the orange bow. A small key topped the satin pillow inside, attached to a Braves key ring. It was too small for a car, she thought and it didn’t have a fob.
“You said you used to ride dirt bikes,” he said, pulling her inside. The lights kicked on with a jolt, settling into a dull hum overhead. A sleek black motorcycle shimmered under the lights, an orange design flaring up the side.
“This isn’t a dirt bike,” she said in shock.
“It’s a Ninja,” he explained. “Stock, until you learn how to ride.”
“I know how to ride,” she defended, itching to give it a try. She’d never thought about owning a street cycle, but it was suddenly the perfect fit. She hated to drive, and parking was worse. This was a fuck load of fun she couldn’t wait to try. “Can I wear leather to work?” Jake’s hand found his crotch, adjusting himself in his jeans with a groan. She took that as a yes.
“Sam, this isn’t a jet ski. Crashing into the pavement isn’t as much fun as the water.”
“Are you giving me this or not?” She held up the key. “If not, I’m buying one.”
“You like it?”
“Yes.” She threw her arms around his neck, excited and warmed that he knew her better than she knew herself.
“That’s not a toy, Sam.” Travis said from the door. “And it needs a custom paint job.”
“Have Mick do Atlanta Braves like your ski,” Jax agreed from his side, Sam turning in Jake’s arms to face them. He wrapped her from behind, his fingers turning the key chain to show Texas Rangers on the other side.
“Don’t you boys have work to do?” she asked, throwing one leg over the seat. The bike was light and just the right height between her thighs. She inserted the key, everything coming to life. It was quiet, a purr instead of a roar. With the gear in neutral, she gave the throttle a test. Oh hell yes, she thought. This was most certainly a toy. She looked up, Jake smiling until she popped gears, making a half donut and shooting out of the barn.
She throttled back, the tires not made for wet grass. They called after her as she took a spin around the barn. Even at her low speed, the excitement hummed under her skin. She imagined the fifty-mile stretch to Cross City, just her and the open road of Promise Pike. Jake kill-joyed her second lap, jumping in front of her with a serious scowl.
“Helmet!” he forced out, cutting the engine.
“I was just taking it for a spin,” she said, Travis shoving at her shoulder to dismount.
“My turn.” Travis threw his leg over the seat, bringing the engine back to life. His big body was hunched over the sleek frame, the engine echoing against the barn as he disappeared into the fog.
“You next?” she asked Jax, standing with his hands shoved in the pocket of his jeans. He overcame surprise, eyes darting to Jake before he answered.
“I rode it down last night,” he admitted. “It’s boss.” She realized they’d never spoken other than work, or at least she hadn’t.
“Full throttle?” she prompted, feeling like a normal conversating human for once. His face split into a grin, an expression she knew well from Jake.
“I backed off around eighty-five, but there was a lot left in the throttle.”
“I’ve got buyer’s remorse already.” Jake shoved a full-face helmet into her hands. “You wear this.”
“Now?” she teased. “Is this a sex thing?” she asked, putting it on her head. Jax found the humor, but Jake barely cracked a smile.
“I’ll throw the damn thing in the lake,” he threatened.
“Calm down.” She rose to her tip toes, planting a kiss on his tightened lips through the open shield. “Really?” She pointed to the bulbous contraption surrounding her head. “You’re into this?”
“Yes.” He knocked his knuckles on the top, lightening up a notch. “Leather chaps are the new dress code,” he told Jax. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back.” He gestured to the ATV.
“I’ve got a ride.” She flipped her shield down, Travis pulling up alongside. “Eighty-five, huh?” she asked Jax, mounting her new ride. She teased the throttle, getting a rise out of Jake. He knew her too well. Yes, she would eventually open it up to see what it could do. His fault, and that wasn’t going to change.
Sam watched Promise Lake stir to life from her porch. Morning had never been her thing, until Jake. The patch of water lilies by the shore was in full bloom and ducks were waddling out of the tree line in flocks. The sun burned a single stripe across the glassy surface, not yet high enough to dry the dew. She loved the dampness of dawn, like remnants of the previous day being washed away.
A soft glow cast over the lawn next to the Victorian, the porch lights flickering on to set up breakfast for the guest. Sam finished her coffee, checking the time on her phone. Gram will be up, she thought before reality quickly stabbed. Her finger hovered over the contact on the screen, the absence a hole in her chest, the red dot annotating “emergency contact” was no longer valid. Gram was no longer valid. She wasn’t unavailable. Leave a message and she won’t call back later. She was gone. Never. She could never talk to her again.
“Heard you guys testing this baby.” She looked up through tears to see Red crossing the back lawn. She swiped at what poured over and sniffed and blinked away the rest. “Honey, you okay?” He diverted from her bike, focusing on her. She nodded and got to her feet, sliding them in her shoes.
“I was calling Gram,” she admitted, making herself smile so it wouldn’t be a big deal. His eyes clouded with worry, but he managed a reassuring smile. Pulling her cheek to his pillowy chest, his chuckle was as comforting as his hold.
“My Dad’s been gone ten years and I still do the same thing.” He patted her back before letting her go. “It’s tough at first, but eventually it’s more comforting than sad.” He shrugged, lifting his cap and raking his ginger hair. The sun weathered his handsome face over the years, the lines by his eyes deeper than they used to be. “Not crazy ‘bout the orange.” He rubbed at his chin, circling her bike. “Maybe let Mick do her thing.”
“I think she needs one, too.”
“Agreed.” Mick was crossing the lawn, coffee in hand. “Why is it I can sleep ‘til noon in LA?” she bitched. “Oh!” Her hand slapped her forehead. “Because no one’s driving a Ninja across your back yard.”
“We were like twenty acres away.” Sam brushed her off.
“Because noise doesn’t carry over water.” Mick’s sarcasm was thick.
“You girls learned that the hard way,” Red reminded them. They’d learned at a young age if you’re going to stay up all night, stay off the water if you don’t want to get caught. The megaphone effect was real.
“Why the
tears?” Mick asked, even though Sam’s eyes were dry. “What happened?”
“Oh, I brain farted.” Sam waived her off.
“Tried to call Gram,” Red filled in. Tears pooled in her best friend’s eyes, making her sinuses burn all over again.
“How cool would it be if she’d actually answer?” Mick sniffed. “I’ve got shit she needs to know.”
“She knows,” Red chuckled. Sam guessed everyone dealt with death in a different way. She wasn’t sure about spirits or ones you loved watching over you after they passed. Red kicked up the kickstand her bike, eyeing Mick “You want to give this a try?” Sam took her coffee, watching Mick mount the bike. Her black leggings showed off her muscular thighs and Sam wondered if she looked half as sexy on the bike. Sam passed her the helmet.
“Jake’s rules.”
“Good for Jake,” Red added.
Mick followed the helmet rule, cranking and taking it for a spin.
“I can’t believe he bought me a bike.”
“Can’t believe you accepted it,” Red said, arms crossed over his chest as they watched Mick. “Or did you put up a fuss?” Sam blinked at him, thinking of all the elaborate gifts she refused from Mitch.
“I didn’t fuss,” she said, thinking of how easily she’d accepted the gift from Jake. He was thoughtful. She’d barely mentioned having a dirt bike once and this was perfect for her commute even though she hadn’t complained. “He got it right.”
“Sure did,” Red agreed. “You’d want to hang on to him.” A series of high-pitched beeps pierced the air, the heavy equipment at work across the lake. “Those boys work hard, and their folks are good people.”
“You know them?”
“I knew Mary, his mom.”
“Knew her how?”
“Not like that,” Red chuckled. “We were raised in the same circle, our parents were members at the same club.” Sam easily forgot Red was from high-society, the nine-digit salary kind. She’d always known him as owning the B&B with Kay. “Mary’s parents weren’t big fans of Mark.” Red shrugged. “He was a good guy and she was head over heels.”