Give Us a Chance (Wheeler Brothers #2)

by Allie Everhart

  She laughs again. I've decided this is my approach with her. Humor. And saying the unexpected. It seems to be working.

  "I can't go there," she says. "I'm vegan."

  "Really? I didn't know that. So we'll go somewhere else. Where do vegans eat?"

  "I'm not going out with you, Jake."

  "Is it because of the jacket?" I glance down at it. "Because I have other jackets if this one offends you."

  She gives me a funny look like she doesn't know what I mean.

  "It's leather," I say. "I assumed if you're vegan you don't like leather?"

  "Oh, um, yeah." She nods. "That's right. No leather."

  I smile. "So I'll switch coats and meet you there at six."

  "Sorry, but it's not happening." She turns back to her project and picks up her sandpaper and starts sanding the edge of the girl's hair.

  I'll have to try again later. At least I'm getting somewhere with her. I got her to laugh, so that was a start.

  "That's really good," I say, looking at the picture. "Like award-winning good. You should enter that into a contest."

  She sands the girl's dress. "Thanks but there aren't contests for this type of thing."

  "Well, if there were, that would definitely win. Did Nash ask you to make that?"

  "The library did. They're going to hang it in the children's reading room. I really need to finish this so I'll see ya later."

  "Yeah, see ya tomorrow," I tell her, because I'm coming back tomorrow. This girl has always intrigued me, and now I'm even more intrigued. There's something about her that keeps me coming back for more. Maybe it's her refusal to go out with me. She knows I like her and she knows I want to go out with her, and yet she refuses.

  I was starting to think it was a lost cause, but that all changed today. I saw that twitch in her lip as she tried not to smile. And then she actually did. And she laughed. Twice. Other girls I meet smile and laugh from the moment I meet them. It's constant back-and-forth flirting that ends with sex. But getting Ivy to even glance my way has been nearly impossible. And yet today, I got a smile and a laugh. That's serious progress. This might go somewhere after all.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ivy

  Jake starts walking away. I should thank him. I never have and it's always bothered me that I haven't.

  "Jake?"

  He stops and turns around. "Yeah?"

  "I just wanted to say thank you for giving me credit on the Victorian and for mentioning my name on TV. You didn't have to do that."

  "It's your work. You deserved the credit." He smiles. "See ya later."

  I nod, and go back to my sanding. I hope he couldn't tell how breathless I was. Why does he always make me react this way? Why can't I keep control of myself better? Whenever Jake gets near me, my heart decides to take off like it's running some kind of race.

  Jake is hot. Extremely hot. But his hotness is no reason to react this way. Working in construction, I'm around hot guys all the time and I'm always able to control myself around them. So why can't I do that with Jake? It's infuriating, which is why I avoid him. I'm not getting involved with him. Or any guy. I'm taking a break from guys after my break-up with Ryker last year. Even if I wasn't on a guy hiatus, I still wouldn't go out with Jake. I'm not looking for a one-night stand, and that's all Jake wants. I've dated guys like him in the past and I'm over it. At 23, I want a guy who isn't just using me for sex.

  After dating Ryker, who was the last in a long string of cheating assholes I've dated, I decided I'm never letting a guy treat me like shit ever again.

  Ryker was an ass. A selfish, egotistical ass. He was in a band, but never made enough money to support himself so he made me pay whenever we went out. When he got evicted from his apartment, he moved into mine without even asking. But I'd always had this dream of dating a hot rocker, which is why I kept him around. And he kept me around because I paid for everything. The only nice thing he ever did for me was write me a song, but it wasn't even a good song.

  We broke up after I came home one night and found Ryker in my bed with not one, not two, but THREE other women. I kicked all four of them out, threw the few possessions Ryker had out the window, and never spoke to him again. After that, I needed a break from guys. I know it's not fair to assume all guys are like Ryker, but ever since our breakup, I haven't been able to trust a guy. And I've upped my standards about a million percent. No more bad boys. No more assholes. No more choosing a guy based solely on looks. And no more players.

  Jake is a player. He has a reputation and practically all of Chicago knows it. Girls flock to him. And the ones that don't, he pursues until they eventually fall prey to his good looks and endless pick-up lines. He tried one of those lines on me last fall and I just laughed. He looked shocked that I laughed instead of swooned, and never used a line on me again.

  My heart rate is slowly returning to normal now that Jake is gone. I wonder if he's done trying to ask me out. I've made it very clear it's not going to happen. But he's one of those people who doesn't back down from a challenge, which is what I am to him, so I doubt he'll give up just yet.

  I hear someone talking and glance up and see Nash and Callie walk by. Nash is walking her to the door, his arm around her shoulder, a big smile on his face. The guy is head over heels in love with her. And the way he treats her? That's how I want to be treated. He's respectful, supportive, loving, caring. He'd do anything for her. Why can't I find a guy like that? I guess when I think about it, Jake has some of those qualities. When I worked for him, he was always respectful and supportive of me. And he cares about his workers. Last fall I was out sick for a week and he called and checked on me every day.

  But he's still a player. And I'm done dating players.

  I get back to work, but then hear Nash behind me. "How's everything going?"

  "Great." I turn to face him. "I should be done with this by tomorrow."

  He looks at the picture. "It's really incredible how you did that. You should enter it in a contest."

  I smile. "Your brother said the same thing."

  "Jake talked to you?" He slowly grins.

  "Yeah. Why?"

  He shrugs, that grin still on his face. "No reason. He just seemed to be in a hurry when he left the office."

  "We didn't talk long."

  Nash looks like he's about to ask me something but then says, "Well, I'll let you get back to work." He leaves and returns to the office.

  At five I stop at the store, then head to my dad's house for dinner. My sister, Liza, has the night off so it'll be the three of us for dinner, which doesn't happen very often. Liza is 21 and still lives at home, but between school and work, she's almost never there.

  "Hey, Dad," I say, walking into the house. It's a small, three bedroom house in a suburb of Chicago. I grew up in this house and used to think it was nice until I started doing home renovations and realized that this house is really tiny and run-down. I've done what I can to fix it up, replacing the trim along the floor, painting the walls, and installing laminate floors in place of the old shag carpet, but the place still needs work. The roof needs to be replaced, the outside needs to be painted, and the bathroom and kitchen need some serious updating.

  "Hi, honey." My dad gets up from his recliner and helps me with the groceries I bought. "How was work?"

  "It was okay. I'm still working on the picture. Should be done with it by tomorrow."

  "Did you take a photo?"

  "No, but I will when it's done."

  My dad is also a carpenter, or he was until he hurt his back. In addition to carpentry, he used to do roofing on the weekends to make extra money. Last summer, he fell off a roof and hurt his back so badly that he can't work anymore. The doctors said they could try doing surgery but that it may not help with the pain, so my dad decided not to do it. But I think that was more due to the fact that he didn't want to pay for it. Being self-employed, he has shitty insurance that pays almost nothing, leaving us stuck with the bill. So instead of surgery, he
manages his pain with medication and goes to physical therapy twice a week.

  "What's for dinner?" Liza comes into the kitchen.

  "Frozen pizza and bagged salad." I hold up the bag. "I went gourmet and got the Italian blend. It has purple lettuce."

  "Ooh, that IS fancy." Liza takes the bag from me.

  "I'll get the pizza going," my dad says, turning on the oven.

  I can't cook, and neither can Liza or my dad, so we only buy foods that require little to no cooking skills.

  "You need to get rid of that." Liza points at my shirt, then grabs a bowl for the salad. "That thing's so faded it barely looks red anymore. And it has a hole in the sleeve."

  "It's fine," I snap, hoping she'll get my message to keep quiet. I can't afford new clothes right now. Between my apartment and helping my dad pay his bills, I'm barely making ends meet. At least this house is paid for, but I still have to help pay for the utilities and taxes and maintenance. My dad's disability checks won't cover all that, so I told him I was making more than I am so he'd let me help out.

  "You can't dress nice when you work on a construction site," I say to Liza. "If I wore nice clothes they'd get ruined."

  "Yeah, obviously," she says, "but you could maybe wear shirts without holes."

  "I'm not trying to impress anyone, so what do I care?"

  My dad puts the pizza in the oven and sets the timer. "I'm going to go lie down until it's done." He comes over and hugs me. "You came in with those groceries and I didn't get a hug."

  I hug him back. "Go rest. We'll tell you when dinner's ready."

  After he's in his room and closes the door, I go up to Liza. "Is he not feeling well?" I ask because my dad would never tell me. He believes in keeping your problems to yourself, and so do I, which is why I haven't told my family about my financial struggles. That's my problem, not theirs.

  "He switched to a new pain med," Liza says. "It makes him really tired."

  "Why didn't you tell me he switched meds?"

  "Because he just started it yesterday and I haven't talked to you until just now." She opens the cupboard and takes out some plates. "Ivy, you've gotta stop worrying so much. Dad is fine."

  "If he was fine, he'd be able to work, and he wouldn't have to rest before dinner."

  She turns to me. "It's the meds that make him tired. He's not sick. He has a back injury." She pauses. "It's not like Mom."

  I nod. "I know. It's just sometimes I worry that—"

  "It's not cancer," she says softly. "It's a back injury. He's not going to die. And he's got me here, a live-in nurse, keeping watch over him."

  Liza is in nursing school. She's in her last year. Unlike me, she's book smart. She's always done well in math and science, my two worst subjects. She decided to be a nurse back when our mom got sick. Liza was only nine at the time and she told everyone she was going to be a nurse so she could make Mom better. Mom died before that could happen, but Liza still decided to be a nurse.

  "You're not a nurse yet," I tell her. "And you're never home." I take some glasses out. "I'm not blaming you for that. I know you're busy with work and school, but I worry about Dad being here alone all the time."

  "Ivy, I promise you he's fine. He's just tired." She opens the fridge and takes out a two-liter of pop. "So anything interesting happen at work today?"

  "Jake asked me out."

  She grabs my arm, her eyes wide. "Jake Wheeler?"

  "Yeah. Why are you so surprised? You know he's been trying to go out with me."

  "That was months ago. I didn't know he was still interested."

  "He stops by the library a few times a week and I'm pretty sure he's not just coming by to have lunch with his brother. I always catch him watching me from Nash's office." I take the pop and start filling the glasses.

  Liza leans against the counter. "He comes by just to see you? How long has this been going on?"

  "A couple months maybe? Ever since I started working there."

  "Why didn't you tell me this?"

  I shrug. "What's there to tell? I'm not going out with him."

  She takes the pop from me and sets it down. "Ivy. This is Jake Wheeler. THE Jake Wheeler. The hottest guy in Chicago."

  "His brothers are just as hot." It's true, but personally, I find Jake to be the hottest of the four. And it's not just his physical appearance. Jake has a boldness, a swagger, a confidence that drives women wild, including me. When he enters a room, he takes it over. That winning smile. Those deep blue eyes. That sharp jawline. He exudes masculinity, which is why women can't help but fall all over him. But not me. I'm not that girl. Okay, maybe I am, but I'm trying not to be, which is why I'm not falling for Jake.

  "So what did you say?" Liza asks.

  "About what?"

  She rolls her eyes. "What did you say to Jake when he asked you out?"

  "I told him no before he even got the words out."

  "So he didn't actually ask you out."

  "He was going to. He just didn't have a chance. But then he asked me to dinner."

  "Did he say where?"

  "Yeah." I laugh. "Burger King."

  She scrunches her face up. "Seriously? A fast food place?"

  "I think he was joking. He was trying to convince me that it wouldn't be a date, but just two friends having dinner."

  "Why didn't you agree to it?"

  "Liza, we've talked about this." I pick up the plates and go around her to the kitchen table. "I'm tired of being cheated on. And lied to."

  She takes the glasses and follows me. "You broke up with Ryker almost a year ago. You need to get over it."

  "Ryker was just one of many guys who cheated on me."

  "That doesn't mean they all will. Come on, Ivy. Don't you think it's time to start dating again?"

  "Maybe, but not with Jake Wheeler. Manwhore of the century." I return to the kitchen and get the salad bowl. "The only thing Jake is interested in is a one-night stand."

  "You don't know that."

  "Oh, please. Everyone knows that." I set the salad bowl on the table and we both sit down. "You've seen him at Hoedowns. How many girls has he gone home with?"

  Hoedowns is the restaurant where Liza works. It's a barbecue place where the waitresses wear cut-off denim short shorts and skimpy plaid half-shirts that tie in front and barely cover their breasts. My dad hates that Liza works there, but he's given up trying to make her quit. She makes a ton of money in tips, enough to pay for her college tuition, so she's keeping the job until she graduates. She keeps trying to get me to work there too but there's no way I'm wearing that stupid outfit and having drunk guys grab my ass. I'd end up punching them in the face and get fired.

  "Jake hasn't been there in months," she says, taking a sip of her pop. "Maybe he's done with the one-night stand thing."

  "I doubt it. He's only 23. He has plenty more wild oats to sow. That boy isn't settling down anytime soon."

  "Neither are you. You said you don't want a boyfriend, right?"

  "Not a serious one, at least not right now."

  "So go out with Jake. Keep it casual."

  "Meaning just sex? No. I did that with Ryker and look how that turned out."

  "I don't mean sex. I mean, do what he suggested. Go out with him just as friends and see what happens."

  "He only said that so I'd go out with him. He doesn't want a female friend. I've seen how he looks at me. He wants sex."

  "Do you?" She gives me a sly grin. "I mean, seriously, Ivy, it's been like a year."

  "It hasn't been a year," I say defensively. "More like eight months."

  "That's practically a year. You've gotta get out there again. You know what they say...use it or lose it."

  "Use what? That doesn't even make sense."

  "Whatever. The point is, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if you ended up having sex with Jake, right?"

  Just hearing her say 'sex with Jake' caused a slight tingle between my legs. I seriously need to get some control when it comes to him.
He's not even near me and I'm having a physical response.

  "Ivy?"

  "Yeah. I'm sure sex with Jake would be...good." I said 'good' but what I meant was mind-blowing. Why else would girls be lining up to have sex with him? And given that I get hot and bothered just thinking about him, I can only imagine how my body would react if I actually felt his hands all over me and his—

  "Then do it," Liza says, interrupting my thoughts.

  "And be just another notch on his belt? No. Forget it." I pull some napkins from the holder in the middle of the table and distribute them among the three place settings.

  "Ivy, you're not listening." She pulls her chair out a little and turns so that she's facing me. "Jake wants you. We know this. What we don't know is whether he wants just sex or more than that. So you need to figure that out, and when you do, you need to make him work for it."

  "Work for what? Sex?"

  She swats my arm. "Stop going back to sex. Give the guy a chance. For all you know, he wants more than that with you. Otherwise, why would he keep trying?"

  "Because he doesn't like being told no. He'll keep trying until he gets it."

  "Or..." She smiles and twirls a piece of her long blond hair around her finger. "He might actually like you and want more than just sex."

  "I doubt it." I pluck a piece of purple lettuce from the salad bowl and stuff it in my mouth. "I'm starving. I'm gonna check the pizza." I get up, but she yanks me back down.

  "In a minute. We're not done here."

  "Fine. Hurry up."

  She sits back and stretches her legs out in front of her. "Do you like this guy?"

  "I think he's hot." I pluck another purple lettuce leaf from the bowl.

  "But do you like him, aside from his looks?"

  "I don't know him."

  "So that's step one. Get to know him. And if you like him, then make him work to be with you. Don't make it easy. If Jake likes a challenge, he'll like you even more if he has to put in effort to be with you."

  This is suddenly sounding fun. Make Jake work to be with me? I'm sure he won't do it, but that doesn't mean I can't try. And I'll have fun doing it. Plus, it gives me an excuse to hang out with the hottest guy in Chicago.