Roped In (Strings Book 2)

by J. C. Hayden

  He closed the distance between us in an instant, and without a thought about the man standing just a few feet from us, he grabbed my face in his hands and brought his lips down to mine. I grabbed his forearms to steady myself, and even though the kiss barely lasted a second—just one hard press of lips—I felt dizzy when he pulled back.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Patrick put up a sign that said, “Back in fifteen minutes, please ring the bell for assistance,” before he quietly turned into a door directly behind the desk to where I assumed the breakroom was.

  “You’re here.”

  Jack sounded happy but shocked, and I smiled at him through my nerves.

  “I’m here.”

  His eyes searched my face. “I thought I would have to hunt you down and convince you that Rachel and I are over.”

  “I thought so, too, for a while.”

  “But you stayed.”

  I sighed and wrapped my arms around his neck as he slid his arms around my waist and pulled me close. We just held each other, in the lobby of his apartment building, breathing each other in for so long that I thought Patrick was going to come back. I wouldn’t have cared if he did. Being in Jack’s arms made me forget everything else in the world.

  “Why?” I heard Jack whisper into my hair.

  I could’ve brushed it off so easily, and I knew he would have let me. There was too much to explain, too much to make him understand, so instead I settled for the simple truth.

  “I trust you.”

  A small noise escaped the back of his throat, and he squeezed me tighter.

  Finally, I pulled back, and he studied me intently though neither of us spoke.

  I wasn’t trying to put a label on what we were or what we were going to be, and I didn’t want there to be any pressure. I just knew I wanted him, was tired of pretending I didn’t. I wanted more with him than friends with benefits or casual sex if that’s what he wanted, too.

  “I want more,” I said quietly.

  His face went slack with mix of shock and elation.

  “You do?”

  With our arms still around each other, I nodded.

  “I don’t want there to be any pressure or expectations for either of us, but I know I want something more.” I swallowed. “With you.”

  “Come back upstairs,” he murmured, his voice raspy, his intentions clear.

  God, I wanted to, but there were… logistical things that needed to be taken care of.

  “I have to shower and get into different clothes,” I said with a small laugh.

  “Shower here.” His eyes darkened. “Wear my clothes.”

  I bit the corner of my lip. How could I resist when he was looking at me like that?

  “Okay.”

  His smile could’ve lit the lobby that was darkened like the sky outside and nearly did.

  Without a care for who might see, he kissed me then, deeply, making my toes curl and my fingertips tingle as he held my face in his hands and dipped his tongue in and out of my mouth, caressing every single curve and crevice as if the world around us didn’t exist. I felt a peace wash over me as we kissed, and then he pulled away finally, called out a loud thank you to Patrick, and took my hand to guide me back toward the bank of elevators, grinning down at me the entire time. I didn’t know what was going to happen between us, didn’t know what the future held for Jack and me, but I was ready for whatever was in store.

  Chapter 16

  “Ican’t believe you’re taking me to Vermont. To hang out with your mom,” Jack quipped from the passenger seat. “You know that’s like totally something you would do with your boyfriend, right?”

  “Shut up.” I squeezed the steering wheel, simultaneously annoyed with him and fighting back a smile.

  “I know that’s a dirty word for you, but I think it’s true. I think I’m your boyfriend.”

  “Can it, Harding.”

  “When you introduce me to people around town, are you going to say, ‘this is Jack, my boyfriend’ or are you going to say ‘this is some dude I know’?” I could hear the smirk in his voice.

  “Probably that.”

  “Hm. Interesting.” I glanced over at him and saw him rubbing his chin like he was contemplating something. “I wonder if there are pretty girls in Vermont. Since I’m apparently a free agent and all.”

  I punched him in the arm and he laughed.

  “You better not be looking at or talking to any pretty girls.”

  “I won’t,” he said, feigning sincerity. “I wouldn’t do that to my girlfriend.”

  It had been almost two weeks since Halloween night.

  Two weeks since I had finally stopped pretending that I was cool with just being Jack’s friend. Two weeks of dates almost every night, of spending at least some portion of every day together. Two weeks of showing up to our rehearsals with a stupid grin on my face and ignoring Chuck and Isaac when they asked what the hell was up with me. Two weeks of Jack. Two weeks of being the happiest I could ever remember being.

  It had also been two weeks since the encounter with Rachel. Since then, something had come over me. It was like I had finally stepped back and was able to see all the ways that Jack had proved that I was it for him, that no matter what got thrown at him or at me or at us, we were able to keep finding our way back to each other.

  Escucha.

  Listen.

  That’s what abuela would have said. That was always her way of telling us not to ignore what was around us, not to ignore the signs and everything that God was trying to tell us.

  I was trying my damnedest to listen and accept everything for what it was, and the thing that I kept on hearing over and over was that Jack chose me. He had six years ago, he had a month ago, and he kept on doing it even when I tried to push him away. He chose me. He chose us.

  Listen.

  I’d asked him to come with me to Vermont on a whim, on a day that I was trying especially hard to listen. Before I could think about what it might mean, what he might think, or the fact that he might say no, I’d just said it. It was three nights ago while we were eating pizza in my apartment and watching reruns of Law & Order. I’d been planning on taking the week off for months, and when Jack asked me if I wanted to go to a concert with him on Saturday, I told him I couldn’t because I was going to Vermont to visit my mom for the week.

  “Bummer,” he said, giving me a smile even though I could see in his eyes that he was disappointed. “I hope you have fun, though.”

  “Wanna come?” I blurted.

  I almost wanted to take it back a second after I said it, but the smile he gave me made all my fears and doubts just dissipate into the air. He looked so genuinely pleased that I’d just thrown myself in his arms and kissed him through yeses.

  Jack and I hadn’t had a conversation about what we were.

  Well, that wasn’t exactly true. The truth was that Jack had subtly attempted the conversation probably half a dozen times over the past twelve days, and every single time I shut him down. I didn’t know what we were, and I didn’t know what I wanted us to be. The only thing I knew was that I wanted to be with him. That he made me happy. I’d even taken to ignoring Catrina’s calls (something I had never, ever done) because I knew she was going to make me answer questions I wasn’t even prepared to hear, let alone answer.

  Talia Elizabeth Gonzalez Emery, I know you’re ignoring me, and I’m going to let you do it because I know you and I know you’re probably freaking out but probably fucking Jack like a teenager. But when you get back from Vermont, WE ARE TALKING. I don’t care if I have to break into your apartment.

  I’d responded to Catrina with a winking face and a thumbs up emoji, but inside I’d been practically trembling with nerves thinking about how that conversation was going to go.

  I just didn’t even understand why we had to call it something. Couldn’t we just be together and not worry about what we were? I wanted to tell Jack to fuck off, but I knew that this wasn’t just his way of teasing me.
He told me he had no expectations, and I wanted to remind him of that, though I didn’t because I knew his questions arose out of his fears—fears I had put inside him. I knew he was worried I was going to do exactly what I’d done to him the last time we were together and freak out if he so much as thought the word “relationship.” I wanted things to be different this time, but I also just wanted to take things slow and see where it went without the pressure of a label like girlfriend or boyfriend.

  He had also tried to have a conversation with me about Rachel, yet another conversation I had shut down. My reasoning for not wanting to have that conversation was different, though, because it wasn’t about my fears or insecurities. Seeing Jack that night come down to the lobby, knowing that as soon as he was finished with his conversation with Rachel, he was going to leave his apartment and come find me immediately made me realize that we didn’t need to talk about it. I knew where I stood, and it was so abundantly clear where Jack stood that I didn’t feel the need to have him explain himself or tell me all the reasons I should be okay with everything because, surprisingly, I was.

  So, instead, I invited him to Vermont where I hoped we didn’t have to worry about Rachel or us for at least a week.

  The drive to East Alburgh was four hours. I’d told my mom I was bringing a guy I was seeing, and she was elated. I’d almost called him my friend, and even though he couldn’t hear me at the time, it felt like I would be betraying him somehow by calling him that. Because I didn’t know what the hell we were, but I knew he wasn’t just my friend. And it felt like lying to my mom to say that that’s all he was.

  The trip there went by quicker than any of the other times I’d driven to see my mom. Jack and I talked and flirted the entire time, except when he was teasing me about being my boyfriend. We stopped in Burlington because I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold my pee in for another hour, and when we were coming out of the gas station, Jack had grabbed my hand and yanked me to him. He’d just looked at me for a few seconds before he smiled and gave me the sweetest kiss. My heart had pounded in my chest, and when he pulled away and gave me a playful smack on my rear, I wanted to jump him.

  I loved how playful and goofy Jack could be while also being smart and serious and genuine at other times. It was the perfect juxtaposition of characteristics and they each made up so much of what I adored about him.

  We were about fifteen minutes away when Jack started to fidget.

  “Oh my god, will you sit still?” I finally said. “You’re stressing me out.”

  “Shit.” He ran a hand through his hair and huffed out a small laugh. “I think I’m nervous.”

  I looked at him from the driver’s seat, and my heart bloomed in my chest. Sometimes even the simplest things he said gutted me. He never held back how he felt, gave himself all of me, even if it was something like this.

  “Really?” I grinned.

  “Don’t make fun,” Jack said. “I’m not good with meeting parents.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second,” I said. “And anyway, my mom is so nice and welcoming, so don’t even worry.”

  “Is she going to be suspicious of me?” he asked. He sounded like he was only half joking. “Ask me what my intentions are?”

  “Doubt it,” I said with an eye roll. “Okay, she’s definitely going to greet you with a hug, so hug her back and don’t be weird about it.”

  “Try to sneak a feel of your mom’s boobs. Got it.”

  I swatted at him, but he grabbed my hand with a laugh and brought his mouth to my hand. My heart fluttered. I moved my hand to put it back on the steering wheel, but he kept his hand on my thigh. The small show of intimacy made me want to lean over and kiss him.

  “Give her a hug and don’t be weird, creep,” I said, and he laughed again. “She’ll probably have dinner and dessert made. Don’t put more on your plate than you can eat because she hates that and expects you to clean your plate. Don’t tell her you like something if you don’t like it because she has this uncanny way of being able to tell when people like her food or not, and she hates when people say they do when they don’t. So just be honest.”

  “Jesus,” Jack muttered. “I feel like I need to take notes.”

  “Um, are you not? Because, yeah, you should be.” I was teasing him, but when he took out his phone and started typing, it was so adorable that I didn’t even tell him I was kidding.

  “Remember that her last name is one of my middle names, so do not call her Ms. Emery. Call her Ms. Gonzalez. She’ll tell you to call her Monica, but she still likes the show of respect to begin with. When Brody met her, he jokingly called her ‘Mon,’ and she didn’t forgive him for like six months.”

  Jack howled next to me. “Wow, I love that. Can’t wait to remind him of how much your mom hates him the next time I see him.”

  “She doesn’t hate him! She’s just… she tries to be a modern woman but she’s secretly super traditional.”

  “Noted,” Jack said. “What else?”

  “She likes to talk politics, but not at the dinner table,” I explained. “But we never discuss the forty-fifth president, so don’t even hint at it.”

  “Perfect,” Jack said with a snort. “I wouldn’t want to hurl up my dinner anyway.”

  “I knew I liked you,” I said, glancing at him just as I turned the corner that led down a long road that led to my mom’s restaurant and her little home.

  My mom’s house was a little white cottage with brown roof shingles and a chimney stack. It had a porch in the front with two rocking chairs and lots of plants that my mom took meticulous care of, and in front of the porch there were asters in full bloom.

  “This place is beautiful, Talia,” Jack said as we pulled down the driveway and parked right behind my mom’s blue sedan.

  “Oh, tell my mom that,” I said as I opened the door. “She’ll love you immediately.”

  My mom’s diner was next to her house about a thousand feet down the road. It was separated from her house by two tall oak trees, and it matched my mom’s house in color and shape, though it was a bit bigger. It was just after eight, so the diner had been closed for a little over an hour and it looked sleepy and quiet down the road.

  Jack slung both of our bags over his shoulder and grabbed my hand with one of his while he shut the trunk with the other. I savored the feeling of holding his hand as we walked across the large green yard. I looked up at him and smiled right when I heard a squeal.

  “Talia, mi amor!”

  “Mama!”

  She ran down the porch stairs, and I dropped Jack’s hand so I could throw my arms around my mother.

  It had been over five months since I’d seen her. I hadn’t been able to take a trip to Vermont since Mothers’ Day, and she’d been so busy with the diner that she hadn’t been able to come to Boston at all either. I hadn’t realized until this moment how much I had missed this woman.

  My mother was gorgeous. She was petit, like me, and even more curvaceous in her tiny body. She had long black hair that went past her butt and that she took great care of. She had stunning deep brown eyes and a heart-shaped face that made her look much younger than her forty-eight years.

  My mom grew up in San Juan, Puerto Rico to Puerto Rican parents. She’d moved to New York when she was thirteen and had been there until she’d moved to Vermont five years ago. My abuela still lived in Queens, my abuelo died when I was ten, and we had lots of family in Queens and in San Juan and other parts of the Caribbean still.

  “Look at your hair, mija, que bonita.”

  “Thanks, Ma.” I was still in her arms when I reached up and touched my shoulder length light brown locks. Then she looked over my shoulder.

  “And who’s this young man?”

  Jack flashed a huge white smile as he stepped forward and held out his hand. “Jack Harding, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Muy amable,” she murmured to me before she released me and walked to Jack, ignoring his hand and wrapping him i
n a hug. I gave him a thumbs-up behind her back and reminded myself to tell him later that my mom liked how polite he was. Then she looked over her shoulder and mouthed, y guapo, and I stifled a giggle.

  “Nice to meet you, Jack,” My mom said when she pulled back. Then she turned to me and pulled me against her to walk me into the house. “I made a lot of food,” she said to me. “I hope you’re both hungry.”

  I looked over my shoulder at Jack. He winked, and I melted.

  Chapter 17

  Iclimbed into the kayak carefully, limbs shaking as I tried not to tip the damn thing over.

  “You doing okay there, Tal?”

  “Fuck off, Harding.”

  I heard Jack laugh from where he was already comfortably seated in the back of the kayak and cursed myself for pushing him away from me earlier and telling him I didn’t need any help getting in.

  The small boat wobbled precariously, and I froze.

  “Come on, Emery,” Jack said. “I’m heavy enough. It won’t tip.”

  I flipped him the bird before finally managing to get into the boat without incident. I grabbed the paddle that was strapped to the front when I felt his hand on my shoulder.

  “You did good,” he said. “You survived.”

  “I’ve never kayaked before, rich boy,” I groused as I tightened my life jacket. “So, give me a break.”

  “Baby, I tried to help you, but you chose that moment to pull out the feminist card.”

  “Whatever,” I muttered as I gripped my oar.

  “It’s going to be fun, I promise.”

  Even if I didn’t have any fun and I was terrified the entire time, I was definitely going to enjoy the incredible view.

  Lake Champlain was stunning. The water was crisp and blue, and the backdrop of mountains covered with fall foliage was so picturesque and perfect.

  That view didn’t even compare to the view behind me.