“Yeah.” Her voice sounded kind of funny, and he said uncertainly, “That’s okay, isn’t it? I mean, you don’t usually care if I ask, like, Nolan or whoever without checking with you first.”
“Sure, sure. That’s...fine. The more the merrier.”
He grinned. “That’s what you always say.”
And usually I even mean it. In the other room, Jenny ground her forehead against the cupboard door she’d just closed and concentrated on drawing in and exhaling deep, calming breaths.
Inaudible deep, calming breaths, since she didn’t want to ruin Austin’s great mood. And really, she assured herself, this was fine. It was good, in fact. It was important that Austin forge a relationship with his dad. Jake was going to be taking him with him when he left—so the sooner they bonded, the better shape the teen would be in to deal with all the changes that were about to turn his life upside down.
But, oh, crap. It had been less than forty-eight hours since she’d rolled around on her bed with Jake, and she would really, really rather not have to face him just yet.
Or, say, ever.
Okay, that was childish. She pushed away from the cupboard. But she couldn’t pretend she was thrilled at the prospect of being thrown together with him again. How was she going to look him in the eye, knowing he had seen her bare breasts? How was she supposed to not think about the way he’d touched them? Hell, easy for him to sit across a table from her—he had nothing to worry about. He hadn’t even unbuttoned his shirt!
Her boobs had been out there and she was going to have to act all cool, as if it were no skin off her nipples, so to speak, should she see anything in his eyes that indicated he might be visualizing them.
The sudden knock at the mudroom door made her jump and emit an embarrassing almost-scream. Austin laughed in the other room.
“That must be him,” he said. “Toss me the soups before you let him in.”
Leaning through the open doorway to the kitchen, she lobbed them to him one after the other. Then, blowing out a final quiet breath, she turned back to the door, shook out her hands and reached for the knob. Damn. It would’ve been nice if she’d at least had a chance to refresh her lipstick. Not that she had any burning desire to impress Jake Bradshaw. But ask any woman and she would testify to the confidence-boosting armor of a dash of lipstick.
Plastering a smile on her face, she opened the door.
* * *
IT WAS STUPID, JAKE KNEW, but he hadn’t expected Jenny to be here. He’d jumped to the conclusion that Austin had invited him for the sole reason that she was working tonight—maybe because the kid was cooking and an unconscious corner of Jake’s mind had made the assumption that the teen probably only did that when she wasn’t around to make his dinner.
Well, he knew what they said about assume making an ass of U and me. And seeing her, in a trim camel-colored straight skirt, one of those filmy, ultrafeminine blouses—this one in black and tan—and the skyscraper needle-heeled shoes she favored for business attire, stopped him dead in his tracks for a moment.
Acrimonious encounters with Max had taught him never to give anyone the advantage of seeing him off guard. He flashed her an insouciant smile and deliberately dropped his gaze for a moment to peruse those sweet little cupcakes beneath her blouse.
If he thought it would rattle her, he’d seriously underestimated her. The girl was clearly made of titanium alloy. Her cheeks turned a little pink, but she met his gaze coolly and raised her eyebrows at him, as if to say, “Well, aren’t you a tacky lowlife scumball.”
“You guys planning on standing around out here all night?” Braced against the doorjamb, Austin leaned into the small enclosed porch. His gaze went to the container in Jake’s hand. “Oh, good. You remembered the milk.” Releasing the jamb, he came over to relieve him of the gallon he’d picked up at the General Store. “I’ll throw this in the freezer to get it real cold, then I gotta get back to my cooking.” He cocked his brows. “If you wanna give yourselves a treat, you’re welcome to come watch the master at work.”
Jake’s grin had no agenda this time as he looked at Jenny. “He always so modest?”
She rolled her eyes. “Pretty much.”
“Hey!” Austin protested. “I don’t think I’m half as good as I really am. But wait until you taste my grilled cheese—never mind my Campbell’s soup. The Food Network begs me—begs me!—to ditch Junior high and host one of their shows. You think you two are gonna be able to resist demanding my recipe?” His laugh scoffed at the very idea.
It was the first time Jake had ever seen him completely at ease in his company. They’d had a good time Friday night, but Austin hadn’t been anywhere as easy in his own skin as he was this evening.
He had to admit he was charmed. He’d already harbored a fierce desire to get to know his son better. But this kid—
Man, he really wanted to get close to the boy in front of him tonight.
And he’d never regretted more deeply all the years he’d let slip by without bothering to do so.
He discovered during dinner that Austin was riding high on the performance he and Bailey had put on for Nolan after they’d left his place this afternoon. The thirteen-year-old had Jake in stitches as he reenacted not only his own tricks—complete with the ones he’d messed up—but Bailey’s ringmaster announcement and flips and leaps, as well. He even attempted to duplicate the circus music in a falsetto.
“Have you ever heard music so lame?” he demanded in conclusion and took another huge bite of his second grilled cheese sandwich.
Jake glanced over at Jenny, who was beaming at the teen as proudly as any mother. Her expression made his heart give a funny quickstep, tha-thud. And something deep in his gut hitched tight.
But he shook it off as Austin pushed back his empty plate and belched.
“’Scuse me,” the teen said and shot the adults a pleased-with-himself smile. “I cooked. That means you guys gotta clean up.”
Jenny groaned. “Great,” she groused, turning to Jake. “He might make the best grilled cheese sandwich in Washington state—”
“Or maybe even the continental United States,” he interjected.
“Try the universe,” Austin said.
“In any case, that’s the upside. The downside is that when he cooks, he manages to use every plate and pot and pan in the house.”
“A gifted chef is only as good as his tools,” Austin sassed and pushed back from the table. “And while you tools clean the kitchen, I’ll go get the stuff we’re taking over to Nolan’s.”
Her delicate brows drew together in confusion. “What are you taking over to Nolan’s? You can’t have contact with him yet. You’re getting your new vaccination on Tuesday, and we’ll have to see what Dr. Janus has to say about the timeline after that.”
“That’s right, you don’t know.” He looked at her. “I’m not going in. I’ve just got some books and things to give Mrs. D to help him pass the time while he’s still in quarantine. I would’ve taken it in my backpack this afternoon, but I’m going to lend him my starfish collection, too. And there’s no way that’ll fit.”
Her expression went all sentimental-soft. “You’re going to lend him your prized starfish collection to cheer him up? That’s really nice, Austin.”
“I know.” He shot her a cocky smile. “I asked Jake to take me over this afternoon, but he was developing photos and stuff and couldn’t leave right then. But he said he’d drive me over after dinner. So you guys go clean, and I’ll put the stuff in his car.” He turned to Jake. “I assume it’s open?”
“Hell, no.” He dug the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Austin. “Nobody in their right mind would ever leave their car unlocked in Manhattan.”
“You’re not in Manhattan anymore, Toto.” Austin shook his head. “I don’t know how you live like that.�
��
Jake’s heart dropped a little at the sentiment, but he managed to say lightly, “Oh, now you’re just trying to piss me off by talking like Max.”
“He’s got good taste, too, huh?”
“Go get your stuff, Austin,” Jenny directed, climbing to her feet and reaching for the boy’s abandoned plate to stack atop hers. “You,” she said, pointing at Jake. “Come with me.”
He gathered up what she didn’t and followed her over to the sink. “You want me to wash or dry?”
“I’ll have you dry,” she said. “You’re taller—it’ll be easier for you to put the stuff away.”
He grinned. “A little height challenged, are you?” he asked. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You’re such a card,” she said in a voice that suggested he was anything but—even as the corners of her mouth curved up. “Dishes go in the cupboard here and the glasses in that one,” she directed, turning on the faucet and squirting dish soap into the sink. “The pans go in the drawer under the stove.”
“Got it,” he said crisply and tossed the towel she handed him over his shoulder. “You want me to put the milk in the fridge?”
“Yeah, that would be good.” Plunging a hand into the water she swished it around to increase the soap suds.
They conversed easily as they cleaned up the kitchen, and Jake let his guard down all the way with her for the first time since she’d opened the door. Keeping it up had probably been overkill, but he’d been caught by surprise and that tended to slam his defenses in place. Chances were he’d gotten a little carried away exaggerating the attraction between them.
Then he reached across her to stow the final dried glass in the overhead cupboard. He’d done the same thing with the last two glasses, but this time Jenny simultaneously leaned to wipe down the counter and he found himself snugged up to the resulting thrust of her round little ass.
And even as they both froze, he quit fooling himself. Because he wanted her. He wanted her bad.
Then she straightened and he eased his own hips back. But he was still stretched over her and he inhaled a slow, deep breath through his nose, drawing in the scents of dish soap, herbal-smelling shampoo—and woman.
Damn. She always smelled so good. He didn’t think it was perfume, either. He thought it was just...Jenny.
His testicles drew up, and he shoved the glass in the cupboard and took a granddaddy-size step back, slinging the towel onto the counter. “Well, hey,” he said, damning the husky note in his voice as she slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. “I’d better go see if Austin’s ready to take his stuff over to Nolan’s. Thanks for dinner.”
And calling out his son’s name, he blew out of the kitchen so fast he was surprised he didn’t leave friction marks.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MONDAY MORNING, JENNY STOPPED by Tasha’s on her way out of town. She raced up the outside stairs to the apartment over Bella T’s and gave the door an impatient rap. “What’s so important it couldn’t wait?” she demanded the moment Tash opened the door. “I don’t have much time.”
“Get in here.” The strawberry blonde stepped back to make room for Jenny to pass. “I checked the ferry schedules—you have fifteen minutes to spare.”
She blew out a breath but knew better than to argue with her friend. With ill grace, she stomped past her. “Look, I’m in no mood—”
“I know, sweetie. You never are when you’re going to see your father. And you never feed yourself properly, either.” She led her over to the breakfast bar. “Sit. Eat.”
On the counter sat a cobalt Fiesta-ware plate that held a heap of steaming scrambled eggs, two sausage links and several beautiful strawberries. “Oh. Tash.” Jenny’s lower eyelids welled with quick tears.
She hated these trips to the penitentiary but knew that Tasha understood she couldn’t be talked out of them. Instead, her friend had found a way to make it a little bit easier. Jenny watched Tash round the breakfast bar and pick up the coffeepot. “You know I love you, right?”
“I do—just like you know I love you back. Here.” Tasha handed her a tissue. “Blot your eyes, blow your nose, then eat your breakfast.” She filled an orange Fiesta-ware mug, which she set on the had-seen-better-days-twenty-years-ago countertop by Jenny’s plate. “You’ve got less than fifteen minutes now, so eat. Drink. If you’re going to stew all the way to the pen, you might as well do it on a full stomach.”
Jenny picked up her fork and dug in.
Tasha returned to claim the chair next to her. Swiveling to watch Jenny, she sipped at her own coffee. “I don’t know why the hell you put yourself through this.”
Jenny couldn’t honestly say either, so she gave her friend the only answer she had. “It’s only twice a year. And he’s my father.”
“Who didn’t give a good goddamn that he was destroying your life when he—” She cut herself off. Shook her head, which made her vibrant curls quiver. “I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t help.”
Jenny hooked her inner elbow around the back of Tasha’s neck and nearly hauled her off her stool, meeting her halfway to plant a noisy smooch squarely on her friend’s lips before turning her loose. “This breakfast does, though. And I love that you care enough to be concerned.”
Tasha made a rude noise. “Yeah, like that makes your life any easier. I love that at least you’re cranky about the whole ordeal.” She gave her a smart-ass smile. “And people think you’re such a sweetheart.”
It was Jenny’s turn to emit a rude noise of her own. “I know. How did that get started? When I told Jake I didn’t just jump into bed with guys I barely knew, he said he didn’t find that hard to believe at all. Because I’m so sweet. And this despite the fact I’d nearly jumped into bed with him.”
Tash, who had heard the story of their encounter the morning after it happened—and was all for it—nodded. “Men can be such idiots sometimes. Even the so-called smart ones.”
“Amen to that, sister.”
“Although you gotta admit, your default nature is pretty damn sweet.” She gave her an elbow in the side and a repeat of the smart-ass smile. “More often than not.”
“Yay for me. But would it kill a guy to see me as the last of the red-hot mamas occasionally instead of Polly-fucking-anna?”
Tasha tipped her chin in a judicious nod. “A valid point.”
Jenny finished her meal a few minutes later, climbed off her stool and, when Tasha did the same, gave her BFF a fierce hug. Pulling back, she looked into her face. “Thank you. Most helpful fifteen minutes ever.”
“Good. Here.” Tasha reached for a brown paper lunch bag on the counter and shoved it into her hands. “I packed you a couple snacks. Drive careful, you hear me?”
“Yes, Mom.”
Tasha smacked her on the butt. “Get out of here, you fool kid.”
Jenny appreciated her friend’s thoughtfulness even more than usual as she hit the road the second time and realized she didn’t feel nearly as pissy as she had when she’d started the day. It was a long trip from the peninsula to Monroe, however, and by the time she’d taken a ferry, driven several hours, gone through processing at the penitentiary and been escorted to the visitors’ room by an armed guard, she was right back where she’d started. Tense as a hungover bomb-disposal specialist.
And that was before her father was ushered into the room.
She’d come by her lack of stature honestly. Lawrence Salazar was barely five and a half feet tall, but he strode into the visitors’ room as if he were six-six. His dark hair had turned a distinguished silvery salt-and-pepper, his cheeks gleamed with the closeness of his shave and one could be forgiven for wondering if his prison jumpsuit was fashioned by Armani, such was the confidence with which he wore it. He strutted over to the table as she rose to her feet.
“Hello, Jenn
ifer.” He gave her the allowed hug and took a seat across from her.
“Dad.” It had been twelve years since his arrest and conviction, but staring at his still-handsome face she was overwhelmed by ancient sentiments.
Once upon a time she had idolized him. He’d been Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny combined—a glitter man who, even though they lived in the same big mansion, seemed to pop in and out of her life like magic. He’d showered her with gifts, if not a lot of one-on-one attention. But he was so charming and charismatic that the attention he had given her made her feel like a Disney princess. She’d thought he was the most brilliant man in the world.
When she’d discovered at sixteen that not only did he have feet of clay but was a crook whose largesse had been financed through the financial destruction of a horrifying number of people, it had threatened to tear her apart. Crushingly disillusioned, she’d longed to indulge in the drama of ranting and railing and committing rash acts to display her rage and mind-numbing fear.
But since her mother had suffered a so-called nervous breakdown and opted out of her parental responsibilities at the same time, Jenny had been too damn busy just trying to keep them afloat to indulge her emotions.
Maybe it was not being able to afford a good, solid teen meltdown that had left her with these painful love-hate feelings for her father. Or the guilt born out of the five years he’d been incarcerated before she’d finally saved enough money for an old but reliable car to come visit. Whatever the reason, she found herself going through the same emotional turmoil every time she visited. And while she hated what he’d done and the arrogance that not even prison life could eradicate, he was still her father. For that fact alone and because she couldn’t seem to forget those rare moments when he’d seemed to be aware of only her, she loved him.
“What did you bring me?” he demanded.
Even if I don’t always particularly like him, she thought and swallowed a sigh. “The usual.”
“Excellent.” He flashed her the smile that had separated millionaires from their discretionary income and little old ladies from their pensions. Then he sat forward, reaching a hand across the table. As if catching himself just in the nick of time, however, he stopped short of actually touching her.
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