by Mari Carr
“Can I talk to you for a second, Hope? Alone?” Jake asked.
She sighed, then hit the unlock button on her key fob. “George, why don’t you wait for me in the car? I’ll only be a minute, okay?”
George gave Jake a cheery wave. “Bye, Jake. See you at practice on Friday.”
Jake gave him the thumbs-up. “Friday, little man.”
They waited until the little boy was out of hearing distance.
“Hope, I—”
“Listen, Jake—”
They started speaking at the same time. Then they both stopped. Jake pulled his cap off and ran his hand through his hair.
Hope looked away. He hated the distance between them. He’d thought Friday night had changed things between them, taken them from just friends to something a lot closer, better.
“Please, Hope,” he said at last. “My insides are in knots and I can’t sleep. I need you to tell me the truth. Did I hurt you the other night?”
“What?” She frowned, and he could see in an instant his question caught her off guard. The tightness in his chest started to loosen. “No.”
“Did I scare you? Come on too strong?”
“Of course not,” she said. “You were there, Jake. It was…” She hesitated, then confirmed what he’d believed was true as well. “Amazing.”
He tried to smile but couldn’t summon one.
If that was true, it didn’t explain the cold shoulder.
Hope shifted her purse higher on her arm. “You didn’t hurt me. Physically.”
He was curious about her phrasing, wondering why she’d felt the need to add the word, “physically.”
Had he hurt her some other way?
“You left without saying goodbye,” he said, recalling how upset he’d been when he woke up alone.
“I needed to pick George up at Scott’s house and my car was out of gas.”
“I would have driven you to the gas station.”
She sighed. “I know, but I didn’t want to drag things out.”
Jake disliked her words. “My plan to drag things out was breakfast in bed, a shower together, and then I thought maybe we could try missionary.”
He thought his words might break the ice, might put a smile on her face. They didn’t.
“Listen, Jake, you and I both got what we wanted the other night. This song and dance isn’t necessary.”
He didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “Song and dance?”
“We’re both adults and we shared an attraction.”
Why was she speaking in past tense?
Before he could ask, she continued, “One that we’ve indulged. I don’t have any expectations of you beyond that. I came to your place fully aware of your reputation as a love ’em and leave ’em guy. I’m not the clingy type, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jake hadn’t meant his words to come out so hotly, but he was confused, and every single word she said was pissing him off.
His anger sparked hers. Her tone was almost hostile when she answered his question. “There was a sexual spark between us. We scratched the itch, so now we can move on. None of this requires a long, drawn-out farewell.”
“Are you kidding me right now? Scratched an itch?”
Where the hell did she get the impression that he wasn’t genuinely interested in dating her?
He’d replayed every second of the other night enough to know he hadn’t said a single thing that would lead her to believe he only wanted one night with her.
Hell, he hadn’t even planned to sleep with her on Friday. That had been all her, with that cute little ass of hers pressing against his dick. The way she’d given him that sexy look and begged him to just put a little bit inside.
Before he knew it, she’d taken it all—his cock and his heart.
How could she not know that?
“Jake.” Her voice was calmer now, but it didn’t help because he recognized what was coming next. She was going to give him the brush-off.
He should know. He’d done the same enough in the past.
The difference was he’d never been on the receiving end and it sucked. His pulse was racing, temperature high, palms clammy.
This was karma.
It had to be.
She was socking it to him for sleeping around, for treating sex like a game for too many years.
“I’ve dedicated the last five years to George, to getting my degree, so I could provide for the two of us. I came to Bootlick for a clean break and a fresh start…for him and me. I’ve got the job and the house, but we both want more. I want a companion, someone to spend the rest of my life with and George wants a dad. I’ve tried to be both to him, but you’ve seen my pitching skills.”
She accompanied her weak joke with a smile—the first one he’d seen from her all day—but it was a sad one, and not at all comforting.
“I understand that. You both deserve that.” Hope stood in front of him, telling him what she wanted and the crazy thing was, for the first time ever, it was the exact same thing he wanted.
So why weren’t the pieces falling into place?
He forced himself to ask the question he didn’t want answered. Mainly because he was pretty sure he already knew what she was going to say.
He asked anyway. “Why did you go out with me Friday?”
She looked away from him and he realized she wasn’t going to respond.
“Look at me, Hope,” Jake demanded. “Why?”
“You know about my past experience…with sex. Or lack thereof. I wanted, I just wanted one night with you.”
One night.
With the big hose.
He should have been used to this by now. In the past, he knew why the women were coming to his bed.
He thought it had been different with Hope.
Even in the face of her hurtful words, he wasn’t giving up on this, on her. “Go out with me ag—”
She shook her head before he got the whole invitation out. “I can’t. That’s not a good idea.”
“I think it’s a great idea. We have a good time together. We talk and laugh and you have to admit, that sex was off the charts.”
Hope looked sad, which had him questioning what was behind her rejection even more.
Why would she end something that worked if she didn’t want to?
“I can’t do that, Jake. George is already too attached to you. It’s not right to give him false expectations about us, about what the future holds. If it was just me, maybe…”
She didn’t finish that thought, and he realized even if there was no George, she would walk away from him.
“I’m crazy about George. I would never hurt him.”
“Then all of this should be easy. We go on from here as…just friends.”
There was no denying she didn’t really mean that. After all, the cold shoulder he’d been getting confirmed it.
“But we should limit our interactions to”—Hope lifted her arms, gesturing around them—“here. You’ll be his coach out on the field. No more dinners. No more playing catch. Those things will just confuse him.”
“No.” Jake hated everything she said. “That isn’t enough for me.”
“I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal of this. I thought this would make you happy. You’re not looking for a relationship, so there’s no reason to draw this out. I’m giving you a clean break. No tears, no pleading, no fighting.”
“You think this is what I want?”
“I’m not doing this again.” Her voice was strong, sure. Whatever was driving her to break things off with him, it was powerful enough to fuel her resolve.
“Doing what again?” he asked, leaning closer, desperation clawing at him. How could she walk away from what they shared? “Coming apart at the seams for me when I drive my fingers or my tongue inside you. Fighting against the cuffs binding you to my bed while I bring you to orgasm over and over. Screaming my name as
I pound inside that tight, hot pussy of yours.”
She closed her eyes, and for a second, he thought there might be tears forming there. “Stop,” she whispered.
“No. I’m not going to stop. This isn’t over.”
When she opened her eyes again, piercing him with her gaze, they were dry. And Jake knew he’d lost the war.
“Yes. It is.”
She started to walk away from him. There was only one last thing to say, one last card to play.
“What about me?”
Hope stopped and turned back. “What?”
“You said you wanted to start dating in hopes of finding someone to marry, someone to be a father to George. What about me?”
She froze for just a second. And then she laughed.
The sound cut through him as she walked away.
This time he let her go.
And that was it.
Just like that.
His heart shattered.
Chapter 9
Hope lay on the couch and stared at the television. George was watching his favorite Thomas the Tank Engine video, while she maintained the same zombie-like demeanor she’d acquired since walking away from Jake at the ball field.
She’d laughed.
That was the one thing she couldn’t let go of.
The days prior to that practice, she’d resisted the urge to respond to his texts, angry and hurt that he’d slept with her, made her think she was special, only to find out that he had a date planned with Lauren.
The front door opened. It was probably Ada. She’d been Hope’s saving grace, taking George to practice this afternoon so she didn’t have to face Jake again, then running out to grab them all a pizza for dinner.
“Here we go,” she said, walking into the living room. “A large pepperoni.” She glanced around the room and sighed. “Wow. Neither one of you has moved since I left.”
Until Ada pointed it out, Hope hadn’t noticed George had acquired her sullen mood. He was lying on the floor, his head resting on an oversized pillow, sucking his thumb.
He hadn’t done that in nearly a year. And it had been a hard habit to get him to break. She’d noticed in the last year or so, he only did it when he was over-tired, scared, or sad.
Hope forced herself to sit up and plastered on a smile. She couldn’t keep feeling sorry for herself in front of him.
“Hey, Georgie,” she called out. “Why don’t you come sit next to me on the couch?”
He perked up. “We’re going to eat in here? In front of the TV?”
Hope nodded. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d been allowed to eat dinner in the living room, and she’d felt the same excitement George did at the moment.
He bounced up from the floor and Hope placed a slice of pizza on one of the paper plates Ada had carried in.
“Be very careful,” she cautioned. “It’s greasy and we don’t want to get it on the couch.”
“I will,” he said, dropping from the couch to his knees, his plate resting on the coffee table. His attention returned to the movie as Hope poked a straw into his juice box. She was relieved he appeared happier than he had a few moments earlier.
“I got something for us too,” Ada said, jerking her head toward the kitchen. “Bottle of wine. It’s chilling in the fridge. After the munchkin goes to bed, we’re having a slumber party.”
Hope smiled appreciatively. “Thanks. That sounds perfect.”
It really did. She’d had trouble sleeping the past few nights, guilt suffusing her as she played that damn conversation after practice over and over.
She’d actually decided they weren’t going to practice on Tuesday, her anger over the text and being made a fool of was off the charts. She wasn’t sure she could trust herself to stay in the bleachers rather than storm out on the field and give Jake Garrett a piece of her mind.
Screw that stupid Big Hose nickname.
She’d dubbed him Big Dick and it had nothing to do with what was hanging between his legs.
Unfortunately, George wouldn’t budge on skipping it. He’d whined, pleaded, and then, in the end, cried. Her son’s tears were her undoing. So…they’d gone to practice. By the time the eternal thing had ended, she’d actually been pretty proud of herself. She’d only snuck about two thousand peeks at Jake, and only ninety-nine percent of those had made her horny.
Hope had foolishly thought she’d get off easy. That she and George could leave and she’d spend a few days regrouping before she had to go back again.
Then she’d seen Jake talking to Lauren and her temper spiked.
Even that would have been okay, but then Big Dick followed her to her car. She couldn’t believe his lack of self-preservation. There must have been steam coming out of her ears, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Mommy,” George said, once he’d finished his first piece of pizza. “Can Jake come over tomorrow to play catch?”
Hope glanced at Ada, who gave her a sympathetic smile, as she shook her head. “No. Not tomorrow, Georgie.”
“What about Monday? We could have sgetti again.”
“Spaghetti,” Hope corrected. “And I’m pretty sure he has to work at the fire station.” She had no idea if that was true and she hated lying to her son, but right now, it seemed like the easiest way. All she could do was hope George would stop asking at some point. Though with Jake still coaching the tee-ball team, she suspected that wouldn’t happen soon.
George wilted a bit, then started watching the movie once more.
Hope made a mental note to see about setting up a playdate with one of the kids in her class or with Scott. He and George had become fast friends, which opened another can of worms, considering he was Jake’s little brother. Jake seemed to do a lot with the boy.
What happened if she set something up and Jake was the one to drop him off or pick him up?
She wasn’t ready to face him again. For three days, she’d done nothing but drive to and from work, and hide in her house all night. She was low on gas—again—and the refrigerator was bare. Problem was she didn’t dare risk a trip to the gas station or grocery store, lest she run into Jake.
Not because she was angry anymore.
All that heat and hurt went away the second she’d laughed.
Hope had no idea why her anxiety had come out that way.
She’d struggled through the entire conversation because, once again, she couldn’t make Jake into Big Hose, the local playboy, who’d cut a swath through all the single ladies in town. He had seemed…sincere and sad. And the only thing that kept her going, that allowed her to fight back was the memory of those texts from Lauren, and the way the bitch had thanked him for that date right in front of her.
He was sleeping with Lauren, a woman Hope had taken to calling her arch enemy. Lauren’s backbiting and shitty comments about Hope’s wardrobe and her good girl ways at work had grown to outright bullying. The woman genuinely hated her. Which was fine because Hope wasn’t too fond of Lauren either.
So when he’d looked at Hope and asked why she wasn’t considering him for the position of husband and father, she’d laughed—out of anger and nervousness and downright agony. It was that or sob, and she wasn’t giving him the benefit of her tears.
She hadn’t cried in front of Alan, and she’d be damned if she did it in front of Jake. She didn’t care if that made her prideful or bitchy. For her, it meant holding on to the last shred of dignity she had left.
The second she did it though, the moment that horrible sound came out, and she saw his face, she knew she’d hurt him worse than he had hurt her.
She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did. And the guilt had eaten her alive ever since.
After dinner, Ada insisted on watching Frozen. George pretended to be annoyed by the selection. Lately, he’d been very sensitive to what he considered boy things and girl things. It drove Hope crazy because she hated distinctions like that. She was sure he was picking it up from the other kids in school.
Or perhaps it was driven by his deep-seated desire for a father. He was trying to figure out what it meant to be a man and with only a mom to show him, he was struggling.
Of course, when she’d mentioned those theories to Ada at work yesterday, she’d given me hell for overthinking it, claiming George was a normal, rough-and-tumble five-year-old boy and that Hope should lay off the armchair psychology before she fucked him up.
Given her tendency to overanalyze everything in her life, Hope decided it was another reason why Ada was the perfect best friend for her. She was practical and easygoing and not prone to drama. Whenever Hope got worked up about anything at school, Ada only had to give her that “seriously…chill out” look, and she felt instantly calm.
Unfortunately, her friend’s calm reassurances that she hadn’t been overly cruel to Jake weren’t helping to alleviate her guilt. Ada had the benefit of a long history with Jake, and because of it, she seemed certain that the only thing Hope had hurt had been his ego because he was always the first to walk away.
No matter how many times Ada said it, Hope couldn’t make those facts fit with his face on Tuesday.
Frozen had been the perfect movie choice, especially when paired with a delicious red blend. George giggled as she and Ada belted out “Let it Go” at the top of their lungs, and by the end of the movie, Hope was feeling relaxed—okay, buzzed—and better.
Ada helped her put George to bed and then the two of them returned to the couch. Rather than put on another movie, they opted for listening to music, taking turns selecting the songs. Ada’s choices were upbeat numbers, like “Dancing Queen” and Missy Elliott’s “Work It.”
When it was Hope’s turn, she forced her best friend to endure her current favorite, “Burning House.”
“Jesus,” Ada muttered. “What is this shit?”
“What?” Hope asked aghast. “I love this song.”
Ada rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you do. It’s practically the anthem for brokenhearted women who’ve just been cheated on by faithless firefighters.”
Hope sobered up when she considered Ada’s words. “Brokenhearted?”
“You liked Jake. And more than as a one-night hookup.”