Page 47 of The Match

“This is payback, Evie Jones,” says Jake before he jumps off the side and plunges us both into the pool.

CHAPTER 21

Jake

Evie is lounging beside the pool like a golden suntanned goddess. She’s put her oversized shirt back on and added a massive straw visor and big sunglasses. A picture of her hanging in a dermatologist’s office as an example of sun safety would have every container of sunscreen sold out.

The best part of Evie: she’s laughing. She’s always laughing. Her smile lights up her whole face in a way that looks like she might explode from joy. She’s talking to June right now about a date that June went on last week. I was hanging out nearby until my baby sister started talking about the guy kissing like a slimy wet fish and I decided it was time to go.

But the weird thing is, Evie fits here. My family gave her the ultimate hazing of no personal space and a rousing game of a hundred questions right out of the gate, and Evie accepted it all with that adorable dimpled smile of hers. I don’t want to be that guy who’s constantly comparing every woman he spends time with to his ex-wife, but I can’t help it. The picture is a stark contrast.

Natalie never fit in with my family. She didn’t like them. She thought June was childish and that everyone else was too involved in our life. I don’t remember the last time we had a pool party like this, because honestly, Natalie wouldn’t have wanted to spend the afternoon with them. In the interest of making my marriage work, I went along with it. I had lunch with my parents by myself most Sundays, and for holidays we got in and out of family functions as fast as possible.

I’ve missed having them in my life, and I can’t help but notice that I don’t miss Natalie one bit.

“Well, I think this pool party was a success, Jakey,” says my mom, using my shoulder to help her sit down beside me on the edge of the pool. My mom is cute. She’s about five feet tall standing on her tiptoes, with the voice of Paula Deen and a personality like a shot of Fireball whisky mixed with sunshine.

“You think? I’m glad. And I’m glad you guys could come.”

Evie’s voice carries across the pool and distracts me. “Sam! When’s the last time you put on sunscreen, darlin’?”

Sam pauses her descent down the pool steps and looks over to Evie. “Oh. Not since this morning.”

“Come over here and let me lather you back up before you turn into the world’s cutest lobster.”

I watch my daughter smile from ear to ear and then rush back up the steps to go perch in front of Evie on the lounge chair. Evie’s sitting cross-legged now, smiling and talking away to my sister while thoroughly applying sunscreen to my daughter’s back. I’m mesmerized by this scene. I couldn’t look away if I tried.

I am the person who loves Sam the most in this world . . . and I forgot to reapply sunscreen to her back. But Evie remembered. What does that mean? It feels significant.

My mom leans close to me, and from the corner of my eye, I can see her smile. “I think you found a good one.”

I take in a deep breath. “Yeah. I’ve thought that before, though.”

“True. But you were just a kid back then when you met Natalie. You didn’t know the first thing to look for in a woman besides her bra size. And Natalie didn’t know what she wanted from her life either besides what was in your pants.”

I grimace. “That was disturbing to hear. You’re starting to sound like June.”

She chuckles and rolls her eyes. “You kids think I’m so out of touch, but I’ll have you know that I watch The Bachelor every week.” She says it like that fact in itself should knock fifteen years off her age. “But that’s not the point. The fact is, you’re a grown man now who’s lived a lot of life, and you know what kinda woman it’s gonna take to hold your hand through the rest of it.” She pats my back and then shimmies off the edge of the pool into the water to go swim by my dad, who, at this moment, has approximately five grandkids leeched on to him in the shallow end.

I turn my eyes back to Evie just in time to see her stand up, empty glass in hand, and head toward the house.

Next thing I know, I’m on my feet and striding after her. I suddenly feel like there is some unfinished business between us.

I step into the house, and the cool air hits my bare chest. I probably should have grabbed a shirt, but there was no time. Everyone else is outside, and Evie’s alone in here, and I didn’t want to waste this moment.

Turning the corner, I find Evie in the kitchen, pouring herself a fresh glass of lemonade and shoving a brownie into her mouth. She spots me and covers her mouth to keep the crumbs from spewing out with her laughter. “Caught red-handed,” she says from behind her fist.

I round the island to get closer to her, and I notice her chewing slows and her body straightens a little. I stop just behind her, hoping she’ll turn around to face me. “You’re allowed to eat the brownies, you know. You’re the one who brought them.”

My plan works, because Evie turns around, and now she’s trapped between me and the counter, and I’m loving how close we are. I can see the freckles dotting the bridge of her nose and the perfect bow of her full top lip.

“Yeah,” she says with a final swallow, “but am I allowed to have four brownies?”

My eyebrows lift. “I’m impressed. Did you really eat four?”

“What? Me? No. I was kidding. I’d never eat half the pan of brownies I brought for other people. That would be soooo rude.” That means she actually ate five.

I smile and lean in and set my hands on the countertop behind her—one on either side of her, pinning her in. Her eyes widen. I know this is bold. Other than that ridiculously amazing and unexpected kiss we had last night, our relationship has looked nothing like this. And speaking of that kiss, neither of us has even acknowledged it.

---