Page 6 of Fighting Jacob

After a final smirk, smitten at my reply, she spins on her heels and saunters to her front door. Once she's safely inside, I jump into my car so I can tap out my excitement on the steering wheel. My happiness should waver when Lola yells, “And it’s not a date!” before slamming her front door shut, but it doesn’t. Not in the slightest.

The way she purred my name when I was inside her proved she was right—she’ll be more than I’ll ever be able to handle, but that doesn’t mean I won’t give it my best shot. She’s piqued my interest to a never-before-reached level. That alone deserves further exploration.

Chapter Three

Jacob

“Can you drive yourself to Mavs tonight?”

Noah stops shoveling cocoa puffs into his mouth like he’s never been fed to peer up at me. Because he never drives after consuming alcohol, my request frustrates him. A majority of his pay at Mavericks is in the form of unlimited beer, but I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't necessary, and Noah knows that.

That’s why he agrees to my request with only the slightest bit of curiosity. “Yeah, no worries. Why?”

I waggle my brows. “I have a date.”

“Another one?”

When he slips off his chair to wash his now empty bowl in the sink, I bump him in the shoulder. “Don’t be jealous.” He’s always snarky about my love life because he doesn’t have one. “I can’t help that I’m popular.”

“Jealous? Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Jake.” After ruffling my hair, he leaves the kitchen. He’s halfway through the dining room when he shouts, “I’ll ask Marcus for a ride.”

Air whistles between my teeth when I laugh. I should have known he’d find a way to drink. He isn’t an alcoholic by any means, but after all the shit he’s been through, I can’t blame him for taking advantage of the unlimited beer his gig comes with.

Noah is the lead singer of the band Rise Up. I’ve been asked numerous times by their rapidly growing fan base why I’m not part of his group. My replies never alter. One, I can't play an instrument to save my life. Two, I'm tone-deaf. And three, I have my own dreams I want to pursue. I don’t need to ride my best friend’s coattails to achieve them. Music is Noah’s passion. Fighting is mine.

Not that anyone knows that.

Noah has been my best friend since the sixth grade. When my dad spotted him walking home from school in the pouring rain, he offered him a ride. I had seen Noah around, but we hung with different crowds. Back then, Noah wouldn’t have weighed fifty pounds wringing wet. He was nothing but skin and bones. Noticing that, my dad drove straight to our house, where he gave Noah the pastries and tarts he had baked the day before.

Ever since then, Noah has been a part of our family. I’ve always respected my dad, but it grew tenfold when he offered Noah the spare room in our house when his little brother was killed in a traffic accident. He never said why it was vital for Noah to move in with us, but as I grew older, I realized if he hadn’t done what he did, Noah most likely wouldn’t be with us today. Don’t get me wrong, my dad was, and still is, a hard ass. He disciplines me and my brother Patrick when we step out of line, but he stepped up to the plate when Noah needed a male role model.

The line I gave Lola earlier this week wasn’t a ploy to get into her panties. My mom did die when I was three, so I know what it’s like to grow up without a female influence. I can only imagine what it was like for Noah not having either a male or female role model. His dad was a drunk long before he was incarcerated, and his mom was rarely in the picture. When his eldest brother killed himself, he was truly alone in the world.

As much as this kills me to admit, I don’t remember my mom. The only memories I have of her are from the family photos my dad has of her around our home. Even eighteen years after her death, my dad still loves her. I don’t know if he dates, but if he does, he’s very discreet about it.

My eyes lift when Noah re-enters the kitchen. He switched his boxers for a pair of jeans and threw some products into his hair. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

I smirk before murmuring, “Lola.” Even her name rolling off my tongue is sexy.

“Nice.” He pops two slices of bread into the toaster, revealing why he’s no longer the skinned rabbit he once was. “Where are you taking her?”

My lips twist. I haven’t worked that part out yet. Lola said it wasn’t a date, so I doubt she'd appreciate me taking her to a steakhouse as I had planned, but I’ve been in her panties, so I’ve got to do more than drive her straight back to Bronte’s Peak like my wicked head is begging. I’d also like to avoid another citation. I’m not technically working right now, so I don’t have money to pay fines more expensive than a fancy hotel for the night.

There’s an idea—is booking a hotel considered a date or a date?

I stop deliberating when the heat of a gaze captures my attention. Noah is gawking at me with his brows furrowed. “Is it the same girl responsible for your floral scent the other night?”

When I nod, he inches back from the refrigerator. “Let me get this right.” He takes a breather so I can hear him through his breathless chuckles. “You fucked a girl, then you asked her out. She accepted your cock, but she won’t go on a date with you?” Her air quotes the word “date.” “What the fuck did you do wrong?” His eyes lock with mine. They’re brimming with humor. “You didn’t blow in your pants, did you?”

“Whatever.” After flipping him the bird, I stalk out of the kitchen.

He chases me down. “Jake…come on... I was joking.” When he catches up to me, he places his hand on my shoulder. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I was just...” He stops talking when he fails to come up with an excuse. He knows I’m notorious for disastrous dates, so he’s stumped about why I’m so frustrated.

“Lola is unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

Hearing something I didn’t mean to divulge, the humor in Noah’s eyes shifts to understanding. “All right, then why don’t you bring her to Mavs? It’s not a ‘date’ type of place.”

I give his suggestion some consideration. I did offer to buy Lola a drink, and Mavericks sells drinks, so Noah's idea could work.

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