Page 92 of Fighting Jacob

Noticing my not-so-inconspicuous gawk, Lola stops brushing her hair to gaze at me in the mirror. “How long has it been?” She shakes like someone just walked over her grave. “Actually, I don’t want to know.”

Her uneasy expression reminds me why I’m here. “Did you get my original conviction overturned?”

She cranks her back to peer at me, her mouth as open as her eyes. “It got overturned?” When I nod, she spins, spans the distance between us, then leaps into my arms. “Holy shit, I didn’t think it would get overturned!”

Her beautiful scent is enough to have my cock raring to life, much less the heat of her body plastered to mine. Relishing having her in my arms again, I hold her close before inhaling her scent. She smells fresh and pure, a smell a woman as seductive as her shouldn’t be able to pull off.

When she wiggles, requesting to be set down, I comply—reluctantly. Her request for space comes to light when her eyes drop to the crotch of my pants. “You need to watch where you point that thing. I don’t recall signing up for pole vaulting classes.”

I’m hard enough to drill the soap scum off the tiles surrounding us without a jackhammer. “Sorry.” I adjust my cock so it's not pitching a tent. Now it’s just peeking out the top of pants like a creeper about to get freaky in the bushes outside. “I’ll wait for you outside. I can’t control this…” I nudge my head down. “…with you looking like that.”

Lola proves why she’s deserving of her nickname when she giggles.

Fuck, I’ve missed her laugh, but nowhere near as much as I’ve missed her.

Chapter Forty-Six

Lola

When Jacob bolts out of the locker room, uneasy excitement trickles into my veins. My ego is stoked I can still spark a reaction out of him, but I'm also apprehensive. Not even the best battery operated boyfriend can compete with the real thing, and when you've felt the best of the best rubbing against your stomach, it will take more than a multi-combination vibrator to forget it.

Fake it until you make it, Lola, I chant to myself.

After getting dressed and prepping my face for no particular reason, I exit the locker room. Although Jacob said he’d wait for me outside, I’m still shocked to see him leaning against the interior wall of the gym. I’m not a person who gets ready in two minutes, so I figured he’d have better ways to occupy his time than waiting around for me.

“Hey?” Don’t ask why my greeting sounded like a question. I don’t know why I’m a ditz with half a brain when I’m with Jacob, so how could I possibly give you an explanation for the insanity?

“Hey.” Jacob drags his eyes down my body before returning them to my face. “Clothes aren’t helping.”

When he adjusts his crotch, the tension bristling between us floats away. He’s not a metaphor. He’s Jacob, the man who knows me better than anyone.

"Where's Hank?" His office light is off, and he's nowhere in sight.

“He had to head home. He asked if we could lock up for him once we’re done.” Missing the alarmed expression on my face, Jacob nudges his head to the front door. “Do you have time to talk?”

“Umm...” I drop my eyes to my watch. “Yeah. I’m not due at work for another two hours.”

While following Jacob outside, I scan the premises. Hank has to be here because he has nowhere else to go. I find him hiding in the alleyway of the gym, watching Jacob and me like a hawk. When he raises his index finger to his lips, requesting I keep quiet, I nod. Relief crosses his features. I don't know why. I only agreed to keep his secret because Jacob has enough on his plate right now. Once the groove between his brows smooths, I won’t hesitate to tell him precisely what I think about Hank's living conditions.

After slipping the key under the mat, Jacob curls his hand around mine before guiding me to his car. His chivalry isn't unusual, but holding his hand in public is foreign. Excluding Bronte's Peak, we've never done PDA. Expensive misdemeanor fines would make even the most affectionate couple cautious.

“Don’t,” Jacob murmurs under his breath when he opens my door for me.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” I was, but I’m not now.

Jacob’s cheeky grin remains on his face for the ten minutes of our trip, then it bounces to mine when he pulls into the parking lot at the back of Mavericks. I haven’t been to Mavs in years, but it will always feel like home to me.

Although Jacob doesn't open my door for me, he continues to hold my hand as we make our way to the bar. It's the same as it’s always been, just a couple of years older. With Maggie nowhere in sight, Jacob places an order for two beers from a beautiful blonde behind the counter. For how often she bats her eyelashes at him, anyone would swear he ordered her for dessert. Her flirting pisses me off. He's holding my hand, for fuck's sake, yet she still goes there. Someone call up the old biddies. There’s a new harlot in town.

The envy turning me green slides away when Jacob doesn’t flirt back with her. He’s too busy peering at me beneath lowered lashes to pay her any attention, and I’m not the only one noticing. When the hostess slams down our beers hard enough to froth the tops, I give her a snarky wink.

Take that, bitch. Not even your fake titties could persuade him to take a second look.

I sip on my beer, smiling like a smug bitch as Jacob guides us to a booth at the back of the bar. I’m still not a fan of beer, but if I don’t drink something, nothing will douse the victorious fire raring in my gut.

After slipping into the seat across from me, Jacob’s eyes float across his old stomping ground. “Being back here nearly makes me forget everything going on.”

Because his comment is more rhetorical, I don’t say anything. I put the silence to good use by roaming my eyes over his face. Dark rings circle his eyes, and the scruff on his chin is the thickest I’ve ever seen it, but he’s still gorgeous. I just wish I could see what’s going on in that head of his. He dropped everything to support Noah like he has many times in his short almost twenty-four years. That’s a massive burden to be placed on anyone's shoulders, even if they're as strong as Jacob's.

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