Page 44 of Love & Rockets

Chapter 9

Jake was afraid it would be weird, and he was right. It was.

“I’ll clear up.” Darla rose from the table, taking the bucket of fried chicken he’d procured from an obliging drive-thru as she went. “Thanks for dinner, Jake. I’ll let you two get to work.”

He smiled up at her. “You’re welcome.” He darted a peek at Grace, but she was already pulling a myriad of notebooks and folders from her backpack. “Sorry I didn’t have time to get something better. Crazy day.”

She grinned when she caught his gaze lingering on her chest. “I never say no to biscuits.” With a smug smirk and a pointed glance at the top of Grace’s dark head, she popped the last bite of his bread into her mouth and reached for the tub of mashed potatoes. “Gracie, sweetie, don’t wear the poor man out.”

Then, she disappeared into the kitchen.

He stared after her. He couldn’t help himself. The snug shirt she’d worn to work had only a small version of The Pit’s logo emblazoned over her breast, but the back declared her “Sassy, Spicy, and Extra Saucy!” And he was the lucky guy who knew those words to be absolutely true.

Two seconds later, she sashayed past with a bottle of water in hand. “Shout if y’all need anything.”

Jake knew now he’d see little of her until he said goodnight. He also knew her new habit of hiding out in her bedroom while he and Grace went over her progress served two purposes. First, it nipped the temptation to do more than cast a few lingering looks right in the bud. Second, it let him know in no uncertain terms she trusted him with her daughter. A sentiment he appreciated. Deeply. Her confidence in him was the main reason he never tried to push the boundaries she’d set on their relationship. Didn’t hurt that he was as scared of screwing things up with Grace as he was with her mother.

They’d fallen into a routine of sorts. Friday nights were date nights, thanks to the generosity of Connie Cade. Harley was also aware of Jake’s relationship with Darla because he never missed a chance to razz him about his tardiness when he showed up at the Home Again house on Saturday a good two hours later than he used to. Tuesday nights, he showed up at their apartment with dinner in hand and an imaginary padlock on his pants. After they ate, he and Grace would get to work. No chit-chat. No flirting. And, to his ever-loving frustration, no hint of anything going on between the two of them. This was Grace’s time. Period. End of story.

Sure, he and Darla communicated via text or phone call, but if he wanted to see her, he had to wait for Friday night, or go to The Pit. There, he could flirt, but not touch, which was almost as bad as nothing at all. The more time he spent with each of the Kennet women, the more he found himself craving more.

He didn’t expect Darla to hire a marching band or tattoo his name on her forehead, but her ability to adhere to complete separation between her work, parenting, and sex lives was a little disconcerting. He’d never had a relationship he’d had to compartmentalize in any way. At least, not since the debacle with Courtney. And as much as he wished he could lock the memory of her away and nail a few boards over the hatch, he couldn’t shake the worry that niggled at him each time Darla stuffed him into his designated corner of her life.

There was no point in missing someone he’d never met.

“So, I’ve written the introduction and stuff,” Grace said, flipping through the pages of her notebook. “Should I describe how the magnets repelled now?”

Repelled.

He was tired of Darla pushing him away. Saturday mornings were torture. Friday nights weren’t nearly enough. There were things he wanted to know about her. Silly things. Basic things. Things a man who could map all seven of her ticklish spots should know.

And Grace knew what was going on between them—to a reasonable extent. They were a secret, but not really a secret, which made the whole thing even weirder. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out the need to keep things so compartmentalized when the most important person in her world was perfectly aware they were dating.

They never talked about it. At all. Darla said Gracie knew they liked spending time together and nothing more. When he tried to get her to expound on the subject, she clammed up. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to break the cone of silence. Not when everything seemed to be going so well.

There was nothing to be gained in questioning the methods of the Kennet women. Particularly, if a guy had hopes of seeing a certain Kennet woman naked ever again. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t flat-out ask questions.

“Yeah, I think we can start by talking a little about polar magnetism and go from there.”

Grace pursed her lips and pressed her pencil to the paper. “Sometime I want to work on something about Geomagnetic Reversal.”

Jake closed his eyes as his heart did a slow somersault.

God, he loved this kid. Loved every minute he spent in her company. Even if he couldn’t spend those minutes making love to her mother. Or, as Darla preferred to term it, naughty nerd sex. He didn’t quibble over the semantics.

But as fantastic as any naughtiness he might be having with her mother was, Grace was proving to be a marvel in her own right. He loved getting to know her better. Unlike Darla, she was frank and forthcoming, even though she was naturally more reserved. She was also thoughtful, perceptive, and definitely more content with quiet than her mother.

But the dynamic duo shared the same razor-sharp wit and sometimes perverse sense of humor. Jake was also discovering he could exploit Grace’s amazing powers of concentration much the way his mother had managed his father for nearly forty years. Distraction and deflection were key, but the true power lay in the ability to drop the well-placed sneaky question.

“That would be cool,” he said, more than happy to encourage her curiosity, and hoping to satisfy a little of his own. “I know a woman who has done some studies on the South Atlantic Anomaly. I’ll get some information and we can look it over.”

The graphite tip of her pencil scraped across the paper at a steady pace and Jake smiled. True to form, Grace was utterly absorbed in the work at hand, making this the perfect time to strike.

“What’s your mom’s middle name?”

“Arnell,” she answered without missing a beat.

Jake started a bit. He’d expected something like Jane or Jo, thinking he could pull the stern middle name thing with her Friday night if she got too sassy, spicy, or saucy with him. He didn’t know how well something like Arnell was going to work in the heat of the moment. “Arnell? Darla Arnell?”

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