My second thought is that I’m falling for Jake—or maybe I’ve already fallen, so dizzyingly fast I’m going to break myself. At this moment, I want him more than I think I’ve ever wanted anything, other than to be allowed to be myself. Goosebumps rise on my skin, and my whole being is sensitized to him. To watching him hold court and stand up for Mary, acting as her vindictive guardian angel. He’s doing this for her…and for me…and it’s glorious.
I trust him.
Iwanthim, even if it can only be for another week and a half.
He’s like the last cookie, tucked away in the back of the cabinet—so much sweeter for the knowledge that its quantity is limited.
The basket has continued its voyage around the table, and one man grabs a cookie, shrugs, and takes a bite right out of the center of the cat.
Jake’s lips twitch. “Here’s a marriage tip. Be like that guy.” He points to the man with the full mouth. “He’s not afraid to put his mouth where it counts. Peter isn’t either, of course, but he should have shown his appreciation to his pregnant wife. That’s the ticket.”
Everything happens very quickly after that. Peter forms a fist and takes a clumsy swing at Jake, which he effortlessly avoids, and all of the couples get to their feet, everyone talking at once.
One man says, “Well, this is exciting,” while a woman pulls out her phone, possibly to film it.
Face blazing, breath coming in puffs, Peter takes another go at Jake, who again sidesteps him—only this time, the bespectacled man standing behind Jake gets the fist in his face. His glasses release an audible crack, or maybe his nose, and he screams.
Jake gives me a wide-eyed look, a wicked smile stealing across his face, and reaches for my hand. I give it to him, and we run out into the hall, ripping past the poor, formerly cheerful receptionist. She looks completely flabbergasted, her hand lifted to her mouth.
“Thank you, sorry!” I call. “Keep up the good work.”
A few steps and we’re in the lobby, and then the squeaking wooden porch, the boards so old they make music. We’re laughing, our hands still clutched together as we race down the uneven steps and across the cobbled street to our getaway car—my beaten-up Ford Fiesta.
I’m gasping with laughter as Jake opens the door and hastens me in. I climb over the gear stick and tumble into my seat, and he starts the car as a sweaty Peter bursts out from the building, nearly tripping over an uneven board on the ramshackle porch as he jets into the road. There’s blood on his lip and he’s shouting obscenities. Then a husband spills out onto the cobbled sidewalk behind him and tugs him back by the collar of his jacket. Greeting him with a fist.
Jake pulls away from the curb, laughing, his smile cracking something open inside of me. I’m ridiculous, but I do up my seatbelt and then lean in to secure his, the car beeping its protests until I manage it. My fingers feel like sparklers as they glance over his abdomen, feeling a sweaty spot on his shirt and the hot, hard flesh underneath.
“Thanks, Mom,” he says with a teasing smile.
“You’re welcome, asshole.”
“Do you think we can find out who took that video and get it for Mary?” he asks. “She deserves to see it.”
“I hope so,” I say, but I’m struggling to pay attention to anything but him. The look he’s giving me is fond and intimate and his eyes are warm and lively. Everything about him is always so animated. He’s always moving and thinking and planning. He’s clever and funny and kind to the people who deserve it, and yes, he’s done bad things, butso have I. The world isn’t black and white, right or wrong—there are shades of grey and he’s the king of them, and I want him. I want him for myself, not because he can do something for me, or I can do something for him, but because I feel a tug whenever he enters the room. I want him because whenever he touches me, I feel a burst of fire.
I want him all the way, and suddenly I can’t wait.
“Go to Jake Jeffries’s apartment,” I tell him, my voice hoarse.
“Why?” he asks. “You already got everything important for me.”
“That’s not why,” I say, giving him a sidelong look. He’s alert now, something inside of him recognizing what I want, and I see his hand flex around the wheel as he takes a turn toward the apartment before he even gets my answer. “I need you,now, and it’s at least fifteen minutes closer.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
JAKE
I’m riding the high of Peter’s professional demise, because there’s no way whispers about this aren’t going to pulse through Asheville, Buncombe County, and hopefully the rest of the state. The only marriage he’ll be trying to save is his own, and I hope Mary refuses to take him back.
Sharing this crazy, adrenaline-soaked moment with Lainey made me feel like I was on top of the world, and I’m still up there, elevated and full of untapped energy. Adrenaline zipping through my bloodstream and making my skin extra sensitive, my heart tapping along faster than usual.
So it takes my brain a second to catch up with the gleam in her eyes and the intent lining her voice.
But only a second, and now it’s hard to focus on the road, because she’s next to me, wrapped up in a red sundress like a festive piece of candy. God help me, I want to sink my teeth into her. I want to lick my way to her center. I want to make her moan and scream my name until even Mr. Tim across the hall can hear it.
“You’re going to give it to me, Elaine?” I ask slowly, the words grinding out of me. “You’re going to come for me?”
“If you’re good enough to earn it,” she says with a sidelong glance.