Page 74 of Someone to Tempt
The fear that I'm just like my mother—that no matter how hard I try, I'll hurt someone and end up alone—finally starts to fade, maybe this time for good.Because I’ve shown my friends the worst parts of me—and they’ve stayed anyway.
I raise my margarita in a toast to this incredible group of women. "No matter what happens, I appreciate knowing I have you all in my corner. No campaign win could be more satisfying than that."
"Good speech," Avah says, holding up her glass and toasting me in return. "Hopefully, you'll give an even better one on election night."
I take another sip, feeling both weighted and free at once. I've been drowning in a shame I didn't know how to shake, and now that the secret is out and my friends are still on my side, I'm lighter. Yet, I’m still heavy because I can't take back what happened, no matter how much I want to.
The combination is disconcerting—like I can't catch my balance. But their faith in me, even knowing my shameful truth, makes me believe there's hope. Maybe I can trust myself to do more. To be more than I thought I could. And at this moment, that hope is enough.
28
JAKE
I haven’t seenor spoken to Iris since Sunday. Our flirty texts havealmostkept my need for her at bay. Almost, but not quite.
By the time she walks into the dance studio for the next dance class, it’s all I can do not to rush forward and gather her in my arms. Sure, our physical connection is undeniable and the sex was mind-blowing, but at this point, I want to breathe her in. Drown in that sweet and citrusy scent that is uniquely hers. Revel in the way her body tenses for a quick second before she relaxes into me.
My girl doesn’t let just anyone in, so the fact that I’ve breached her defenses at any level makes me feel ridiculously self-satisfied.It feels like the room shifts to accommodate her presence–just like my stupid heart shifted to let her in fully.
She gathers with Char, Gloria, and the other women in the class at the far end of the studio. They’re clearly talking about the mayoral race, which has turned into a heated battle—or as heated as things get in Skylark—with Joey Moore’s influx of cash. I understand why Cy is bankrolling him, but hate that Iris is being negatively impacted by the mistakes Nick and I made as teenagers.
I made peace years ago with the fact that she blamed me, but I want the past to stay where it belongs—behind us.
Tom Baker sidles up to me. “You’ve got it bad, huh?”
I cross my arms over my chest and give the old man some wicked side-eye. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
My grandfather appears on my other side and elbows me in the ribs. “Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, Jakey.” He turns to Tom. “I wasted three summers pretending I didn’t notice my Sylvia at summer camp. Finally pulled the ol’ head out of my arse when Bobby Park put his arm around her at one of the bonfires. It takes a minute for us Byrne boys to sort out matters of the heart.”
I turn to face my grandpa. “I thought you and Gram were high school sweethearts.”
“We were summer camp sweethearts.” His smile is wistful. “Why do you think we came back here and bought the camp when I retired?”
“But you’ve never done anything with it,” I say.
“It’s part of the foundation’s land trust,” he answers with a shrug. “That’s something.”
“Damn shame it’s not being used,” Tom says. “We had a lot of fun times out on Echoveil Lake.”
“It’s where I asked your grandmother to marry me,” Grandpa says. “Have you been up there since you came home?”
I smile at his use of the word home. Other than the summer after Mikey’s accident, I never lived in Colorado. Even now, I’m only here temporarily. He still doesn’t know that, though.
“Not yet.”
He pats my shoulder. “You should get up there before the first snowfall. The roads get nasty with the ice.”
I can’t help that my gaze drifts to Iris.
“It’s pretty this time of year.” Tom gives me a pointed look. “Romantic, if you know what I mean.”
“I do, but it’s not like that.”
Tom snorts. “A man of your age and good looks should have more game, Jake, but we’ll get you straightened out.”
“Somebody needs to,” Grandpa mutters.
“Iris and I are just friends,” I tell the two octogenarian matchmakers. Friends who have sex, I add silently.
