Page 77 of The Love Rematch
“Good. Oh, and one more thing.” Nina points to where one of the wardrobe consultants is standing with what can only be described as a flesh-tone banana-hammock dangling from her finger. “Did I mention it’s a nude bungee jump?”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jake grumbles under his breath as Nina shoves him toward the bridge, her laughter echoing in his wake.
The wardrobe consultant smiles weakly as he approaches, the apology ripe on her face. He practically bares his teeth as he pinches the offending fabric between his pointer finger and thumb, holding it as far away from himself as possible—as ifthatwould do anything.
“No one wore this, right?” he asks.
“No,” she answers quickly. “No, no. Here’s a robe, too.”
She shoves it into his chest. With a growl, Jake stalks over to the changing tent. Curse words pour from his lips as he strips off his suit. They only get louder as he pulls the thong up his legs, barely able to get situated in the minuscule strip of fabric. How do women wear these things? Why? It’s as if he has floss between his butt cheeks, or a permanent wedgie.
I can’t believe this, he thinks as he shrugs on the robe, which doesn’t even reach his knees.I can’t fucking believe this.
He exits the changing tent to an immediate roar of applause. Everyone in the crew is standing there, forming a makeshift aisle to the bungee-jumping platform. Emily waits at the other end in a fluffy white robe. It’s some sort of twisted nightmare reality of his wildest dreams. Suddenly, the truth smacks him in the face. He forgot in all of his annoyance that she would be there too. Nude. Pressed up against him. Soft and warm in all the right places.
Fucking hell.
“I hate all of you,” he announces as he stomps forward.
Emily covers her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh. He glares at her. A deep chuckle draws his attention over her shoulder to where Ethan watches, a smug expression on his face—well, as smug as an expression can be when a thick bandage stretches from cheek to cheek, not quite able to cover the bruised skin underneath.
Jake almost—almost—smiles.
With a different childhood, maybe he would have.
Instead, the instinct fades as soon as it comes. Breaking another man’s nose is nothing to be proud of, nothing to gloat about. And with that sour reprimand in the back of his mind, he finally notices what Ethan is wearing. A plush white floor-length robe to match Emily’s. Warm. Comfortable. Not flashing an indecent amount of leg to the general public.
Asshole, he thinks, before the truth strikes like lightning down his spine, a burning flash of jealousy.They already shot the lead-up.
That’s why Ethan looks smug. Because he already stood in this spot with Emily, bodies pressed tight, skin against skin, talking for the cameras, bonding over the fake nerves, maybe even sharing a kiss. He saw her every curve. He probably felt half of them, the pervert. At the end of the day, he gets the glory and the girl, while Jake gets humiliated in front of his entire crew.
Great. Just great.
“Take it off, Jake,” Nina calls suggestively from his left.
“This is sexual harassment,” he shouts back.
“Report me to HR.”
She steps in front of him with two makeup artists and a bungee instructor, blocking his view of Emily. A Cheshire cat smile paints her lips as she crosses her arms, scrunching the sleeves of her leather jacket, and notches her chin in his direction.
“I wasn’t being an asshole,” she comments, then amends, “I wasn’tjustbeing an asshole. We have to get your makeup done and harness on. So, take it off.”
Someone whistles behind him.
Soft snickering follows.
Nina lifts her fingers to her mouth in a half-hearted attempt to stifle her grin, and one thing becomes glaringly clear to Jake. Seventy-five percent of his coworkersareabout to see him in a thong. Itwillbe embarrassing. But if he owns it, there’s a slight chance it won’t haunt him for the rest of his life. With that in mind, Jake turns to his audience.
“You want a show?” he says, throwing his arms to the side.
A round of catcalls ensues. Someone starts a slow clap—he thinks it’s that traitor Greg, who is still bitter about being passed over on Jake’s promotion—and soon the entire crew joins in, giving him a beat. Jake whips one edge of his robe to the side to flash some leg. Then he grabs the extra bit of belt and swings it around suggestively while he waggles his eyebrows. Hoots and hollers ring out as he loosens the tie. He shrugs one shoulder free, revealing some tan, toned skin with a laugh. He’s not ashamed of his body. It’s come a long way since high school, thanks in no small part to his discovery of the meditative powers of surfing when he moved to LA. Five mornings a week on the water does a lot for the soul, but it does even more for the body. He’s got muscles. He’s fit. And he’s suddenly very aware of Emily behind him as the top of the robe falls, completely baring his upper body to the crowd.
Jake may or may not flex.
Sue me.
The clapping reaches an almost ridiculous roar as he holds the final bit of knot. He’s a producer at heart and can’t help but draw the moment out in a deliberate pause.
