by Shandi Boyes
Chapter Fifty-Four
Jacob
Lola is adamant she doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body, but after seeing her interact with the kids of Hopeton House, I’m not so inclined to agree. She shot daggers at me after she returned from the bathroom with Chloe, but she’s smiled more times than she’s scowled the past two hours. That might have something to do with all the attention she got from the teen boys. She thought they were eager for her boxing tips. In reality, they were gawking at the scandalous amount of skin she’s showing.
I would have warned her the gym was going to be brimming with minors if I knew that when I requested she wear my favorite shorts. I only came up with the idea of teaching them how to fight last night after talking to my dad. Although I don’t appreciate the horny eyes on Lola all day, she’s a guarantee they’ll return next week. They’re not the only ones who’ll suffer hours of grueling drills if she’s here for their visual stimulation. I’ll be standing right next to them.
I just hope she’ll still be here after I tell her what happened last night. . .
After spending a couple of hours with Noah and Emily, Rachel arrives at their room to collect me for our date. Noah smiles like a smug prick when Emily’s eyes seek anything but Rachel’s gaze. She’s mortified.
Just as eager to suffocate the tension hanging thickly in the air, Rachel tilts my way. “Are you ready?”
When I jerk up my chin, Emily’s eyes snap to us in an instant. I thought the tension was thick before, but it has nothing on the glare Emily gives us. Certain her stare centers around food, I ask if she’d like me to bring something back for her.
She just stares at me, unblinking and unmoving.
“Food, Em, do you want me to bring back some food?”
When I wave my hand in front of her face, her trance ends. She shakes her head, but her curious eyes remain glued on Rachel and me as we make our way to the door. On the way to Petretti’s, Rachel shares the story of her walking in on them in her physical therapy room.
“I swear, I only left them for ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes is way too long to leave Noah alone with Emily. I’ve been caught unaware many times the past two years.”
She laughs before walking through the door I’m holding open for her. My stomach grumbles when we follow our waiter to our table. It’s in the far back corner of the restaurant, an intimate, secluded setting that adds to the authentic ambiance of the space.
After the waitress takes our order, Rachel requests a bottle of wine be brought to the table for sampling. As the waitress skedaddles away, my phone buzzes with a text message from Lola, asking if I want to go to the gym tomorrow. I cringe. Not because I don’t want to spend time with Lola, but because I know Hank will hammer the shit out of me the instant I return to his gym.
Any reservations I’m having evaporate when Lola says she might wear the hot pink shorts she worked out in before Noah’s accident. I’ll suffer a month in hell just for the chance of seeing her in her teeny tiny shorts.
“Did your mother not teach you manners, Jacob?”
When my eyes pop up from the screen of my phone, I notice Rachel is glaring at me, unimpressed that I’m more interested in my phone than a real-life conversation. After murmuring a quick apology, I hit send on my text, then put my phone away, returning Rachel's eyes to their standard width.
They widen even more when I ask, “Did I not tell you my mom passed?” I sound shocked. Rightfully so. After everything we’ve talked about, I’m surprised my mom’s death never came up.
“No, you didn’t. I’m so sorry.”
“It's fine. It was a long time ago.”
We’re saved from more awkwardness when the waitress returns with the bottle of wine. Rachel samples it like a real connoisseur. She sniffs it, swirls it around her glass, then takes a delicate sip that’s spat back into her glass after swishing it around her mouth. I laugh. I had no clue she was so girly.
“There’d be less hassle if you drank beer.”
The waitress smirks at my comment. Rachel doesn’t. She grimaces before advising the waitress the fruity essence of the wine would match the palate she’s aiming for tonight.
Although our evening got off to a slightly rocky start, the rest sails by without a single hiccup. We chat back and forth and share an array of delicious Italian food. It’s so delicious, I order one of each item on the menu for Noah and Emily. I’m not trying to be flashy; I just have no clue what Emily can eat since she's pregnant, and I don't want to upset Rachel by asking her if she knows.
With a bag full of food on my hip, I walk Rachel to her car at the back of the hospital.
"You do know the saying ‘eating for two' isn't real?"
Rachel giggles when I shrug. If the pureed food they fed Noah in a tube the past three months is anything like the gunk they serve in the cafeteria, he'll be dying for real food as much as he wishes he could go home.
“This is me.” She waves her hand over a mini convertible coupe.
“It’s safe to say I won’t be driving anywhere with you in the near future. Your car is a matchbox.” Rachel’s smile is replaced with a frown, but I can’t dwell on that. The food I spent a fortune on is going to be cold. “Thanks for dinner; it was a lot of fun.”
“It was; I had a wonderful time.”
When she leans in for a hug, I do my best to return her embrace with the one arm I have access to. It’s an awkward hug that grows thornier when Rachel’s lips brush against mine. I’ve handled my share of friendly goodbye pecks, so I’d be prepared for that, but that isn’t what Rachel is doing. Friends don’t swipe their tongues along other friends’ lips.
I yank back so quickly, I nearly lose my footing. When Rachel peers at me with wide, rejected eyes, I mumble, “I have a girlfriend.”
Her hand shoots up to her chest for a mere second before she dives into her car. With her hands as erratic as my heart, it takes her several attempts to get her seatbelt latched into place. Once she has it fitted, she rockets out of her spot, narrowly missing another motorist.
I’m so surprised by what happened, I go straight home, forgetting about the food I purchased for Noah and Emily. It goes cold in the passenger seat of my car as I rack my brain about how I gave Rachel false signals. . .
I’m pulled from reminiscing when Hank joins me at the side of the ring. “They’re a good bunch of kids, Jacob.”
I pull apart the ropes to help him out before murmuring, “Yeah, they are.”
When I signed on to do community service at Hopeton House, I was pissed. Because they forced me to break the promise I made to Noah, I went in with a filthy attitude and the intention to do my time and leave without a single attachment.
I was an idiot.
The kids at Hopeton House have very similar stories to Noah. There’s just one difference: Noah was fortunate enough to be offered a ride home one rainy afternoon. The residents at Hopeton House weren’t as lucky. They have no one on their side—except me. My community service officially ended on Friday, but I refuse to turn my back on them like so many before me have. I'll have their back like I do Lola, Noah, and Hank’s. It's why I was born so big—so there's plenty of me to go around.
After cleaning up the mess the kids made, I head into Hank's office. He and Lola have been hiding out in there the past hour. I have no clue what they're doing, but if the paperwork they're shuffling around is anything to go by, I'd rather not know.
Who am I kidding? If it involves Lola in any way, I'm interested.
“What are you two up to?”
Hank snatches up the papers they’re looking at as Lola spins around to block them from my view with her generous rack. “Nothing interesting. Just trying to balance the books.”
“Do you want me to take a look at them for you?”
Hank shoos away my offer with a wave of his hand, unaware I graduated business school with honors only twelve months ago. I am used to strangers thinking I'm all brawn and no brains, but I'm sh
ocked Hank would believe that. He knows there's more to fighting than just brute strength.
“My offer stands if you change your mind.” I grab my gym bag off the ground before connecting my eyes with Lola’s. “Your place or mine?”
My dick twitches when she purrs, “Mine. I don’t want to give Tom a heart attack.”
After telling Hank I’ll see him tomorrow, I guide Lola to her Jeep. Since we arrived in separate cars, we travel to Erkinsvale separately. I try to put the alone time to good use. It does me no good. No matter how hard I deliberate, my brain can’t find a plausible way to explain what happened last night without hurting Lola.
Technically, I didn’t do anything wrong—Rachel kissed me, but I didn’t kiss her back—but I agree with my dad. By not telling Lola what happened, I’m establishing our relationship on a rocky foundation. Although we’ve had this weird on and off thing the past two years, the dynamic of our relationship has shifted the past two weeks. I’ll never be overly confident with any assumptions I make about Lola, but I’m reasonably sure the one step forward, three steps back routine we’ve been dancing since we met is now ancient history. She’s my girl—well, she will be when I ask her.
When I pull into the lot of Lola’s apartment complex, I spot her waiting for me on the front stairs. The eagerness on her face makes what I’m about to do ten times harder. I swear, I’m on the verge of coronary failure.
Please God, don’t take her away from me just as I’ve finally won her over.
My heavy stomps to Lola’s third-floor apartment are audible over the goth music her neighbors are playing. That’s shocking considering it’s loud enough for three towns over to hear. After jabbing her key into the lock, Lola swings her front door open before gesturing for me to enter. I'm not surprised by her chivalry. I'm reasonably sure I'm the only one wearing a skirt right now.
She waits for me to dump my bag under the entranceway table and spin around before arching her brow. “What’s going on, Jacob? I haven’t seen you this quiet since... never. Usually, we don’t make it up the stairwell without your lips on me, but tonight you’re acting like I have cooties.”
“I know you don’t have cooties. If you did, I would have caught them by now.”
I grimace when she doesn’t take my comment as I intended. I thought a little bit of playfulness would dampen the tension, but all it did was add another log to the fire.
Realizing delaying the inevitable will only make matters worse, I pull off the Band-Aid with one swift yank. “I need to tell you something.” Panic flares through her eyes when I scratch my brow. “And I’m reasonably sure you won’t like what I have to say.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Lola
Three and a half months later…
Noah and Emily’s Wedding.
I fold my arms in front of my chest with a huff, annoyed the pesky security officer made me hand in my phone at the start of the service. If he hadn’t confiscated my phone, I would have made a fortune selling the photo of Noah scowling at Jacob when he interrupted the wedding ceremony to tell Emily he was still available. I swear Noah is seconds from having a heart attack—again. I don’t know why he wasn’t prepared for Jacob to do something like this. Every guest at his wedding knows how much Jacob loves teasing him. Wedding day or not, nothing will change that.
Speaking of weddings, Jacob and Noah did a spectacular job planning today's event. Everything is perfect; they just missed one thing: me. When Emily announced she was engaged late last year, I didn’t take her news as well as I could have, but I’ve been nothing but supportive the past six months. And how did my loyalty get rewarded? It didn’t. I couldn’t even get a lousy invitation to be part of the bridal party. I just got lumped in the regular section with the ordinary people like Rachel.
She’s sitting three spots over from me, wearing a pale blue dress and white stilettos. This is the first time I’ve seen her since the day Noah woke up. When Jacob told me she kissed him, I was furious. I knew there was something more between them than he let on. Jacob was adamant he didn’t kiss her back, and although violence is usually my go-to when I feel deceived, the honesty in his eyes shelved my retaliation. He could have kept what happened from me. The fact he didn't shaved weeks off the sentence I had planned to serve him.
Now things are running smoothly. I wouldn’t say our relationship is perfect, but we’re getting pretty darn close—even with him being a little corny at times. After calming my anger the only way he knew how, Jacob asked me to be his girlfriend. I shouldn’t have laughed, but you didn’t hear the way he asked. It sounded as if we were in middle school, but I’m not an idiot. Jacob is a catch, and I was more than eager to keep him to my greedy self. He was surprised when I agreed, but my acceptance was awarded in a way I never saw coming. That night still rates as one of the hottest sex moments we've had. Just thinking about it gets me all hot and bothered.
Noticing my unladylike squirms, Jacob locks his eyes with mine. When I give him a flirty wink, I’m rewarded with his cheeky grin. He watches me with affectionate eyes for the next several minutes before the officiant breaks our connection by requesting the rings.
Once the ceremony is over, the bridal party and their guests head to a large reception tent erected on the grounds of Noah and Emily’s cabin. Because Jacob is Noah’s best man, he’s required to do the formalities of the wedding, which means we’re seated at separate tables. I’m at the family table, whereas Jacob is sitting with the bridal party.
Suspicion runs rife in my veins when Slater taps Jacob’s shoulder opposite of the direction he’s seated. When Jacob cranks his neck to see who is accosting him, Slater dumps a massive nip of whiskey in his weak whiskey and Coke concoction.
As Slater slides his flask back into his suit jacket, he busts my watchful eye. My lips curl into a grin when he presses his index finger to his mouth, requesting I keep quiet. Nodding, I return my glass of wine to the waiter's tray. One of us has to drive home, and with Slater’s plan unearthed, I guess that person is me.
I'm a little excited about how this will pan out. I’ve not seen a drunk Jacob before, so I’m curious to see how he handles his liquor.
If the heated looks he gives me as he downs his spiked drink is anything to go by, this could end up very interesting indeed.
“You’re Jacob’s girlfriend?”
I finish ordering a soda water with a twist of lemon from the bartender before pivoting to face the voice. With Noah's bandmates’ crazy antics drying my throat from laughing so much, I'm in desperate need of a bit of moisture.
When my eyes land on Rachel, I hold out my hand in offering. I won’t lie; it’s not an easy task—even more so with how slit her eyes are. “Yes, I am. Hi, I’m Lola.”
She begrudgingly accepts my gesture, but not without using it to further her disdain with a firm grip. “Funny, he never mentioned he had a girlfriend.”
I wait for her to finish absorbing my tight black mini dress and gravity-defying heels before replying, "That's understandable. Back then, I wasn't his girlfriend. We just fucked—repeatedly.”
My eyes stray to the right when the bartender sets down my order. The ego Rachel tried to squash gets a second wind when I notice the napkin tucked underneath has a number scrawled across it. That’s the fourth number I collected today, and I’m not even putting out feelers.
Although grateful for the bartender’s interest, I snag my drink off the bar top, leaving the napkin behind. There’s only one devilish blue-eyed man I’m interested in taking home today. The bartender isn’t him.
As I twirl back around, I realize Rachel is still next to me. I thought my comment would have scared her off. Perhaps she isn’t as timid as the rumors suggest.
It dawns on me that she’s entirely misunderstood when I realize who’s holding her attention. She’s not formulating a witty comeback or working out a way to insult me without words. Her focus isn't even on me. She's eyeing Jacob from across the room, her stare awfully wanton for someo
ne who only wants to be friends.
Sensing my bubbling anger, Jacob peers my way. His brows furl when he notices I’m standing next to Rachel. Although I hate that I’m jealous, my heart warms when he mouths, “You okay?”
He could have toyed with my jealousy, worked it to his advantage, but instead, he’d rather comfort me than make me more upset. If that doesn’t prove I made the right decision when I accepted his ride all those years ago, nothing will.
I grin to ease the worried groove in his forehead before sauntering his way. His eyes swing like the pendulum on a grandfather’s clock when they take in the sway of my hips. He’s mesmerized in under a second, entranced by a body he knows nearly as intimately as his own.
“Everything okay?”
I balance on my tippy toes to plant a kiss on the edge of his mouth. “Everything’s fine.”
My pussy tingles when he bands his thick arm around my midsection and tugs me back until his dick nuzzles my ass cheeks. He’s not hard, but he doesn’t need to be for my body to pay attention. “You’re not getting jealous again, are you?”
If I believed he’d remember any of this in the morning, I’d protect my dignity by denying his claims, but since the whiskey seeping out of his pores is enough to get me drunk, I keep my mouth shut. I am jealous. I’ll just never let him know that.
“Are you ready to head out?”
I nod. If he’s a fall over while drunk type of man, I’ll never get him off the floor.
“Okay, I’ll be back in a minute.”
He presses his lips to my temple before stumbling toward Emily. I grin when he wraps her up in a big bear hug. My giddiness doesn’t linger for long when he adds to his farewell by planting a sloppy peck on her mouth. I know what he’s doing—he’s riling Noah up as he always does—but it still sucks to see his lips on any woman who isn’t me.
