She stared at his message. On impulse, she gestured to the other bartender to keep an eye on things and then stepped outside. Her fingers trembled as she pressed the “call” button.
He picked up the phone almost immediately. “Ariel?”
Oh, she hadn’t anticipated the mass migration of butterflies triggered by his voice. She pressed her hand against the flutters in her stomach. “Hi, Jake.”
“How are you doing? Are you at work now?”
“Yeah.”
“From your e-mails, it sounds like you’re having a blast.”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “I am. And how about you?”
He was silent for a while. “I’m fine.”
“Jake?”
“I guess you got my e-mail.”
“Yeah, I did.”
He cleared his throat. “I’d like to see you.”
Joy rushed straight into her head, but common sense clamped down on the head rush. Chemistry and empathy didn’t make up for incompatible dreams. He wanted a rich woman, and she…she just wanted him.
It would never work.
No complications. Don’t screw it up. Don’t set yourself up for heartache. She stammered out a reply. “I…I’m working.”
“Of course. I’m sorry; I should have known that. Can I come by your club just for a few minutes to see you? I just want to say hi.”
Just say hi? It would never work. Her willpower would never hold up in a face-to-face encounter with him. Don’t set yourself up to screw up. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He released a shuddering breath. “Okay.”
Silence filled the distance between them. She chewed down on her lower lip and forced gaiety into her voice. “How’s volleyball?”
“It’s fine.”
“And Colin?”
“He’s fine.”
“Is everything really fine, or am I talking to a preprogrammed recording?”
Jake chuckled, but it was a sad and ironic sound. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Tell me how you’re doing at your job.”
She frowned. “When did we change the topic?”
“Are you having fun?”
“Yes, I am. I still get to do the fun bartending part, but now I feel like I’ve got a stake in everything else. Turns out, I’m a natural busybody.”
“Who knew?” Jake laughed, but it sounded strained.
“The job hasn’t changed that much, to be honest, but I never realized before how much I enjoyed it.”
“Good.”
Jeez, trying to get more than a syllable out of him at a time was hard work. “And how is work?”
“I’m keeping busy with lots of projects.”
She hesitated. Obviously, he hadn’t yet found a sponsor or a sugar mama. The absence of a girlfriend made her feel better, but she was almost certain he didn’t feel the same way about the situation.
His insistence on seeing her made even less sense though. Why would he waste his time visiting her when he should have been out there, chasing down a corporate sponsor or a sugar mama instead? “Jake, why are you coming into town?”
“Take care of some other personal business. Just two nights—Friday and Saturday.”
She could hear the unspoken plea in his voice. No, don’t cave. He hasn’t given you any reason to believe anything could be different. “Those are the busiest nights at the club.”
“I know. Don’t worry about it.” His tone lightened, but she could tell it was forced. “No excuses or reasons needed. No complications, right?”
“Right,” Ariel murmured. She hung up on him and struggled to draw a deep breath through the crushing pressure on her chest. If she had done the right thing, why then did she feel like a hypocrite and a fraud?
Jake took a deep breath and stared at his smartphone.
No complications. Ariel had made it clear where she stood.
Chemistry and empathy wouldn’t repair the relationship he had wrecked, but he had hoped that a growing friendship would close the distance between them.
Apparently not.
Heartsick, he searched his cell phone directory for Leila Desai’s phone number. “Hi, Leila.” He forced energy into his voice. “Yeah, it’s Jake. About the ride tomorrow into Los Angeles? If the offer’s still open, I’d like to take you up on it.”
Chapter 14
It was almost 4 p.m. the next day when Ariel walked into the lobby of the Golden Oaks nursing home. The receptionist behind the counter greeted her with a smile. “You’re here to see Mrs. Langford, I suppose?”
“Yes. Noelle couldn’t make it today, so I thought I’d stop by and keep Mrs. Langford company for an hour or two.”
“Wonderful. Go on in.”
Ariel walked past the security doors and into the octagonal-shaped building. Rooms lined both sides of the corridor. The common areas faced the street, and the interior rooms facing the inner lawn and courtyard were residential suites. Each had a door that opened out into the courtyard. Fresh air was the most frequently recommended form of therapy at Golden Oaks, and the inner courtyards provided safety and security to its most vulnerable residents.
Ariel knocked on the door of room 113.
“Come in,” a voice quavered.
She peeked in. “Hello, Mrs. Langford.”
“No Noelle today?”
“I’m sorry. She had to take a class, so she sent me instead.”
“Happy to see you, dearie.” Old Mrs. Langford had the same blond hair, although faded to white, bright blue eyes, and as winsome smile as Noelle. She gestured to the door. “Can you take me outside?”
Ariel punched on the door release button and the patio doors opened into a courtyard bathed in sunlight.
“I haven’t seen you in almost a month,” Mrs. Langford said as Ariel began a leisurely stroll around the perimeter of the courtyard, pushing the wheelchair ahead of her.
“I was out on vacation for a while, and then I’ve been busy at Escapades. New responsibilities.”
“Noelle said that some boy’s got you all turned in a knot.”
Ariel scowled. “Noelle’s got a big mouth.”
“That she does. Big heart too.”
Which was the only reason it was impossible to get or stay angry with Noelle-the-Busybody.
“Who is he?” Mrs. Langford asked.
“Professional beach volleyball player, set on the Olympics.”
“How wonderful.”
“Except that he needs someone rich to sponsor him while he trains for the Olympics.”
“Don’t shoe companies do that? What does it have to do with you?”
“Well, sometimes shoe companies don’t come through, and wealthy individuals do.”
“Oh. But what does that have to do with who he dates, or who you date?”
Ariel shrugged. “We got off to a bad start, but he’s been trying to reach out. He wanted to see me while he was in L.A.”
“And you said no?”
“It seemed like the right thing to do at that time.”
“But not anymore?”
“I don’t know.” Ariel exhaled a shuddering breath as she guided the wheelchair along the pavement. Up ahead, a young man sat on a bench next to a white-haired woman.
Her jaw dropped. “Jake?”
He looked up. “Ariel?” He shot to his feet but did not move away from the woman. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to spend some time with my friend’s mother. Jake, this is Mrs. Langford. Mrs. Langford, this is Jake Hunter.”
“The volleyball player?” the elderly woman asked with the same kind of wide-eyed innocence characteristic of Noelle.
Ariel flushed. “And you?”
“This is my mother’s first day here. I came to help her move in and settle in. Mom, this is Ariel and Mrs. Langford. My mother, Olivia. She has Alzheimer’s.”
Mrs. Langford cut in. “Why don’t you push my chair next to Olivia’s? We can get to know each other without the young
people listening in.”
Like Noelle. Not subtle at all, Ariel thought, but did as she was told.
Mrs. Langford flipped her fingers dismissively at them, and Ariel and Jake moved some distance away.
Ariel gave Jake a quick sideways glance. Her heartbeat skittered. Damn it. Complications were easier to avoid on e-mail. She could even say “no” with a reasonable amount of confidence on the phone. In person, though, she was a goddamned wreck. She took a deep breath, but it didn’t help. His scent or his presence—something about him—sent all of her senses into overdrive, fluttering like headless chickens. “I…didn’t expect to see you here. How long has your mother had Alzheimer’s?”
“About ten years now. It’s recently reached the point where my sister could no longer care for her, so we thought this might be the best option.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to L.A. to bring your mother to a nursing home?”
“Why was it relevant? It has nothing to do with why I wanted to see you.”
“You don’t tell me anything about yourself. Your e-mails are about restaurants, bars—I don’t care about restaurants and bars.”
He shook his head. “Sometimes, I don’t know what I can tell you.”
“How about the truth?”
“It doesn’t work. Not if you don’t think it’s the truth.”
She swallowed hard. “Why don’t you talk to me about volleyball? It’s your Olympic dream; it’s the most important thing to you.”
“Because I can’t talk about volleyball without talking about training, can’t talk about training without talking about time, and can’t talk about time without talking about money.” He scowled. “I don’t want to talk about money, not to you. You’ve already got all kinds of wrong ideas about me and money.”
“Which are?”
“I don’t screw people for money, whatever the amount. It’s just not done.”
She jolted at his crudeness. “I know you’re still working.”
He waved his hand to encompass his surroundings. “More bills than ever.”
“But how are you juggling training?”
“That’s my problem and Colin’s, isn’t it?”
The coolness in his voice stung her. She turned away, but Jake caught her hand. “Ariel, I’m sorry. Being defensive seemed like a better plan than being hurt, and after last night, I wasn’t in the mood to get kicked in the balls again.”
“Last night? All I said was that I was busy at work.”
“Which equals no.” He ground his teeth. “I know I’m overreacting to rejection. I know I’m hoping for too much after having screwed up so badly. It’s just that what we had—that one day—was amazing, and I want to start over with you.”
“I…I thought we were friends.”
“Is friendship enough for you? Or are you still trying not to complicate things, because I do, Ariel. I want to complicate things.”
He wanted more? He wanted her?
Joy fluttered in her chest, a broken-winged dove trying to break free. She struggled to speak through the lump in her throat. “I want to believe that you’re not what I thought you were—”
“Jake?” A voice with a distinctly British-accent called his name.
Ariel turned around.
Leila Desai? It couldn’t possibly be the instantly recognizable socialite daughter of the wealthy Desai family.
Jake introduced her. “Leila, this is Ariel Falconer. Ariel, Leila Desai.”
“Hello.” Leila extended her hand. Her teeth were even and white against her dark skin. She was everything that was beautiful, exotic, and rich.
The aching knot in the middle of Ariel’s chest tightened into anger. Jake was exactly what she had thought he was—a money-grubbing asshole and a sweet-talking liar. Why would he want to complicate things with her when he could have a British heiress pave his way to an Olympic medal? She forced a smile. “It’s a pleasure meeting you. I’m sorry, but I have to go get ready for work.” Ariel turned her back on them and strode out of the courtyard, her head held high.
“Ariel!” Jake chased her out to her car. “You can’t go. We haven’t finished talking.”
“You can take your lies and shove it.” She turned on him. “You know, I almost believed you.”
“Leila is—”
“A tip for you. If you’re trying to convince a girl that you’re interested in her, don’t bring your sugar mama along.”
“God damn it, listen to me.”
“No. I’m not going to listen to you because you can talk me into anything!” Her voice broke. “In person, you’re too much for me. Too much for my self-control, my willpower, and my own good sense. I’m not going to be the beach bunny you keep on the side in L.A. when your sugar mama is shopping in Paris. I deserve better. I deserve to be everything to one man.”
“You do. You are!”
She stared at him. The anger that had exploded through her head melted into a hurting, aching mess. The only thing she wanted was to run away before she burst into tears in front of him. Ariel gathered up the shreds of her dignity, stared into his beautiful dark eyes, and reminded herself that they wanted different things.
Not wrong, just different.
Too different to find middle ground.
She stepped into her car, and the engine purred to life. Jake stood outside the car, his hands clenched into his fists, and his face tight with disbelief. His dark eyes were raw with pain. His lips moved. “I want you.”
She shook her head. “I deserve more.” She pressed her lips together, but in spite of her efforts, tears leaked from her eyes. “Goodbye, Jake.”
Chapter 15
“Goodbye” hadn’t been enough to permanently get rid of Jake Hunter.
Fueled by Jake’s apparent relationship with Leila Desai, the tabloids propelled him into the spotlight. Although both Leila and Jake refused to speak publicly of their relationship, Leila was frequently photographed with him on the beach and at restaurants and nightclubs.
Even more surprisingly, “goodbye” hadn’t put a stop to Jake’s e-mails to her.
He stopped sending commentaries of the restaurants and nightclubs he visited. His e-mails were shorter, primarily photographs of sunrises and sunsets on the beaches he visited or beautiful scenes that caught his eye. She always opened his e-mails, but rarely replied. What was there to tell him? They had said all that there was to say to each other, hadn’t they?
If he wanted to keep writing, if he could keep the friendship cordial without escalating it, surely she could too.
No one else had to know that he dominated her thoughts. Surely, he had solved all his financial problems. Leila had money, thousands of times over, to fund his lifestyle and allow him to concentrate on training for the Olympics. Jake’s clearly defined path to achieve his dreams was finally cleared of roadblocks, and even though she didn’t make the cut, she couldn’t bring herself to feel any regret or bitterness. He had never misrepresented his single-minded focus on his goals, and the Olympics. Heck, it was an incredible goal, a truly worthy one.
Even if there was no place in his dream for her.
Maybe after, a little thought whispered through her mind.
No, there was no “after” for her and Jake. She didn’t want to be the girl he picked up when he was done accomplishing his dreams. She wanted to be the dream for someone, and if it wasn’t Jake, then—her chest ached—perhaps it would be someone else. That kind of life-transforming love couldn’t possibly be too much to hope for.
She just had to get over Jake first, and it was easier said than done, not when e-mails arrived daily with pictures that made her smile, pictures that told her he was thinking of her throughout the day. He kept hope alive, and damn it if it wasn’t cruel.
Perhaps she should call a halt to the e-mails, but she couldn’t deal that final blow, either.
Perhaps she, too, wanted that sliver of hope. It gave her something to dream of at night, something to wake up to the
next day.
Approximately two weeks after their last meeting at the nursing home, an e-mail arrived from Jake, and it didn’t include a photograph.
Hi, Ariel,
I’ll be in L.A. this weekend visiting my mother. Would you like to meet for brunch?
Jake
Her traitorous heart skipped a beat. He wanted to see her.
She was about to type a response when her gaze fell upon a photograph in a sports magazine that had arrived in the mail yesterday. Jake, with Leila…
Actually, her heart wasn’t just traitorous. It was stupid and slow; didn’t it know that Jake was taken? Ariel scowled at her phone and sent back a text: Does Leila know?
Moments later, her phone buzzed. Leila and I are not dating.
Yeah, right. She typed up a reply: You’ve got the world fooled, then.
A minute later, her phone rang. Her heart made up for the beat it had skipped by racing like a frisky thoroughbred. She stared at her phone for a moment before accepting his call. “What is it?” The coolness of her voice impressed even her.
“Leila and I aren’t dating.”
“Next you’ll be telling me that the photographs of the both of you together were a setup.”
“We’re friends. We hang out together. That’s it.”
“I suppose it’s a coincidence she’s rich?”
Jake sighed. “Can I see you, please? We have to talk. This misunderstanding is crazy.”
“Is it? I really don’t care about your relationship with Leila. I understand that you need her to pay your way. What bothers me is how you keep coming back, trying to convince me that you’re different and that I’ve somehow misunderstood you.”
“I’m not in a relationship with Leila!”
“You stop for a moment and consider the facts from my point of view. The Olympics are your dream, and we both know you desperately need the money in order to keep training. Colin told you to get a sugar mama, and now, you’re seen in public, frequently, with an heiress. What you say and what I see don’t match up, and I don’t know you well enough to trust you in spite of the evidence.”
Flawed: A Love Letters Novel Page 10
