by Lauren Runow
“You’re not?”
“No. I’m telling you to go. So, pack a bag. We’re going to the lake.” He kisses me, deep and soulful, making me whimper lightly. “And if you have any lingerie, I suggest you bring it.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then, naked will do just fine.”
He kisses me again and pulls away as the front door chimes, and a customer walks in.
My heart pounds for so many reasons, yet here we go. I guess I’m going away for the weekend with Jake and his family. Ideas pop in my head, and I get so excited that I grab my backpack, open my laptop, and start typing as fast as my fingers will allow me.
Chapter Sixteen
An hour outside Chicago, in the state of Wisconsin, is the resort city of Lake Geneva.
After leaving the flower shop, Jake and I went home and packed weekend bags, getting back into the car when it was already dark out. I might not be able to see much of the town on the drive, but the Gilded Age mansions are illuminated at night, showing the old-world charm of the beach town.
I should be nervous, but as we head up the long, circular drive, I find myself more in awe at the Victorian home in front of me than anything else.
“You said we were going to a cottage.” My jaw is slack as I stare up at the three-story mansion with a four-car garage and, if I’m correct, a lakefront view.
“Yeah, the term is a bit deceiving. It’s our family home outside of the city.”
“Well, this certainly makes an impression.”
He quirks a brow. “Are you saying you’re now only interested in me for my family’s money?”
I nod my head as I continue to stare at the shaker-style shingles and bright white molding around the windows. “You’re lucky you have a big dick because that’s the only thing more impressive than this house.”
He blanches for a second as I step out of the car. “Wait. You can’t drop the ‘big dick’ comment and then just walk out like that!”
With a laugh, I head to the back of the car to get my bag. “You bring girls here a lot?”
“I have, but I usually wait until we’re a few months in. I wouldn’t want her more impressed with the house than my cock,” he teases.
I shake my head and kiss him on the lips. “Just so you know, you have nothing to worry about with me. You had me at the seafoam-green towel. Everything after that is gravy.”
I walk toward the front door and hear him cheer behind me, “I knew it!”
We walk into the cottage together. The inside is equally as impressive as the outside with a two-story entry with floor-to-ceiling wainscoting and a large living room ahead with wall-to-wall windows overlooking a patio that’s filled with people.
“She’s here!” a girl’s voice calls out from the patio.
Two girls, about my age, walk toward us.
“You have no idea how excited we are to finally meet you,” one says.
“Yes, we were starting to think this guy was pulling our leg and you didn’t really live next door to him,” the other adds.
“Lacey, these are my sisters, Tweedledee and Tweedledum,” Jake says with a smirk.
They slap his arms as they hug him from either side.
“Good to see you too, bro,” a woman with long light-blonde hair and porcelain skin says to him and then leans into me for a hug. “I’m Milène.”
“And I’m Penelope.” The other sister with shorter, curlier hair bounces to me. “Come on in. We have a bottle of wine open with your name on it.”
I smile at Jake as he winks and then heads into the kitchen, where his mom is preparing food.
The deck in the back of the house sits right over the lake, and with the sun going down, it’s the most surreal setting of both beauty and nature.
They walk me to the side where a U-shaped couch is set up with a table that has a firepit in the middle. We all take a seat as Penelope pours me a drink, handing it to me.
“So, when did you first start writing?” Milène asks.
An instant smile graces my face. It’s rare to meet people who want to talk about my writing unless I’m at a signing event. Finding people who love books, especially romance, as much as I do is a treat any day.
“It was something I dabbled in for a while before I finished my first one. Then, I sat on it for two years before I actually published it.”
“Why?” they both ask in unison.
“It’s a long story.”
Michael’s disdain of my writing was cold and callous; his impact on me left a scar. And yet, for the first time, I don’t have this urge to pretend like that part of my life didn’t exist.
“I let a man convince me I wasn’t good enough.”
“That’s horrible,” Milène says.
Penelope’s mouth opens like she’s catching flies. “What a jerk.”
I agree, “Not all men are willing to let their woman dream.”
My eyes roam to Jake who came back outside, and the words of encouragement he’s given me from the moment he found out I was an author come flooding through me. He’s never faltered in his praise for me, even before he knew I was good at it.
“Those men are assholes.” Jake is serious with his statement as he joins us.
My mouth lifts to the side, as does my heart. “It’s rare a man has the instinct for making women feel appreciated.”
Milène’s eyes sparkle as she looks back and forth between Jake and me. She nudges me in the side. “Well, we’re sure happy you didn’t listen to that jerk.”
“We love reading your stories,” Penelope adds as she raises her glass to cheers me. “Although I might have a hard time with reading the sex scenes in any future books. I might start picturing you and my brother.” She makes a face that has me giggling.
“That’s my cue to leave.” Jake places his hand on my shoulder and brushes the hair to the side before rubbing his thumb and forefinger on my earlobe.
I watch him walk inside the house. When I turn back to the girls, Milène nudges Penelope’s leg with a huge grin on her face.
“Okay, that was pretty cute,” Penelope says.
“Beyond adorable.” Milène points to me. “Just don’t go putting it in one of your books, so I don’t think of my brother when I’m envisioning your hero.”
Little do they know, their brother is the only inspiration I have these days. Without him, I’m at a loss for words. I should tell him he’s my muse. I know he’ll love it. However, if I do, I might break the magic. He’ll stop being himself, and I won’t be able to play the heroine anymore. This fantasy might end, and … well, that’s the scary part.
I don’t want anything to end.
Louis and Bobbi come outside, and I say hello to them for the second time today. A guy with reddish hair and a goatee follows them and takes a seat by Milène. He introduces himself as her husband, Wayne. It reminds me of when Jake stood up for my books to my mother, talking about his sister and her relationship with her husband and how my stories helped her escape the reality of work and chores, bringing her back to what it was like when they first met. I wonder what their story is.
I start small and ask how they met.
“In a plumbing supply store!” she exclaims like it’s the craziest place in the world. “I was working on a residential property, and he was the lead contractor. Our client asked us to meet them to discuss textiles for the house. We got there on time, but the client was late,” Milène explains.
Wayne lovingly looks at her. “I knew she was the woman I was going to marry as soon as she walked in, wearing those four-inch heels,” he says with a grin. “It took her a few dates, but I convinced her.”
“He offered to remodel my bathroom at cost. I was going to give it ten dates or until my new claw-foot tub was in.” Her joke earns her a noogie from her husband.
I laugh. “How did the bathroom come out?”
She sighs. “Five years later, and I’m still waiting for it to be done.”
Wayne laughs. “Fi
ve years, two kids. We’ve been busy.”
The easy camaraderie that comes off between the two as they joke about their marriage and one another is endearing. Either it’s a show or these two really are in love.
Penelope is looking at them wistfully. “Someday, I’ll get to where they are. I’m still waiting for my Mr. Right. Now, Lacey, if you can just tell me where I can meet a man, you’ll be more than my favorite author. I’ll be your best friend.”
I let out a loud laugh. “Well, you could start by knocking on your neighbor’s door.”
Both girls grin as they glance each other’s way.
“Chicken’s on the grill,” Louis announces. “Does everyone have a drink, or can I get anything?”
Jake walks through the back door with two drinks in his hands. “Dad, take a load off. I’ll finish everything.”
Louis brushes him off. “You go sit with your girl. Besides, I can tell by the holes in your pants that you’ve already been working too hard.”
Looking down at his charcoal jeans, Jake explains, “They’re stylish.”
Louis points his utensil at them. “They cost too much to have holes in them.”
With a shake of his head, Jake laughs. “That’s the point!”
He heads toward his mom, who’s standing at the outdoor dining table, and grabs the plates from her hands.
There’s a sweet nature to Jake. He’s both caring and helpful. I’ve always seen him as this player from next door. Knowing now how charismatic he is in any situation paints him in a different light.
We all casually hang out while we wait for dinner to be ready. Wayne blends in as if he’d been around them his whole life. If I were to see them for the first time and someone asked me who I thought was family and who I thought had married in, I wouldn’t be able to tell.
They all talk and laugh like they’ve known each other their entire lives, and Louis acts the same with his son-in-law as he does his daughters. When I see him tease Wayne for his new haircut, I’m both shocked and happy that he doesn’t take offense or think it’s weird. He treats Louis just like he would his own father by cracking a joke about him going bald.
I guess I’m surprised because I’ve never had family like this. I have no siblings, no dad, and my aunts and uncles or grandparents live far away, so I only see them on occasion. Just saying people are your family doesn’t make them the true definition. Charisse and Melody are more my family than my blood relatives are.
Milène is telling everyone a story of how she stood up to her daughter’s teacher the other day when I hear Penelope yell out, “Liar, liar, chickallo dire. There’s no way you said that to her.”
Milène holds her arms up in defense. “I swear. I was so mad.”
I look at Penelope, trying to hold back my laugh. “What did you just say to her?”
Penelope and Milène burst out laughing as Wayne fills me in, “You’ll learn they have a lot of, what they call, ‘Jakeisms,’ ” he says, holding up his fingers as quotation marks.
“Jakeisms?” I ask, confused.
“Yes, there are tons of them,” Wayne says. “I never hear him say them, but they bring it up all the time.”
“So, when Jake was younger, he thought he knew all the lyrics to songs and things that people would say. Only he didn’t. He used to watch this show where they would say, ‘Liar, liar, pants on fire.’ So, one day, something was happening, and Jake busted out with, ‘Liar, liar, chickallo dire,’ ” Milène says.
“But those aren’t real words.” I squint my eyes, trying to figure out his logic.
“Exactly! That’s why we still say it to this day. He for sure thought that was what the kids on TV were saying.”
Milène covers her mouth like she’s been caught saying something she shouldn’t have. When I follow her gaze, I see Jake coming back to join us with a smirk, shaking his head.
“Are you guys seriously telling her about liar, liar, chickallo dire?” he asks.
Everyone laughs.
“Hey, we were just having a conversation, and I called Milène out. It was Wayne here who said it was a Jakeism.” Penelope states matter-of-factly.
“Way to throw me under the bus,” Wayne teases.
“So, what other Jakeisms are there?” I ask.
“No!” Jake says quickly, pointing to everyone but trying to hold back his grin.
Milène scoots over to me, whispering in my ear, “Don’t worry. You’ll learn a few more by the time the night’s over. Just pay attention.”
“Will you get away from her?” Jake shoos her away. “Dinner’s ready, so come on. Chow’s on.”
I turn to Milène, wondering if that’s one, and she grins.
“Nope, that’s my dad’s saying,” she says as she wraps her arm through his in a loving manner.
As we all sit around the table, story after story of good times the family has shared float around.
I learn that Jake was a theater kid growing up. He loved set design and even won an award from the state.
I turn to him. “I didn’t know you did theater.”
He shrugs. “I had a minor role. My passion was behind the scenes.”
“He only signed up as a way to pick up girls,” Milène teases.
“Hey now, not in front of Lacey.” He fills my water cup with a nearby pitcher.
“Like I didn’t already know that aspect of you,” I say with a deadpan expression.
Wayne leans in, abruptly changing the subject and looks at Jake and me with a seriousness written all over his face. “Okay, here it is. The make-or-break question of the day.”
I raise my brow to Jake in confusion.
He seems to know where this is going because he just looks down with a grin as Wayne holds his two hands up and asks rather cautiously, “White Sox or Cubs?”
“Huh?” is all I can say.
Penelope rolls her eyes. “Boys are dumb.”
“Be careful how you answer this one. It could be the beginning or the end of a beautiful evening,” Bobbi adds jokingly, yet her tone says otherwise.
My eyes widen as I wonder if she’s being serious. Jake shrugs, letting me know his family takes their Chicago sports very serious.
“I’m not a sports enthusiast. That’s no news flash,” I state. “However, growing up as the only granddaughter of my late grandfather, I had the responsibility of sitting with him and listening to him share his baseball knowledge. Of those years, I firmly remember three things.” I hold up my fingers to tick each item off. “Ernie Banks is the best infielder of all time. Wrigley Field is the cathedral of baseball. And you should never, ever root for a team with footwear as a mascot. I’ll always root for Chicago, but the Cubs are my team.”
Jake grins, and Wayne lets out an audible sigh.
“She can stay,” he says as Jake puts his arm around me.
“I had every intention of it. Now, if she’d said White Sox, we would have had to conduct a lobotomy first!” Jake’s joke gets everyone laughing, and we go back to our banter and fun.
After dinner, we sit around a firepit in the backyard, drinking wine and talking some more. Bobbi brings out s’mores ingredients, and I show Jake how to roast the perfect marshmallow. He likes them burned, which is so gross. I take my time, browning the perfect mallow to get a golden coat.
Around eleven o’clock, everyone turns to their rooms. I help Jake straighten up the back deck, and we finish our drinks as we wait for the fire to die down.
He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “How about we get in the hot tub?”
The idea of being alone with him fills me with warmth and desire. “Okay,” I whisper right before he kisses my lips.
“Go get your swimsuit on, and I’ll meet you back out here.”
“I don’t know where my room is.”
He chuckles. “You can take my room. Up the stairs, second door on the right.”
“You’re not going to show me up like a gentleman?”
“Trust me whe
n I say, what I have planned is not gentlemanly.”
His grin makes my chest tighten and my breath hitch.
“Now, go get dressed.” He slaps my ass, and I yelp in response.
Chapter Seventeen
I walk up the staircase and follow his instructions to find his room—navy-blue walls, distressed wood furniture, and a massive king-size bed. My duffel bag is lying on top of the duvet, which makes me smile. I didn’t even know he’d walked it up here.
After I get my swimsuit on, I grab a robe from the back of the bathroom door and quietly make my way through the house so as not to wake anyone. It would have been wise to ask where the hot tub was, so I aimlessly wander to the back deck again in search of it. The air is thick with the scent of burned ash from the firepit. It’s really chilly too. I rub my arms as I walk along the walkway to the side of the house, where I hear the sound of the tub’s motor.
It’s dark out here, except for two tiki torches lit on each side of the hot tub. Jake is already in with his clothes folded neatly on a nearby chair.
“Do you always bathe in the dark?” I ask, noting he left the other six tiki torches unlit.
“Only when I don’t want anyone to see what I’m doing in here.”
I quirk a brow. “And what is that?”
“Naked hot-tubbing. I hope you don’t mind.”
I shrug nonchalantly, playing with him. “I’ll live.”
He grins. “You look cute in my robe.”
“Thanks. I thought you were more of a towel guy.”
“I am. But my mother frowns on men walking around the house in a towel, so the robe wins. That said, I happen to think robes are entirely overrated.”
I undo the belt. “Do you find them offensive?”
“Devastatingly. You need to discard it immediately.”
Lowering it from my shoulders, I let it fall to the floor, revealing my two-piece bathing suit. A simple black bikini with strings that tie on the ends. “Better?”
“Much,” he groans as his eyes rake over my body, staring at the triangles that cover my breasts, down my stomach, and at the sliver of fabric over my hips.
