Young Enough (The Age Between Us Book 2)

by Charmaine Pauls

  My words are soft. “Unless I mean them.”

  Uncertainty creeps into his tone. “Do you?”

  “I’m falling in love with you, too.”

  I haven’t said those words to anyone but Evan, and now that they’ve left my mouth, it’s as if the spell that kept me bound to Evan’s ghost breaks, and I’m free. I’m free to fall in love again. I’m free to feel, and it hurts like hell.

  “Jane…” He swallows.

  Where the admission on the one hand sets me free, it opens up a cauldron of problems on the other. If you don’t care, there’s no future to worry about, but if you’re in love to the point of being addicted, the future shifts to the focal point. That’s where the problem lies.

  “There’s no future for us, Brian.”

  Falling in love was futile. This is why I didn’t want to care. Now I’m slain open, and that dragon he unleashed is demanding her pound of flesh, except there’s no one else like Brian to give it, and there will never be. He’s everything I need, everything I love, but his life is just beginning when mine is over the halfway line.

  His expression heats with anger. “Bullshit.”

  “You’re nineteen, for God’s sake. By the way, you lied to me about your age.”

  “Don’t throw age at me. Age is not a valid reason for us not to have a future.”

  “Think.” I tap my temple. “How old will I be when you’re forty?”

  “This is your insecurity speaking.”

  “I’ll be an old woman, and you’ll be in the prime of your life.”

  “One,” he holds up a finger, “you’ll never be an old woman in my eyes. Two, this is the last time I’m telling you, it’s not about age. Three, I fucking love your body, but it’s you I’m head over heels in love with.”

  Silently, I consider his words. How much more shall I risk? The further our relationship goes, the harder I’ll fall. Will I survive it, this time?

  “Jane,” his voice is pleading, “you’re over-complicating this.”

  “It’s this simple–What happens when you’re fifty and I’m seventy?”

  For a moment, I pinch my eyes shut, waiting for him to deal the blow, because not even Brian can be this ignorant, but he doesn’t falter or wither. He faces me squarely. Certain.

  “I’ll still love you, and if I’m lucky, you’ll love me back. It’s that simple.”

  God, I want to believe him, and the miracle is I do.

  I can’t let him go. I cling to him with my gaze, even as the door opens and Candice steps inside.

  “Oh.” She stops short. “I didn’t know you were busy.”

  Clearing my throat, I force myself to look away from Brian. “Yes?”

  “Toby wants to see you.”

  “Thanks.” I have to clear my throat again before I can speak past the emotions. “I’ll be right there.”

  Brian doesn’t turn to look at her. He just stares at me, his eyes dark with a kind of possession I’ve never seen before.

  Brian

  Lunch is at Jane’s place on Saturday. As usual, she cooked up a storm, knocking my socks off. God, I love her cooking. This lunch is different, though. This time, there are three of us. Abby is there.

  I understand why Jane waited to introduce me to her daughter. You don’t invite your bed partners to meet your kids, unless it’s moving in a solid direction. The solid has been there all along. We only agreed to take it forward.

  Solid.

  Exclusive.

  Public.

  She’s falling in love with me.

  I still can’t get over the high of those words. I’m like a kid with his first kite. Jane is my first in every way. The first woman I want more than sex with. The first woman with who I can picture a future. My first love.

  Fuck, she’s in love with me. I’m a lucky bastard, because I sure as hell don’t deserve her sweet pussy, never mind her heart. Only, I was never going to stop until I had both. We’re out in the open and so are our feelings. There’s no turning back, but Abby is going to be a hurdle. I can see it from the way she crosses her arms and glares at me from across the table, which is set outside with a pretty tablecloth and colorful crockery. Jane is serving an Italian menu with pasta dishes. She declined my offer to help carry everything outside, I’m suspecting to give me time alone with Abby.

  “Aren’t you the security guy?” Abby asks.

  “I helped your mom out with the installation, but I’m not with a security company.”

  “I saw you at our house.” Her words carry an accusation. “I came home from ballet and you were just leaving. I recognise your truck.”

  “Your mother and I have been friends for a while.” If Jane hasn’t told her the nature of our relationship, I respect that. If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t have hesitated to put the facts straight. I want the world to know Jane’s mine, but not Jane’s kid. Jane should deal with breaking the news when she’s ready. I prefer to change the subject. “How do you like your new home?”

  “Not much.”

  My brow rises at that. “Why not?”

  “I ran into our landlady in the garden. She told me you chose the place.”

  “For the record, I found it, but your mother chose it. Is that why you don’t like it, because you think I chose it?”

  She snorts. “Don’t be silly. I don’t like that my mother lied to me.”

  Jane has been confiding in me about her strained relationship with her daughter and the way Abby is with Debbie. I don’t point out that her father lied to her and her mother about his mistress, and she seems to be getting on just fine with her dad and his soon-to-be-wife.

  “Don’t be too hard on your mother. Moving wasn’t her choice, and it’s not easy on her, either.”

  “She had a choice.” Before I can ask what she means, she continues. “You’re her boyfriend, aren’t you?”

  Ah, shit. I can’t lie at a direct question, not if I’m hoping to one day win her trust. “You should ask your mom about that, but yes, I like to think of myself as her boyfriend.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Abby, it’s not about–”

  “Mom said you’re twenty.”

  “Yeah.” Almost.

  “You’re only seven years older than me.”

  I scratch the back of my head. “It’s not about age. It’s about maturity and compatibility, but I don’t expect you to understand that, yet. One day, you will. I know your mom loves you, and she wants you to be happy, but she also deserves her own happiness, don’t you think?”

  Abby opens her mouth but shuts it when Jane exits the house with a tray. I get to my feet to take it from her.

  Our lunch continues in a tense atmosphere. I get an inkling of how it must be for Jane. I’ll have a word with Abby again when the next opportunity presents itself, but I should let her get more used to the idea of Jane and I as an item. I almost don’t get through lunch with the way Abby slurps her spaghetti, but I crunch my teeth and make an effort for Jane. It takes counting to a thousand several times during the meal.

  After lunch, I help to tidy up and then go home to spend time with Sam while Jane drops Abby off at her friend’s house for a sleepover before getting ready for Eugene’s party. I also get some equipment from Tron I want to set up in the cellar.

  The plan was to pick up Jane at eight, but she sends a text to let me know she’s running late and will meet me at the bar. With time to spare, I arrive early. Clive, Mike, and a few other guys are already there. By the looks of it, Eugene is well on his way to getting pissed. They would’ve pumped him full of shooters by now.

  I put my arm around his shoulders and lead him to the bar. “Happy birthday, bud.” I signal for the bar lady. “Let’s get some water into him.”

  He makes a face when she puts a beer mug full of milky tap water in front of him, but he drinks it all.

  “Alternate with water after every drink,” I say, “or you won’t make the end of the night.”

  Clive comes u
p with shot of tequila. He offers me the tot glass. “You’ve got some catching up to do.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Suit yourself.” He throws the liquor back with a grimace.

  The door opens, and a group of girls enter. I can pretend I don’t see her, but I can’t overlook the blonde in the center.

  Eugene elbows me. He’s seen them too. “Your date’s here.”

  “My date’s still on her way.”

  “No fucking way,” Clive chirps.

  “What’s that?” Mike, who joined our party at the bar, asks.

  Clive shakes his head as if I’m the biggest loser in the bar. “He invited his uptown girlfriend.”

  Mike stands taller. “The one who brought you lunch at the site?”

  “She brought you lunch?” Eugene whistles. “Man, this is serious.”

  “She’s a looker, that one,” Mike says. “I don’t know how you winged it, but she’s got class.”

  “Big mistake.” Eugene looks amused. “We’re just a bunch of poor idiots. I don’t think she’ll fit in.”

  “Don’t forget Lindy’s here,” Clive adds.

  “Let me worry about my girlfriend and how she fits,” I bite out.

  “Is it official, then?” Eugene asks. “Last time we spoke about it you didn’t want to admit shit.”

  “As official as it gets.” Which makes me sleep better at night. She’s my woman, meaning I get to play the hands-off card.

  Mike looks at me with something like admiration. “You don’t fool around.”

  Not when it comes to her. No fooling there.

  Eugene orders a round of beers while Clive secures a pool table. My eyes are trained on the door, watching, waiting.

  At eight-thirty, she walks in. I almost choke on the swallow of beer I’ve just taken. Jane is wearing long, lace-up boots with black stockings. The black shorts are tight with a high waist, showing off her firm ass and flat stomach. A red patent leather jacket and a fitted tank top rounds off the outfit. Her make-up is heavier than usual with dark eyeliner and red lipstick, and her hair is slicked back. Her only jewelry is big hoop earrings. I’ve seen her in all kinds of formal and naked, but this is new. Steaming hot. She’s looking casual but classy in an understated and over-sexy way. It’s not the clothes or the make-up. It’s the attitude and that body. It’s just Jane.

  The bar hasn’t exactly gone quiet, but everyone is looking. Mike is practically drooling. I have to shoulder him to close his mouth. The girls are more discreet, but they’re staring just like the men. Even Clive is pussy-whacked. I feel like breaking a few jaws, starting with Mike just because he’s unlucky enough to be closest, but then Jane spots me and smiles.

  The fucked-up world I live in falls away. My sins don’t matter, and the darkness of my soul has no consequence, because that smile makes everything okay. The only thing that counts is the woman who walks to me with a sway and confidence in her gait. She’s a woman, not a girl, old enough to know what she wants. What she wants is me.

  She’s almost on top of me before I get back the function of my tongue.

  “Hey, princess.”

  Thanks for not standing me up. You look gorgeous. The room just got happier now that you’re here. All the things I want to say sound as cheesy as hell, so I rather keep my mouth shut. There are better things I can do with my mouth.

  Cupping her nape, I draw her nearer and kiss those red lips. She smiles when I wipe her lipstick from my lips with the back of my hand. Does she know what I’m thinking, where I want those red lips, right now?

  I’m so smitten, I’ve almost forgotten we’ve got company, but Jane remembers her manners.

  She holds out a hand to Mike. “How are you doing, Mike?”

  He fucking blossoms. “You remember my name. Good. I mean I’m good.”

  “Happy birthday, Eugene.” She kisses his cheek and hands him a small parcel.

  My friend blushes. I swear he must be red from his cheeks right down to his toes.

  “Clive.” She offers her hand.

  This time, he shakes it, mumbling a greeting.

  She motions at the gift. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  Eugene fumbles with the giftwrap. It takes him almost a minute to tear it off. “No way.”

  Jane smiles sweetly. “I hope you like it.”

  “No ways.”

  Mike tries to look over Eugene’s shoulder. “What is it?”

  I’m as curious as hell, even if I won’t admit it.

  “Is this what I think it is?” Eugene asks.

  “Yep. It’s from the original movie reel.”

  “Shit. This is a piece of cult.” Eugene holds a piece of film to the light. “The Empire Strikes Back, 1980. My all-time favorite Star Wars movie. You remembered. Thanks, Jane. This is really cool.”

  “Wow.” Mike stares at it in wonder. “Where did you get it?”

  “I worked at Disney World for a couple of months during my backpacking years. Got it at the souvenir shop.”

  “How did you even know it’s his favorite?” I ask Jane.

  “Eugene told me when we were moving.”

  “Thank you,” Eugene says again. “It’s awesome. You’re the best.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  That was a nice thing to do. I’m sure the souvenir meant a lot to her. I’m not the only one to think so. The whole bunch look at her like she’s made of fairy dust. I pull her to my side and put a hand on her lower back. I like to have her close and touch her, but it’s also a warning to the rest of the assholes who are staring.

  Brushing my mouth over her ear, I ask, “What would you like to drink?” The music isn’t so loud she won’t hear me, but I want to feel her body shiver. She doesn’t disappoint.

  “Beer, please.”

  I place the order and turn to introduce her to the rest of the crowd, mostly people from our class, but Jane is already taking care of herself. She’s chatting to a guy with freckles who sat next to me in science class. It takes all of ten minutes for her to put everyone at ease. At ease is an understatement. Win them over is more like it. Her social skills are good. I guess when you move in her circles you get practice, but Jane has a quality of being genuinely interested in people. I think back to our first breakfast and her platonic interest in me, how it made me feel like the most important person in the world, the only person on the planet.

  When the karaoke starts–a special exception for Eugene–she’s on stage with all the other clowns. They’re laughing their asses off, looking like they’re having the time of their lives. I grab a seat at the bar from where I can watch Jane. It’s not only to make sure she’s safe, but I like being her spectator. I like watching her in a social setup. It’s different. We haven’t spent time with other people. It shows me another side of Jane, the fun and playful side. I imagined shielding her all night from curious stares and questions, but she’s out there on her own, one of them. One of us. I wouldn’t have minded holding her hand throughout the party, figuratively speaking. I accepted and looked forward to it as my duty, but seeing a different nuance to her is more fun.

  The song ends with loud clapping. I stretch my legs out in front of me, expecting Jane to come to me and making space on my lap, but she tosses me a private sultry look and mingles with the group at the pool tables. They talk animatedly. She throws her head back in laughter. It’s too far to hear what they’re talking about, but I don’t give a damn about the conversation. Not really. What I care about is the way she presses the beer bottle to her cheek, as if she needs cooling down. I care about the way her hip cocks slightly as she shifts her weight and how sassy her legs look in those boots. I care about how it looks as if she’s really enjoying herself.

  From the other side of the room, Lindy makes her way over. Our eyes connect. It’s too late to get up and walk away.

  She takes the seat next to me, her knees brushing my thigh. “I’ll have a tequila slammer.”

  “Isn’t that a bit strong fo
r you?”

  “Making decisions on my behalf? We’re not even together, yet. Or are you just watching out for me, protecting your future interests?”

  “Lindy.” It’s both a plea and a warning.

  She tips her head toward the pool area. “That’s what you passed me over for? Marilyn Monroe?”

  “Don’t be nasty. It doesn’t become you.”

  “Are you buying my drink, or do I have to get it myself?”

  I call the bar lady over and order the drink. When she’s poured the lemonade, Lindy pushes the glass toward me.

  “Mix it.”

  Placing a palm over the glass, I slam it down hard. The lemonade fizzes up to the rim. She takes it back and tosses it in one go.

  Licking her lips, she watches me. “You didn’t reply to my messages.”

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  “You lied to my dad.” She swivels her chair and rests her elbows on the counter behind her. “About why you got that fancy job.”

  “Lindy–”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t tell. I figured out a few things about my dad since we last talked. He’ll kill you, and you’re no good to me dead.”

  “What are you playing at?”

  She puts a hand on my thigh. “I’ll let you have your fun with Marilyn. When you’re done playing the toy boy, you’ll come crawling to me.” Leaning over, she whispers in my ear, “That’s a promise.”

  I catch her wrist and move her hand away. “I think you’ve had enough. Your daddy won’t be happy if you get home drunk.”

  Her eyes flash as I get off the barstool. I don’t wait for her to say more. I turn my back on her and walk away.

  What I can’t walk away from, is dealing with Monkey.

  It’s going to have to happen soon.

  Jane

  Everyone is in high spirits. I’m having a good time. I’m learning things about Brian he never talks about, like how he got into detention for freeing the frogs from the biology class before they could become autopsy experiments. Brian’s classmates are eager to tell the stories, and I’m a greedy listener. When I glance over to Brian, I spot her, the girl who sent him a photo text. She’s sitting next to him, her lips pouty. He says something. She puts her hand on his thigh, and when she leans over to whisper in his ear, her gaze catches mine. I look away quickly.