by Liora Blake
Jake’s hand comes to rest at my ankle, the gentlest of touches, then starts to move up my leg achingly slowly. Fingers tracing my calf, behind my knee, the soft skin on the inside of my thigh. When he reaches the top, my legs unconsciously drop open a bit, but he doesn’t move up to touch me more provocatively, just lets his hand graze along my hipbone and then settles it there.
“So I said dumb crap and kissed like a pro. What else? That can’t be what did it for you.”
I turn my head to see him. His hair is a mess, one lock in the front long enough that it flops over his eyebrow just a bit. A gentle smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.
“You used to ask me things. You were the only person who ever acted like they cared about my answers. I loved feeling like I mattered to someone.”
Jake drops his head to my shoulder and puts a small kiss there. “You have no idea how much you mattered, Lace. Having you in my life, it saved me. If we hadn’t found each other, this place would have eaten me alive.”
Until now, I don’t think I realized how much he saved me that year. How differently my life path might have diverted had we not stumbled into each other’s hearts. Without him I would never have understood how electrified the confines of a small town could feel when you were hiding out with someone you loved. In the end, very few places exist in Crowell that don’t recall something about Jake Holt for me.
The hand he rested against my hipbone starts to move again, snaking up under the hem of my tank top. Jake curls his head to come near my ear, planting one kiss to the shell.
“OK, serious question now. When we would leave each other and go home, were you so worked up, just like I was, that you couldn’t resist touching yourself?”
I give a belly laugh that ends in a little snort. Jake’s hand continues upward, tracing his finger on the underside of my bare breast. His mouth curves into the skin on my neck once my laughter dies down. “You didn’t answer the question.”
My lips press together so I don’t laugh again. When Jake lifts his head to see me, my mouth settles into a small smirk and his expression turns prompting. I avert my eyes a little.
“Oh. My. God.” Jake’s jaw gapes into a loose grin. “You totally did. Admit it. You went home and got off.”
“I was a good girl, Jake.”
“Yeah, one who liked rubbing one out after I got her all revved up. With my expert kissing and my dirty mouth.” Jake flops to his back and shoves his hand through his hair. Another sigh. “Good girl, my ass. You’re just lucky I believed your story back in the day.”
13
After we fell asleep last night, we were both dead to everything but our limbs twisting around one another until the alarm sounded at an ungodly hour this morning. He set the alarm. If I had, it wouldn’t have gone off at five a.m., that’s for sure. Maybe seven a.m. But more like nine if I had my druthers.
When I growled loudly and pulled the covers over my head, Jake tossed himself back on the bed and began to tug the duvet away. Once my face was uncovered, I demanded an answer. Why, for the love of everything, does he insist on waking up so damn early? Why?
Apparently, piloting is the reason he is such an early riser. According to Jake, between corporate CEOs always needing a rise-and-shine takeoff time and years spent in the Alaskan bush, where first-light flights were the norm, his internal clock is set for a rooster crow. On top of it all, he doesn’t grumble much in the morning; he grins and kisses and nuzzles until those of us who aren’t partial to enjoying the morning finally get it together. While I don’t mind the kissing, I swear I could live without the chipper, chipper attitude.
But I played along and got out of bed at five and took a shower, did my hair and face, then slipped on the little blue dress I purchased specifically for this occasion. It’s a wrap dress with a low neckline, in a travel-friendly matte jersey fabric that won’t wrinkle during the four hours it will take to get to Orcas Island. The last thing I want is to stumble off his toy-sized airplane looking disheveled. The likelihood that my mascara will run from crying out of blind panic and my nails will end up chewed to the quick is high enough. No need to add a wardrobe mishap to the mix.
Jake glides through the doorway from putting my bag in the car just as I land at the bottom of the stairs. He stops and points at me, zigzagging his finger through the air to gesture at my outfit.
“Is that what you’re wearing?”
I look down my length, then back up face him. “You don’t like it?”
“I love it. But you’re going to freeze your ass off.”
“I have a coat.” As if to prove my point, I take my jacket from where it’s tucked under my arm and hold it up in front of me.
“Sweetheart, my plane doesn’t have heaters. It’s like the Yugo of airplanes. It’s slow, hard to find parts for, and lacks any number of basic conveniences. Such as a heater. Imagine driving in a car, at a hundred miles an hour, in the cold of January, with all the windows down. Your legs will be cute little icicles by the time we land.”
A grimace quirks across the side of my face. This is what I wanted to wear. When Jake sighs and tells me to go change, I just stand there and stare down at my outfit.
“I have knee-high boots on. That will help. What if I wear a scarf?”
A minor staring contest ensues. Finally, likely because I give a tiny pout face to encourage him, Jake gives in. “Only because you look so fucking cute when you pout and that dress is sexy as hell on you. Those are the only reasons you’re winning on this one. Do you have a wool blanket anywhere? We should take it to cover your legs.”
After I point him upstairs, with directions to look on the top shelf of the linen closet, he shuffles up the staircase.
“No whining, got it? I don’t want to hear one little peep from you about being cold. No teeth chattering, no shivering. You can’t complain; I tried to save you. Remember that.”
He was right. I froze, even with the blanket tucked all around me. It was so cold, I don’t know what outfit would have been enough to stave it off, though. An Everest-expedition-approved parka? Coupled with a pair of fur-lined snow pants? No clue. The whole experience was like riding an old, wooden, should-have-been-put-out-of-commission-a-century-ago roller coaster that was haphazardly assembled by drunken carnies through the Arctic circle. Just as terrifying, just as frigid, just as loud. He made me wear a pair of ugly, awful headphones. Evidently, so I could properly hear him laughing at me. They didn’t fit, kept sliding down and covering my cheeks instead of my ears, and they messed up my hair.
Did he look cute enough to distract me? Yes. Did I find the way he pushed down his old-school black Wayfarers from the top of his head onto his face with a huge grin just before we took off to be insanely sexy? Yes, so much of the yes. If I hadn’t been nearly ready to descend into a full-fledged panic attack ninety percent of the time, I would have enjoyed the view a bit more. But I had to close my eyes so much, I missed at least half of the ride.
Finally, in the last hour, I managed to calm down enough to smile, enjoy the way he looked so in control and capable, and trust he wouldn’t let us fall out of the sky. When we landed and came to a stop, he insisted I kiss him immediately. I was praised for doing so well, not puking, and not whining about my legs. Then he ran his hands up and down my thighs, under the blanket, until my skin was properly heated again.
According to every bit of signage and advertising all over the island, there should be whales everywhere, but we don’t see any. Jake claims we would have to get on a charter boat and sail out to see them. And, currently, I don’t care about seeing a whale enough to step foot off solid ground. I’ll stay ashore and out of the air until tomorrow, when we get back in his plane, thank you very much.
“All right, then. Where do you want to stay tonight?”
We’re standing near the middle of Eastsound’s quaint downtown tourist district, Jake with an arm slung o
ver my shoulder and holding an overnight bag with our things in it with his other hand. Although he claimed he would take me anywhere, the practicality of needing to stay close enough to make it there and home so we could both get back to work means this is an overnight getaway. Even so, I found that packing only two outfits was nearly impossible. I had a full suitcase packed, but when he saw the size of it, Jake flipped the top open and stood there until I pared things down enough to suit him. With a grumble, he started to take an inventory: “When we’re alone, you’ll be naked. All you need really need is something to wear tomorrow, Lacey. The rest of your wardrobe can stay here. Jesus Christ, are there actually six pairs of shoes in here?” After he was done editing my selections, I ended up with only what would fit in a bag smaller than my purse.
One pair of shoes and one suitcase paring-down later, he kissed the back of my neck and promised that we would spend the next two days thinking about anything but my lack of available costume changes. Apparently, he didn’t think about where we were going to sleep, either.
I stop and turn to him, raising both eyebrows. “We don’t have a reservation somewhere?”
Jake shrugs. “I figured we could just find a place once we got here.”
Oh, sure. Mr. Fly by the Seat of his Pants figures we’ll just lay our heads wherever. If, at any point, he suggests camping, I will kill him. Still, I try to keep my features from screwing up into a mass of wrinkles and creases while stifling the instinct to grab his shirt collar into my fist.
Jake laughs. “Calm down. Your eyes look like little fireballs right now.” He slips his arm off my shoulders and steps off the sidewalk to gaze up and down the street corridor. Turning back to face me, he grins. “Why don’t you walk around the shops some more? I’ll go find us a place to stay tonight.”
When he starts down the sidewalk, ambling backward at first, he throws his arms open wide and calls back. “Ye of little faith! Would I ask the prom queen to sleep anywhere less than acceptable?”
The short days of winter work to his advantage. Only because the late-afternoon sky is already casting dusky shadows when he tracks me down an hour later does the outside of the “motel” he found look even remotely like a place I would ever step one foot in. He tries to be playful, covering my eyes and whispering about carrying me over the threshold as we walk across the dingy parking lot to the door of the room he rented.
Once inside, he keeps my eyes covered with one of his hands and then uses the other to wrap around my body as his mouth finds my neck. Tricky, tricky, this one. Using his wonderful lips to distract me. Regardless, I can still smell the musk of mildew. Poorly covered up by lemony-scented industrial disinfectant. Stale cigarette smoke. And, quite possibly, the faint scent of fear emanating off Jake.
“Before I reveal this love nest to you, I want to say one thing.”
“Jesus. Is there an actual dead body in here? One they haven’t carted off yet? Because it smells like they’re trying to cover up a crime.”
Jake kisses my neck again. “No. No dead bodies that I can see. Just . . . well, I didn’t realize how busy it would be this time of year. I tried six other places that were more Lacey appropriate, but they were all full. How the hell was I supposed to know there would be the world’s largest chakra healers’ retreat going on this weekend?”
Twisting my head around so he will just drop his hand and get this over with, I give a growl when he clamps down harder.
“I swear I’ll spend the entire night keeping you distracted with all the things that make your eyes roll back in your head. “
“You’re making it worse, you know that, right?” I take his hand and wrench it away.
Immediately, I want his hand back.
Green shag carpet. Two double beds with sags so deep they are obvious from ten feet away. Mauve bedspreads with the most horrific spattering of ’80s-era flowers patterned all over them, perfect for hiding a myriad of stains. A folding card table topped with an enormous amber glass ashtray, full to nearly overflowing with butts, and two precarious-looking folding chairs on either side. Painted white walls that have the most disgusting yellow drips of who knows what, oozing where the walls meet the ceiling. The dim light from the one lone lamp between the beds is a saving grace, I suppose. Good light would only expose more of the awful. Although it might send the roaches or the rats or the snakes skittering back into the darkness under the beds, perhaps.
Jake cranes his head to see me. I slant my eyelids a bit and give him a pointed glare. Despite the fact he should be begging for mercy right now, damn him if he isn’t fighting a grin. He purses his lips, then puckers them, then sucks in one cheek to stifle the laugh I’m sure he wants to bellow and cackle out.
“Did you do this on purpose? Book a room at the Bates Motel so you could just sit back and enjoy the show?”
Jake gives in and laughs, head tossed back and shoulders quaking under the loud sound of him letting his amusement loose into this god-awful room. Finally, he takes a breath to compose himself and cups my face in his hands.
“Fuck, no. I mean, your expression is priceless, but I prefer to make you happy if at all possible.” A small kiss comes to my forehead. “Think of it this way: what a great story, right? Someday, a long time from now, we’ll be able to regale a crowd with this story. The time we went to Orcas and Princess Lacey had to sleep in a motel room that rents by the hour.”
My jaw drops open. “Really? This place rents by the hour?” I throw up my hands. “I’m not staying—”
Jake covers my mouth with his and renders me speechless for long enough to tame my urge to punch his sexy abs a few times. Pulling back, he lets his lips continue to graze mine and whispers, “I’m just kidding about the hourly thing. Still, it’s a good story we’ll have to tell.”
I nearly think he might keep going and say something more emotionally charged. A story to tell our kids. Or grandkids. The ones that wouldn’t make him the least bit nervous. But he doesn’t. He simply starts to kiss me again, softly and tenderly, until my knees turn mushy and it seems perfectly appropriate to strip down in this atrocious room and let him tell me how the story ends.
Never have I been so thrilled to wake up at five a.m. I was awake most of the night, convinced there was something crawling on me. The exposed skin on my legs and arms itched in the cute little silk sleep set I brought along, from what I was convinced were bedbugs and scabies attacking me. Jake slept like a brown bear in hibernation. Nothing but deep breathing and heavy sighs from that side of the bed, while I stared at the ceiling and tried to imagine a soothing field of wildflowers in my head.
When the alarm goes off, I sit straight up and toss the covers off, then skip over to grab my clothes out of the overnight bag. No shower, no way. I brushed my teeth in the bathroom last night and peeked around the shower curtain as I did, only to find a charcoal-gray ring in the bathtub that I refuse to let my feet come in contact with. I’m dressed and waiting near the door before Jake even has a chance to stand up.
I throw the door open and a gust of cold air comes in. Jake gripes from behind me.
“Hey. Still half-naked over here. Shut the goddam door, at least until I get my pants on.”
Instead of obliging him, I swing the door wider and then wave it back and forth to encourage in a bit more cold air. Standing in the middle of the room in only a pair of boxer briefs, Jake slips a shirt over his shoulders, and when his head pops out, he shakes it.
“Don’t push your luck, Lacey. Remember, you’re mine once we get in the air. Oops, turbulence. Oops, rough landing.”
“I’m not an airplane virgin anymore. I can handle anything.”
Jake stops and gives me a sleepy smile. “You have no idea how fucking sexy that sounds to me.” Slipping his pants on, he secures his belt with a little clink. “Want me to show you a little more today? If you’re ready for it, I’ll give you the nonvirgin package on the way home
.”
Heck, yes. Whether it’s the lack of sleep, the desire to be anywhere but in this room, or just the appeal of Jake saying he wants to give me more, I’m all in. With a head nod, I offer him a little grin.
“Bring it on.”
We land back at Trevor and Kate’s in the late afternoon, then drive home so we can spend one more night together before Jake takes off again tomorrow. Somehow, the hours we cobble together to be in the same room always seem unnaturally short. Time moves too fast, no matter how hard I try to slow it down.
At home, I hastily unpack my things from the overnight bag and then scuttle down the stairs to see if we can rummage up something to eat for dinner. Jake is upstairs, whistling to himself as he usually does. His feet moving across to the bedroom, then down the hallway sound above me, following the creak of the closet doors opening and sliding along the track. In a house this old, nearly no movement goes unnoticed, and over the years, I’ve grown used to the lack of movement around me, excepted only by Stanley creeping around on occasion. Now, after just a few days of Jake in this space, I’ve started to crane toward every creak and groan when he isn’t here, hoping it might be him instead of the wind moving the house on its joists.
In the kitchen, I settle on a frozen pizza. Just as I turn the dial on the oven to preheat it, Jake calls down from the top of the stairs.
“Where does this bag go? I got my stuff out of it. I’ll put it away.”
The oven clicks on. I step just into the hallway to answer him. “In my old room. Just stick it up on the shelf in the closet. Anywhere is fine.”
A few minutes later, the oven beeps just as I shut the freezer door and with the pizza box in my hand, I find Jake standing there with an odd expression on his face. Something like amusement, combined with restraint.
“Care to explain this?” He thrusts his arm out, which he was previously obscuring behind his back, and dangling from the hanger in his hand is my old high school cheerleading uniform. Red and white, with the letters CHS emblazoned on the uniform top, and a perfectly pleated skirt to match, all sheathed in a clear dry cleaning bag as it has been for the last ten years or so.
