“Whatever she wants and then I’ll have the same,” Jack says, looking at me with a devilish grin. So maybe he is not completely blind to this skanky waitress’s antics. Good boy.
After making her recite every single beer on tap, which was about twenty-one, then asking her to repeat them all, due to my poor memory of course, I order us two Belgian brewed taps and send her on her skanky way.
“Bad memory huh?” He laughs, settling in his chair.
“That will teach her to work a little less hard for her tips,” I tell him, and we start laughing, both witnessing the scowl on her face as she stands by the bar reciting our order.
“So . . .” I begin. “How did you or your dad get into the construction business?”
“Well, my dad inherited the business from his dad. Started out small and local. Would do just small jobs for locals, neighbors, you know. Then my dad turned a few jobs into a lot of jobs, and saved every penny to begin his own separate company building houses and taking on bigger jobs here and there. I would work for him during the summers when I was home from school. Then the summer after I graduated college, he had a heart attack while driving to a site, and died. Left me everything. I couldn’t let all his years of hard work die with him, so I basically picked up where he left off.”
Wow. I was not expecting it to get so deep, so fast. It makes me feel sorry for Jack, losing a parent. It makes me want to comfort him for his loss and his sacrifice. “I’m sorry again to hear about your dad.”
“Don’t be, it was a long time ago. He was a great man.”
I try moving us along to lighter topics. “You said after college . . . What did you get your degree in?”
“I graduated from MIT with a degree in Architecture,” he answers back with nonchalance in his voice, but I can sense a bit of regret in his tone.
Our bar maid at this moment decides to return with our drinks. She hands Jack his first of course then puts mine by me without even looking my way. “Is there anything else you need right now?” she asks, practically batting her eyes him. Is this chick for real?
“Nope, I have everything I want right in front of me,” he responds without taking his eyes off of me. Bar Hooch clicks her tongue in annoyance and turns her tail back to the bar. I think I’m in love with this man.
We spend the next two hours talking and getting to know each other. Jack is simply amazing. I learn that he and I share the same interest in basically everything. I also learn sadly that after college he had landed a major spot in a huge architecture firm but had to walk away from it when his dad died. He told me he lived just across town in a small ranch that he and his dad built. He said it was still a work in progress, and he was only able to work on it when business was slow, which wasn’t too often the last couple of years. I told him about my reckless college bar stories and what I thought I might want to do with my life, though I wasn’t quite sure anymore. He asked about Aunt Raines, and I gave him the full story, happiness, Uncle Merle and all.
Three games of pool, a few lagers and a really grouchy waitress later, I am feeling relaxed and carefree. “You up for one more game of pool, or are you done having me whoop your ass?” he says.
I giggle at his comment, because it’s the truth. He washed me of three straight games. At this point I’m not only feeling carefree, but I’m also feeling a little bold. That’s what international lager will do to you. “Oh, you betcha.”
Jack laughs. “Good. I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick. Get the table ready for your last and final defeat.” At that I stick my tongue out at him. Because it’s mature and I’m well on my way to being a bit drunk. I watch Jack walk away and fail to take my eyes away from his swaying ass. What I wouldn’t do to wrap my hands around those tight cheeks and squeeze, while under . . . Geez, get your head out of the gutter, Sarah. I turn to the table and begin to gather the balls.
“Hey sweetheart, you look like you can use a friend.” Startled, as hands wrap around my waist, I whip around to face a dude I do not recognize with a smirk on his face.
“Get your hands off me,” I say a bit nervous, because this guy is huge and doesn’t look like he knows the word no.
“Why don’t you and I have a dance or two and get to know each other better?”
Debating how fast I can take my pool stick and bash it across this guy’s face and run, I thankfully sense Jack as he steps possessively behind me. “You need something, buddy?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Looks like this little lady needs some company and you seemed to have left so I’m steppin’ in.”
“Are you kidding me, pal?” Jack spits out. There it is. That anger. The same anger he directed at me the first day I met him on the street. Being on the other end of his anger now, I can’t help but feel completely turned on by his dominance. Jack grabs at my hand in an attempt to guide me behind him, most likely in case fists are to be thrown down.
“I ain’t kiddin’ man, you wanna go?” the creepy dude asks. “I’ll take you out for a piece of that ass.”
Just then, Jack lunges at the guy. Taking his fist swiftly to the guy’s nose, I watch as the guy’s head jerks back and slams against the wall. “You want more, pal? Or did you want me to explain to you a little bit more that she is taken, and it ain’t by you.”
“Fuck you, man! You just broke my nose!”
Jack goes to strike again, when another guy approaches in an attempt to break things up. “Dale, it’s OK man, let it go. Let’s get out of here.”
“Yeah Dale,” Jack says. “I think it’s time you get the fuck outta here. “
The guy spits out blood that is dripping from his nose.
“Fuck you and your fucking whore.”
Before Jack can lunge again I step in front of him and place both of my hands on his chest. The guy’s buddy drags the other guy away, out of the bar, and leaves us standing by the pool table. Jack is breathing heavily. If I’m not mistaken, he seems to be shaking. He takes both of his hands and swipes his fingers through his hair, then he steps out of my reach and goes to sit back at the table. I stand there, debating on when is a good time to intercept his mood. I walk slowly back to the table and sit down in my seat across from him.
“Hey, you OK?” I ask. He doesn’t respond. “You wanna talk about what just happened?”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “If I ruined the night and you want me to take you home, that’s fine—”
“No, it’s cool,” I say. “I love when men get all caveman on me. I just wanted to make sure you’re OK. You got pretty angry back there.”
“I’m sorry. As you have witnessed enough by now, I have a bit of a temper. I guess I am no better than you with my experiences with people who can’t keep their hands to themselves. I don’t want to get into it, but obviously there’s an ex . . .” Jack takes a deep breath to calm himself down, but I can tell he’s still in his head while he tries to finish with his explanation. I feel the need to shift the mood immediately, because this sore topic is not one that either of us wants to dwell on, I’m sure.
Since I have had a lot to drink tonight, I think to do the only thing I know will calm Jack down completely, and the only thing I know I’ve been aching to do since we got to the bar.
I stand up, failing miserably in my attempt not to stumble, and walk around the table to Jack’s chair. He slowly turns so his legs are now out from under the table, and I step in closer to place my hips in-between his thighs. I raise my hands and wrap my arms around his neck.
Jack stares at me, his eyes glazed over with desire. Obviously fighting back the urge to take over, he allows me to follow through with my mission. Once I get a good grasp around his neck, I lock eyes with him. God, he is beautiful.
Slowly, I lower my head and press my lips against his. His mouth is warm and inviting. I’m pretty sure we both feel the spark that shoots through us once our lips touch, and our tongues connect. Just then, he decides he can’t stand back any longer and takes control, deepening our kiss.
Jack raises his hands and wraps his strong warm arms around my waist, tugging me closer in-between his thighs and against his chest. I just can’t get enough of this man. I tighten my hold on his neck even harder and press my body into his. I can feel the massive delight straining his jeans. Our tongues connect for round two and that erotic spark goes off again. I’m pretty sure a moan just uncurled from the back of my throat and escaped my mouth.
This might be the hottest thing that I have ever done. Openly making out in a bar with a gorgeous guy! I mean, I am participating in PDA and it is so hot. My inner self takes a spin and bows. Just as . . .
“Sarah?” I hear from behind me.
I break away from Jack’s mouth and gasp for air. With him still holding me close, I turn around.
Stacey.
What the hell is she doing here? I look past her to see a private table, with a group of clients—by the looks of them. I forget not everyone is unemployed. I turn my eyes back to Stacey. She stands looking at me a few feet from our table, holding the Gucci clutch purse that hangs from around her shoulder. Her shiny hair is in a perfect ponytail, and she’s dressed in what is most likely an Armani skirt and blouse. Looking not a stitch out of place, she radiates as if life has been nothing but great for her. I feel my body stiffen in Jack’s arms.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says. “I saw you just as I was on my way out. I was going to leave but I wanted to see if maybe, hopefully, we could talk.”
This is not happening. She has to be kidding me right now! I am literally speechless. Four months away from them, away from that job, that life, and I come face-to-face with Stacey in some random bar while on my first date with Jack. I assume Jack can feel me start to shake because he suddenly holds me tighter.
I dreamt about this moment for months. The things I would say if put in front of her. I would ask her how she could have done that to me. Years and years of friendship, worth nothing because she chose to throw it all away. Now that it’s happening, I don’t even know where to start, what to do. I just freeze.
“Sarah, are you going to say anything? I’m sorry, please talk to me. You don’t understand. I miss you! I messed up, I’m so sorry . . .” Then she begins to softly cry. Waiting for me to say anything at all, she continues. “You just left, and didn’t give me an opportunity to explain. Steve lied to me too. He made all these promises to me and—”
That. Is. It.
The only instinct that kicks in is my arm movement. I raise my hand and smack her across the face. The sound echoes throughout the bar. People turn and onlookers stop playing their games and turn toward us. Stacey grabs her face while staring at me in complete shock.
I watch Stacey’s mouth gape open at the realization of my actions, and she steps towards me. “How dare you! You ungrateful—” she begins, and I go to raise my hand again for round two. That’s when Jack stands up, grabs my arm and braces my body against his. I fight against his hold to get at her because I am going to claw her goddamned eyes out!
While trying to maneuver my whaling body, Jack flips a bunch of bills on the table, then throws me over his shoulder and starts walking out of the bar. Before making it to the door, I lift up my head to stare Stacey down. Facing our way, she is still staring at us, her open mouth gaping like a fish out of water.
“I feel sorry for you, Stacey. You can have him!” I spit out, right before we step out of the door.
Jack carries me until we are just outside his truck. He slowly sets me down and holds both hands around my shoulders to assess my mood. He’s probably debating if he should let go or not, whether I am going to bolt and go back inside the bar for a final blow.
“Are you OK?” he asks, measuring my mood.
“I’m great,” I say. “Couldn’t be better.” Lie.
If I let you go, are you going to start running?”
“No.” Lie. Lie.
“Are you lying to me?”
“No.” Lie. Lie. Lie. Man, is he like all in my head right now?
I can’t seem to catch my breath. I feel my fight dying off and giving in to the sadness and regret that I feel. Then my shoulders slump on Jack’s hands and I lay me head on his chest. I begin to cry, because I really don’t know how else to express my overwhelming emotions right now.
Jack adjusts his arms and moves his hands from my shoulders so they are now wrapped around me. Beyond my soft cries, I can hear him telling me it’s OK.
I knew this day would come, I just didn’t know how hard it was going to be. To look Stacey in the face and hope to see the guilt wash over her features. The shame and the admittance of what she did to me. All which after seeing did nothing to erase what happened. The worst part of it was that she thought she could just come to me and apologize and as always I would be the pushover and accept. Brush it under the table and we can go on being who we were. It makes me sick to think how fake our friendship actually was.
I gradually pull myself together, and stop crying. I look up at Jack and his eyes are so soft and understanding. He helps me in the truck and shuts my door for me. Seconds later, he climbs in the driver’s side and starts the car.
“I’m sorry . . .” I say while looking away from him.
“Don’t be. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not sure there is anything else to add in. I’m sure you got the gist from good ole’ Becky the other day. I met Stacey and Steve pretty much right out of college. Stacey was my roommate and best friend. Steve was my boyfriend for seven years. We worked together. The corporation I worked for was actually owned by his father. We were together for close to seven years. Now that I look back, I’m not sure how many of those years we were actually exclusive. I came home one day to find Stacey and Steve in bed together, in the nice apartment I shared with Stacey. Neither one attempted to save grace. They let me leave. I showed up at work a few days later, and went bonkers on Steve in front of the entire board. Threw a few harsh words around, vocally gave my resignation, and walked out. Then I paid a service to pack my things out of the apartment, and ended up on my parents’ doorstep a little while later. Go figure. The one place I was so eager to get away from.”
Jack doesn’t say anything back. He just listens. At some point in my explanation he had taken my hand in his.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Don’t be, please. I don’t need anyone’s pity,” I say, then I snatch my hand away from his. That was not the response I was looking for.
“I didn’t say it to feel sorry for you, Sarah. I said it because I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m not sorry you are not with someone anymore that could have just thrown something like you away.” When he finishes, he grabs my hand and places it back in his. Then he pulls our joined hands to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to the back of my palm. He looks me in the eyes and squeezes my hand.
We are silent for some time before I break the ice again.
“I’m sorry, Jack. It’s just hard to have people look at me as the pathetic one who had to crawl back home. I have spent too much time over the past months feeling sorry for myself that I just can’t have someone else joining in on the pity party.”
“Then stop letting it,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“Stop feeling sorry or pity for yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong, Sarah. You were sideswiped by two individuals who didn’t think past themselves. I’ve known you less than two weeks and all I can focus on is your charm and humor. You’re beautiful and smart. Your ambition and success is all because you pushed yourself and you got there. I see nothing but amazing. You should too. If they didn’t, then screw ’em.”
I stare at him. Simply stare.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Jack lets out a soft chuckle. “You don’t need to thank me either, Sarah. I’m just telling you what I see.”
I am not sure anyone in my entire life has said something so kind and so genuine. I think I definitely love him. And every time my nam
e leaves his tongue it sends a jolting spark straight down my stomach, right to my golden spot.
Jack finally pulls into my driveway and sets the truck in park. He adjusts his body so he is slanted in my direction and starts to speak. Like a wild tiger, I jump over the seat and throw myself onto his lap. I crush my lips to his and nonverbally thank him for his kind words. He responds instantly and grabs my hips and crushes my body to his. I can’t get enough of his mouth. He tastes so good. I feel like I say that a lot.
“I can’t get enough of your mouth,” I mutter between tongue lashes, not certain it sounds like more than a muffle.
“You taste so good,” he responds while adjusting my mouth to kiss me deeper.
“It’s probably the aftertaste of the hops. No one can resist a good lager,” I say breathlessly then reconnect with his mouth.
He pulls away just a hair to speak. “No, it’s you. You taste fantastic. The smell of your skin. The feel of your tongue. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop kissing you this time.”
My heart abruptly stops. I pull away and stare into his beautiful eyes. At this point they are blaring black orbs, screaming desire for me.
Jack takes his hands and puts pressure against the back of my head to bring me closer to his mouth. “I thought I just told you I didn’t want this kiss to stop?” he says teasingly in a bit of frustration.
“I don’t know where you came from, but thank you,” I tell him quickly and place my lips back where they belong. He opens my mouth with his tongue and we reconnect with a spark that sends both of us moaning. He slides one hand down my back and connects with my butt, then lightly squeezes. This may be the hottest thing I have done ever. I thought the bar scene was hot, but this might be topping it. I am straddling this hunk of a man in his macho truck, while he does his magic to my mouth and my body.
My head is swimming, I am so lost in emotion. My body is screaming to be ravished right in this truck. My heart is aching to just hold on and my brain is, well, mush at this point. I am like a wound-up alley cat in heat, ready to explode.
Life in a Rut, Love not Included (Love Not Included series Book 1) Page 8
