Pleasures of Promise Lake

by Marti Shane

  “More like he needs to check on you,” Jake smirked as he whisked eggs.

  “He’s the one in the hospital.” She looked up from the phone. “Or is he here?”

  “He went home. Mick drove him.”

  “Mick? When?” It was later than she thought.

  “Yesterday, Sleeping Beauty.” Jake poured eggs into the pan. “I started to think you were in a coma.” Sam hit the Home button, the screen waking up. One p.m. displayed in large white font, the word Wednesday staring back at her in the smaller font below.

  “He left me here?” she realized out loud. “They both left.”

  “She drove Nick home,” Jake explained. “He’s okay,” he quickly added. “One of his ribs is cracked and the rest are bruised up pretty bad. His lung collapsed on the way to the hospital, which is what Travis suspected might happen.”

  “Oh my God,” Sam gasped, her head swimming. The car crushing between trees flashed, and Nick laying on the stretcher.

  “He’s fine, I promise,” Jake said, nodding to the phone clutched in her hands. “Call him.” He reached over, tapping his passcode to unlock the screen.

  She found Nick’s cell in his recent call list. They’d talked four times since Monday. She saw Jax’s name, two missed calls from Mitch, interesting, and…no way. One incoming and one outgoing call to Shovel Club. She pressed send.

  “Is she up?” Mick answered on the first ring, sounding anxious. Sam couldn’t help her smile.

  “Shovel Club?”

  “Sam! Thank hell,” she sighed. “How’s your hunky hero?”

  “Cooking.” She glanced up to Jake, his lips fighting to contain a smirk.

  “Seriously?” Mick snorted. “Let’s switch places.”

  “How’s your patient?”

  “He swears he’s fine, even though he holds his breath every time he moves. He thinks I can’t hear him groan. How ‘bout you? How’s your head?”

  “Fine. Give him the phone.”

  “I’ll let you talk to mine if you let me talk to yours,” she teased, not buying her one-word answer of fine.

  “I’m fine. Let me talk to Nick,” she argued, getting a stubborn silence in return. She held the phone out to Jake. Holding the phone to one ear, he kept up the scramble with the other hand.

  “She’s fine,” he answered, eyes darting to Sam. Mick, no doubt moved on to reminding him she knew plenty of places they’d never find his body if something happened to her best friend. His smile was infectious as he took it in stride. “I’ll deliver her in one piece on Friday.” He handed the phone back over.

  “See? Fine. Let me talk to Nick.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Nick’s voice was quiet, shallow breaths not supporting his usual baritone. Sam inhaled for him, worry clinching her tight.

  “Jake said your lung collapsed.”

  “Old news. I’m fine.”

  “I can be home in a few hours,” she said, knowing he was still trying to work. “Set my access back up.”

  “I’ve got it covered,” he said, firmly. “How’s your head?” Nick asked. “And don’t say fine.”

  “Fantastic! Like your ribs,” she shot back. “Turn my access back on. It’s not a request.”

  “Wow, you are fantastic.” She picked up the smile in his voice. “I’ll send you a laptop and phone,” he conceded. “But stay there ‘til Friday.”

  “Why?” Her apartment situation returned front and center. He didn’t want her home. She slipped from the stool, padding on bare feet to the porch. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I’m working on it, Sam. Just stay there. Can you go over the contract with Jake and Jax?” She didn’t bother with the duh response. She didn’t need two days to walk through a six-week admin contract. He was stalling.

  “Am I going to lose it?” she asked, bracing herself.

  “Yes.”

  “Can I buy it?”

  “It’s not for sale.” There it was. She was homeless. Looking down over her borrowed clothes, and listening to her fate on a borrowed phone, she despised her dependency. She heard him resituate, imagining him lounged back on his white leather couch in his sterile loft. He continued after two quick breaths. “Gram was proud. She paid Buck something every month with a cashier’s check. When he passed last year, the estate manager stopped accepting payments. Alexis contested the deed saying the estate manager wasn’t authorized to gift the property. She claimed the payments were a long-term lease, not a mortgage or rent-to-own.”

  “So, the court decides?”

  “It’s done.” Her heart sank. “Her stunt with the lock hurt her,” Nick added. “Curt secured a nice little settlement for your inconvenience. Half-million.” She needed another shower thinking about taking Kramer hush money. Worse, she’d lost the fight without ever getting in the ring.

  “I don’t want it.”

  “You’re emotional. Sit on it for a minute.” She wanted time to speed up, this blip of vulnerability to pass.

  Nick was taking care of her, acting in her best interest. She stared at the glassy lake across the lawn. Sitting here when she was six years old, Nick promised to always be here for her. Twice her age at the time, she trusted him, and he’d never let her down.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” she broke the silence.

  “Same here,” he agreed. “I need you to talk Mick into going back.”

  “Not a chance. I’m in good company. You need her more than me.” Bacon saturated the air around her, making her stomach beg. “Besides, Jake is cooking me bacon.”

  “Mick almost burnt my place down. Twice.”

  “Don’t be an asshole. She’s there to help.”

  “An asshole? What’s with your mouth lately”

  “Your usual narcissistic tendencies.” She went for blatant honesty. His microscopic range of emotions fed his success but hindered his relationships. Mick could handle him, but he could be reminded to dial it back.

  “Fine,” he agreed in the form of admission, rustling flooding the line as Mick took the phone from him.

  “I dropped clothes off with some groceries before I left,” she said, Nick’s doorbell ringing in the background.

  “Did you give them to Jake?”

  “Sit down,” Mick snapped at Nick instead of answering, her footsteps echoing in his nearly empty loft. Yep, she had him under control. Curiosity spiked. Why hadn’t Jake told her about the clothes? Listening to the deadbolt unlock and the heavy wooden door slide aside, she assumed they ordered in.

  “Uh, I gotta go.” The line silenced, the screen reading Call Ended. After being a caregiver the last three months, she reluctantly admitted she was glad Mick stepped up. Not that she would’ve been much help to Nick being unconscious. Getting to her feet, she filed being homeless in the manageable category.

  “Everything good?” Jake asked. He turned for a good look at her face. No, she thought, but it would be. Once she got control back over her life, everything would be fine. Right? Managing a smile, she busied herself making coffee.

  “I have clothes here?” she asked.

  “In the dresser,” Jake shrugged. “And there’s some chick food in the fridge.”

  “Good to know.” Trying not to read into it, a tiny tingle pricked her spine thinking he liked her in his clothes. Practicing the one skill she had in the kitchen, she plugged the K-cup in and waited for her sweet morning nectar to brew.

  “Smells good.” Jake leaned his hips on the counter, watching it brew.

  “I can make you a cup,” Sam offered. “It’s my only kitchen talent.”

  “So I’ve heard.” He raised a thick eyebrow. The reminder he was Mitch’s friend paused the little neuro party at her spine. God only knows what he heard. “I don’t drink it, just love the smell.” He turned back to the stove, giving her a view of his muscled ass.

  “I’ve got a laptop and phone delivering tomorrow. We can get to work.” Lightening her coffee to the perfect creamy brown, she couldn’t resist a sip before
rounding the counter. Perched on her stool, she was anxious to talk shop.

  “We’ll wait for Jax,” Jake said, deflating her. “He and Travis are moving some equipment down. Travis volunteered to help.” Sliding the plate between them, he softened his tone. “We can hold off ‘til after this weekend.” The funeral was this weekend. something she couldn’t focus on. The thought soured her appetite as Jake divided the eggs on two plates. “Eat up.”

  When she didn’t dig in, he dangled a piece of bacon at her lips. When she didn’t take the bait, he devoured the strip in one bite. The thick pad of his lip glistened with the remanence and he took care of it with a swipe of his tongue. Holy mother of all things sexy. She sipped her coffee, thinking of ways he could distract her the next few days.

  Jake confiscated her half-empty coffee mug. “Eat something. I know it’s been at least two days.” Her stomach growled on queue. The truth was she wasn’t sure if she should line an empty stomach with bacon grease and the eggs weren’t appetizing. “There’s yogurt and other stuff Mick dropped off,” he offered, reading her mind.

  “It’s fine.” She braved a bite of bacon. “Mmm.” She chewed the perfect texture, not too crispy and not too chewy with the perfect amount of salt. “I’ve missed bacon.”

  “Please tell me you’re not on a diet.” Jake shoveled eggs on his fork.

  “Gram got to where she couldn’t take the smell. Pretty much any meat made her ill.” Regretting the mention, she focused on her plate. Gram was her sole purpose the last few months, she didn’t have much else to talk about.

  “I’m sorry.” Jake gave his condolence, returning her mug. “Sloane talked about two things. Baseball and you.” She stole a glance, relieved to find him grinning instead of sad. “I preferred baseball,” he teased.

  “Same.” She wasn’t sure if he lacked emotional depth or knew she didn’t want to talk about it. Her stomach invited more food and she salted her eggs. When she finished her plate, Jake forked over more from his own.

  She laughed at his attempt on the Keurig, making her second cup of coffee look like launching a rocket to Mars. He reluctantly allowed her to wash the dishes, while he made the bed and tidied up the small space. Her mind wandered in the comfortable silence, sorting through the elements of her life’s restart. She hadn’t sorted out where to live but found relief in not having to make the decision to sell Gram’s place. She always knew she would, but now it was out of her hands.

  “So, Nick’s your brother?” Jake distracted her. She turned to find him shirtless and toweling off his wet hair. Damn, how long was she out?

  “You showered?” Her mouth blurted the obvious while her eyes helped themselves. She quickly turned away, not to embarrass herself with ogling. “Half-brother,” she managed, drying the already dry skillet before putting it away. Gathering composure, she faced him again. His back was turned, his muscles moving gracefully under his skin as he searched the dresser for clothes.

  “And he’s your boss? How’s that work out?” He shook out a t-shirt, facing her as he pulled it over his head.

  “Fine. Why?”

  “You guys ever argue?” His fingers combed through shaggy wet hair.

  “Not really. Why, do you and Jax?” His chest rose with a deep breath that he let out in an audible sigh.

  “I’m not here six months out of the year. Mason was his right hand.”

  “Was?”

  “I fired him.” Sam waited, knowing the short admission was a prologue for something weighing his thoughts. She gestured to the stool across the counter. Jake leaned his elbows on the counter, his dark gray t-shirt setting off his bright blue eyes. He was studying her, almost anxious she was judging him. “Friends, family, and business get complicated.”

  “Grounds for termination?” She didn’t know Mason personally but had interacted with him during her concierge days. The entitled senator’s son kept his father’s campaign team busy cleaning up his reputation.

  “He fell short on Jax’s vision.”

  “But you fired him?”

  “With me being gone so much, Jax was closer to him.”

  “You did it so Jax wouldn’t have to,” she filled in. He nodded, winning her respect, but leaving the jury out on Jax. Success is based on performance, not friendship. Jake seemed to get that. His hand combed over his beard, a sign this story wasn’t over. “So, what’s Jax’s vision?”

  “Building.”

  “Isn’t that what you do?”

  “Lots of it.” His response was proud. “Mason was a great sales guy; he just sold the wrong shit. We’re doing cookie cutter shit anyone can do. He brought in more work than we could handle and left Jax to manage it while he worked on his father’s campaign. Jax needs room to breathe, room to design.”

  “You guys couldn’t work that out?” Jake shook his head.

  “The last two years I’ve scaled us back when I came home, wanting to take the load off Jax. As soon as I leave for spring training, the bullshit quick profit jobs start pouring in and he’s got no time to design.”

  “Why’d Jax accept the jobs?”

  “Pride.” He rubbed at his nape. “We started the firm on my sign-on bonus. It wasn’t much,” he said humbly, now being the highest paid shortstop in the league. “We’ve made back every penny, but he feels like he’s gotta do more.”

  “Understandable,” she admitted, the dynamics coming together.

  “We’re brothers,” Jake argued. “I don’t care if he ever pays me back. I want him to chase his dream.”

  “I’ve had some exposure to Mason. He can be manipulative.” She folded the washcloth she’d been using into a tiny square, keeping her hands busy.

  “He’s a client?” Jake asked. “Or his family?” Sam held up a hand.

  “I never discuss clients,” she warned. “Sounds like you gave him more than one chance to get on board, but he did what was easiest for him. He fired himself.” Sam rounded the counter to the small cubby of a closet looking for shoes. The sun was out, and she wanted to soak some in. She bent over Jake’s bag, seeing sandals and flip flops tossed in the back. Was he really hiding her clothes? “Was Jax okay with letting him go?”

  “He’s still warming up to the replacement.” Sam stood, the room tilting a bit from blood rushing from her head. Jake hooked an arm around her waist, stepping his bare foot between hers to balance them. Her breast brushed his chest, her cheeks flushed with heat. Jake failed to hold back the grin stretching his lips. “Jax suspects it’s not purely professional.” Sam’s stomach fluttered uncontrollably. She stepped back, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin.

  “You’re not my first male client. I’m sure Nick was perfectly clear.”

  “Crystal.” He didn’t bother fighting his grin, flashing his perfect white teeth. “Jax is your client.” He closed the distance between them, making her skin heat. His hand wrapped in the hair of her nape, giving a slight tug to tilt her face to his. “I don’t need an excuse to ask you out. I hired A. Premiere because you’re the best.” His eyes narrowed a bit. “Are you really going to hide behind a no-frat policy?”

  “I’m not hiding from anything.” Her hand wrapped his forearm, urging he release his grip at her nape. He was too close, smelled too good, making her want to taste him. Her body hummed from his touch, his words, from him. She stepped on shaky legs to her shoes, steadying herself on the counter as she toed in each of them.

  Mitch’s card laid where she’d tossed it, glaring at her. Jake’s gaze followed hers and she wasn’t having this conversation right now. She marched to the door, unlatching the screen. “I’m getting some air.” She pointed to the dock so he wouldn’t follow her and added. “In plain sight.”

  Chapter Four

  Jake crumbled the card in his grasp. Love Mitch. Lying, cheating, sack of shit. He threw the screen door open, eyes predatory on Sam. He stabbed his feet in his still muddy boots on the porch, stalking across the lawn. The dock shook under his heavy footfalls and Mitch’s wor
ds echoed in his head. Anything you need? She damn sure didn’t need him. He could still feel the prick’s larynx against his palm, spilling excuses with his pants still around his knees.

  Sam looked over her shoulder from where she was perched on the end of the dock. Her eyes narrowed on the crumpled card stock in his grasp and she raised to her full height. Her finger lifted, cutting him off.

  “We’re not doing this.” She swiped the paper from his grasp. She smoothed it between her palms and he fought the urge to rip it to shreds.

  “The hell we aren’t.” His body took over, pulling her to his. The small of her back arched under his palm, her front melting into his. Her palms were flat to his chest, the card a barrier between them. “Talk.” She tilted her gaze up to his.

  “What happened? Why aren’t you friends?” His conscious [conscience?] broke through his temple, stopping his immediate duh response. What happened? She didn’t know. Fucking coward. Mitch hadn’t told her. “See? You don’t want really want to talk about this,” she challenged.

  Suddenly, he didn’t. He shook his head, temper shifting from Sam taking back a cheater to a cheater getting away with hurting Sam. Jealousy and possessiveness brewed in his gut, lighting a fire under his skin. The question lingered on his tongue. Why did they break up? Sam’s hands pressed against his chest, releasing herself from his hold. She slid the note into the pocket of borrowed shorts, his shorts.

  “Have you seen the lake yet?” she asked. The deliberate swing in subject was fine by him. He’d find a better time.

  “Just from here to…” his hand pointed in the direction she crashed, “where I picked you up.” She held out a hand.

  “We’ve got the place to ourselves. Guess that means you get a private tour.” He laced his fingers through hers, determined not to give mixed signals. He was hers from the moment he pulled her from the car.

  “We can take the ATV,” he offered. Her smile was pure mischief as she crooked her finger, tugging on their linked hands to follow her. They walked the grassy lawn between the dock and a boat house, hands linked the entire time. Excitement gleamed in her green eyes as she shoved the barn door aside. “A boat tour?” He asked. “I’m driving.”