by Maisey Yates
Jake gritted his teeth and fought against the rising tide of guilt. Guilt over Cassie. Guilt that was as old as the day he left.
Hell, he had a feeling a lot of his guilt was as old as he was.
“Right, fine. I get it, Jake. Things were hard and you don’t want to own a piece of this place, and I can understand that. But I do. The Grind is all I have. The Grind and that tiny little apartment above it. I don’t want to lose another planter box.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’ve already done this, Jake. I’ve already invested my sweat and energy into a place only to have it taken from me. Those were my flowers, dammit! And he kept them. And she just let them die.”
“What are you talking about, Cassie?”
“I spent eight years working on our house. Working on our marriage. And in the end it wasn’t permanent. The one thing that was supposed to be permanent and it wasn’t.”
“You’re married?” A flash of heat, of anger, unwanted if not entirely unexpected, shot through him. On the heels of that came the biting realization that the marriage she was talking about certainly wasn’t healthy. And a part of him decided very quickly that he didn’t much care if she had a husband or not.
Shades of old Jake, and it shouldn’t be too surprising considering this place seemed to bring that out in him. Seemed to bring out the worst.
“No. Not anymore. I took my name back and everything, seeing as he had the house.”
“How did he end up with it?” He knew it wasn’t any of his business, most especially since they were standing there arguing about whether or not he was ruining her life. He had no right to ask for details. No right to get protective and proprietary since he could neither protect her nor keep her.
“We didn’t have kids. I didn’t have a job. My name wasn’t on it.”
“Your name wasn’t on it?”
“I didn’t have credit. He started the process of buying it while we were still engaged. Then of course in the end I was really screwed because I didn’t earn any credit over the course of the marriage. I had to move back in with my mother when we divorced. Until I got The Grind and the apartment above it.”
“And how did you end up with that?”
“The building was empty, and I noticed. I had gotten a job at Rona’s Diner waiting tables so I drove by every day. And every day I imagined making it mine. It isn’t like your dad was a mentor, or even a benefactor. I tracked him down and asked him if he needed it for anything and he said it was just sitting there costing him property taxes. So we worked something out that seemed fair. Something I could afford, but that would give him income. It was all sort of unofficial, but at that point he was—”
“In the assisted living place.”
“Yeah.”
Kate walked back into the room a moment later with a couple flats of flowers on a rolling rack. “Do you want me to just put this on your tab, Cassie?”
“Yeah, that would be good.” Cassie wasn’t looking at him at all now. He wasn’t sure why. If it was because of the whole thing with the coffee shop, the discussion about his dad, or the mention of her divorce. Possibly all three. That would figure, seeing as he couldn’t seem to puzzle out how to talk to Cassie.
“Oh,” she said, and then she did look at him. “Are we going to be able to get these on your bike? I guess I should’ve thought of that before we came in.”
“We can figure it out.”
“Oh don’t worry about it,” Kate said. “I’ll drop them by The Grind on my way home.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Cassie said.
Kate tugged on the end of her braid. “Seriously, no big deal.”
“You’re too generous, Kate,” Cassie said.
“Not even a little.” The other woman grinned. “I’m going to expect a coffee for my efforts. Possibly a muffin.”
Jake shot Cassie a look, and her mind must have gone to the same place, because she was staring at him, eyes wide, clearly remembering earlier muffin-related innuendo.
Cassie looked back at Kate. “That seems fair.”
Jake hesitated for a moment. “Hey, Kate, is Jim Travers around?”
“No, he and Margie are in Hawaii. They come back over the summer. But otherwise they are usually at their house in Maui these days.”
“Can’t really blame them for that,” he said. He ignored the tug of regret in his stomach.
“Definitely not. Someday I’ll go to Hawaii and confirm my suspicions that it’s paradise. Until then I’ll take their word for it.” Kate shoved the rack back behind the counter, then grabbed a piece of paper and a marker and scribbled Cassie’s name on it, sticking it on the flats. “I’ll be by later.”
“Thank you,” Cassie said.
“Not a problem. See you later.”
“Come on,” Jake said. “I’ll take you back.”
“Thanks,” Cassie said. “I suppose it was the wrong time for me to rake you over the coals about selling the building. Seeing as you’re helping me.”
“If you ask me, there is no good time to rake me over the coals. But I might be biased on that score.”
She turned and pushed the door open and both of them walked outside into the cool morning air. The wind was just starting to kick up, blowing sea salt and sand in from the beach, mixing with the aroma of pine and bark that surrounded them.
“Possibly. Just a bit.” Cassie stuffed her hands in her back pockets and arched her back, the leather jacket parting as she did. His eyes were drawn, helplessly, to the curve of breasts pressing against the thin fabric of her shirt.
He looked away, turning his focus to the thick grove of trees across the road, the ruffling of the pine branches in the wind. “All right, let’s go. I have my own work to get to.” And he knew he sounded grumpy and ungracious, but he couldn’t take the time to rectify it. Because if he did, she might smile at him again. And if that happened he might do the thing he’d been thinking about for days—he might lean in and kiss her. And that wouldn’t be good for anyone.
Most especially her.
CHAPTER SIX
JAKE COULDN’T EVEN find respite in the privacy of his apartment. Mainly because he was discovering the apartment wasn’t all that private. Oh no, to the contrary, the walls were paper thin and he was very aware of the movements that Cassie was making on the other side of them. He could tell when she was getting into the shower, when she was walking across the living room, and whether or not she was wearing shoes. He found he sort of liked it when she was barefoot, if for no other reason than it meant she was wearing less.
Worse, he was getting attached to the sounds that she made. To not being alone. His house in Seattle was nice, in a quiet neighborhood, with quiet neighbors. He didn’t share any connecting walls. And no one ever stayed the night. When Jake hooked up he preferred hotels, and when that wasn’t happening he made it so they ended up back at her place. They rarely seemed to mind, and if they did, he just went and found someone else. Clingy wasn’t his thing. Sharing space wasn’t his thing. Because feelings weren’t his thing.
He prized his control far too much.
But there was something comforting about hearing another person moving around so close. Comforting and at the same time disturbing. Especially since what he really wanted to do was storm over to her apartment and eliminate all the space between them. No walls. No clothes.
He hadn’t had it this bad in longer than he could remember. If ever. When he wanted a woman he had her, and he never wanted a specific someone enough to cause this kind of trouble. Notable exception: Cassie back in high school.
He had a feeling that was the thing messing with him right now. All that unspent, long-buried desire.
Because right now Cassie Ventimiglia was obsessing his mind, and his body. And it was prett
y damn stupid.
Even as he thought of his neighbor, he heard the sounds of her moving around, and then a sharp, shrill squeak. He jumped up from his couch, and ran to his front door without even thinking about it. Probably she had seen a spider. Or something similarly innocuous. But the desire to fulfill the fantasy that was turning over in his brain, combined with the protective instincts Cassie seemed to bring out in him, had him halfway down the stairs before he could even think about it.
He called himself ten kinds of stupid while he walked around to the other side of the little entryway in the back of the coffee shop, and up the stairs that led to Cassie’s apartment.
Yeah, he had enough self-awareness to realize that he was looking for any excuse to knock on her door. Which was crazy considering that she didn’t like him, she made him feel like an ass, and he knew he couldn’t touch her.
His instincts, or his dick, didn’t seem to care. Because before he knew it he was standing in front of Cassie’s door pounding on it as hard as he could. He heard a strange thumping sound and then the door swung open and he found himself facing Cassie, who was standing on one foot and holding the other one.
She squinted. “Yes?”
“You sounded like you were in distress.”
“Oh. I stubbed my toe.” She winced and squeezed her foot then set it back down and straightened. “Did I disturb you?”
“Not disturb per se, but the walls are kind of thin. I don’t know if you noticed.”
Color flooded her face. “Oh, yes, I have noticed.”
Interesting that she blushed when the question came up. It made him wonder if she was thinking the same things he was. It made him wonder if maybe she was listening to what he was doing. If she had been fantasizing about the very thing he was. Tearing the wall down and tearing each other’s clothes off.
That was probably wishful thinking. He’d always had Cassie pegged as being a little bit more cautious than that. He’d put her in a box in his brain that was labeled Nice Girl. Whatever that meant. He didn’t have an exact definition handy, but he vaguely thought it might mean she wasn’t the type of girl whose clothes you just ripped off.
“I hope I haven’t been too...disturbing,” she said, blinking rapidly.
“You aren’t that bad.” The color in her face intensified. Very interesting, indeed.
“It was really nice of you to come check on me. But I’m fine. I don’t think I broke anything, and there’s no blood. Just a coffee table that I moved a few days ago. And now I’m not really familiar with exactly where it is. So the leg got my toe.”
“You were rearranging furniture?” He was asking stupid questions now, because he was reluctant to leave.
“Yes. I did a little rearranging.” She was still blushing and now he was dying to know why. He wanted to push, and hell, if it was anyone else, he would push. So he was going to push.
“Feng shui?” he asked.
“What...like making a money corner and stuff?”
“Something like that.” Except feng shui didn’t make you blush.
“I’ll have to get a lesson from you in the future, since you seem to know all about it. But in this case I just was moving my couch, so it seemed like moving the coffee table was the thing to do.”
“Just looking for a change?”
“Why are you giving me the third degree about the location of my furniture?”
“I’m not trying to.”
“If you must know, it’s because I can hear you showering when I’m sitting on my couch. And it bothers me.” A jolt of something hit him square in the gut.
“You can hear me showering?”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard, hard enough that he could see it and hear it. “And I can hear the things you’re doing in there.”
Heat assaulted him, his face burning so hot he was sure it must be red. Blushing wasn’t his thing, but hearing her say that, knowing exactly what he’d done in the shower a couple of days ago, had him feeling like he’d stuck his head into a bonfire.
“Oh.” That was all he was capable of saying. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had made him blush, or the last time one had rendered him speechless. But so-called Nice Girl Cassie Ventimiglia had managed to do both.
She tilted her chin up. “Yes, I heard you doing...things.”
He cleared his throat and tugged on his shirt collar. She made him feel like a naughty schoolboy. He couldn’t remember actually feeling that way when he’d been a naughty schoolboy. “Things?”
“Yes, things.”
And then a switch flipped inside him, and he remembered who he was.
He was Jake Caldwell. He wasn’t a teenager. And neither was she. He was a guy who got shit done. He didn’t blush. And when he wanted a woman he damn well had her. No, he shouldn’t have Cassie, but there were a lot of things he shouldn’t do. And at the very least, he was going to win whatever game they were playing here.
He wouldn’t touch her. But he wasn’t going to let her direct things, either.
“Honey, I would be very careful about where you take this conversation.”
“Would you?” She arched her dark brow.
“Yes, I would. Because if you’re implying what I think you are, then you’re taking us into dangerous territory.”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m saying it.”
“You are not saying it. Your voice is thick with meaning, but you said nothing.”
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I heard you... I heard you...”
“I’m waiting, babe. Because for all I know you heard me singing ‘I Dreamed a Dream.’”
“Do you even know that song?”
“Yeah, I do. I have culture.” And he had heard it played over and over again on a movie trailer.
“Well that isn’t what I heard. And I think you know it. Otherwise you wouldn’t be daring me. Don’t deny it, either. I know that’s what you’re doing.”
“Yeah, I’m daring you,” he said, taking a step closer to her. “You’re right about that. So if you want to have this discussion, let’s have this discussion.”
“Why?”
“You’re turning red, baby. I think you bit off a little more than you can chew.”
The color mounted in her cheeks, and he had a feeling that this wasn’t a blush. He had a feeling he was witnessing Cassie Ventimiglia entering a full-blown rage. Perversely, the thought pleased him. “All right, Mr. Tough Guy. I moved my couch because I can hear you showering. And I could hear you pleasuring yourself while you were showering.” She was breathing hard when she finished, and she was so red she looked a bit like an overstewed tomato.
He gritted his teeth and tried to look casual. “I’m a guy. I’m not going to say I don’t do that in the shower.”
“Well, I don’t need to hear it.”
“It bothers you?”
“Of course it bothers me! It would bother anybody. Nobody needs to hear that.”
And then, just because he wanted to go to her, just because he wanted to get her to give something away, just because he wanted her to be in hell the same as he was, he pushed further. “It only seems fair that you had to hear it. Seeing as I was thinking about you.”
Her mouth fell open and then closed, and then open again. She looked a little bit like a guppy that had been yanked out of the water. A very cute guppy, but a guppy nonetheless. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Offended?”
She blinked a couple of times. “No,” she said, standing stunned. “No, I’m not.”
“You aren’t?”
“No, I’m not offended. I’m not offended at all. In fact, I would go so far as to say I was intrigued.”
“You’re intrigued. By the thought of me touching myself while thi
nking about you.”
“Yes, I find that very intriguing.”
Jake crossed his arms over his chest, all the better to keep from reaching across the empty space between them and hauling her to him. “You really need to be sure this is where you want the conversation to go, baby. Because I have a feeling it could get out of hand very quickly.”
“Maybe I want it to get out of hand. And trust me, Jake, no one is more surprised by that than me.”
“I don’t think you really want what you think you do.”
She took a step backward, deeper into the apartment, and he found himself following, like a dog on a leash. He stepped past the threshold, and inside. And he knew that he had made a very grave mistake. His dick, on the other hand, was rejoicing at what it was certain would be a victory.
“If you push me, you might find that you don’t like the results.”
She lifted her hands. “Or maybe I’ll find out I love the result.” She balled her hands into fists and pressed them against her eyes. “Jake, all my life, I’ve been a good girl. I know you have no idea what that’s like, all things considered.”
“Probably not, considering I have a penis.”
He was certain that if she had possessed the physical capability she would’ve blushed even harder. As it was she seemed to have reached maximum capacity. “Oh yes, I’m aware, as we’ve established. But I didn’t mean the gender part. I meant the well-behaved part. The good part. You were always so wild, and you just did what you wanted. You didn’t seem to think what anyone else thought mattered. I, on the other hand, am crippled by what everyone else thinks.”
Something in his stomach twisted. He didn’t like the direction this conversation was going. It was cutting a little bit too close to the bone.
