My footsteps pounded the dirt path in a perfect rhythm as my arms pumped in a matching dance of athletic precision. Each intake of fresh air was a new thought; each exhale was an old one leaving my body. In, out, in, out, in—“Oh shit!” The expletive shot from my mouth along with the last exhale. My limbs lost their perfect rhythm as I crashed forward into the dirt.
Fabulous. Could things get any worse?
A piece of advice: never ask that question.
“I think that tree root had it in for you.”
I didn’t need to look up to know whose voice that was.
I no you no your sexy as fuck—Gah!
I chose to create a nice little bed for myself out of the newly fallen leaves that had, no doubt, obscured the offending tree root. I closed my eyes and let my head drop to the ground.
“Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad. I have to say, though, I’m beginning to think it a bit odd that every time I see you you’re horizontal.”
He must have realized how that sounded because he quickly followed up with, “Oh, sorry.” He didn’t really sound very sorry, though.
I sighed. It seemed he wasn’t going to leave me there to die in peace. “It’s fine. Want to help me up?” I finally opened my eyes and looked up.
Jake was silhouetted against the cloudless autumn sky, but there was no mistaking the angles of his face or the flawless cut of his build. He reached a hand out and I took it, allowing him to pull me upright. My stomach lurched a bit.
“Anything broken?”
I paused to get my bearings, then dusted my knees off and ran my hands over my hair, liberating a few leaves that had tangled in the strands.
“Just my pride, thanks,” I mumbled, finally taking a good look at him now that the bright sky wasn’t behind him.
Yup, just as I’d suspected. Male perfection. Okay, well maybe that was going too far. I’m sure he wasn’t every single woman on earth’s cup of tea, but he hit all of my buttons. Yes, sir.
His shirt had a dark V from sweat, and there were beads of perspiration dotting the olive-toned skin of his brow. He had clearly been on a morning run just like I had. The only difference being his fortunate ability to remain upright during his.
“I didn’t know you ran here?” I tried to cover my discomfort.
“This is actually my first day,” he replied, looking around him at the lush lawn and trees. “I usually run in my mom’s neighborhood, but I’m looking into renting a condo around the corner from here so I thought I’d check out the park this morning.”
Oh God. I lived in a condo around the corner from here. This was my park. The universe had better have a damn good explanation for this! Was it wrong to wish for a plague of locusts to come down on his potential condo? No, seriously, was that wrong?
He must have seen the horrified look on my face. “Bailey, hey, are you okay?”
I opened my mouth to reassure him, or apologize for the text, or maybe yell at him—I don’t know. And then something completely unexpected, completely humiliating, and completely revolting happened instead.
I vomited all over Jake Beckett’s running shoes.
“Okay, that should do it,” Jake said as he tossed the empty water bottle into the recycling can.
“I can’t believe I puked on you,” I said for what was probably the tenth time.
He just chuckled. Why did he have to be so nice about this? He’d just rinsed my breakfast off his shoes and he was laughing about it! If Dante had a tenth circle of hell it would surely involve some horrifying combination of my humiliation and regurgitated Fruit Loops (yes, I eat kids’ cereal—suck it).
“Your incredulity has been noted.” He approached me where I sat on the tailgate of his truck in the parking lot. I couldn’t look him in the eye, but I sensed him studying me before I felt his finger tuck a wayward strand of hair behind my ear.
My belly swarmed with butterflies and heat, and I prayed I wouldn’t upchuck again. I gripped the bottle of water I’d been drinking from and ordered my heartbeat to slow way the hell down.
“You okay?” Jake asked quietly, his hand now holding the side of my neck. He crouched down so I had no choice but to meet his eyes. They were warm hazel pools of concern.
I just nodded, afraid I’d squeak if I tried to utter a single word.
“Let me drive you home. I don’t want you getting sick again.” He released my neck only to grasp my hand and help me down to the pavement.
I was going to have to let him drive me home. I didn’t want to risk puking again until I was within safe distance of a bathroom—where God intended all crazy women to puke.
Either I’d eaten a bad batch of chalupas the night before, or I was letting the stress of my humiliation and the return of all my Anton-fueled emotions worry me to the point where I’d made myself ill. I could now add that to the list of reasons I hated Anton. It would probably fall somewhere between his making me try raw oysters and his breaking my heart.
Jake opened the passenger door and helped me up before crossing over to the driver’s side. “Which way?”
I pointed left and hoped that he’d say his potential new place was in the opposite direction on Lawndale, but he said nothing. The truck pulled out onto the street.
“My turn is coming up just there on the left,” I instructed and then continued directing him to my place.
I loved my condo. It was nestled in the back of a neighborhood consisting of larger homes, with tons of mature trees to provide privacy. My unit had three bedrooms, two baths, and a walk-out patio. It was way more space than one person needed, but I’d gotten it for a steal when the housing market had been in the dumpster. One of my dad’s favorite lessons was on the value of a dollar and how to use it wisely. “As we Irish say, a fool and his money are easily parted. Don’t be a fool, Bailey.” I took his advice seriously and had gotten myself a sweet deal.
I had one half of a brick duplex and my neighbor was this nice older Korean couple who didn’t seem to mind my music and the sometimes-odd hours I kept. They undoubtedly felt sorry for the single old maid living next to them because I often came home to a plastic container of homemade dinner waiting on my porch.
Whenever I returned the container, I’d chat with Mrs. Kwon—usually about her daughter, Soo-jin, who lived in DC and insisted on going by the name “Susan,” much to her mother’s displeasure. I generally tried to stay out of it by nodding my head and making small sounds of agreement. But I’m sometimes tempted to comment something along the lines of, “That bitch!” just to see how Mrs. Kwon would react. I feared I’d lose out on my free dinners if I let go of my impulse control like that, though. And Mrs. Kwon’s kimchi was not worth fucking around over.
Jake pulled into my driveway and got out to walk me in. Crap. I opened the garage with my code and continued through the inside door. I didn’t stop at the kitchen and I didn’t check to see if Jake had followed me inside. I had only one thing on my mind and that was finding a toothbrush as soon as humanly possible. There was no way I was hanging out with this man for one more minute while I still had puke-breath.
After I finished in the bathroom, I came back out to find Jake examining the paintings I had hung on my living room wall. The back of his t-shirt was darkened with sweat in the center. I wanted to reach under the hem and remove his shirt entirely.
My mind wandered back to Fiona’s frighteningly accurate analysis of my behavior, and I was thrown into an internal battle with myself. Why let my insecurities rule? Why let the Antons of the world win? And, besides, it was clear to both Jake and me that I wanted him. But then I remembered that men like Jake are made to break hearts like mine.
Jake must have sensed my presence because he turned around to address me. “These are beautiful. Did you paint these?”
“Um, yeah,” I admitted and joined my hands together behind my back to keep them occupied.
He moved on to the other wall. Okay, yes, my place is completely covered in my own work. At one point, I had been
confident enough to put myself out there.
“Wow,” he said. “I’m really impressed.”
I let out a mirthless laugh. “Well, you’d be the only one, then.”
His brow creased in confusion. “What do you mean?” He pointed to one particular oil of a street kid tucking money into his shoe. I liked to call it Staying on His Feet. “This is incredible.”
I felt my face color, as it just loved to do around this man.
“Mark said you were an artist, but I just assumed he meant the design work you do for your company.”
I had to laugh at that. “There’s not a whole lot of art to that, let me tell you.” I passed by him to grab some water from the kitchen. “Drink?” I asked.
“Sure. Water, if you don’t mind.”
I got us each a bottle from the fridge, hoping mine would tame the color in my cheeks. I turned around and there he was, standing way too close. What was he, a freaking panther? I handed him his bottle and our fingers brushed. I fought a shiver at the frisson of electricity that passed between us.
“So, what are you doing working for a construction company when you could be doing this?” he asked, gesturing toward the living room and the paintings displayed there.
I bit my lip. That was way too difficult to explain, and I didn’t even know if I wanted to try. “It’s complicated,” I finally settled on.
He nodded and then said, “Ah, family.”
“That’s definitely part of it.” I raised the bottle to my lips just as he did the same. I watched his throat work as he swallowed, and my knees sent an S.O.S. signal to the rest of my body. We’re going down!
Jake finished his entire bottle in one go. “Are these ‘complicated’ things part of the reason you won’t go out with me?”
He was really going there, wasn’t he? I couldn’t seem to catch a break.
I stuttered in my response. “I-I-It’s hard to explain that.”
He studied me and then nodded, his expression turning knowing. “Question.” He moved a step closer. “Are you attracted to me?”
Ha! Like my horny text and my jumping him at the wedding hadn’t been clear enough! Add in my skin’s propensity to mimic a pomegranate and I may as well just take out a billboard—Take me now, Jake Beckett, you sexy beast!
I felt like my entire body was about to combust. “Um,” was all I could manage.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” His lips quirked up in a cocky, lopsided grin.
Jerk.
Correction: hot jerk.
“I gotta tell you, Irish. You sure do know how to send a guy mixed signals.”
Like he had to tell me.
Mark was approaching with a speed that flustered me completely. What was I doing? I’d just physically attacked a stranger and stuck my tongue down his throat!
But, God, could he kiss.
I didn’t have time to think. I grasped Jake’s sleeve and pulled him in the direction of the hotel hallway.
In all the times I’d practiced in my heels, I’d never attempted running and I’d certainly never attempted doing so while dragging another human behind me. I wobbled a few times but finally managed to pull Jake into an alcove in a closed-off bar area. We were both breathing hard from not just the physical exertion of our escape but from our hot-as-hell groping session in the reception hall. I couldn’t even let myself consider that my parents may have seen me. My breasts were practically heaving and I was worried they might spontaneously jump out of my strapless dress.
I heard quick footsteps and the sound of Mark’s voice mumbling something. There was no way he could see us in our current hiding spot, but Jake pressed me further into the wall anyway. And I didn’t mind one bit. Even fully clothed, his body was doing things to mine I didn’t even know were possible. And the feel of his sizable erection against my thigh was making my brain a fuzzy mess.
Why shouldn’t I have this? What was so wrong with taking advantage of this situation where a super-hot guy had mistaken me for a super-hot girl and wanted to get with me? I assumed this happened to gorgeous girls all the time—it had just never happened to me. I could be this girl for one night, right? And I didn’t have to invite my pesky heart to the party.
“If we don’t find a room, I’m stripping your dress off right here,” Jake growled in my ear, making everything south of the border clench tight. He nipped my earlobe and I let out a whimper.
Summoning all the courage I had, I announced, “I have a room upstairs and it will be me stripping you down, Jake Beckett.” Oh my God! I really said that!
He groaned and pressed in closer while one hand grabbed my ass and the other held the back of my neck for the searing kiss he delivered. I was lost in our tangle of tongues and arms when he finally pulled back a touch. “I think Mark’s gone. Do you have your keycard?”
I silently thanked Fiona once again for showing me how nifty thigh-high stockings can be for storing all sorts of things, including room keys. I reached down, boldly lifting the hem of my dress to reveal the lacy top of the stocking and its contents.
“Clever,” was all Jake said before sliding his hand up my silk-covered leg to retrieve the card. His fingers danced a path toward my inner thigh on their way back. I might have moaned.
At this point, the wall was eighty percent responsible for keeping me standing. But I was all in and I had to remember who I was tonight—strong, confident, sexy. I took Jake’s hand and gave him a wink. “Follow me.”
We moved to the elevators as one, and once we were inside and the button for my floor had been selected, I found myself pressed against the wall again. He loved doing that, didn’t he? I decided it was time to turn the tables so I pushed him across the floor and pinned him to the other side of the elevator. I settled with my thigh between his legs. That got me a naughty grin.
“So, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh, Irish?”
I didn’t answer. I just grazed my fingernails down the front of his shirt until my hands rested on his belt. I could feel his cock twitch in his pants and I reveled in the power I had over him. It was a heady feeling.
The elevator dinged and he was back in control again. He spun me and put his arms around me from behind, settling his lips on my neck and marching us down the hall. My eyes wanted to close from the delicious assault to my skin. We almost missed my room but I caught the room numbers through slitted eyes and stopped our forward motion. Jake’s hands made quick work of the door lock and then we were alone. Alone in a hotel room while the rest of our families celebrated, drank, and danced just floors beneath us.
I’d made my bed and, dammit, I couldn’t wait to lie in it.
Chapter Thirteen
Sex and Conspiracies
JAKE
Her pupils were almost completely dilated and I hadn’t even touched her yet. She was incredibly bad at hiding her emotions, and no words were needed to understand her answer to my question. Hell, yes, she was attracted to me.
And despite the fact that she was a sweaty, dirty mess and had just thrown up on me, I felt my attraction to her down to my bones—one bone in particular letting me know his feelings on the subject loud and clear. I wanted to shake my head or burst out laughing, this situation was so ludicrous.
So, I did what any person with common sense and a penis would do in that moment. “Shower?” I asked.
Her head jerked slightly as if I’d just brought her out of her thoughts and back into her kitchen. “What?” she whispered.
I assumed a confident grin that usually got me what I wanted. “Do you want to take a shower?”
“T-t-together?” she asked as if I’d just suggested we murder a litter of puppies.
I cocked my head. “What’s so wrong with that idea?” I ran a finger down her arm.
That seemed to set off some kind of trigger because she backed up quickly, smacking her head on the refrigerator. Jesus, I hoped to hell she had good insurance with her propensity to injure herself at every turn.
“Ow.” She held the
back of her head and retreated to the living room.
I followed, not willing to let her get out of this so easily. I did not understand this woman. She ran so hot and cold.
I knew Fiona said not to pursue her if all I wanted was a piece of ass, but when Bailey undressed me with her eyes—well, I’m only human. And, besides, she’d turned me down when I’d tried to ask her out on a normal date. I guess it couldn’t hurt to try again.
“Okay, forget the shower.”
She made a sound I couldn’t decipher and kept her back to me.
“Let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night.”
She turned around then, and I was sure she’d balk at the idea so I cut her off before she could open her mouth.
“You owe it to me for puking on me.” Yeah, I went there. It was pretty low, but I needed her to see that we should explore this thing between us.
She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she seemed to come to a decision. “Fine.”
I smiled.
She put a hand out to stop me from approaching. “But nowhere fancy, and I’m going to meet you there.”
Well, that sucked. I was kind of hoping for a repeat of the high heels and stockings. Not to mention, meeting her at the restaurant would preclude the chance of any form of intimacy. But beggars can’t be choosers, and I’d already gone way beyond my normal capacity for begging where this girl was concerned. What was a bit more?
“Deal. How about Freeman’s at 7:30?”
She nodded. “Fine.”
Why did I get the feeling she was looking forward to this about as much as a beheading?
I waited outside the small restaurant for Bailey to arrive. I couldn’t remember ever feeling this nervous for a date—which was particularly ironic since I’d already had sex with her. Everything about this was backward.
“Hi, Jake.”
I’d been so caught up in my head that I’d missed her walking right up to me. I took in her flawless skin, gorgeous blue eyes and cautious smile before giving the rest of her a once-over. She wore skin-tight jeans, a fitted green t-shirt, and tennis shoes. At my perusal, she looked down self-consciously, as if regretting her choice of attire.
The Lucky One (Carolina Connections Book 3) Page 9
