by Amanda Aksel
“You know just what I like,” he growls low in my ear.
Then—
Beep, beep, beep, beep!
An alarm blares in the apartment. “What’s that?” I ask.
Jake hoists himself up, and I blink a few times, trying to clear the haze around him. He looks over his shoulder. “Oh shit! Fire!”
He climbs off of me, and I prop myself up on my elbows. The haze isn’t a hot and heavy fantasy. It’s actual smoke filling the apartment. I wave my hand in front of my face as if it will clear the thick cloud. Flames devour the cabinet above the stove. I jump to my feet.
Oh my god. That’s a real fire!
I stay back while Jake beats his shirt against the blaze to no avail. We have to get out of here. With shaking hands, I retrieve my phone and dial 9-1-1. Then Jake appears from behind the counter with an extinguisher and sets it off. White, cloudy dust spews over the flames, drying them up to nothing but burnt MDF and ash. I hang up the phone before I can tell the operator what’s happening and rush over to Jake. Beads of sweat drip down from his forehead to his heaving chest.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“What happened?” I assess the charred counter covering my nose and mouth with my hand.
“Something caught fire from the stove. I dunno, maybe the towel.”
“Jesus,” I say. “We should open the windows and get out of here.”
I grab my bag, open his only living room window, then dash outside. Jake isn’t far behind. A siren sounds down the street. Did they trace my call here? Then an old woman wearing a yellow and orange, floral muumuu and orthopedic sandals comes out of the next-door apartment carrying her small dog. “I heard the smoke detector and didn’t know if anyone was home. So I called the fire department,” she says with a Long Island accent.
“Just a kitchen fire,” Jake says, shirtless and sweating like it’s no big deal.
“I knew something was heating up in there.” She purses her lips and glances between Jake and me with a judgmental glare.
“It’s out now. Sorry, Mrs. Russo,” he says.
“Yeah, yeah. You kids need to be more careful.”
I shoot Jake a side glance as he lowers his head in remorse. I bet he doesn’t burn up his kitchen for all his dates.
Within minutes, two firemen dressed in their heavy, yellow gear come running up the steps. “We got a call about a fire.”
Jake explains everything and they head inside to check out the damage. I should’ve known something like this was going to happen. This must be some sick joke from the universe—bring us together only so it can keep us apart.
“Are you all right?” Jake asks me finally.
“I’m fine. I should probably go. I’m sure you have a lot to deal with here.” I dig in my purse for my keys.
“After all that wine? No, you’re not driving.” That’s probably smart. Smarter than leaving the stove unattended.
“Fine. I’ll call a cab,” I say.
One of the firemen comes back outside. “Looks like the fire’s been contained. Good thing you had that extinguisher.”
“Yeah, that was fortunate.” Fortunate would’ve been no fire. Huh, Universe, how ‘bout that!
“With the damage and the smoke, you’ll need to vacate the property at least until morning. We’ll write a report, but I’d call your landlord as soon as possible.”
“I will,” Jake says.
The fireman looks at me. “Maybe he can stay with you?”
And I swear the guy smirks. It’s almost as if they’d planned it that way. Maybe Jake does burn his cabinets for all his dates. Nah, he doesn’t need to put on a show. If anything, he can afford to dial it back a bit.
Jake looks at me, shrugging. “What do you think, Quinn?”
I glance between the two of them. Both with begging eyes like kids asking for a sleep over on a Friday night. I hope that fireman knows he’s not invited. Jake’s enough man for me. Almost too much. “Fine, but you’re sleeping on the couch.”
“Fair enough. Let me grab a shirt, and I’ll drive us.” Jake sneaks back inside.
“You’re a good friend,” the fireman says.
I fold my arms. “You have no idea.” I really hope we’ve filled our quota on crazy shit for the night.
***
Jake drives my car and me home. The ride is practically silent. Nothing like a kitchen fire to ruin the mood. But I’ll tell you one thing—no one’s cooking in my kitchen tonight.
We walk into my small house, and I toss my purse on the entryway table.
“Nice place you got here,” Jake says. “You own it?”
“Yep, got it with that first-time homebuyers credit,” I reply proudly. How many twenty-two-year-old women do you know who own their house by themselves?
“Impressive.” Jake peeks around the living room, walks into the kitchen, and opens the pantry door. “Built in the ‘70s?”
I follow him around. “Yeah, how’d you know?”
“When you work on as many houses as I do, you start to recognize these things. Like this.” He puts his hand in front of my back patio doors. “You can feel the heat coming in.”
“Well, as long as it’s not a fire,” I say, but he hardly musters a chuckle. “Too soon?”
“This just needs a little weather stripping. It’ll cut down on the AC bill.”
I smile. “I’ll add it to the list.” With an older house, there are so many things I want to do.
“I can do it for you,” he says. “And anything else you need done around here.”
It would be nice to cross off some of those nagging items. But with our luck, the house will fall into a sinkhole while he’s fixing the plumbing. “Thanks, I’ll just hire someone.”
He walks closer, that same hungry look in his eyes. “You can hire me.” The faint smell of smoke lingers on his skin.
“And what will that cost me?” I ask.
“I’m sure we can work out a fair deal.” He leans in and kisses me again, and it’s even more delicious than the chocolate on his finger. So I let it happen. And happen. And happen. I swear his kiss is like a magic spell that makes me throw out all reason. Maybe he won’t be sleeping on the couch tonight.
I lead him to my bedroom, pulling down the zipper on my dress along the way. Who knows, maybe once we sleep together the universe will stop throwing us curve balls. Besides, the doors are locked, my phone’s in the other room, and there’s no risk of burning the place down. So why not? What else could go wrong?
Jake pushes his jeans down, revealing his very well endowed tool. Does he always go commando? And why is that hot?
Then it hits me. I know what could go wrong.
“You have a condom, don’t you?” I ask.
He touches himself, unfazed by my question. “Of course. You’re on the pill, aren’t you?”
I raise my brow. How does he know that? “Yes.”
“Good.”
Jake walks over to me in all his glory and lays me down on the bed. After slipping on that protective layer, he kisses me, tangling his hands in my hair as he plunges into me. I feel the excitement, the relief of having sex with the man you most desire. It’s like my body has been waiting and waiting for him. Every pleasurable sensation ripples through me as our bodies move together in sync. Sex is fun. It’s always been fun, but this is more than that.
It’s ecstasy.
And just when I thought nothing else crazy could happen, I feel a burst between my thighs, penetrating up my spine and down to the tips of my toes. My mouth tingles, going numb. “Oh, Jake,” I call, gripping his dark hair in my hands. “I’m . . . I’m . . .”
EPISODE SIX
K yle stares at me from the other side of his desk and opens his mouth to speak. But he shakes his head, remaining speechless.
“What were you going to say?” I ask, desperate for anything.
He sucks in a deep inhale. “I know you’re sorry. But it’s not just that you called
someone else’s name. It’s that you said his name.”
“I know. And I totally get it, but it meant nothing. You know nothing is happening between me and him, right?”
“Yes, I know the guy hasn’t seen you naked in years,” he starts, and I gulp with wide eyes. Do I tell him about this morning, or will that innocent mishap make everything ten times worse? “But you were married to the guy, and I know you still care about him. I think there’s a part of me that’s always been afraid that once he gets his life back together, you’ll go running back to him, and that I’m nothing more than a rebound marriage. So the fact that you said his name after we celebrated his new job, it just . . .” Kyle lowers his eyes, and my heart aches at the idea that there was ever a seed of doubt in his mind.
“I had no idea you felt that way.”
“Well, it’s not the kind of thing you want to share.”
“Kyle listen, if I had any feelings left for Jake, I never would have married you. And I definitely wouldn’t have let him live in our loft.”
“We never should have taken him in.” He wrinkles his brow the way he does when he’s made any kind of mistake. “But I’m his best friend, and I married his ex-wife. What kind of person does that make me?”
“We knew this could get messy, and we did it anyway. If it makes you feel any better, you did ask me out first.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, and you ditched me for him.” We all know that’s not exactly how it went down. Kyle has always acted cool about it, but maybe it’s still a sore subject.
“Honey, what can I do? I’ll do anything to make this right.”
“There’s only one thing to do.” He pauses. What is it? Break up? Make up? Run away to the happiest place on earth—two and a half hours away in Orlando? “Jake needs to go. Now that he’s just landed a big contract, we don’t have to feel bad about it,” he lets out finally. Not what I was expecting, but I completely agree. Jake needs to be out of the house.
“Yeah, you’re right.” My stomach tightens at the thought. Something else I wasn’t expecting.
“I’m glad you agree, because I think you need to be the one to tell him.”
“Me?” I blurt.
“You’re his ex-wife. It’ll be better coming from you.” That may be true, but it’s more than that. This is my punishment. I have to hammer the final nail in the coffin of my divorce.
I lower my eyes and nod. “Okay, I’ll tell him.”
“Today.”
Damn, we can’t at least wait until Friday? “Fine but if I tell him today, will you forgive me?”
“Yes, I forgive you,” he says, and I let out a long, relieved sigh. “I just hope I can forget.” His cold words feel like a knife twisting in my chest. Who knows if there can ever be forgiveness without forgetness, but hopefully Jake being out of our house will be a good start.
Kyle doesn’t give me any warm gestures—no touch of a hand, kiss, or hug when I head out of his office.
On a scale of one to ten, one being he asks for a divorce and ten being him showering me with forgiving love, I’d say that encounter was a four. I’m hoping after I talk to Jake, it’ll move up to at least a five.
As I make my way back down the hall, a familiar pair walks in my direction. It can’t be. I blink my eyes and shake my head. Yep, it’s them all right.
“Mr. and Mrs. Delure, what are you two doing here?”
“Ah, Natalie. We’re meeting with a new stockbroker. What are you doing here?”
Sometimes I wish they’d meet with a new real estate agent. “My husband works here.”
“Oh really? Your husband isn’t Kyle Landon, is he?”
I swallow hard. “Yes, actually he is.” Oh no. After what I’ve put Kyle through, I would not want to subject him to a long, arduous client relationship with these two. That’s the nice thing about real estate. When you sell a home, you’re done. When you buy a stock . . . well, that’s just the beginning.
Mr. Delure makes a somewhat disgruntled huff. “Is that right? I just hope he’s better at picking investments than you are at picking homes.”
I clench my fist, this close to saying, “fuck ‘em, buy or buh-bye!” But now everything I do and say could affect Kyle.
Great, that’s just freaking great.
“I think you’ll find Kyle to be an extremely competent broker.”
“Yes, he does come highly recommended,” Mrs. Delure offers. That’s good to know. “But so did you.”
That’s it!
“Fu—” Don’t do it, Natalie. “Fudge, I’m late for an appointment. I have to go. It was nice running into you. I’ll see you both this weekend.” I bid the Delures goodbye through grit teeth and get the hell out of there.
So far, this is shaping up to be a pretty shitty day. And there’s only one thing that cures a crappy day. Okay, two things, but I blew one of those options last night when I opened my big, bad mouth.
So snickers it is.
I stop at the first convenient store I pass for an iced tea and my beloved candy bar. Too bad I can’t just keep them in the glove compartment. But there’s no way in hell it’d keep its delicious shape in this south Florida heat.
I sit in my car in the parking lot, chowing down on my chocolate relief. Jake isn’t going to be surprised when I tell him he has to move out, especially after this morning. Telling him to go will be the easy part. But what happens after he’s gone? Is he going to take Lily part time per our shared custody agreement? Will I ever see him? Is Kyle’s next idea to keep us apart forever? Will Kyle stop being Jake’s best friend? Maybe I’m way over thinking it, but at the same time . . . how else did we expect this whole thing to go? In a way, we were all idiots. There’s no way our friendships can survive this whole thing?
S loan sits on my bed while I slather my legs with my overpriced jasmine scented lotion. The floral prints on her dress are so colorful, they brighten the entire room. “Now Natalie, don’t take this the wrong way. But as your maid of honor, I have to ask. Are you sure you want to marry Jake? I mean you’re barely twenty-four. Don’t you want to sow your wild oats a little more? You’ve got at least another four years with that metabolism. Maybe even five.”
She makes some good points. And from the outside, it sounds just as crazy to me too. But I don’t know what it is. Jake just makes me want to get married. He even makes me want a family someday. Me with kids! Insane!
You know what they say; the heart wants what the heart wants. And that’s not the only part of me that wants Jake. “Yes, I definitely want to marry him. I can’t wait to make it official actually.”
“Is that why we’re headed to the courthouse?” Sloan sneers for a moment, then her eyes shift back and forth. “Wait, are you pregnant?”
I laugh and fasten on my white gold, teardrop earrings. “No, I’m not. And we’re going to the courthouse to save money. Do you have any idea what a traditional wedding costs?”
She crosses her arms. “Let me guess, is it the down payment on this new house you’re buying?”
“Yes.” The marriage is definitely a desire of my not-so-sensible side. But the rest of me is practical as hell. About six months after Jake and I hooked up, he moved in. What can I say? The guy’s good with his tools. He fixed up my little house in place of his portion of the rent, which saved me thousands overall. My real estate business has grown quarter after quarter, and because of it, Jake’s been getting referral business from me. He’s so busy, he may have to leave his full-time construction gig to go solo. With the extra cash flow, Jake bought me a ring, and now we’re buying a bigger house. I’ll be renting out this one. So who needs a wedding when you can have a rental property?
“And you’re not even taking a honeymoon?” Sloan whines.
“We’re going to the Keys.”
She scoffs. “That’s not a honeymoon. That’s spring break.”
“No, Daytona Beach is spring break.” I pull at the sash on my robe.
“Fine, it’s your wedding day, so I’m not g
oing to argue with you.”
I smirk. “Good, now help me zip up this dress.”
Sloan climbs off the bed. I slip into a white, knee-length summer dress, the kind you wear on an evening stroll at the beach. Once it’s zipped up, I take a look at myself in the full-length mirror. Not bad for a JP wedding.
“Where’s my gorgeous bride?” Jake busts through the door dressed in khaki pants and a starched white button down.
“Hey, it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” Sloan yells, stepping in between me and Jake.
I nudge her to step aside. “It’s okay, bad luck follows us anyway.”
In the year and a half we’ve been together, we’ve had our car broken into while we were screwing in the backseat. A tornado touched down during a tropical storm and took out one of my new construction listings that Jake was working on. And the ice cream shop is almost always out of the snickers blend. Needless to say, we’re used to crazy shit happening. But despite all of that, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Ever. And I owe a lot of that to my very sexy and strong fiancé.
Jake wraps his arms around me and gives me a slow passionate kiss. I love the way he smells when he’s freshly showered with a splash of aftershave. I can’t wait to get him all dirty again later.
“Ugh, get a room,” Sloan gripes.
“This is our room,” Jake says, his lips still attached to mine, and I giggle.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll meet you guys there.” She shuts the bedroom door behind her as Jake slowly lowers my zipper.
Usually that scratching noise fills me with anticipation. But this time we’re gonna have to wait. “Babe, we have to go get married.”
“I know, but can’t we do this first.” He sprinkles kisses on my neck all the way to my ear where he stops for a little nibble.
Damn, it drives me crazy when he does that.
I push him off, and he looks surprised. He’s not used to me rejecting him anymore. “Jake, it’s one thing to get married at the court house, it’s another to do it with sex hair. I’m not a Vegas bride.”
