Jake Me Read online

  On Jake's heels, I strode down the hall and into the master bedroom. Taking a deep breath, I shut the door behind us. Slowly, he turned around to face me. He crossed his arms and waited.

  I cleared my throat. "The thing is, you told me to leave. Remember?"

  He didn't move, and he didn't speak. His biceps were bulging, and his jaw was set. His breathing, low and ragged, seemed to fill the whole room.

  "Oh come on," I said, "don't look at me like that."

  He made a sound like a laugh.

  I gazed into his dark eyes and saw no trace of humor. "What is it?" I asked.

  "Nothing." He glanced toward the bedroom door. "So, what was the plan?"

  I shook my head. "What plan?"

  He shrugged.

  There was a plan, actually. I was going to stay with my brothers for a week or two, get my life back on track, and then, well, the details were a little fuzzy. But I did know one thing. This wasn't the end. Or at least, it wasn't meant to be.

  Somewhere in my loosely drawn plans, I returned here and dealt with Jake as an equal, not some girl to be protected, whether it was from an ex-boyfriend or some unknown bogeyman.

  "I'm still working on it," I admitted.

  "The way it looks to me," Jake said, "the plan was to duck out without so much as a goodbye."

  "There was a goodbye." I bit my lip. "Sort of."

  He gave me a dubious look. "Right."

  "There was," I insisted. I pointed to his king-sized bed, where a small white envelope rested on the nearest pillow. "I, uh, left a note."

  In the note, I'd explained my reasons for leaving and promised to return once things were more settled – for a talk if nothing else.

  Jake spared the envelope half a glance. He said nothing, and his silence hung thick in the air.

  I gave the envelope another look. In truth, it did look kind of pathetic. But I had my reasons. "You want the truth? I was worried you'd try to stop me."

  "Uh-huh. Because you're my 'prisoner'?" His gaze hardened. "I guess that makes me what? Your jailer?"

  "Oh come on," I said. "I didn't mean it that way."

  "Didn't you?" He glanced toward the bedroom door. "So what are my choices?" He made a sound of disgust. "Let you walk out of here, or kick your brothers' asses?"

  From somewhere just outside the bedroom, Steve's voice rang out. "Bring it on, tough guy!"

  What the hell? I whirled toward the sound. "Hey! You were supposed to wait by the door. Remember?"

  "I am by the door," Steve called back.

  I let out a sigh of frustration. "I meant the front door, asswipe!"

  "Hey! Moonpie!" Steve called through the door. "I wasn't the one who called you, begging for a ride and a place to hide out. So excuse me if we're being careful out here."

  Careful? My brothers? If I weren't so stressed out, I might have laughed. "I wasn't begging," I called back. "Now, go on. Wait by my suitcases, will ya? Please?"

  When he didn't answer, I turned again toward Jake. His body was rigid, and his eyes were flat. At something in his expression, I wanted to run. To him? Or away from him? I still wasn't sure.

  I flicked my gaze to the bedroom door and mumbled, "Sorry about that."

  His voice was quiet. "You were begging?"

  "Oh come on," I said. "You know how my brothers are."

  "No," he said. "I don't."

  I crossed my arms and threw out the best defense I had. "Well, maybe there are things I don't know either."

  "Like?"

  "Like why I'm supposedly in danger and why I supposedly can't go anywhere."

  When he spoke, his voice was clipped. "Supposedly?"

  "Well, what am I supposed to think?"

  "Tell me something," he said. "Why?"

  "Why what?" I asked.

  His jaw clenched. "Why now?"

  The answer was too complicated for words. He was my dream guy. I'd adored him for years. Over the last couple of days, he had made nearly all of my fantasies come true. If I didn't have the strength to leave now, how on Earth would I find the strength to leave in a week or two?

  But that wasn't his problem. It was mine. So I squared my shoulders and said, "Because I don't want to be your responsibility."

  His gaze darkened. "You're a hell of a lot more than that, and you know it."

  "Yeah," I said, "but for how long?"

  He moved forward until our bodies nearly touched. His chest rose and fell with his controlled breathing, and I fought two competing urges – to back away, or to throw myself into his arms. Frozen by indecision, I did neither.

  "For always," he said.

  Chapter 4

  My breath caught, and my palms tingled. I gazed up at him, wondering if the longing in his eyes matched the longing in my own. "Jake—"

  But then, as if wrenched away by some unseen demon, he pulled back and said, "But that doesn't change anything."

  I shook myself out of the trance. "What?"

  "How I feel…" He shook his head. "None of that matters, and I'm not gonna do this."

  "Do what?" I asked.

  He glanced toward the door. "When you take off, leave the book. I'll handle it."

  What the hell? The whiplash of emotions was almost too much. "I don't care about the book," I said. "I care about you." I swallowed. "And us."

  In spite of my jumbled thoughts, I knew exactly which book he meant. A couple of months earlier, I'd swiped a little black book from Rango, my turd of an ex-boyfriend. For a couple of insane weeks, I had used Rango's scribbled passwords to wreak some justified chaos on the guy's social media accounts.

  The short-term satisfaction was so not worth it. In the end, Rango had trashed my furniture, stolen my clothes, and cost me my perfect little apartment – not that I could prove any of it.

  But all of that – all of the inconvenience, all of the anger, all of the frustration – that was nothing. Or at least, it was nothing compared to what I was feeling now.

  I gave Jake a pleading look. "Why won't you talk to me?"

  His mouth tightened. "Your ride's waiting."

  "Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

  "Yeah. Me too," he said. "You got the book?"

  Glaring at him, I pulled Rango's black book from the front pocket of my oversized sweatshirt. I held it out to Jake. "You want it? Fine by me."

  Jake took the thing from my outstretched hand. He shoved it into his back pocket, and said, "See you around."

  "See you around?" I stared at him. "Is that all you have to say?"

  His voice held no trace of warmth. "What do you want me to say?"

  "I don't know," I said. "But you don't have to act so funny about it." I softened my tone. "Come on. We don't have to do this on bad terms, right?"

  "The way I see it," he said, "we don't have to do this at all. But hey, it's your choice, right? You do what you gotta do."

  I gave him a good, long look. His jaw was set, and his muscles were tight. Apparently, this was my cue to leave.

  But I couldn’t. Not yet. Because amidst everything – the tension, the confusion, the awkwardness – a new question was rattling around in my brain. And stupid or not, I was determined to ask it.

  "Jake," I said, "answer me something at least."

  His voice was clipped. "What?"

  "Why is it that I couldn’t go just a few minutes earlier? And now, all of a sudden, you're alright with it?"

  He looked at me like I was insane. "You serious?"

  "Yeah. Of course I’m serious."

  From outside the bedroom door, I heard Anthony say, "Five bucks he doesn't answer."

  Oh for God's sake. I whirled toward the sound and hollered out, "Will you guys shut up! As a matter of fact, go outside! Pull up the car or something. Alright? Jeez!"

  "No way," Anthony called back. "And besides, I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to Steve."

  "Yeah!" Steve called. "Rude much?"

  With a sound of frustration, I grabbed Jake's hand and tugged him toward the mast
er bath. I slammed the door behind us and whirled to face him. "Just answer the question," I said. "Why is it you wouldn't let me leave before, and now it's all fine?"

  He made a sound like a laugh. "Fine? Is that what you think?" He shook his head. "What is it you want from me, Luna?"

  I didn't know what to say. What did I want from him? He was tough as nails, and sweet as a daydream. He made me laugh, and he made me quiver. I loved him, even if I knew I'd be an idiot to say so. The things I wanted from him had nothing to do with what was going on now.

  "I don't know," I admitted, "but not this."

  "What is it?" he said. "If I make you stay, I'm an asshole? And if I let you go, I'm a bigger asshole?"

  My mouth opened, but nothing useful came out.

  Jake glanced toward the closed bathroom door. "You want me to march out there and tell your brothers to get the hell out? You want me to tell them you're staying? Against your will?" He leaned closer, and his voice became eerily quiet. "You want me to stop them when they put up a fight?" He gave me a long, serious look. "You ready for that?"

  Somehow, it felt like all the air had just been sucked out of the room. I felt like crying. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

  I gave him a pleading look. "Oh come on. That's not what I want, and you know it." I swallowed. "I mean, I just figured we could be civilized about it, you know?"

  "Yeah. And I'm working like hell to be 'civilized.' So if you wanna go, go. The other stuff? I'll work it out, like I said. So don't worry about it." He looked at me with dead eyes. "It'll be 'fine.' Just like I said."

  "Jake—"

  "Like I said, your ride's waiting." And with that, he turned and wrenched open the bathroom door, strode through it, and disappeared from my sight.

  I stood in stunned silence, trying to figure out what had just happened. Before I'd even begun to gather my thoughts, I heard the penthouse door open hard and slam shut.

  Somehow, I knew it wasn't my brothers who had just left.

  It was Jake.

  Chapter 5

  "Man, you pissed him off," Steve said from behind the wheel.

  We were in the Moon Construction pickup truck, heading across the city. On the wide bench seat, I was crammed in tight between my two brothers amidst piles of discarded fast food wrappers and crumpled soda cans.

  I buried my face in my hands. "Oh shut up."

  So far, the drive had been mostly silent, on my part anyway. I'd spent the last half-hour sulking while my brothers went back and forth about the reason they were staying in Detroit rather than in our hometown, two hours north.

  It had to do with some big construction project that had them staying in town for at least a few days, maybe longer. Lucky for me – or so I'd thought at the time – this gave me a place to stay until things were settled. Now, after the ugly scene at Jake's penthouse, this whole thing was feeling like one giant mistake.

  Bleary eyed, I looked up, giving Steve a murderous glare. "By the way," I said, "you guys were totally rude. Maybe you were the ones who pissed him off."

  On my other side, Anthony spoke up. "Nah. I’m pretty sure it was you."

  With a sigh, I turned my attention to the road ahead. "Yeah, I know." I rubbed at my eyes. They felt hot and tired, like I'd spent all night crying. I hadn't. But I doubted that I would be so lucky tonight. "It was just wishful thinking, you know?"

  "Wanna know what I’m wishing for?" Steve asked.

  I didn't even look. "What?"

  "A cheeseburger."

  I turned toward him. "Seriously? Is that all you care about?"

  "Hey," he said, "driving makes me hungry."

  "Yeah," I muttered, "because everything makes you hungry." As for me, my stomach was still in knots. None of this was going like I'd planned. Thinking of Jake, I blinked long and hard. "He hates me."

  And could I really blame him? He'd rescued me from a terrible situation with my roommate. He'd given me the best weekend of my life. He'd vowed to protect me no matter what. He had loved me – physically, emotionally, and yeah, even verbally.

  I love you, he had said. And if he'd been telling the truth, I had been the only girl he'd said that to in his whole life.

  And what did I do? I tried to skip out on him the very next day.

  It was official. I was the worst person, ever.

  But what should have I done? Wait around until Jake gave me the proverbial boot? At least this way, we might stand a chance for something more. Or at least, that had been the plan.

  In hindsight, my plan sucked.

  From the front pocket of my sweatshirt, I pulled my cell phone. I stared at the thing. Maybe I should call him. I wanted to. But then what? Would we just end up right back where we started?

  "Nah," Anthony said. "He doesn't hate you."

  "Yeah, right," I said. "I'll probably never see him again."

  On the other side of me, Steve laughed.

  I jerked sideways in the seat to face him. "What's so funny?"

  He grinned. "Ten bucks."

  I shook my head. "What?"

  "Ten bucks says you see him again." He leaned back in the driver's seat. "Twenty bucks says it's today."

  I recalled the look in Jake's eyes just before he walked away. If I did see him again, it wouldn't be any time soon. But cashing in on that sad reality seemed wrong on so many levels. "I don't feel like betting," I said.

  "Why not?" Steve gave me a sideways glance. "You chicken?"

  "No," I said. "I just don't want your money." I sank down in the seat as another depressing reality hit home. "Besides, I don't have any money to bet."

  On my other side, Anthony spoke up. "No shit? But the dude's super-rich. How'd you end up with no cash?"

  I whirled toward him. "Just what do you think was going on between us?"

  "Uh." He glanced away. "Never mind."

  "What'd you think?" I persisted. "That I got paid for 'services rendered'?"

  At the memory of those particular services, I felt just a little more forlorn. Jake, with his hot body and sizzling sexual prowess, had rocked my world in and out of the bedroom. When it came to services rendered, I probably owed him.

  "Jeez," Anthony said, "like I think my sister's a big ho-bag. Get your mind out of the gutter, will ya?"

  I gave him an annoyed look. "Then what were you talking about?"

  "I saw you in that video," Anthony said, "where Jake fought that linebacker dude. You're telling me you didn't get a cut of the action?"

  As I'd learned just a few days earlier, Jake was some sort of internet superstar with twelve million subscribers worldwide and a rabid fan base of frat boys, groupies, and mixed-martial arts fans. By pure chance, I'd appeared in a recent viral video where Jake had mixed it up with some linebacker nicknamed The Chainsaw.

  As for me, I played the part of the panic-stricken girly-girl who had no clue what was really happening.

  "I didn't get paid for that," I told Anthony.

  "Why not?" he asked.

  I cleared my throat. "Well, because I wasn't acting."

  "No shit?" Anthony laughed. "You really had no idea what was going on?"

  "Not really." When it came to Jake, it seemed, I'd been embarrassingly clueless.

  Steve leaned forward to ask Anthony. "How about you? You want the bet?"

  "Yeah, right," Anthony said. "Like I don't see what you see."

  I looked over at Anthony. "What do you mean?" I asked. "See what?"

  Anthony glanced in the side-view mirror. "I see Jake."

  Chapter 6

  Inside the pickup, I did a double-take. "What?"

  "Yeah," Anthony said. "He's been following us since Chatham."

  I twisted in my seat to look out the pickup's rear window. Scanning the city traffic. I saw lots of vehicles, but none I recognized. An embarrassing wave of disappointment coursed through me. "Very funny," I muttered.

  "If you say so," Steve said.

  Unwilling to turn away, I kept looking. Soon, a couple of block
s behind us, a big white van changed lanes. I sucked in a breath. There it was, Jake's car – red, exotic, and beyond expensive. I'd never seen another one like it.

  The last time I'd seen it, the rear end had suffered some major damage. Squinting at the car, I couldn’t see any damage now, at least not from this vantage point. Still, it had to be his.

  I yanked my gaze back to Anthony. "Since Chatham? But that's like a block from Jake's building."

  "Yeah. I know," Anthony said. "Crazy, huh?"

  I whirled back toward Steve. "You knew he was following us the whole time, and you didn't say anything?"

  Steve glanced in the rear-view mirror. "I did say something. The bet. Remember?"

  "Gee thanks," I said, twisting around to look. Jake's car was still there. He was so achingly near that I could hardly contain myself. I turned to Steve. "Pull over."

  "Why?" Steve asked. "If the dude wanted to catch us, he would've already."

  "You don't know that," I said.

  Steve gave me a dismissive look. "The hell I don't. You see his car? That thing does zero to sixty in like two seconds. Besides, we're almost there. Why stop now?"

  "Oh come on!" If I were standing, I might have stomped my foot. "And seriously, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

  "Because, you'd have told me to stop," he said, "and I'm late already."

  "For what?"

  "Lunch."

  "God, you are such an ass," I said.

  "Hey, I'm hungry. So sue me."

  I turned toward Anthony. "And what about you?" I asked. "Why didn't you say something? Wait. Let me guess. You're hungry too?"

  "Well, yeah," Anthony said, "but that's not the reason." He shrugged. "I knew what would happen. That's why."

  "Oh yeah?" I said. "What?"

  Anthony glanced backward toward Jake's car. "You'd tell Steve to pull over. He'd say no. And then you'd spend the whole time yelling at him. Screw that noise."

  "Oh, whatever." I turned back to Steve. "Seriously, stop the truck."

  He held up a hand. "Just a couple more blocks."

  "No!" I yelled. "Now!"

  "See?" Anthony said. "Yelling." He leaned back in his seat. "Sucks to be right."