Текст книги "Some Like It Wild"

Автор книги: M. Leighton

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

NINE: Laney

The only reason I’m letting Jake talk me into any of this is because I need it. As much as I hate to admit it, I know I do.

It’s out of character for me to be going to parties and drinking purple people eaters and jumping off things, but that’s what I want most right now—not to be the same old Laney. I don’t want to be the boring, predictable, good girl anymore. That got me nothing but heartache. At least I know I don’t have to worry about that with Jake. Trust isn’t really an option. I know who and what he is. He makes no bones about it. And I have no more intention of getting deeply involved with him than he does with me. That’s part of what makes this so perfect. It’s fleeting. And dangerous. Two things I’ve never before craved or pursued in my life. And two things I know I could never settle for in the end.

But there’s no reason I can’t lose the old me in this person for a while. Just a little while. If only I could learn to embrace her . . .

Hannah’s chattering stops, making me realize that I have been lost in thought and completely ignoring whatever it is she’s been talking about. “Is that okay?” she asks.

I have no clue what she’s referring to. “Sure.”

She gives me a bright smile and hits the keyless entry for a bright purple two-door car. “Great.”

She opens the door and disappears inside for a few seconds before reemerging with a couple of scraps of clothing. I look at her in question and she smiles again. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

With that, she turns her back to me, crosses her arms over her chest, and assumes the stance of a sentry, leaving me to climb into the passenger side of her car and change clothes.

After some creative maneuvering, I’m sitting in Hannah’s front seat, staring down at my bare stomach and a whole lot of bare leg. When Hannah said “shorts,” I made the very erroneous assumption that she meant real shorts, not these teeny tiny cut-off denim . . . things. And the T-shirt that goes with them? A scrap of cotton that might fit a doll.

Might.

I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I’m easy, breezy, and fun girl right now, not uptight Laney. I spy my glass of grape drink sitting in the cup holder. Impulsively, I drain the entire cup.

Liquid courage.

A burp bubbles up and surprises me. With a gasp, I clamp my hand over my mouth, hoping Hannah didn’t hear. I look out the window at her, but she hasn’t budged. I imagine that, if she’d heard, she’d be the type to mention it. So, figuring my embarrassing gastric mishap is still a secret, I grab my clothes, open the door, and exit.

Hannah turns around to size me up. Her eyes round. “Damn, look what you’ve been hiding under those clothes, Laney! You look hot!”

I feel my cheeks sting and resist the urge to cover myself with the skirt and blouse I’m holding.

“Thank you.”

Hannah reaches for my hand, taking the empty cup from my fingers, crumpling it up and tossing it into the bed of a truck as we pass. “Come on. Let’s drop your clothes off and then go show you off.”

After telling her which vehicle I arrived in, Hannah puts my clothes in Jake’s Jeep and then we make our way back to the party. We stop by the cooler for Hannah to refill her drink.

“You want another one?”

I know I should say no, but I’m feeling lighter by the minute. Happier. More carefree. Like my smile just might be permanent. And the drink really is good . . .

It takes me all of three seconds to consent.

“Sure.”

After she hands me a cup as well, we head toward the beach.

The sun is glistening on the water and laughter can be heard from every direction, even over the music the guys from Saltwater Creek are playing. The smell of grilled hot dogs hangs in the air, and my head is as light and fluffy as the few clouds overhead.

Feeling bold and brazen for some reason, I stop and scan the crowd until I see Jake. He’s talking to a couple of guys that look vaguely familiar. They’re both laughing at something. That’s the only attention I pay them before turning my gaze back to Jake. He’s the one I’m most interested in. And getting more so by the second.

Jake changed his clothes, too. He’s wearing black swim trunks. And nothing else. I scan him from head to toe. I notice two things. Number one, he makes my stomach quiver. Number two, his smooth chest and rippling abs seem to be begging for me to touch them. Then maybe kiss them.

As if sensing my eyes on him, Jake looks up from his place near the water and his gaze collides with mine. His mouth drops open a fraction as his eyes cruise every inch of my exposed skin. I tingle everywhere they touch—my throat, my stomach, my legs.

The song the band is playing brings a smile to my lips. It’s an old Warrant song called “Cherry Pie.” It makes me feel sexy and wanted and . . . daring as I step off the grass and into the sand to make my way to Jake.

The cool grains tickle my toes as I walk and a pleasant warmth suffuses my entire body. I’m not sure if it’s from the drink or from Jake, but, at the moment, I couldn’t care less.

He backs away from the other guys as I approach. I stop in front of him, pleased to see the heated glow in his eyes. “You’re gonna make me regret your change of clothes, aren’t you?”

“Why would you regret it?”

Jake takes a step forward, bringing his body to within an inch of mine. “Because I promised I wouldn’t be kissing you again until you asked me to. And this,” he says, reaching down to drag the backs of his fingers over the skin of my bare stomach, “isn’t going to make it easy.”

I’m trapped in the caramel pools of his eyes, in the low rumble of his voice, in the delicious web of this unfamiliar desire. The part of me that would normally resist him is curiously absent, leaving only the part of me that is fascinated by him and what he makes me feel.

I sway toward him. “Maybe I don’t want it to be easy.”

One inky black brow shoots up. “Are you teasing me, beautiful?”

“Maybe.”

“Have you ever heard that expression about messing with the bull?”

“Are you threatening me with your . . . horns?” I ask, knowing full well that I’m playing with fire, yet not quite able to care. I just feel the heat. And I want it.

I want him.

“Baby, I don’t make threats. I make promises.”

For a second, I forget that we are in the middle of a crowd, that we aren’t alone and that I shouldn’t be tempting fate this way. For a second, I just want him to kiss me. And touch me. And make me forget everything in the world and in my life except him. And I know Jake is just the kind of guy that could do that.

An unwelcome voice interrupts the moment. It’s Hannah. “There’s no excuse for you to still be dry, Laney,” she says. I don’t even glance her way, hoping that if I ignore her, she’ll go away. Only she doesn’t. “Come on, you two. Let’s go give that tire swing a whirl.”

One corner of Jake’s mouth curves up into a wry grin. “Didn’t you say you were here with a friend? What was her name, Lisa? Where’s she at?” he asks without taking his eyes off mine.

“Oh, she’s off flirting with some guy she met.”

While I am a bit irritated by the interruption, Hannah has been very nice to me, and I feel bad for her that her friend abandoned her so easily.

Swallowing my sigh, I turn to her and smile. “Lead the way.”

“Yay!” she exclaims, clapping her hands as she bounces, setting her generous boobs ajiggle. She flips her red hair and turns toward the huge rock where several people are waiting for their turn on the swing.

Jake and I follow, stopping behind her in line. I feel his warm palm slide around the curve of my waist to settle at my hip. It’s an intimate gesture, and I feel the heat of his hand all the way to my core, making me wish again that we were alone.

I don’t turn to look back at him. I don’t want him to see my smile.

I sip my drink until it’s my turn to climb up on the rock, then I hand it to Jake. “Here. Hold this.”

Jake takes it in one hand, glancing down at it before he winds the fingers of his other around my upper arm. He stops me from moving forward to take my turn. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay to do this? I get the feeling you’re not used to drinking, and this stuff isn’t exactly a wine cooler.”

His comment stirs up the resentment that I’ve been battling since things with Shane took a turn for the worse. I pull my arm free. “I’m fine. I’m not the goody-two-shoes you think I am.”

He quirks one brow, but says nothing as I turn and climb onto the rock.

The first level isn’t too bad, but the thing is, you have to climb up onto another, higher part of the rock to get to the tire and swing out over the water. When I reach the top and a guy pushes the rope tied to the tire into my hands, I look down. It seems that I’m at least a mile above the surface of the water.

“Uhhh . . .” The guy looks at me, raises his eyebrows and tips his head toward the water. “Umm, I’m not sure I want to do this,” I tell him.

“Aw, come on. It’s fun. You’ll be fine.”

I start to back away. “I don’t think I should.”

“Can you swim?” he asks.

“Of course I can swim.” I feel like saying Duh! Why would I be up here if I couldn’t swim? But I don’t.

“Then you’ll be fine. Just put your foot up here and I’ll swing you out.”

I pause, teetering between sucking it up and doing it to save face, or braving the humiliation of climbing back down.

A familiar voice interrupts my musing. “Want me to go down with you?” Jake rumbles at my ear.

I feel a sigh of relief swell in my chest before I ask, “Can we do that?”

Jake reaches around me to take the rope from my fingers. For just a second, nearly every surface of his front is pressed to my back. He pauses before he straightens, as if he’s giving me time to enjoy the feeling of being enveloped by him, of being touched all over by him.

“We can do anything we want,” he answers softly, his breath tickling my neck.

And just like that, we’re talking of much more than just the swing.

I turn around to face him. He’s so close I can count the dark stubble that dusts his cheeks.

“So how do we do this?”

Without taking his eyes off mine, Jake winds his arm around my waist, pulls me in tight against him, then lifts me off the ground. “Just hold on to me. I’ve got you.”

I don’t know if it’s just in my head or if Jake means to make that sound like more than the obvious. Either way, my brain, spinning with drink and fear and anticipation, interprets his words differently. In some ways, I think Jake does have me. My attention, my attraction, my curiosity, my desire—but what comes next? Some part of me anxiously awaits the answer to that question. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to let go of the old Laney long enough to enjoy what I find.

My arms slip easily around his neck and my legs intertwine with his, leaving no space between us. We fit together perfectly, like our bodies were designed with the other in mind.

“Ready?” he asks as he watches me intently. Again, in my mind, it seems he’s asking me about so much more.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With a grin, he pulls back on the rope, steps up onto the bottom of the tire and pushes off. We swing way up into the air, enough for my stomach to drop, before Jake lets go.

Then we’re flying.

And I’m falling.

Down, down, down we go, and I hear Jake’s whoop just before cool water engulfs us. I can still feel the heat of his body and, even as our momentum slows and I begin to swim upward, Jake never loosens his hold.

We break the surface at the same time. Jake’s laughing as he shakes his head, sending droplets of water in every direction. When his eyes meet mine, they’re sparkling.

“Well?” he asks.

“That was awesome.” My heart is still hammering, although I’m not sure if it’s from the swing or from Jake’s legs tangling with mine. “Thank you for doing it with me.”

His smile turns wicked. “There are many, many things I’d like to do with you. I hope this was just the beginning.”

“There are?”

“Oh, I think you know there are.” I smile into his eyes as his arm tightens around my waist and he drags me slowly toward shallower water. He stops when his feet hit solid ground. Mine are still dangling freely. My head spins with purple drink. My stomach flutters with anticipation. My heart races with excitement. “Tell me to kiss you,” he commands in his gravelly voice.

Uptight Laney would pause to consider. And then politely decline. But today . . . right now . . . she’s not here.

I don’t give it a second thought. I want him to do it; I want him to kiss me. “Kiss me,” I whisper.

His lips twitch with satisfaction just before he lowers his head to mine.

The touch of Jake’s lips is familiar, yes. His lips are firm yet yielding, and, even after eating, he still tastes vaguely of cinnamon. But in all other ways, this kiss is different. There’s promise in it, the promise that this is where the ride starts, that this is where I have to take a deep breath and really jump into the unknown.

His mouth teases mine until it opens and he can slide his tongue inside. As it tangles with mine, stroking it, licking it, his hands skate down my back. He angles his head and deepens the kiss. I’m caught up in sensation as his palms cover my butt and then slide down the backs of my thighs to pull my legs around his waist.

With the intimate contact and no one to jerk on the reins, heat explodes between us. An urgency flourishes between us, making lips hungry and hands desperate. Suddenly, none of this feels too soon or too rushed or too dangerous. It feels just right.

Out of breath, Jake drags his mouth away from mine, trailing it to my ear, where he nips at the lobe. “I was thinking earlier about rubbing my hand over your wet panties, about what it would feel like to put my fingers inside you.” He groans. Chills shoot down my back and my nipples tingle into tight points that beg for the brush of his chest against them. “You know I’m going to do that, right? Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But it will happen. You’ll be mine, Laney. Before all is said and done, you will be mine.”

With his words ringing in my head, he crushes his lips against mine again, threading the fingers of one hand into my wet hair as his other hand presses my hips against his.

It’s not until I hear a delighted squeal that I remember we aren’t alone.

Reluctantly, I pull my mouth away from his. My thoughts are foggy. I can’t think right with him touching me, kissing me, talking to me this way.

Dazedly, I look around, prepared to be mortified. But no one is paying us any attention. Jake had enough sense to pull us to the bend at the edge of the cove, practically hidden from the view of the others.

“Don’t worry. They can’t see.”

“I know, but still . . .”

I lean away. The spell is broken. This conversation, this moment deserves privacy. Of course, privacy could mean that we’d get carried away. And I’m not sure yet just how far it’s safe for me to let Jake carry me. I’d thought there was no danger of me getting attached to him, but as I look at his handsome face and think of the great care and consideration he’s shown me today, I worry that Mr. Wrong might start to feel like Mr. Right.

* * *

My shorts are finally dry. Well, Hannah’s shorts are finally dry, I should say. After Jake and I got out of the water, we sat on a log in the sun to let our clothes dry. It took just long enough that my head finally began to clear.

And indecision set in.

Am I really capable of engaging in even the most casual of relationships and banter with a guy like Jake? Earlier, I definitely thought so, but now . . . It seems that no matter how badly I get hurt or how much fun there is to be had on the “other side,” I’m still the same girl at heart. Some like it wild, but not me. At least not forever. I still want the same things. A man to love me more than anything. A man to put me and our family first. A man to build a life with. And I’m not crazy enough to think that Jake is that guy.

I might be crazy enough to wish he was, though.

I notice the low position of the sun and start to feel guilty about running off the way I did, without so much as a word to my parents. Yes, I’m an adult, but it was a really inconsiderate thing to do.

“I think I should probably head home,” I say to Jake when the music dies down again. Saltwater Creek has played intermittently since we arrived, and they’re actually quite good. I don’t really want to leave yet. The thought of curling up next to Jake, after dark, in front of the fire I can see them building on the beach area, is extremely tempting. But . . .

Jake is agreeable about leaving. He doesn’t seem to have any preference for staying or going.

He’s quiet on the drive home, but I don’t think that really says much. I get the feeling he’s not one for small talk.

It’s fully dark by the time we reach town. “You know, you could just drop me at my parents’ house if you wouldn’t mind. I can get one of them to take me to my car in the morning. It’s getting late.”

Jake shrugs. “Okay.”

“It’s not far from here.”

“I know where you live.”

“You do?”

“Everyone knows where the preacher lives.”

He falls silent again. He guides the Jeep competently through the turns that lead to my street. I study him surreptitiously from beneath my lashes. The sharp angle of his cheekbones and the sculpted edge of his lips are highlighted by the soft glow of the dashboard light. He doesn’t seem mad or upset, or inconvenienced. He just seems like . . . Jake.

Handsome, charming, sexy Jake.

Jake who sets my blood on fire. Jake who I can’t get out of my head.

“Home sweet home,” he says lightly as he parks at the curb in front of the house I grew up in.

I grab my rumpled clothes and purse from the floorboard and reach for the door handle. “Thanks, Jake. I had a good time.”

“My pleasure,” he replies.

He seems . . . off somehow, but I can’t put my finger on it. I want to ask, but there are a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t, why I shouldn’t even care.

“Well, good night.”

“Good night.” I start to climb down, but Jake’s voice stops me. “Oh, wait.” My heart speeds up in anticipation. Jake cuts off the engine and pulls the keys from the ignition. He works one free and hands it to me. “Here. I won’t be there for a few days. It’s a round-the-clock shift at the fire station. Let yourself in, make yourself at home. Call my cell if you have any questions about anything.”

I take the key from his fingers. “How will you get back in tonight?”

He waves me off. “I didn’t lock the door. Besides, we have a spare key hidden in one of the barns.”

I nod and give him a small smile, feeling bereft that the night is ending like this. So cool. So casual. So disappointing in the face of what happened earlier.

You’ve got no one to blame but yourself. Besides, you should be pleased. Jake Theopolis is a complication you don’t need.

“Sweet dreams, Laney,” Jake says as I’m shutting the door. I look back, but he’s already pulling away.

But I could’ve sworn I saw him grinning, and that elevates my mood considerably. That seems a little more in character for him. Enough to bring a delighted smile to my face.

I’m still grinning in pleasure as I walk through the unlocked front door of my parents’ house. When I shut it behind me and hear nothing but unnatural quiet and the tick of the mantle clock in the living room, my guard goes up immediately.

There’s trouble brewing.

Quietly, I creep toward the steps. I feel like a teenager again, trying to avoid a confrontation that will end in a lecture and then me being grounded for all eternity.

Only I’m not a teenager. And I’m beginning to resent that I still feel that way when I come home.

“Laney, can you come here?”

My father. And I recognize that tone.

My stomach drops.

Curling my clothes into a tighter ball, I straighten my spine and walk to the living room. I smile casually when I stop just inside the doorway. “What’s up?”

Both my parents look like I’ve just slapped them across the face. And they’re both staring at my wad of clothes.

“Laney, what on earth?” Mom asks, holding a hand to her throat like I just announced I’m pregnant or joining a cult.

“Where have you been, young lady?” Daddy asks.

“Out.”

I know such a short answer will only incur more questions and more wrath, but I’m still feeling a bit defiant from the taste of freedom I’ve enjoyed all day.

“Out where? And with whom? And whose clothes are those? Because I know they’re not yours.”

“And just how do you know that, Daddy?”

“Because my daughter would never dress like that!” he booms.

“And what’s wrong with this? I’m not showing anything inappropriate. And, for what I was doing, this was actually quite concealing.”

Mom gasps.

“And just what were you doing?”

“Swimming. Is that a problem?”

“Where?”

“A place called the Blue Hole.”

My father’s face turns red. “You know you’re forbidden to go to places like that.”

“Yes, Daddy. I know I was forbidden to go to places like that. But that was before I went to college, became an adult, and got a job out in the real world.”

“Just because you’re a few years older doesn’t make places like that any more appropriate. Or the people that frequent them.” I say nothing. There’s no arguing with him when he’s like this. “Who were you with? Who took you to that hellhole?”

I grit my teeth. This will just be icing on the cake. “Jake Theopolis.”

“Laney, I’ve told you—”

I interrupt my father’s blustering. “I know, I know. You don’t think he’s good company. You don’t think he’s the right kind of friend to have. You don’t approve. Well, you know what, Daddy? I like him. He’s kind and he helped me when I needed it today. And I think you’ve misjudged him.”

“And just what would Shane think about you spending time with someone like that?”

He thinks that’s what will cinch up his argument. A veiled threat to tattle on me to my fiancé.

Ha! He’s my ex-fiancé!

“I don’t care, Daddy. And it doesn’t matter. How many times do I have to tell you that we broke up?”

“Well, until you give me a good reason, I’m not giving up on the two of you. Shane’s a good man. The right kind of man. Good for you. You need to hang on to him. And cavorting about with a person like Jake Theopolis could ruin what you have with him. And I won’t stand for that. Someone has to look out for you, do what’s best for you.”

“Maybe so, Daddy. But you’re not it. From now on, I’m the only one that’s looking out for me. And if I ever find someone I feel like handing the reins over to, I’ll be sure to let you know. But until then, back off!”

With that, I whirl away from my stunned parents and storm up the stairs and to my room, slamming the door behind me.

If they want a teenager back in the house, I’ll give them one!

* * *

Between that devilish drink I had at the Blue Hole, the drama with my parents, and the miniscule amount of sleep I was able to get after it, I’m tired and cranky by the time I drive back home from Jake’s Monday.

As I pull up in front of the house, I wonder absently why Mom’s car is parked on the street at the curb rather than in the garage. When nothing comes to mind right away, I shrug it off and grab my stuff from the passenger seat to head inside.

Something wonderful teases my nose when I open the door. I inhale deeply, feeling better already. “I’ll be back down after I change clothes, Mom!” I call, aiming my voice toward the kitchen as I head for the stairs.

In my room, I dig through my still-packed suitcase and pull out some yoga pants and a T-shirt with a rip at the neck. I’m hoping my most comfortable clothes will bring me good luck. Maybe my parents can just leave last night where it belongs—in the past.

Maybe.

I hope.

I jog back down the steps and make the right that will take me through the dining room and into the kitchen. I see the table is set. Quite formally, actually. I think back for a second to any plans Mom might’ve told me about, but I come up with nothing.

Again.

I stop dead in my tracks after one step into the kitchen. My mouth drops open and all thought flies out of my head when I see what’s waiting for me.

Or, rather, who.

Sitting at the island, still dressed in his work clothes, is Shane. My ex fiancé. The man I have no desire to see or speak to ever again.

At first, I’m just confused. I look to Mom then to Dad, asking, “What’s he doing here?”

Shane stands and walks to me, reaching out to put his hands on my shoulders. I flinch at his touch, backing away from him. “Laney, we need to talk. And your father thought this might be a good time for us to do that.”

His voice is well-modulated, purposely made to sound reasonable and confident. But all I hear is the voice of a liar. Of the man who broke my heart and betrayed me. With my best friend.

I’m flooded with disbelief. This can’t be right. My parents would never, never be so manipulative and inconsiderate.

I lean to look around Shane’s shoulder, expecting to see some sign of outrage at his lies. Or at the very least something to show me that he was gravely mistaken.

But that’s not what I see at all.

I see the support of my parents. But not for me. For my ex fiancé.

It’s an ambush.

“You did this?” I whisper, addressing my father. My throat is closed around a knot so large it feels like a fist. “Please tell me he’s wrong. Please tell me this is just a misunderstanding.”

My mother has the good grace to bow her head. This obviously wasn’t her idea.

My eyes slide back to my father, standing tall and proud and unapologetic behind the island. Behind Shane.

“How could you?” I can barely squeeze out the words, but I know they are easily intelligible in the absolute quiet of the room.

“I can’t let you make a mistake with that Theopolis boy that you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”

With an ache in my chest that feels like a raw and bleeding cavern, I turn away from my father. “The only two mistakes I’ve made, Daddy, are trusting Shane and coming back here.”

Without a backward glance, I retrace my footsteps back up the steps, throw my few toiletries back into my suitcase, grab my purse, and go right back out to my car.

As I’m pulling away from the curb, away from the home and the people that seem barely recognizable to me right now, I have no idea where I’m going. I just know I can’t stay here.