Текст книги "Some Like It Wild"

Автор книги: M. Leighton

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

TEN: Jake

I’m tired. Not from overexertion like I might’ve been after a forty-eight-hour shift in Baton Rouge. No, this is from boredom. From being static for the better part of two days. It’s no wonder there’s only a dozen guys on the entire fire department force here. There just isn’t enough activity to keep many people busy.

I worked an extra eighteen hours, bringing my total to sixty-six hours straight. I was hoping to at least get some kind of call where I could exercise my response skills, but no such luck. It was just . . . quiet.

Damn.

Since it’s the middle of the night, I figure I’ll get a few hours’ sleep then get up and go for a run. At least working here at the orchard is a little bit stimulating. There’s more to do than eat and play cards and watch television.

I stretch my neck as I pull into the long driveway that leads to the house. I’m missing Baton Rouge and all its excitement and activity, right up until I see the dusk-to-dawn light shining on a familiar blue car parked in front of the garage. The sight pushes Baton Rouge—and every other desire, for the most part—to the very back of my mind.

“What the hell is Laney doing here at this hour?” I ask out loud as I recheck the dashboard clock to make sure I’m not missing something.

Nope. Sure enough, it’s three o’clock in the morning.

I park beside her car and make my way quietly into the house. There are no lights on, no signs of life, which makes me wonder if maybe she had car trouble and had to have someone pick her up and drive her home.

That’s possible. But, even though I can’t imagine why, it’s still also possible that she’s asleep in my house right this minute.

Where I was tired before, now I’m wide awake. And feeling all kinds of stimulated.

Silently, I mount the stairs and stop at the top of the steps to look around and listen. There are no sounds, and nothing seems out of place.

Except for the fact that my bedroom door is closed. My dick twitches behind my zipper as all manner of lewd, hot scenarios involving me and Laney flit through my head. I bite back a groan and take a deep breath before moving on down the hall, in complete stealth, toward my door.

I twist the knob and ease the door open. There, lying in a shaft of moonlight with her platinum hair spread out over my maroon pillowcase, is Laney, fast asleep. The covers are pushed down to her hips, leaving her entire upper body exposed. She’s wearing a form-fitting tank top that hugs her chest so tight I can see the outline of her nipples. They make my mouth water. And from what I can see, the only other thing she’s wearing is a pair of light-colored panties.

I debate the best course of action from this point. The right thing to do would be to shut the door and leave her undisturbed while I go sleep on the couch. But that’s not what I want to do.

As I stand in the doorway staring at Laney, I remember our kiss at the Blue Hole. We have unfinished business. And that business is what has me throwing the “right thing” right out the window, in favor of the thing I want.

Laney.

It only takes me a few seconds to strip down to my boxer briefs. She’s lucky I’ve been bunking with a bunch of guys for the last few days, or else I wouldn’t be wearing any.

As gently as I can, I peel back the covers and slide in beside her. I can feel her body heat radiating toward me under the sheet, warming my legs. My cock throbs with the desire to part her thighs and sink into her like I sank into the mattress—slow and easy.

I fold my hands behind my head, grit my teeth, and close my eyes, counting to twenty-five in an effort to get my body back under control. I hear Laney shift beside me right before I feel her hand sneak across my stomach. She drops one leg over mine and snuggles in. I wait a few seconds before I lower my arm and cup her shoulder with my hand. She sighs, and I relax against her.

But then I feel her stiffen.

I know the instant she comes awake. It’s like her whole body goes on alert, even though she hasn’t moved a muscle. Her hair tickles my chest as she raises her head to look up at me.

“What are you doing?” she asks softly, as though she’s not quite sure she’s awake.

“I’m going to bed. What are you doing?”

“Sleeping.”

“I can see that.”

Her brow furrows like she’s still working all this out. Her blue eyes are heavy and I can see her struggle to push her way through the cobwebs. She’s trying to find her way to wakefulness and reality.

“Are you really here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you should be at work and I could be dreaming.”

“So you dream about me?”

“Yes,” she replies candidly.

“Are they good dreams?”

“Mostly, yes.”

“Mmm, would you like them to be real?”

“Sometimes.”

“What about now?”

Her eyes search mine before they drop to my mouth. That tells me at least part of what she dreams about—kissing me. “Yes,” she whispers.

“Were you dreaming of my lips?” I ask, keeping my voice low so as not to fully wake her. I know what her answer is; I just want to hear her admit it.

Gently, I roll until she’s on her back and I’m hovering over her. I brush my lips over hers, using just enough pressure to tickle her, tease her.

“Yes,” she sighs, her minty breath fanning my face as she relaxes back into the mattress.

“How about my tongue? Were you dreaming about it?” I trace the outline of her lips with the tip of my tongue, dipping inside only long enough to make her want more.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she moans in answer, tilting her face up in open invitation.

“Do you dream about it here?” I ask, flicking her earlobe with my tongue. I descend to her collarbone, easing my fingers under the thin strap of her top. I feel her fingers push into my hair, and I know I’m getting warmer. “Or do you dream about them here?” I pull one side of her top down until her creamy breast and pink nipple are exposed. I draw the pebble into my mouth and feel her fingers clench into a fist, tugging on my hair. “Mmm, you like it there, huh?” As I tease and suck her nipple, I slip my knee between her legs, parting them a little farther. “What about here? Do you dream of my tongue here?” My hand glides down her flat stomach to the damp material between her thighs.

I knew they would be wet.

“Yes,” she breathes heavily.

Moving the cotton to the side, I slide one finger between her slick folds. “I bet you dream of my tongue here, don’t you?” I ask, caressing her wet skin.

Her answer is more of a moan, but it speaks just as clearly as any words. I move down to kiss her bare stomach. “And here,” I whisper as I ease my finger into her. When her muscles squeeze, I can’t hold back a groan. “Oh, shit, you’re so tight!”

She moves her hips against my hand and I can feel her body sucking at my finger, begging me to fill it with something bigger, something harder. But as much as I want to do exactly that, I want her to be fully awake and fully consensual for it. I’ve never had sex with a woman who wasn’t aware of what was happening. And although I can feel how willing her body is, I want her mind to be on board, too.

“Laney, you know this is real, right?” I ask, reluctantly stilling my hand and looking up past her luscious nipple to her passion-filled face. “You’re here with me, in my bed, and I’m getting ready to make you come so hard, you’ll scream my name. Tell me you want me to do that.”

Her eyes are wide and very much awake, but now that I’m giving her an out, I can see the indecision rushing in. I can feel it in the way she’s tensing beneath me.

Why the hell did I do that? Fu—

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, interrupting my thought and confirming my suspicion. “I can’t think straight around you, and certainly not when you’re . . . touching me.”

I hold back a sigh and give her a wry smile. “I kinda figured as much.” Reluctantly removing my finger from inside her, I move back up her body to lean over her. I pull a strand of hair away from her face. “This is gonna happen. You know that, right?”

She says nothing. She doesn’t agree, but she doesn’t disagree either, which tells me she knows it, too.

“Just not tonight,” I say, rolling off her and sitting up to run my fingers through my hair. With my back to her, it gives her time to straighten her clothes without me looking on. It gives me time to focus on not getting harder. And not trying to persuade her. Which I could do.

I know if I pressed her, I could get her to give in. But I won’t. When we do this, I want her body and her mind begging for it. “Tonight, I’m very interested to know how I came home to find you in my bed.”

“Are you complaining?”

I turn around to look at her, to see if she’s kidding. Her expression is unreadable. “Hell no!”

She smiles and draws her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. Even though it’s an innocent gesture, it’s so prim it’s somehow sexy. And it makes me want her all over again.

I stretch out on my side, crossways in front of her, resting my head on my palm. “So, tell me your tale, Goldilocks.”

Laney focuses on her toes as she wiggles them. I don’t say anything else to prompt her. She’ll tell me in her own time. She has to. She’s been sleeping in my bed, for God’s sake.

Finally she speaks. Her voice is quiet. Wounded.

“It won’t make any sense unless I start from the beginning.”

“Okay, then start from the beginning.”

She glances up at me then quickly away, almost like she’s embarrassed. Now I’m more curious than ever to know her deal.

“My whole life, all I’ve ever wanted was to get married and have kids, and find in life what my parents have.” I suppress a groan.

Damn! Why does she have to be that kind of woman?

“I met a guy my freshman year in college. He seemed like the perfect man. He was smart, responsible, ambitious, loving. He had pretty much the same goals as me. And I thought he was trustworthy. Turns out he wasn’t. I found him in bed a couple of months ago. With my best friend.”

“Oh shit! What an asshole!”

Laney nods, still staring at her toes. “I’m sure you know . . . I mean, I doubt it’s any surprise to you that . . .”

When she doesn’t finish, I prompt her. “What? Spit it out? What should I know?”

She struggles with how to phrase whatever she’s getting at. I watch her small, white teeth chew nervously at her bottom lip. It’s distracting as hell. Makes me wish she’d finish her story and then ask me to lick her from head to toe.

Although I doubt that’s likely.

At least not tonight.

Maybe tomorrow night . . . If I can get her to stay . . .

When she still doesn’t speak, I bark, “Damn, woman! Out with it.”

“Look, I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you that people see you as a . . . a . . . kind of a wild guy.”

“Seems like I’ve heard that a time or two, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

She shrugs. “Well, my parents know that I’m working on your family’s estate, and . . .”

“Ahhh, and they don’t like you associating with the likes of me,” I finish for her.

“It’s not really that. I mean, I told them it was just work, but . . .”

“But what?”

“But they don’t believe me, of course. At least not after Sunday.”

“Why? What happened Sunday?”

“Well, you dropped me off at the curb and I had to walk in wearing a hoochie outfit, carrying my church clothes. It doesn’t make a very convincing argument for professionalism.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Those were hoochie clothes?” I nod. “Good to know.”

“To me they are. To my parents, they definitely are!”

“So the parents think I’m corrupting you?”

She shrugs. “I suppose so. They know I’m not that girl.”

“The kind that wears hoochie clothes,” I say, trying to hide my grin.

“Right. And goes to fun parties and indulges in meaningless flirtation.”

“Maybe they don’t know what kind of girl you are. ’Cause Sunday, you sure seemed like you were okay being ‘that girl.’”

“That’s exactly the problem. They know it’s not like me. So . . .”

“They think it’s me.”

“Right.”

“And the preacher disapproves.”

“Very much so.”

“And this is why you’re in my bed? You’re sticking it to the preacher by making it look like I’m sticking it to you?”

She gives me the stink eye, and I grin.

“No one is sticking anything to anybody.”

“That’s a damn shame, too.”

She looks surprised when she giggles, like she wasn’t expecting it. Couldn’t control it.

When her smile dies, she asks, “Are you gonna let me finish?”

“Of course. You have my full attention,” I say, narrowing my eyes on her. She gives me a dubious look then rolls her eyes and continues.

“Anyway, after my parents and I discussed where I was, who I was with, and why, we got into an argument. You see, they don’t know why Shane and I broke up.”

“Shane’s Mr. Perfect?”

Another withering look.

“Anyway, long story short, they didn’t like that we broke up, they didn’t like that I was with you, and they took it upon themselves to fix it. So after I came here and worked on the estate all day Monday, I went home to find that they’d invited Shane for dinner. Without even asking me. They totally ambushed me. Wanted us to talk so they could all tell me how stupid I’m being and how wrong I am to throw what we had away. So I left. And I haven’t been back since.”

“They brought the guy in behind your back?” She nods solemnly. “Damn, that was a pretty shitty thing for them to do.”

“I thought so, too. It’s like they just can’t understand. Or don’t want to. They see what they want to see, no matter how wrong or biased,” she says bitterly.

“Over the years I’ve learned that most people are judgmental as hell. They may think they’re not. And some probably even try not to be. But most are. It’s human nature.”

“I try really hard not to be like that.”

“And I think you do a good job. The fact that you’re here right now shows that you’re not as bad as most. Especially in this town.”

She raises big, sorrowful, blue eyes to mine. “I’m sorry people have been so unfair to you and your sister.”

It’s my turn to shrug. “Nah, don’t be. We’ve earned most of it. I’ve pissed off enough people in this town to get that ‘trouble’ label fair and square.”

“Is that all you did? Piss people off?”

I reach out to glide my fingertips up one of her smooth calves. “There might’ve been a few corrupted daughters and compromised wives in the mix. I can’t remember just now.”

“Compromised wives?” she balks.

“Hey, I was young. And they were . . . needy.”

“Oh my gosh! You really are a bad boy.”

“Don’t wilt on me now. You were so close.”

“Close to what?”

“Coming to the dark side.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were. You can sense how much fun it is to stop worrying about what other people think, to just enjoy life as much as you can. We only have a handful of short, sometimes painful days on this earth. You’ve gotta take your pleasure where you can get it.”

“Is that what you’re offering me? Pleasure?”

I sit up and lean toward Laney. She doesn’t back away, just watches me. I can hear as much as feel that she’s holding her breath. “Isn’t that enough?”

I edge in closer and lick over her bottom lip with my tongue.

“I don’t know,” she says softly.

“It can be. You just have to let it. You just have to realize that you’re better off without love. It makes people weak. It makes people lose their common sense and they end up hurting each other. Listen to you! Love has brought you nothing but pain and suffering. But I can make all that go away. I can take your mind off the hurt. Make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before. You just have to let me.”

“I don’t know if I can just jump right in like this,” she whispers.

“That’s okay. Jumping can be fun, but so can . . . exploring. As long as we’re on the same page, with the same expectations, we can’t go wrong,” I assure her, reaching forward to circle my fingers around her upper arm and tease the curve of her breast with my thumb.

“So where do we go from here?”

As much as I’d like to go straight to banging her head against my headboard, I know that’s not the smart move right now. So, I bite back my frustrated sigh and opt for a long kiss instead. When she feels a little more relaxed, a little more pliant under my hands, I lean back.

“We go to bed,” I declare, biting her chin and giving her thigh a teasing slap. She yelps playfully and I wink at her. “And we see what we can get into tomorrow.”

“So just fun? No pressure, no promises?”

“Just fun. Lots and lots of fun.” I scoot to my place in the bed and lift an arm, waiting for her to curl up against me, which she does. When she snuggles in and I hear her contented sigh, I smile.

And lots and lots of sex.

That’s my last thought as I drift off to sleep.

ELEVEN: Laney

I growl at the skillet and pull it off the heat. The other one is already in the sink, sitting in hot water.

Laney, what were you thinking?

What started out as an attempt at cooking breakfast has morphed into a nightmare. First, I should’ve checked to make sure I could find everything I needed before actually beginning to cook anything. The kitchen looks like a demilitarized zone, and I’m pretty sure the house will smell like burnt bacon forever.

Coughing draws my attention toward the doorway. Jake is standing there in jeans that hang perfectly on his hips, a bemused grin on his face and not a scrap of anything else. His hair is sticking up at weird angles and I’m positive I’ve never seen anything more mouthwatering.

“There are easier and much more pleasant ways to wake me up than trying to smoke me out of the bedroom.”

“You said you’re a fireman. I’m testing your skills. You passed,” I say with a cough, my eyes watering so badly I can hardly see.

Jake walks around the island and props open the back door. Einstein, his giant, white-haired dog that I met last week, is sitting on the back porch, whining.

“Quick! Grab a Milk-Bone from the jar on the counter. You’ve deeply offended Einie’s delicate sense of smell,” Jake says. “You must make amends.”

I can’t help but grin as I grab the treat and head for the door. I step outside, give the dog his bone, and drag in a gulp of fresh air. Jake follows. Puffs of thick gray smoke are wafting out the door.

“Sorry about your bacon.”

“Is that what that is?”

“Part of it. It began as an omelet, toast, and bacon, but it quickly deteriorated when I realized that I had no idea where anything was in your house.”

“Like what? The off switch on the stove?”

“Ha. Ha. No, I mean like spatulas.”

“Spatulas? Likely story.”

“No, really. Everything was coming along just fine until I realized I had no way to flip the omelet.”

“And then . . . chaos!”

“Exactly. Once the eggs started burning as I scrambled around looking for the spatula, they got all my attention for a few minutes. At that point, there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t save the bacon.”

“Okay, first of all, burnt eggs, scrambling around, saving bacon—I can’t be expected to ignore any more clichés, so consider yourself warned. Secondly, why the big, elaborate breakfast?”

I shrug. “I thought it was the least I could do since you weren’t mad that I hijacked your bed for a couple of nights.”

“How could any man in his right mind be mad about that?”

“Because it’s so rude! It’s not like I asked or anything, which I should have. I was just so mad! And then, once I left my parents’ house, I realized I had nowhere else to go. If I’d gone to the Sleep Inn, they’d have found me for sure. I mean, it is the only hotel in town.”

“Well, now you have a place to stay, so you don’t need to worry about it.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t impose on you like that.”

“It’s not an imposition. It’s an opportunity.”

His grin is devilish.

“Dare I ask what kind of opportunity?”

“I don’t know. Do you dare? Are you up for it? Are you really ready to take a walk on the wild side?”

“I . . . I . . . I guess that depends on what all is involved.”

As if sensing my hesitation with where the conversation is going, Jake shifts into a lighter form of attack. Lighter, but no less effective. I can feel him wearing down my defenses with every passing second.

“Well, considering we just survived a nearly fatal breakfast,” he begins.

“I’d hardly call that ‘nearly fatal.’”

He ignores my interruption. “I should probably perform a thorough physical examination,” he continues without missing a beat, stepping closer as he talks. Jake winds his arms around my waist. “Just to make sure there are no burns on your body. Or even red places. You know heat can make the skin feel very . . . sensitive. I’d be sure to treat any . . . sensitive areas right away. Massage them until they feel better. Much, much better.”

My head is swimming—whether from oxygen deprivation or from Jake, I can’t be sure—and a sublime feeling of contentment is threatening to overcome me. I should be leery, but it’s hard to concentrate on much of anything when Jake is gently swaying against me, his lower body rubbing mine.

“As professional and . . . thorough as that sounds, I’m afraid there’s a big mess to clean up now.” Even as I decline his clever offer, a fire is still burning, this one in the lowest part of my stomach. It’s a fire I know will soon need attention. And Jake will be the only one who can do anything about it.

“I’ll let it go for now. But I won’t rest until I’ve at least checked your lips. You know, in case you burned them tasting something.”

I roll my eyes and sigh dramatically. “If you must. I mean, you are a fireman.” He waggles his eyebrows comically as his head descends toward mine.

I’m loving this playful side of him. He really is charming. Which makes him even more dangerous. I didn’t realize just how extensive his allure is.

Or maybe I did.

Maybe that’s why I’ve been trying to keep a safe distance.

His kiss is light and teasing at first, but it quickly turns to more. Within seconds, I find my fingers delving into his hair and my body straining against his, craving closer contact. Craving . . . more.

When he leans back, his smile is gone and we’re both breathless. His pupils dominate the golden irises of his eyes. “Are you sure you won’t let me examine the rest of you? I can make you gasp in ways that have nothing to do with smoke inhalation.”

I laugh nervously. It seems with every word and every kiss, I’m getting closer and closer to saying yes. To jumping.

“Believe it or not, I have no doubt that’s absolutely true.”

“I guarantee you the reality of what I’ll do to you is far better than anything you can imagine.”

My heart is pounding and I’m finding it harder to remember why I shouldn’t be playing with fire this way. “Jake, I—”

“No excuses. No explanations. I know all your reasons and all your hesitations. And you don’t owe me any of them. The only thing I want to hear from those luscious lips of yours is one word. ‘Yes.’ And until you say it, this is what you’ll get,” he says, crushing his lips to mine in a kiss that sears me all the way to my soul. When my insides are like melted butter, he releases me and backs away. “But try not to burn the house down in the meantime.” He grins, turning to walk back into the house.

The smoke has dissipated considerably, but it still smells terrible. “So this is what hell is like,” I murmur as I curl up my nose and look around.

“Does that make me the devil?” Jake asks, looking back at me with one brow raised in challenge.

“The jury’s still out on that one.”

He laughs. “So, since ruining breakfast, you now have two choices for the start of your day. Option number one—which just so happens to be the one I most highly recommend—you let me carry you to the shower where I can give intense attention to making sure every inch of your skin is free of smoky residue. Option number two, we go for a run and then we come back and take a shower, after which I’ll be fixing you breakfast. One that’s not toxic.”

“You cook?” I ask, changing the subject before I impulsively choose option number one, which I’m becoming increasingly interested in.

“I’m a fireman. My chili-making skills are the stuff of legend.”

“Chili for breakfast?”

“Oh, no. I’ll tantalize your taste buds with my culinary delights. You’ll be so smitten with me, we’ll spend the following two hours in bed, where you’ll be worshipping my body as payment for such epicurean awesomeness.”

“Epicurean awesomeness?”

“Yep.”

I narrow my eyes and wrinkle my nose. “Tough choices, but I think I’ll go with option number two point five.”

“I don’t remember offering any such option.”

“Then I’ll just have to surprise you,” I say, prancing away from him as I make my way to the stairs. I have to get some distance from him before I make a big, big mistake. “You’re not the only one with skills.”

That one raven brow arches and a slow smile spreads across Jake’s face. “Decided to take up the gauntlet, did we?”

“Maybe.”

“Not gonna be the good girl after all?”

“Maybe not always.”

“Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

“I think you might be right.”

With that, I mount the steps, feeling a little bit scared, a little bit uncertain, and a little bit giddy. But most of all, I feel free.

* * *

As it turns out, I lack imagination. And courage, evidently. At least I lack the courage to really step out and be the bad girl. To take the risk.

A dozen different ways to end a run with Jake went through my mind, some sexy and some not so much. I ended up chickening out and opting to bring him out for breakfast. Sweat and all.

So, here we are. Sitting at the bar of the one diner in town that serves breakfast all day (and looks like a single-wide trailer).

“So this is point five,” Jake muses, shaking his head and looking around Rita’s.

“Point five?”

“According to you, option ‘two point five’ would be daring. I didn’t think you meant daring in the way of salmonella.”

I give him a dubious look. “You know good and well the food here is great.”

“Yet that’s not the point, is it?”

I look into his discerning amber eyes and I say nothing. He’s right. And he knows it.

“Are you really that afraid of taking a little risk? Or is it just that you’re afraid of taking a little risk with me?”

Before I can answer, a familiar voice sounds behind me, making the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

“So, this is what it’s come to? My daughter comes back home for a visit and I have to casually run into her at the diner just to see her?”

I turn on my stool to see my father standing a few feet behind me, his hands stuffed casually in his pockets, his expression bland. Well, bland to those who didn’t grow up under his roof. For those of us who did, there is a storm brewing just beneath the surface, a storm that comes with an hour-long sermon-slash-lecture attached to it. I’ve only been the recipient of a couple. I was always a good girl and avoided trouble of this kind. But still, I got one every once in a while. Not fun. And even now, several years into being an adult, I still feel the urge to shrink under his disapproval. But, mindful of Jake at my side, I hold my ground.

“Not at all, Daddy. We were just out for some breakfast. You remember Jake Theopolis, right?”

My nerves are jangling. I know how my father feels about Jake. Jake does, too, after last night. I just hope he doesn’t embarrass us all by showing it in front of Jake.

“Sir,” Jake says with a nod, coming to his feet to face Daddy. He extends his hand politely toward him.

At first my father just looks down at Jake’s hand like it’s dirty, but then he smiles and gives it a quick shake.

“So, you’re the one that’s lured my daughter into a life of sin,” he says, as amicably as if he were talking about the weather.

“Daddy!” I exclaim, mortified.

“Not that I know of,” Jake says with an unaffected smile as he resumes his seat next to me. I get the feeling he isn’t nearly as relaxed as he appears, however, when he leans back against the bar facing my father, crossing his arms over his chest. That’s clearly a defensive posture.

“Are you saying that she hasn’t been staying at your house? Because I can’t think for the life of me where else she might’ve gone.”

“I didn’t say that. But I’ve been working at the fire station, so she’s had the place to herself.”

My father nods, but I can tell he’s still not satisfied. He wants blood. Jake’s blood.

“Well, regardless, you can imagine how something like that looks. How it reflects on her fine character.”

“I imagine that those inclined to judge others will find something undesirable in the purest of people.”

“And yet we must keep up good Godly appearances, isn’t that right, Laney?”

He turns his intimidating stare on me, but somehow, in the face of how manipulative he’s been about Shane and how he’s so openly antagonizing Jake, I don’t wither as much as I usually do.

“That’s probably the right thing to do, Daddy, but that doesn’t mean it’s the thing I’m going to do.”

“Laney, I didn’t raise you to—”

“This is not about how you raised me, Daddy. This is about you not being happy with my choices. But, lucky for both of us, you don’t have to be. I’m an adult and I can live my life how I see fit. I can make my own decisions and make my own mistakes. I can decide for myself who’s worthy of being part of my life and who’s not. That’s not your business. And it’s certainly not your role to mend a relationship that I’ve ended. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you’d just stay out of my life right now. I’ve got enough to worry about without staying awake at night wondering if I’ve disappointed you.”

Without meaning to, I’ve come to my feet, like I’m braced and ready for battle, and as much as I hate to cause a scene, I’ve done just that. I can feel every eye in the place focused on me. Evidently my voice rose as I did.

I turn to Jake.

“I’ve lost my appetite. You ready?”

Jake’s expression is curiously blank. “Sure.”

With that, he slides off his stool and holds out his arm for me to precede him. My father’s disdain is palpable. Jake’s apathy is, too.

I start to walk off with Jake, but Daddy grabs my arm before I can leave him and this humiliating conversation behind. “He’ll be through with you once he gets what he wants, Laney. Don’t waste your love on someone like that.”

Before I can respond, Jake does. “She won’t waste her love on me, sir. I’m unlovable. But you should trust her more because I’m sure she’s not.”

With a palm to my lower back, Jake urges me on. I keep my eyes straight ahead as we walk, avoiding all the accusing stares of the town folk. In their eyes, my father can do no wrong. But now I can.