The doorbell rang.
He ran to it. Then stopped and took a few deep breaths. Yup, definitely turning into a woman. He was acting like this was a first date or something! It was Char! Char! He had to repeat her name several times out loud before he was able to finally pull the door open.
Her smile lit up his dark mood and suddenly he remembered all over again why he stayed away from girls like her.
They were trouble.
They promised you pleasure and in the end wanted commitment, something any guy would run from—especially a guy like him. He didn’t deserve anything like it—he wasn’t that much of an ass to not know that a girl like Char, well, she deserved one of the good ones.
Not him. Definitely, not him.
Her eyes lit up when he smiled.
Shit. He was going to have to stop flirting with her. She was going to get the wrong idea, and he was going to lose his mind if he had to partner up with her for the entire wedding week, wondering if she was just waiting for the right time to pull a knife on him.
“Come in.” He opened the door wider and fought hard not to stare at her backside as she walked past him and her heels clicked against the marble floors. Clearly she’d been at work. She was wearing a tight pencil skirt, white blouse, and red heels.
Poor choice.
Because now he was thinking about Grandma and her stupid airport story and…
“Jake?” Char’s soft voice brought him back to the present. “Did you hear anything I just said?”
“No.” He laughed awkwardly. “I was, um, just admiring your shoes.”
“My shoes?” Her eyebrows arched in amusement. “You have a thing for heels?”
“On you?” He nodded. “I think I just might.”
Shit, there he went again. What was wrong with him? It was like second nature with Char, as if he couldn’t help but be drawn to her. His body involuntarily moved toward her. Was it her eyes? Her hair? A little voice, one he hadn’t listened to in a long time, told him no. It wasn’t physical; it was something completely different, something foreign. Something he really didn’t want to think about or dwell on too much, because then he’d have to admit to actually having a heart, which only meant one thing… Eventually it would break, only this time he wouldn’t have anything to fall back on, just air and nothingness.
He swallowed and looked away. “So, lunch?”
She took his arm and looked around the house. “Sounds good.” Her eyes narrowed.
“What?” He stopped in his tracks. “What’s wrong?”
“A girl forgets.” She chuckled slightly.
“Forgets?”
“How totally and ridiculously rich you are.”
Jake snorted. “Jobless at the moment, but thanks.”
“Oh please.” Char pulled her arm away and walked ahead of him as she stepped into the giant kitchen. “All of this? This is what people dream of living in their entire lives. I mean, I would kill for your kitchen. You have two ovens! My one oven barely works.”
Amused, Jake leaned against the counter. “You like to cook?”
“I love it.” She sighed. “I don’t have as much time as I used to, and my kitchen kind of sucks, just like you…” She smiled sweetly. “If I had a place like this I wouldn’t be feeling sorry for myself like you are.”
“Gee, thanks.” He mumbled, feeling scolded. “And I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”
“Yeah, you kind of are.” Char drummed her fingers against the granite counter top. “So, where’s lunch?”
“In the fridge.”
Char walked over and opened the fridge. “You have more food than most small countries.”
“Grandma likes her food.” Jake shrugged. “I’ll grab the croissant sandwiches and veggies. You want to eat outside on the porch so we can sit by the water?”
“Um, sure.” Char looked around the kitchen. “Anything else we need?”
“Grab a bottle of wine from the fridge, too… maybe a white wine? Your choice.” He winked and walked toward the sliding glass door that led to the veranda that overlooked Lake Washington.
Now, all they needed to do was eat, play nice, and get done with Grandma’s damn list and he could be free to move on with life. His plan was still the same. Survive WW3, also known as the invasion of Grandma, and then go back to his lifestyle.
Though, as he took a minute to sit and enjoy the view, he realized it had felt like years since he’d actually relaxed or been sober enough to enjoy it.
Char’s footsteps echoed across the deck. “Here you go.” She handed him a glass of wine and set the bottle on the table. “It’s pretty out here.”
“I guess it is.” He squinted against the sun and shrugged, forgoing the glass of wine and taking a sip of water instead. “Guess I don’t really notice it much.”
Char snorted and shook her head. “So, this list. Let’s get it over with.”
Abrupt subject change, but fine. Jake pulled out a new piece of paper. “Okay, we have to be careful with this one. The last one was lost in a tragic paper shredder accident. I had to steal Grandma’s backup while she was sleeping last night.”
“Wow, you’re a regular 007.”
“The woman sleeps like the dead.”
“So it was easy?”
“She has a gun under her pillow and has never taken a shooting lesson in her life—easy?” Jake shuddered. “Not if you want to keep all your parts.”
“Fair enough.”
Jake cleared his throat. “It looks like we just have to worry about the cake topper and Kacey and Travis’s wedding gift. Grandma says it will be delivered later this afternoon so I guess we’ll just take it on the plane with us?”
“Sure.”
They fell into an awkward silence. Jake wasn’t really sure why things felt so stilted. Like all the fight had been taken out of Char and suddenly she was just ready to do anyone’s bidding and be done.
But that was exactly what he was doing.
Except, he wanted her to want to be with him. He liked her fiery. Shit, he was happier when they were fighting than when she was quiet.
“Rough day?” he asked after a few more awkward moments of silence.
Char shrugged.
“Whoa, I got the shrug.” He poured her another glass of wine. “You want to talk about it?”
Sighing, Char tilted her head and faced him. “Not really.”
“No pressure.” He lifted his hands. “But maybe I can help.”
“Ah, the millionaire’s offering his help. How thoughtful.”
Jake winced. “What the hell is your problem?”
“My problem?” Char repeated. Then in a flurry she stood, nearly knocking over her wine, and threw her napkin on the chair. “My problem is everything is so damn easy for you! It always has been! You have this perfect life, perfect grandmother—and don’t you dare say a word against her. She may be crazy but at least you have a family that cares, not parents who forgot, again, about your birthday.”
Jake froze, a sickening feeling began to stir in his stomach as he watched the sadness wash across Char’s face. He knew that look—he knew it well: loneliness. Feeling like the forgotten one in the family was almost as bad as being the black sheep, the one nobody wanted. So, yeah it was possible their situations were different, but not by much. She was forgotten and he was a joke.
“It’s fine.” Char laughed bitterly. “We barely talk to one another anymore; there’s no way you would have known it was my birthday. I just—I don’t know. Beth had to leave for a work trip this morning and I know she was stressed, too. Maybe I sound like a complete child, but just for once… I wanted someone—other than Kacey—to remember.”
“I’m an ass,” Jake whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“No.” Char pointed at him. “See, that’s not what I want. Pity isn’t the same thing. It sucks. I get pity all the time. ‘Oh look, that’s the poor news reporter that was drunk during the five o’clock news and fell out of her chair!’ ‘Oh look, there’s Char; she’s funny but don’t take her seriously.’ ‘Oh, how sad, Char’s family doesn’t even celebrate Christmas together because they leave her for vacation.’ Or how about this one: I can’t even visit my parents today and give them a piece of my mind because they’re spending the weekend on Alkai Beach.”
Jake licked his lips and watched as Char’s dark hair blew in the wind. Her blouse tightened across her chest as it rose and fell with her exertions. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “Maybe lunch wasn’t such a good idea. I’m just not in the mood to be social, and then I come here and everything is so easy for you, and you have the audacity to feel sad because your grandma’s living with you and forcing you to eat donuts and drink wine. Hell, I’d kill for that.”
Never in his life had Jake ever felt so low. He’d just yelled at Grandma that morning for fixing him eggs. In fact, he’d told her to eat her own damn eggs and leave him the hell alone. Then he’d taken it a step further and actually asked for his job back. And here Char was, alone on her birthday, and apologizing for being bad company. What the hell was wrong with him? He deserved her reprimand and more, though to be honest, nobody had ever reprimanded him other than Grandma.
And that’s when he saw it.
The pull, the reason he was so unable to leave well enough alone—her strength. He craved what he saw in her so much—his subconscious, moral compass, everything about him was so screwed up that he craved her the same way an alcoholic craves whiskey.
Regardless of his feelings, he needed to tread carefully. The last thing he wanted was to get involved with anyone when he knew his own life was on such shaky ground. But he could—no, he would—make it better. He was being given a second chance, to be the hero, to be the good guy, and he was going to take it.
He stood very slowly and walked around the table to where Char was standing. With fluid movements he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug. “Do you know where your parents are staying?”
She cursed into his chest. “I could always text them; that is, if they even answer their phones. Why?”
Jake laughed, though on the inside he was cursing a blue streak for her parents’ selfishness. “Well, I have a plan. We’re going to visit them, right now. Call work.” His heart beat a little faster in his chest, almost like a rush of adrenaline as a plan began to form in his head. Maybe it was pride, not selfish pride, but him actually being proud of a decision he was making on someone else’s behalf.
“But Jake.” Char pulled away. “What are we going to do? Go to their little bed and breakfast and demand they wish me a happy birthday?”
Jake laughed. “You’ll see.”
“Jake, seriously, I’m not in the mood for games and I don’t even know where they are.”
“We may not know, but I think I know a woman who used to work for the CIA.”