Falling In (8 page)

How in the hell am I going to see Jake in about ten minutes, and somehow pretend like yesterday didn’t happen? Pretend like I didn’t just discover that I am probably using Cole as a way to live out these stupid fantasies I have of Jake. Pretend like Cole can’t see through me.
Mother effing effer!

For a minute, I contemplate letting the kids skip school today, or quite possibly for the rest of the year, but then figure that would be a little overboard and—well, insane. So when the kids are all ready to go, I pull on my big girl panties—despite not wearing any actual panties—and open the door.

I instantly inhale, holding in my breath. My body is growing stiff as I’m met with piercing green eyes and a sexy smile on the other side of my door. The kids squeeze through me to get to Ben. Saying their goodbyes over their shoulders, they link arms and walk toward their bus stop.

I’m yet again glued to the spot. My determination from earlier is already waning, just from looking at him.
Jesus, he’s too damn beautiful
. Curly black hair tucked behind his ears, snug black jeans that sit low on his hips, and a vintage Blondie tee shirt. The sight makes me smile to myself, but it fades quickly. Seriously, no man should ever be allowed to look this damn good.
Shit
.

Don’t. Let. Him. Affect. You.

You made your decision, Evie.

Damn it.

              “Good morning,” Jake says with his hands in his pockets. He’s sporting that sly smile he seems to love almost as much as I do.

              Wait.

             
What?
Damn it, again. I’m still too stunned to talk so I just stare at him, eyes bulging from my head. I think I’m making him uncomfortable, but I don’t care. This was not how it was supposed to go. I was just going to ignore him completely, like I did last week. But now that he’s right in front of me, looking the way he looks, causing my pulse to race and the rest of my body to hum, I know that that precious resolve I pulled on earlier is long gone. Suddenly realizing that no one has spoken in a few minutes, I’m about to tell him something. Jesus, I have no idea what is going to come out of my mouth.

              Thankfully, he saves me from embarrassing myself.

              “
Soooo
, I woke up with an inkling that you were going to stand me up today. And from the look on your face, I believe I was correct. I figured you couldn’t ignore me if I’m right in front of your face, giving you puppy dog eyes.” He proceeds to show me those sad puppy dog eyes, plus a jutted lip.

              I can’t help but laugh. “Well, you were right. I was totally going to avoid you for as long as possible. Quite possibly forever,” I admit with amusement.

              He takes a step closer. All amusement is gone and is quickly replaced by heat and nervousness.
Damn him
.

              “Care to enlighten me as to why?” He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and searches my eyes for the answer. Waiting for the lie or the truth.              

              I sigh and whisper, “I think you know why.”

              With a slight smile, he nods then pushes past me inside my house. I hurriedly shut the door and follow him into the kitchen, where he plops down at the breakfast bar with his hands clasped together. He looks so comfortable in his surroundings.
At least someone is
. I’m still in shock.
How dare he just walk into my house without an invite?
Especially when I basically told him we couldn’t do this. Well, I at least implied it—
I think
. I wander around the counter and face him. That stupid effing sexy smirk is back, which just angers me more. I glare at him with my arms crossed. I’m trying to look tough and pissed off, but I know I am failing because his smirk just gets bigger.
Asshole
.              

              “What do you think you’re doing? This is
my
house, and I’m pretty sure I did not invite you in to sit at my kitchen table. I thought you got it. We can’t do whatever it is we’re doing!” I practically shriek at him. He just looks smug and rolls his eyes.
Seriously?

              “I am sitting here because you owe me breakfast. And I happen to be starving, so if you could be a good little hostess and feed me, I’d very much appreciate it. As for whatever we’re doing? We’re being friendly neighbors. And I could use a friend.”

              The smugness disappears and is replaced by a genuine smile. The corners of my own mouth begrudgingly tilt up in response. And just like that, my anger is gone.
Damn it.

I turn around and grab a bowl from the cupboard, scooping out some Honey-Nut Cheerios from the container on the counter. I open the fridge and pull out the Almond milk, pour some into the bowl, grab a spoon, and hand over the cereal to Jake. A huge smirk of my own takes over my face. Jake looks from the cereal back to me and erupts in laughter. That sound is quickly becoming one of my favorites.

Once he stops, he shakes his head and digs into the cereal. We lock eyes between bites, and that warmth I seem to feel every time he’s near is creeping back in. And I swear he somehow knows it, because his eyes are suddenly on fire and his breathing picks up, as does mine. I turn away and busy myself with some unnecessary cleaning. As I’m rinsing out my tea mug, I feel him behind me. I tense up as he snakes his arm around me and sets his bowl into the sink. He lingers there before whispering into my hair, “What are we doing today?” I shudder, then whip around.

Bad idea.

Stupid, stupid, stupid Evie
. He’s got me caged between his arms, and for a moment, I imagine him lifting me up onto the edge of the sink and having his way with me. But as he closes the distance, I remember myself and slip away before I do something I’ll regret.

I walk out of the kitchen and can finally breathe again. My heart is racing so fast, it’s almost alarming. I take three shaky deep breaths and walk to my little writing nook, aka the living room floor. My laptop is resting on the coffee table. I open the drawer and pull out a printed copy of my third manuscript. Jake strolls in just as I’m checking my email. I look over my computer and meet his gaze, which is on me the entire walk to the recliner that is directly in front of me.

I slide the book across the table and into his awaiting hands. He reads the title and then gives me a panty-dropping smile, complete with those lickable dimples. I melt just a little bit.
Damn him
.

              Pointing to the book, I explain, “That’s what you’re going to do today. I am giving you an advanced copy of my book. But it’s not for shits and giggles—I’m putting you to work. You, my friend and neighbor, are hired as an editor today. I’ll even give you a shout out in my note from the author.” I wiggle my eyebrows in enticement. “Of course, this means we’re probably going to be spending all day together, so if you don’t think you can handle that, tell me now,” I say, while biting my lip. He zones in on my mouth briefly before saying anything.

              With a smirk he replies in a deep sexy drawl, “I can handle anything you’re willing to give to me, friend and neighbor.”

             
Damn
. I don’t think I can speak at the moment. Squirming, I nod and avert my eyes. He chuckles softly as he grabs the book and gets comfortable in the chair.

For the next hour, we sit in comfortable silence. He’s reading, while I am brainstorming ideas for my next book, amid furtive glances over at Jake every two minutes or so.
Again this feels so domesticated and…right
. It leaves me baffled. I don’t understand the feelings he stirs up inside me. I’m scared to explore them, afraid of what I will find out. I’m worried that my life is changing before my very own eyes, and I don’t know how to stop it. I’m not sure I even
want
to stop it. Everything is suddenly becoming so unclear.

I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack. My breathing is becoming erratic, and I didn’t even know I was wringing my hands until I feel his on top of mine. I look up and meet concerned green eyes.              

              “Hey, are you okay? You’re breathing heavily, and your hands are shaking.
You’re
shaking.”

I close my eyes. Feeling his hands on mine is somehow soothing. Comforting. I inhale and exhale a few times, and when I open my eyes, I nod and smile self-consciously. “I’m sorry. Sometimes when I’m stressed I get mini panic attacks. I’ve had them since as long as I can remember.”

He nods understandingly, but then looks curious before asking, “What are you stressing out about?”

I blow out another breath. “Well for one, I have no idea what my next book will be about. I’ve spent years building this world, creating these characters, and managing their effed up relationships. I’m scared and sad to let it go.” It’s not a lie. Just a partial truth.

              “And what else? You said, ‘well, for one.’ What else is stressing you out?”

              He doesn’t need to ask. I can see in his eyes that he knows what’s bothering me, because he feels it, too. He just wants me to say it out loud. To admit it. But I won’t
. I can’t
. I’ve got everything to lose while he’s got nothing holding him back, so I just shake my head. His face drops but he nods and offers a sad smile, respecting my feelings.

After that exchange, we get back to work. Only now, it’s not so comfortable anymore. With a sigh, I get up and walk back into the kitchen. I need a breather and a glass of wine. So I grab a bottle of white, two glasses, and walk back to Jake. He watches me pour and accepts the glass with a polite thank you.

Forty-five minutes and an empty bottle later, the tension from earlier is gone and we’re now laughing hysterically at a mistake I made in the book. I wonder where my mind was when I typed
cunt
instead of
grunt
. That ease we usually have is back, all thanks to being slightly buzzed. Wine really does solve so many problems.

I need to remember to be on guard though.
Friendly, not flirty
. I think that might be my new mantra. When my stomach growls loudly, I giggle with embarrassment and decide to make us some lunch. He brings the book with him to the kitchen, though he doesn’t seem to be doing much reading, since every time I look at him he’s looking right back at me. I shake out the shivers his gaze gives me and proceed to make a grilled chicken salad with avocado, mango, raspberry vinaigrette, and French bread.

We take our plates outside, wanting to enjoy the sun after being in that living room for a few hours.  He’s reading while he eats, his attention firmly on the book, and I happily take the opportunity to stare at him. He’s beyond sexy when he’s concentrating. His brows are slightly furrowed and he subtly mouths the words he’s reading between bites of his food. The action makes me zone onto those lips a little too long. I move up to his eyes, immersed into another world as the green shines against the sunlight.
He truly is visual perfection.

Trying to distract myself, I reach for a piece of bread that sits between us. But of course he does the same, our hands colliding in the process. We both jolt, eyes clashing and searing into each other, but no one makes a move to withdraw an offending hand. When he starts drawing lazy circles with his thumb across the top of mine, I close my eyes, and a small whimper escapes my mouth.
Shit, did he hear that?
I slowly open my eyes and am met with pure hunger. I clamp my legs shut at the force of his stare.

Yep, he heard it.

The sexual tension surrounding us is so thick I can almost taste it, feel it. I yank back my hand and practically jump out of my seat. Taking a step back, I attempt to control my breathing, which is proving to be difficult since those damn eyes of his won’t give me any reprieve.
This was a bad idea—I knew it
. Temptation. Jake is the epitome of temptation. And right now, I want to give in so badly it hurts. 

              “Evangeline,” he breathes out. Standing from the table, he takes a step forward, but is unsure of taking more. The fire in his eyes has been put out, but the emotion that replaces it is damn near devastating. He looks completely torn. I want to go to him. Wrap my arms around him, feel his skin against mine again—do anything to wipe that look off his face, especially with my lips that crave his.

              I walk toward him, stopping right in front of his tall, lean body. He looks down at me with wounded and wanting eyes. I reach up and cup his cheek with the palm of my hand, resting the other above his heart. He leans into my touch. I don’t know what I’m trying to convey to him, but he nods against my hand nonetheless. That connection we have is in full force now. He understands that at the moment, this is all I can give him.
Most likely, all I will ever give him
.

              Although, somewhere deep down, I know I’m only delaying the inevitable. Something is happening between us, and I’m afraid it’s too powerful to stop. Just like yesterday, we stand still together, our breathing synchronized from the contact.

              Neither one of us want to pull away yet, not knowing when the next time we can feel each other will be. Then he turns his head, planting his full lips inside my hand and places a hauntingly slow kiss on my lifeline before turning on his heel and walking back inside.