Pierce My Heart (Women of Willowbrook Book 1) (33 page)

I dish out hugs to everyone, making sure to introduce Payton and Jake officially since she’d been too enamored with the hunk of man meat and I'd been too worried about her being enamored to give out proper ones at Summit. With school winding down and her early graduation coming up, the girl had been MIA more often than not. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd seen her at a Saturday dinner.

As the women are walking out, Jake’s hand reaches out and grabs Grace’s arm, tugging her back inside and into his arms.

“Love you, Cece, even when you’re a pain in my ass,” he mumbles into her hair and I hear her small giggle as she gives him a squeeze.

When she pulls back I see her gorgeous smile lighting up her face.

“Love you too, Jay. Even when I’m being a pain in your ass because you’re being a pain in mine.”

Jake lets out a chuckle as she walks to the door, giving us both a wave as she leaves.

Once they make it to Evan’s Jeep. Jake shuts the door, flipping the locks as he turns to me. He eyes me for a minute, clearly taking stock.

I just watch him, letting him do his thing while feeling what I'm feeling over the fact that he's making sure I’m okay.

When he decides everything is good he walks to me, drops his arm around my shoulder, and moves me to my bedroom.

“Get your shit, babe. I’ll grab the leashes and get the dogs in the truck. Then, we’re headed to my place,” he mutters into my hair, laying a kiss there before leaving me to do just that.

Cooties

The dogs were in the back freaking out in their doggy way about an adventure and my ass was parked in the front seat, my hand in Jake’s as he drove, while I sung (err, rapped)
Superman
by Eminem, much to Jake’s amusement.

Just as my favorite part comes on Jake flips stations.

“
No,
” I yell.

Yes…
yell
.

“Turn it back, that’s the best part!”

“Babe,” he says, smiling.

“What?” I ask, not really paying attention since I was trying to move his hand to change the station back.

“It would seriously suck, you ruined Eminem for me, Annie.”

My eyes snap up to look at his profile. “What?”

“Can’t listen to you saying all those words without getting hard. It’d suck if every time I listened to Eminem I’d think about you saying those words and get hard.”

“Shut up,” I whisper, fighting a smile while I watch his widen.

He looks at me from the corner of his eye. “Just saying. I wanna get hard for you, not Eminem. Let’s keep it that way.”

I sit back, smiling and roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

Flipping through the stations, Jake settles on one that's playing a blend of rock from the 70’s to now, and I thank the stars that we have the same taste in music.

There was nothing worse than having to sit through a car ride of any length with music that made your ears bleed.

No thank you.

Another ten minutes or so go by, after the ten we've already been in the car, when Jake flips his blinker and makes a right turn.

Into a development.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my neighborhood. I love that I know my neighbors on each side and that we’re friendly enough to chat when we see one another, but Jake is
not
the kind of man who strikes me as a “suburb” guy.

He seems more like a fixer upper, that he can make to his liking. Or some remote cabin in the middle of God’s land that you need a map, a compass, and a month’s worth of food if you ever tried to find it alone, kind of guy.

A few turns later, he hits the garage button on his visor and pulls into the drive of the house sitting on the end of a cul-de-sac.

I know my eyes are bugging out of my head, and I’ll likely catch a bird if I open my mouth any further, but I’m shocked.

His house is
cute!

Like freshly-mowed-lawn, perfect-paint-job-on-the-siding-
and-
shutters, (which pairs perfectly with the color of the door)-flower-boxes-in-the-window, rocking-chair-on-the-porch cute.

It's a light blue color, the door and shutters a pure white—though not blinding. Two stories with lots of windows for natural light and a small porch in front with a bench swing (better for cuddling than rocking chairs anyways).

Being that it's on the end of the cul-de-sac, neither neighbor is close enough that you have to worry about them seeing into your backyard, but they're close enough that you still have the feel of neighbors.

There’s a freaking
white-picket fence
surrounding the front yard, that merges into a “grown-up” version—three feet taller with no gaps between the slats—as it encloses the backyard.

It's a home.

A
family
home.

And something about the fact that Jake is living in one, does weird things to my heart.

I've been staring so long that Jake’s gotten both dogs out of the truck, my bag slung over his shoulder, and opened my door.

I still have my seatbelt on.

“Come on, sweetheart. I need to get the dogs in the back and I wanna show you the place while they’re doing their thing,” Jake says, holding his hand out for me.

Eager to see the inside, I get moving.

Unfortunately, I'm a little
too
eager as I unbuckle my belt, grab my purse from the floor, and throw my legs out. If not for Jake standing right here, I would’ve thrown myself out too.

“Jesus, Anna, slow down before you bust your head. The place isn’t going anywhere,” he says, not even trying to hold back his laughter.

I feel my cheeks heat, but ignore it and demand, “Go put the dogs in the back to do their thing and show me your house, Jay.”

When I see his feet moving towards me instead of away, I look up just in time for him to lay one on me. His strong hands hold my face, soft yet unyielding. The smooth leather of the leashes press against my cheeks as my bag drops to our feet, forgotten, while his tongue tangles with mine over and over. My hands shoot out, grabbing hold of his biceps to keep myself upright while he
claims
my mouth.

There is no other word to describe it.

He's claiming me for himself in front of me—and anyone else that's looking our way.

By the time he pulls back, I'm ready to suggest we skip the tour and head straight for his room. And, from the hardness I feel against my stomach, I doubt he’d object.

Unfortunately, I'm trying to suck in air like it’s going out of style so he speaks first.

“Love when you get shy and bossy, babe. Seriously fucking cute,” he whispers against my mouth.

All the air I’ve just sucked in whooshes right back out as my stomach takes that familiar dip.

He smiles, knowing exactly what his words do to me, before giving me another quick kiss and leading the dogs towards the gate in the fence, pulling a key from his pocket for the lock on the door.

I stand here for a second, first watching his back and then watching his ass the rest of the way. I only snap out of it when he looks over his shoulder at me, a smirk on his face.

Heat floods my cheeks again.

I give him a small smile before ducking my head and moving to close the door on the truck.

I take a look around the cul-de-sac, noting all the people out and about, hoping they’ve been too wrapped up in their own yards to see what’s been happening in Jake’s. But, judging from the smiles, curious looks, and outright glares I see aimed my way, I'm out of luck.

Huffing out a breath, I give them a smile, and my small dorky wave figuring I’ll get a nod or smile back in return. What I'm not expecting is for a family of four to come waltzing over from the house situated to the right of Jake’s.

A man, most likely in his early to mid-thirties with dark hair, tan skin, fit and tall (but not as tall as Jake) with a friendly smile, and a woman (I guess is his wife) who’s almost as tall as him and looks to be just entering her thirties, with hair that’s the color of a sunset—all bronze, red, and blonde, and I’m instantly jealous.

Had I thought for a second I could pull it off, I would’ve probably asked her where she got it done.

She's slim with a figure that hints at curves, but it's hard to tell with the oversized sweater she's wearing. She has a pretty smile, friendly like her husband’s. But it's the tot in her arms whose shy smile has mine widening.

She looks to be about two or three, her hair the same dark color as her dad’s, but her eyes are the same light blue as her mom’s. And running ahead of them is a little boy about seven or eight with the same color hair as his mother, tan skin of his father, and who looks like he isn't about to stop.

Had I not been so concerned with whether or not the boy was going to trip and land face first, or with them coming over, I would’ve felt Jake come up beside me and realized the boy was running to him

I feel Jake’s arm come around my waist just as the boy skids to a stop.

“Jake, you’re back,” the little boy yells, like we’re twenty feet away instead of two.

Jake’s hand comes out and gives the boy’s hair a ruffle as he chuckles. “Yeah, buddy, I’m back.”

“You were gone for, like,
ever
.”

Jake's eyes swing to me, before looking back at the boy. “I was spending my time at Anna’s.”

The boy’s eyes look from Jake to me, and back to him. “Is she your girlfriend?” he asks curiously.

I look at Jake, his eyes already on me as he smiles wide and looks to the boy. “Yeah, Miles, she’s my girlfriend.”

“Gross,” he says with a look that states just how gross he thinks it is.

“Miles,” the woman walking up to us says in warning.

When she reaches us, she shoots me a look of apology.

“What? She’s a girl, and girls have cooties,” he argues.

“Trust me, boy, they don’t. Girls are definitely not gross, so knock that crap off. You treat them nice. That way when you start liking and chasing ‘em around, trying to sneak a kiss every chance you get, they’ll give you one in return,” the man says wading in and giving, what I think, is some sage advice.

Apparently his wife doesn’t agree if the look of annoyance on her face says anything.

“Cheese and crackers, Frank! Don’t give him any ideas. I don’t need any more phone calls from the principal,” she complains.

“Woman, I’m trying to help rectify that situation. Only reason you get calls from the principal is because he thinks girls have cooties,” he explains, turning his head from his wife to look at Jake and I. “Miles thinks the cooties need food. So to feed ‘em, he drops worms in the girl’s hair.”

My eyes go wide and I have to slap a hand over my mouth to keep the laughter bubbling up, inside. Jake turns his head and coughs, covering up his own laughter as he gives me a squeeze. I watch Frank’s eyes and face smile as he looks at me and then at Jake, before turning back to his wife.

She has her eyes pointed to the sky (probably asking for patience) but she looks back at her husband when he turns back to her.

“Okay, so that needs to stop, but you don’t need to give him the idea to kiss the girls. He’s only eight. I’d prefer he was at least sixteen before he started kissing girls.”

Frank lets out a snort and crosses his arms on his chest. “How old was I the first time I kissed you, Ang?”

Her face turns pink but her eyes get soft. “Not the point, Frank.”

“It is the point. He’s a boy now, but he’s growing up. He’s already the tallest boy in his class and the spitting image of me. With your gorgeous hair on his head, he’ll be the one getting chased by the girls,” Frank tells her, but in a way that his rough voice turns soft like velvet.

He’s pointing out that her baby boy is growing up and he’s doing it in a way that’s soft instead of getting in her face and being a jerk about it. It reminds me of the arguments my parents (and aunts and uncles) had over their boys and I felt myself lean into Jake with a smile.

When his words settle into her, she lets out a sigh but this time her face goes soft along with her eyes. And it stays like that until Jake clears his throat.

I give him a slight elbow for ruining their moment, but quickly clear my face of annoyance when Frank and Angie turn to us.

“Sorry about that. Frank and I learned over the years to just let it fly where ever we are. That way we can work through it then and there instead of letting it simmer and get out of hand when it was dealt with later. I’m Angie by the way, and this is obviously Frank,” she says, nodding to her husband. “This is Miles and this is Reagan,” she finishes on a smile with soft touch to Miles’ head and the girl’s cheek, who’s still giving me a shy smile while she hides in her mom’s shoulder.

“Anna. It’s nice to meet you all, and don’t worry about that,” I assure her, waving off the apology. “I think it’s actually a great idea.”

She gives me a smile in return before we all lapse into a kind of awkward silence.

“So, you're Jake’s girlfriend. How long have you two been together?” Angie asks me, but Jake’s the one to answer her.

“Three weeks.”

My face scrunches with confusion.

“Actually, it’s just under two weeks,” I correct, turning my eyes to Jake.

“Nope.”

“What do you mean ‘nope’?”

His other hand comes up and slides along my cheek as he gets closer. “Sweetheart, you’ve been mine since I caught you in my arms. Three weeks.”

My heart stutters, my stomach dips, and I forget how to breathe.

“Jake,” I whisper, that one word filled with everything I’m feeling; so much of it I think I might burst.

He gets even closer, his breath on my ear sending shivers through my body.

“Fuck, Annie. If the kids weren’t around I’d have you up against my truck, my hands full of your luscious ass, and my mouth on yours, letting you know
exactly
how you saying my name like that makes me feel,” he whispers back, his voice full of heat and promise.

His words shoot straight to my core and I have to fight the whimper crawling up my throat.

“Well, I think we’ll leave you two,” Frank interrupts.

When I swing my head around to look at them, I see Angie giving Frank a much harder elbow to the ribs than I’d given Jake earlier.