Uncharted (Unexpected Book 3) (21 page)

Jacob’s taller than I remember. His hair is still long, but darker. Those formerly vibrant blue eyes of his now hold a hard, cold gaze. They are lost. The friendliness and tenderness they radiated all those years ago is absent. I stare deeper inside them, looking for Jace, but he’s not there. My heart cracks a little more for that lost boy.

In his place, there’s a hot stranger. His broad shoulders, sculpted arms, and ravishing body captivate me. There’s a man I don’t know about. Does he watch the stars when the sky is clear? He retired and stopped pursuing his dream of being the most famous rock star. Now he humps interns against his desk, apparently.

As we stare at each other, a couple of emotions flicker from those blues—pain, hope, rage. A lost Jacob shows his face, but it leaves immediately.

He clears his throat. “Ana.” One cold word that comes out of Jacob’s lips.

My heart beats fast, as fast as he can strum his guitar when he’s playing a solo at a concert. I’m such a groupie. Expectantly, I watch him. My glance lands on his full, delineated lips and wait for him to say something.
I’m sorry I didn’t call.

“You remind me of someone.” Jacob tilts his head and scans my entire body, assessing me, or measuring how many words it might take for him to break me and have me crying if he continues using that hurtful tone. “What was her name?” He snaps his fingers and looks around as if he’s recalling a name. “No fucking idea, sure it never mattered.”

He’s upset at
me
? The guy never called and he’s upset with me. I rub my arm as I search for the emergency exit.

“Thank you, AJ.” I have trouble finding the words to express my gratitude. She has done so much for me. I appreciate everything and how much I love her and will miss her. She’s the best friend I’ve ever had—Mae and I are doomed. “For everything. I think this idea of yours is incredible, but it won’t work. I can find you the right person for it, though. Reliable, discreet and all the great things you expect to fix the bad publicity.”
Don’t call me, ever.

Then I bring out my attitude because I have something to say. “Pria. The name was Pria, Jacob. Short for Cypriana. I might’ve changed my nickname, but you…” The rest I want to say doesn’t come out. Ana would never speak that way. “You might want to consider a brand new personality for him, AJ. Rehab might come in handy.”

Pree: The job isn’t going to work.

Mae: What happened?

Pree: Jacob Decker. I’ll be late tonight, want anything from the grocery store?

Mae: Hurray, we’re getting drunk and going into a sugar coma. Bring ice cream cones. Tomorrow is going to be a bitch.

A chuckle escapes me as I pull into the driveway. It was fun to escape from reality and go stargazing for a few hours. An escape from my screwed-up life. One of the hundred thousand ways irony seems to presents itself. Such a ridiculous outlet—watching the stars and wondering if he ever thought about me. Imagining a life where he’d assure me that, no matter how many times life shook my foundation, he’d still be there to support me.

Tonight I took another step toward adulthood and my last trip to Fantasyland. I remind myself that there is no way that a person can fall in love in just three days, which means I never fell in love with him. Well, technically ten. It took me a couple of years to fall for Robbie, and a couple of months to realize the love had died. Grounding myself forever is the only way I’ll handle our situation; Dad and Mae’s health, our expenses, not to mention all of Mom’s medical bills that we still have left.

While climbing out of the car, I glance at the house that needs a coat of paint, a new roof, and so much more. My idea of selling the house and moving into a smaller place disappears right away. I take the grocery bags out of the car and march toward the porch.

“Where have you been?” I look down to where that gruff, husky voice that made me shiver came from. “It’s almost midnight and you’re driving a clunker.”

Jacob’s on the floor, leaning against the wall, looking up to where I stand. Strands of his long hair cover most of the left side of his face. Many say that men are handsome, but this one is beautiful—pretty. He’s changed. I notice now that his arms have scribbles on them, and a leather cuff covering his right wrist.

It dawns on me why I didn’t want to see him; the one thing I was afraid of. That the fantasy would be gone. He’s real, and it’s clear there’s nothing left of the sweet boy I met. Just like the girl he kissed and made love to—she took a hike too long ago to remember. This has woken me from those daydreams, the dreams where those who I know and knew didn’t leave. The ones where he called and a week meant everything to both of us; not only to me.

That’s yesterday. Some stars moved, others died, and most of them remain billions of years away from us—or something like that. Jacob is the one who knows about constellations and stars and can watch them for an entire night while playing music.

Today, today we’re a couple of strangers who coincide for the first time in years. Now is the time for me to be the bigger person and make my way inside the house without behaving like a petulant child. I have to appear strong if I want to be strong. Radiate confidence and power. I lost one job that I wasn’t counting on; not my entire business.

“Goodie, I made it just in time. My carriage is about to become a pumpkin and my engine, a bunch of mice.” Jacob’s jaw sets tight. “I’m glad I kept my own clothes and declined the royal gown, or it too would disappear at the stroke of midnight.”

He pushes himself up, taking the bags from my hold, and scrutinizing my purchases.

“Tequila, vodka, chocolate bars, and ice cream?” He whistles, those blue eyes assessing me. “Some kind of unorthodox way to change my image? Not a good start for that rehab center you’re proposing I should hit.”

I watch him; my lips compress into a tight line, and I wait. There’s a reason he’s here. Not sure what or why.

“My sister and brother-in-law think you can manage to clean the mess we’re in. Not that I care, but my father hates to have his name smeared with shit.” He tilts his head from left to right, places the shopping bags on the floor, and then pulls his hair back, tying it into a quick bun. “Through the years, there have been a lot of ODs linked to our record company and it has to stop. With Pop’s old history, the media is having a fest. Rumor has it that you’re the only tight-ass who can fix it.”

I cross my arms, forcibly repressing the urge to smack him for calling me a tight-ass.

“You talked to Mae.” She’s the only person who swears that my big, tight behind is what makes me a snob. He gives me a quick nod. “Not sure why you’re here, but—”

“To apologize for my poor manners. I behaved like a stupid child.” His eyes stare at me with an indefinable expression. I wait for him to continue, as I have nothing to say to him; my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my sleeves. “Things are crazy, and as much as I love the spotlight, I hate being portrayed as something I’m not. My family is untouchable and they’re touching them—the media.”

“Apology accepted. Goodbye.” I bend to pick up my bags, but he snatches them faster. “I doubt Mae wants to share any of our indulging supplies with you. Go and buy your own.”

He turns around and knocks on the door. Mae opens it, while he takes out the bottle of tequila and a chocolate bar, and then hands the rest to her.

“Enjoy, Maeve. Promise I’ll loosen her ass up.”

Worry imprints crease into my sister’s forehead, her questioning gaze directed at me. I bow my head slightly and give her a side smile. Mae tips her head back and stares at Jacob, gifting him with one of her warning glares, then slams the door.

“I have the feeling your sister has a misconstrued image of who I am. Maybe you should work your PR magic on her. That’s one of your duties, right?”

I fight against the muscles of my mouth, as a reluctant smile is tilting the corners of my lips upward.

“Look, you need that job, and I need help.” He states the obvious, and I want to know who told him. “A win-win scenario.”

This is like one of those old high school reunion movies, where the girl who never had the hot QB wishes that he were now poor, bald, and had gained a beer belly. But I’m the one who’s poor and, well, I work out when I can, but still have to use Spanx to smooth my curves. If I had the money, I would bet that this guy hasn’t been with a size eight girl since…me. Well, I was more like an eleven back then.

“Don’t deny it. From what I gather, you live at your parents’, and your car is about to give up on you.” I grab the chocolate bar, unwrap it, and take a bite of it. My dinner. “What happened? I thought that by now you’d be married to some rich and sophisticated executive, with children and a kickass career. Not to mention planning on where to send them to soccer camp; the way your mom wanted.”

Without a word, I walk around the house toward the backyard. My nosy neighbors from across the street hardly ever sleep, and the last thing I want is for them to ask questions about my evening visitor. For a PR person, sometimes I’m too introverted.

“Make yourself comfortable.” I take two of the patio table cushions out of the plastic bin and hand one to him; I place mine on one of the chairs, and slide in.

“What happened to the cookie-cutter special?” As hard as I am trying to remain neutral, I can’t help but chuckle at the memories of that fateful day at the bookstore. He believed we were meant to be together. He was wrong. I’m waiting for something to kick-in inside. Anger. Sadness. Maybe frustration that will provoke me to yell at him for… not calling? Better yet, an apology or something. “Did you become so uptight that there’s no suitor good enough?”

“If I recall, you wanted the package, not me. However, I did come close to buying into the ’burb lifestyle.” I show him a pinch measurement with my fingers, but refrain from commenting on the relief I experienced when things with Robbie ended. I don’t even understand why I’m talking to Jacob. It’s the softness in his eyes; so much different from the ice cubes that stared at me back in his office. For a moment, the boy I dated is back. “Dated a guy for five years. It wasn’t the affair of the century, but I learned to love him. He proposed a couple of years later, but you know how my family shift gears. That love wasn’t enough to sustain a lifelong relationship. We broke up right after Mom died.”

“Your mom died?” He repeats while his fingers stroke my arm with tenderness. My skin tingles. My heart thumps faster when his touch produces an electrifying sensation that runs through my entire body. “Sorry.”

“She passed away a couple of years ago.” I stare at the outgrown grass, where the dandelions replace her flowers, and leaves that have accumulated over the past two years that we still haven’t raked up. “An unexpected loss that sent me once again into uncharted territory.”

Jacob’s eyes soften. He folds his body on the chair next to me and fixes his eyes on me.

“That sucks, Twinkle.” My lungs run out of air after he says it.
Twinkle.
Of all the things to call me, he calls me that. Why? His hand hovers over mine for a brief moment, before he seems to think better of it and places it on top of his knee along with the other. “So, you and your dad are caring for Maeve now?”

I shake my head, releasing a laugh because everything has changed so much since I met him. There hasn’t been any trip to any exotic location. Ana Walker is in fact, more boring than the Pria he knew.

“He has Alzheimer’s—Dad.” I take another bite of chocolate, grab the tequila bottle from his hand, open it and take several gulps. Damn, I forgot the lime and salt. “Irony’s our real last name. Mae and I are caring for him. One moment, my life was under control and the next, boom.” I clap my hands and stretch them out while simulating the magnitude of the explosion that destroyed the perfection.

“Unfair, because since I was nineteen, I’ve worked so hard to make sure everything worked just right… which I’ve learned is close to impossible, but manageable when I follow an order.” I drink more tequila before I continue. “Now I’m working hard to cope with the unexpected, which I have mastered—but I’m human. Hence, I’m indulging with loads of carbs and alcohol.”

Plus the imaginary you who never existed.
But damn, he’s perfect and great in bed when I invoke him.

“Have you thought about searching for a full-time job?” This is strange. Jacob doesn’t ask questions and hates to share. Tonight he’s the one asking questions and I’m uncomfortable answering. “I saw that résumé of yours. You have loads of experience. A master’s degree, and all that shit everyone looks for when hiring.”

“I need flexible hours. A full-time job requires much more than I can give right now. It isn’t fair for them to have a flaky person. Flakiness makes me anxious.”

At this pace, I should create a recording about the explanation of how my family life is creating a new chaos. Since I don’t have one, I explain to Jacob about Dad—how Dad’s taking a lot of my time, the nurses I can hire don’t last, and the ones who would last are too expensive. Before I break down, I compose myself, remembering my training and not letting my guard down. The outside shouldn’t know what’s going on with the inside. Bright face, neutral smile, and continue with your speech.

“So, you’re still giving up everything for your family?”

My head jerks and my jaw tightens as my entire body vibrates with anger.

“What happened to
you
, Jacob?” I switch the attention toward him. “I heard you left the band. Sounds like I’m not the only one who gave up on their dreams.

His sapphire eyes fill with such agony that my heart rips, hurting for him. By instinct I reach for his hand. “Everything is going to be fine.”

That gaze of his moves, resting on the leather cuff my pinky finger touches. He rises from his seat, and takes a step backward. His features harden, his jaw clenches. Jace is gone. The asshole from the office is back. My heart sinks; I hear it weep.

“You think you’ll be sober enough to start working for me tomorrow?” I am about to open my mouth, reminding him that working for him is a terrible idea because—well, I can’t remember why anymore. “Pria, you don’t have the luxury to turn down the job, and my father needs peace. For the company that he started to go back to the glory days, and for the shit to go away. I’ll do whatever shit you tell me to do. I’ll become a good citizen.”

“Yes.” I can’t say more about it because the alcohol is working its magic too fast. Must be the lack of food. “Tomorrow I’ll be there.”

“Give me your phone.” His cold voice mirrors his eyes. I hand it over and he taps a bunch of numbers into it, then hands it back. “There, I programmed my number. Don’t be late. I might look laid back, but I’m a class-A asshole. Oh, and Pria, never drive that piece of junk this late. Do you have any fucking idea how dangerous it is to drive at night? Next time, call me and I’ll drive you.”

He trails around the house without giving me the opportunity to say anything. Who does he think he is?