Further, Henry never did things like that. Even when he had the flu that one time when we were in Alaska, shooting a bathing suit spread in the snow, he’d zipped up his parka and done the shoot. He had a reputation for not only his immense talent but his dependability, his easy-going ways and his bent toward no muss, no fuss.
But Jake was correct. The bottom line was, when I told him not to come with me and do the job, he’d agreed.
“Josie,” Jake called and I focused on him again. When I did, his fingers gave me another squeeze and he asked, “You have dinner tonight?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Honey, you gotta eat.”
It took me a moment to respond. This was because four people in my life called me honey. My father, when he was in a good mood or he’d done something horrible and was trying to make amends. Gran. Henry.
And now Jake.
And Jake’s, like Gran’s and Henry’s, felt nice.
I let myself feel that before I assured him, “I went to the grocery store today. I’ll have some fruit and cheese when I get home.”
“Right. And tomorrow night”—he grinned—“you promise you aren’t gonna disappear, I’ll show. But I gotta say, Ethan’s gonna be with me. Not givin’ Amber another hour to do fucked up shit with her moron of a boyfriend and not givin’ her another wad of cake to blow on mascara.”
This was not good news.
Not that he’d agreed to come. I was actually looking forward to that in a strange way I didn’t quite comprehend.
No. Because I didn’t like children. I found them loud and attention-seeking. They interrupted and, these days, parents didn’t admonish them for this rudeness. They broke things. They spilled things. They whined. They refused to eat food they hadn’t even tried, declaring erroneously they didn’t like it when they could have no idea if they did or didn’t.
And when they ate, they often did it with their mouths open, which was repulsive.
Obviously, I shared none of this with Jake Spear.
“Is there anything he, or you, don’t like to eat?” I asked instead.
“Ethan helped Lydie cook a bunch a’ shit in that kitchen. She taught him to dig his food however that comes. I already learned that so whatever you make, we’ll eat.”
I highly doubted that, at least about Ethan.
I didn’t share that either.
“All right,” I replied.
“We’ll be there at six.”
Six.
Very early.
Wonderful.
Well, I’d have to work with that seeing as his son probably had to be at school early the next day or do homework or take care of the class gerbil or something so they couldn’t be out late.
“Fine,” I agreed.
“Okay,” he murmured, again grinning.
Then he said nothing.
I didn’t either.
When this stretched for some time, and the fact that his warm hand was still wrapped around my neck became uncomfortable mostly because it didn’t feel uncomfortable in the slightest, I broke our silence.
“Are we done?”
“Not by a long shot,” he answered. I drew in a deep breath at his reply and he finished, “But we are for now.”
“Well then…goodnight, Jake.”
“Right,” he muttered and I watched, my eyes widening in surprise as he leaned in and whispered against the skin of my forehead, “’Night, Josie.”
I felt his lips brush there and that was also not uncomfortable. Not in the slightest. In fact, it felt so not uncomfortable as to make my skin again prickle but this time in a different way.
He pulled back, gave me a squeeze at the neck and a smile before he slid away.
I watched him move for a second before I forced myself to stop watching him move.
I did this by getting in my car, starting it up and not looking back as I drove away.
Chapter Five
Good Night
The bell rang at six-oh-four the next evening and I moved quickly to the front door, feeling the strange anticipation I’d been experiencing all day heightening significantly to the point I was finding it difficult to breathe.
I stopped at the carved, polished wood door and my mind for some reason took flight.
And where it landed was that I decided I should polish the door, as I had many times at Gran’s behest and as I’d seen her do many times as well.
I then turned my attention to my attire.
I’d gone for casual seeing as it was a home-cooked family dinner. Jeans that were expertly faded and again bootcut. Nude, patent leather platform pumps with peekaboo toes. And a blush colored cashmere sweater with a high neckline that was a slash from shoulder to shoulder. It had deep batwings but the wings ended just below my elbows and the knit was tight along my forearms.
Subtle makeup that was a hint dewy.
And my hair was pulled back in soft twists on either side that led to a plethora of slightly teased, full curls I’d arranged in a supremely feminine chignon at the back of my head.
The hairstyle was more suited to an evening gown but I liked its complex elegance juxtaposed with my casual garments, so I’d gone with it.
I realized I was thinking about my clothes while Jake and his son were standing outside waiting for me to open the door. Therefore, I stopped thinking about my clothes and opened the door.
When I did, I froze solid.
This was not because Jake Spear was standing there exuding his demanding masculinity wearing a dark blue turtleneck, faded jeans and brown boots (or, not only because of that).
This was also not because his young son was standing in front of him wearing a sweatshirt that declared his devotion to some sports team, his black hair was in disarray and he was staring up at me for some strange reason with his mouth wide open.
No, it was because, standing removed at her father’s side, was Jake Spear’s daughter wearing a surly expression, way too much makeup, having her hair teased out in a style that even Jake’s exotic dancers eschewed and sporting a short knit skirt that I knew, when she moved, would ride up in ways that would be quite alarming.
She was not supposed to be there.
I could, maybe, handle one child. But a child and a surly teenaged girl who dressed like her heart’s desire for a future profession was to dance at her father’s club?
No.
“Yo, babe,” Jake greeted and my eyes shot to him. “Woulda called but seein’ as Amber was grounded about two minutes before we left the house, it wouldn’t have helped anyway. So, as you can see, Amber’s here. If you don’t have enough food for her, I’ll order a pizza or something.”
I forced my lips to move in order to assure him, “I have enough food.”
“Great,” he replied.
I stood there.
They stood there too.
Then I realized I was standing there and that was rude so I turned my eyes to Amber.
“Hello, Amber. I’m Josephine. It’s lovely to meet you.”
She glared at me and muttered, “Whatever.”
“Babe,” Jake clipped at his daughter in a clear warning.
Her baleful eyes cut to him then back to me whereupon she mumbled, “’Lo.”
I decided to leave it at that and looked down to the boy.
“Hello, Ethan.”
He stared up at me for two seconds then bizarrely surged forward, threw himself bodily at me and wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing close.
I’d never had a child hug me. I’d never even had a child touch me. Therefore I didn’t know what to do and thus stood there with my hands slightly raised, staring down at his dark head hoping I wasn’t doing it in horror.
He didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t return his embrace. As quickly as he came forward, he released me, jumped back and looked up at me.