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My asshole reaction had not helped the situation: “Great, fucked her way through school. I am feeling better all the time.” I could tell by the look on Jenae’s face that she was disgusted by my crude, offhand comment. She had replied, “Jake, you can’t sleep with half of America then expect to marry a virgin.” Punching it home with, “I thought you were more evolved than that.” Was I?
It made sense that her father dying had something to do with her becoming an escort. I wanted to be the one she confided in. But the other part of me thought maybe I should just blow it off tonight, get her out of her clothes and enjoy my birthday present, envisioning Rakell sucking my cock in that fucking sexy, sheer, black teddy thing she was wearing under that green jumpsuit. I imagined her sliding down on my cock while I sucked on her full tits. That’s exactly what I would have done in the past. I never cared to be a counselor or dig deeper into the psyche of any of the other women I dated. I would have chosen sex over any open “dig into your past” exchange exercise to get to know someone better.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Not a word was exchanged, but she could not ignore his eyes flitting toward her, the forced breaths, his body shifting as they pulled down the long drive from his parents' house. He was usually the first to speak, but she could tell he was coiled tight. She caught a glimpse of his hands, strangling the steering wheel, counter to how he usually drove, one-handed, the other arm against the window, relaxed. Tonight, he reeked of rigidity, angst practically thrumming off him. She knew he was talking to himself. He never really shut up. He was either preparing his next lines in his head or expounding on his thoughts or asking endless questions. The more time she spent with his family, the clearer the picture was as to why Jake Skyer was a talker. He narrated his life; it was a Skyler personality trait. She smiled to herself, thinking that it must be extra frustrating for Cameron, who fought to get his thoughts and feelings out, surrounded by the Skyler clan with their big demonstrative displays of affection. How they always asked that next question, the one that made you dig a little deeper, the one that demanded you put down the shield.
She fucking hated that stuff, drudging up damaging memories, then watching people’s reactions, or hearing them say, “I’m so sorry.” She’d had to listen to it constantly after her father died. Every time she went to the grocery store, church, or school. No teacher could look at her without pain altering their features. All that pity felt suffocating. She rarely mentioned it when she moved to London to start a new life, thus avoiding people’s reactions and their trite platitudes, the insufferable words wrapped in a sympathetic tone. To her, their commiserations were code for; thank goodness it wasn’t me.
Jake came by this naturally, but she did not. Matt was the only one she’d opened up to; even when she’d told Lana, she made it clear she had moved on, purposely ignoring Lana’s perplexed expression. It was only Matt that she’d shared the details with—only Matt, whom she trusted with the emotional wreckage of that fateful day.
When they turned onto the highway, the brightness from the streetlights felt jarring. Her gaze reflexively shifted to stare out the side window. Most shops were dimly lit, except for the gas station and the HEB grocery store they passed. His parents' property bordered Austin city limits. She’d heard Jake’s dad talk about how they had to drive for miles to find a good restaurant when they'd first moved out of town. But Austin was bursting, so small businesses were now popping up in all the outer pockets, making his parents' ranch one of several large plots of land rimmed by the encroaching city. Jake's mom said more people with different backgrounds means more culture and varying foods, leading to a more vibrant city. Rakell wasn’t sure if the rest of Jake’s family saw it that way. She heard him shift in his seat again, his sigh audible, as if he could barely contain everything building up inside him, but she sensed he was leaving this to her to address.
Finally, she broke the charged night air. “Tonight was nice. Um, I like being with your family.” Her head was still turned toward the window as if she were counting streetlights.
She heard his slow, almost labored intake of air. “Yep, it was…they like being with you.” His voice was soft but unreadable. She twisted in her seat, slightly turning toward him. She was trying to calm the negative feedback loop whirling in her brain that said, you aren’t relationship material, you can’t do this, he’s too emotionally demanding, you’re not ready for this, this is the Skyler show.
When his eyes skimmed from the road to the passenger side, she caught his side-eyed view, as if he were evaluating her. She forced a stiff, slight smile to her face, her fingers twisting together like a first grader before a dance recital. She ignored the way his eyes dropped to her hands like he was trying to read her non-verbals.
She liked being with his family, but their openness made her acutely aware of how closed off she had lived her life. His gaze jumped back to the road as though he was just realizing his scrutiny was making her more anxious.
“It kinda feels like you’ve been around a long time. I love seeing you part of the flow with my family,” he said with a gulp as if trying to squelch the edge in his voice. “Well, I guess my mom has known you for a while. What’s it been, two years? How long have you been taking singing lessons at her studio?” That question seemed designed to keep the conversation going; she was pretty sure he already knew the answer.
“About a year and a half…since shortly after I moved to Austin. I heard about Ms. Annette from Matt’s sister, Mabel-June, so I was excited when I found out she had room to take me on,” she explained, turning her head toward Jake.
“Yep, that’s a while,” he remarked, as he pulled into her extra parking spot in the garage. “Just going to leave the gifts in here,” he said, like he was talking to himself.
Her hand flew to the door handle. “Okay, that makes sense,” she mumbled. She wanted to bolt from the truck, escape the suffocating tragedy that had defined her life and the guy who was determined to make her face it again.
He leapt out of his side, slamming the door. “Hey, wait, you know…” He sounded terse, watching her shut the door on her side.
She caught the blaze in his eyes as she strode off, almost power-walking toward the elevator. Screw him and his goddamned doors, I have to get out of here.
His boots slapped against the concrete floor behind her. If she didn’t know him, the sense of an animal stalking its prey would have made her run.
“What the fuck?” he barked, coming up behind her as the elevator door opened.
Her back stiffened, but she didn’t turn around. She walked into the elevator, leaning against a wall. His large frame thudded against the opposite side. His breathing made her think of a bull snorting, and she half expected to look up and see him clomping his hoof against the floor, readying for a charge. She had to squelch a chuckle just thinking about him charging at a red cape. It was a ridiculous image helping to lighten her internal tension. There was way too much testosterone rippling through this guy. He was the only man she’d seen act like this, so brutish, almost animal-like. Her clients had never shown this intense level of emotion.
They were both focused on the floor, intermittently breaking their downward stares with furtive glances toward each other. Her eyes dropped to her feet as she mumbled, “Calm down.”
Jake stomped his foot, not unlike a bull. “What…what did you say?” His low voice reverberated against the aluminum walls of the moving box.
Her own breath sped up, a tooth raking over her lower lip. “Just thinking your heart is going to explode if you don’t calm down.” Her tone was intentionally serious, but her voice pitched at the end, mockery brushing her final words, “Calm down.”
He slammed his fist against the wall. “I’m looking at the reason my heart is going to explode,” he stated harshly.
She met his exacting stare, tilted her chin, then swiveled her head toward the door when the elevator dinged. Arriving at the top floor, she asked, indifference dominating her voice, “So are you staying? You don’t have to…it’s fine if you want to leave. I don’t expect you to…” She pivoted on one foot to exit the elevator without waiting for an answer.
Jumping forward, he blocked the door. “Stop, just stop talking now, and don’t move,” he snarled, his eyebrows furrowing. She couldn’t tell if it was confusion she was seeing, rage, or a mixture. “Why the fuck would you say that?” he spat out.
She shrugged like this was a nonchalant conversation, again trying to flatten the tense energy crackling between them. She needed a playbook or script. “Well, you’re pissed, so…”
“First of all, I’m not really pissed, more irritated. Actually, confused. Think you’d know if I was mad…I think you’ve seen that before, but yeah, irritated as fuck. You know I open the car door for you, that’s how I do it.”
Her mouth twisted as she shot him a nonplussed look, hiding the eye roll that so wanted to highlight his bullshit. “That’s what’s got you acting all stroppy, pissy? Sorry, but I can open my own doors.”
“Spare me,” he stated, pushing the hold button on the elevator, his eyes boring into hers. “I get that you are quite capable of opening your own doors, running your own life, standing on your own two feet. That’s one of the many things I love about you, but it’s a thing for me. It’s how I was raised. What I was trained to do, and you know this, so why fight me on it?”
