Loving Jake (Almost Perfect #1)

Chapter 3

THREE

Kimberly yawned for the fourth time in a matter of minutes, desperate to wipe away the fatigue from her eyes. Although one of her favorite songs blared from the speakers in her bedroom across the hallway, the loud, pounding music was not doing a good job of keeping her energized. She was exhausted. She had spent the past twelve hours scrubbing off layers of wallpaper and then patching the drywall that had come off with it.

Despite all her efforts of the last two days, she had a long way to go if she planned to have Jake’s room ready by morning. She needed to finish painting the room and then give the walls time to dry. Jake expected to move in the following day, and it was bad enough she would have to explain the pungent smell of paint throughout the house.

She opened the second can of paint and poured some of it into a pan. She had just placed the roller brush into the paint when she heard the doorbell ring. “Now who could that be?” She grumbled with a glance at the old clock radio sitting in the middle of the floor. “At eight o’clock on a Friday night? Really?”

Kimberly walked down the stairs, wiping her hands on the front of her denim overalls as she did. She glanced through the window at the side of the front door and had to do a double take. “Jake?” A bolt of panic ran through her at full force.

She inhaled a deep breath and opened the door. “What are you doing here?” She ran a shaky hand over her wild black curls, pulled together with a band at the back of her head.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” He stuck a hand into his front pocket and stared back at her, golden speckles highlighting the dark orbs of his eyes. “I went to visit my grandfather and, well, I drove by and saw the lights on. I thought you might want to go out and grab something to eat?”

“Ah, gee, I would love to, but not tonight, Jake. I, ah, am sort of busy, thanks anyway.” She glanced back at him with a look that, she hoped, would convince him to leave. She brushed a piece of wandering hair that had escaped from her ponytail and slid to the side of her cheek, and he continued to watch her. She stiffened her spine as she held the door open only wide enough for her to stand between it and the door frame. Why wouldn’t he take the hint she gave him and leave? Not only did she need to finish painting the bedroom, she looked as if she hadn’t bathed in a week, which wasn’t the truth, although the timing of her last shower was foggy to her sleep-deprived mind. Seeing him in a pair of low riding jeans and neatly pressed Lacrosse shirt that matched the color of his eyes made her glance at her own pair of grungy overalls, splattered with God only knew what. She glanced up and found him staring at the top of her head.

“What’s in your hair, Kimberly? Is that paste?” He stretched his hand through the narrow door opening and pulled a thick clump of grayish muck off of a long black lock.

“I give up. Just come in.” She opened the door wide enough for him to enter through it. Unable to stop herself, she released an exaggerated sigh before ushering him into the foyer. She wanted to comment on his ungracious assumption that she was alone this evening, but she was too tired to bother, and besides, her disheveled appearance had to make that obvious to him.

“What in the world are you doing?” he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes. She grimaced as he cocked a dark eyebrow in her direction after openly assessing her appearance.

“Well, if you must know, I’ve been painting your damn bedroom,” she answered more harshly than she intended. Embarrassment, combined with her present exhaustion, had her at her wits' end.

“You’re what?” he replied in complete disbelief.

Kimberly tucked a stand of hair behind her ear. “Please, Jake, I’m in no mood to explain. All I want right now is something to drink and to sit down. How about a beer?” Though not much of a drinker, she kept a six-pack of Stella in the refrigerator for guests that sounded inviting at the moment.

“Sure.” He paused to stare sharply into her eyes before he followed her into the kitchen.

“Now, you want to explain to me what you meant by painting my room?” He reached for the beer she held out to him, his eyes hard and unrelenting.

Kimberly squirmed under his scrutiny but refused to respond.

“Kim, you had no intention of subletting a room to me or anyone else, did you? Carly made the whole thing up. Am I right?”

Kimberly stared mutely into her bottle of beer, too tired to make up an excuse in either her sister’s or her own defense.

Jake sat down across from her at the small kitchen table, and she squirmed in her seat as he searched her face. He leaned over and nudged her chin up tenderly with his thumb and then shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me when I was here the other day, Kimberly? Why didn’t you tell me that Carly had made up the whole thing?” He tilted his head slightly to the side and looked at her, the expression in his eyes puzzled.

“I, you, you needed a place to stay,” she told him. It’s also my opportunity for you to finally notice me, to fall in love with me, she silently added. Although, if she looked as bad as she thought she did, her plan had already backfired on her. “I, it’s, okay. I look much worse than I feel. A shower and some sleep should keep me from scaring you tomorrow.” She laughed nervously.

Jake’s firm mouth curved slightly upward at the corners before he released her chin from his grasp. He leaned back against the chair, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes still locked on her.

Kimberly straightened. “Is, ah, everything okay?”

He considered her for a moment, his amber eyes focused on her face. He blinked several times and then he shook his head. “I’ve been on my own for a long time.” He stopped to stare at a random space on the floor. “I’m not used to someone doing something nice for me, who wasn’t paid to do it.”

He raised his eyes and returned her gaze with a hooded expression. “Zane and I see each other on the rare holiday, and, well, Gramps is there for me but he’s almost eighty-six years old and not doing well.” His eyes softened, became less intense, and he uncrossed his arms. He wiped the palm of each hand down a pant leg and then smiled back at her. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Jake, it’s okay, I wanted?—"

“Kim,” he interrupted. “Whatever your reasons, I’m grateful. I really am desperate for a place to stay, and you helped me when you didn’t have to. However,” he began with a threatening arch of a thick eyebrow, “while I’m staying here, any work that needs to be done, particularly something like painting my room, will be done by me. I will not sit on the couch watching television while you fix up the house, so forget it. And don’t even say it. I’m a chauvinist, and I know it. Consider it a way of satisfying my insatiable male ego, but I will do the house repairs.”

“Jake,” she began with a renewed vigor, grateful for the turn of events in her favor. He planned to stay, he wasn’t angry with her for her small fib, and he had volunteered to do house repairs. Things were turning out better than she could have imagined, but she certainly didn’t have to let him know it, not yet. “I have been living on my own for six years and have done just fine, thank you very much. Anything I need done, I will do myself,” she finished with a triumphant gleam in her eye, hoping he would take the bait as her brother had done so many times in similar situations. She might as well kill two birds with one stone, she thought, and struggled to hold back a smile. She’d get free work, which meant Jake and she would spend more time together, and hopefully, with any luck, and perhaps a bikini or two, he would fall in love with her in the process.

“This is not negotiable Kim, so don’t even go there with me.” He pulled his cellphone from the front pocket of his jeans. “Tonight, there are only two things left for you to do before you are off to bed, and that is to get some food in you and to take a hot shower. So, while you are doing that, I will order us a pizza. Then, little Miss I- Can- Do- It- Myself, I will finish painting my room.” He bent his head over his phone and tapped several times on the screen.

“Jake, but I can’t?—"

He raised his head, the look in his eyes playful but the set of his jaw determined. “No buts about it. Now march up those stairs and into the shower while I order the pizza. Go!”

Kimberly stood up. “Fine. The truth is, I don’t care if I ever see another paint brush again.” And she hoped she didn’t, because all she wanted was to stand under the hot shower and never come out.

Jake set his phone down on the table and stood up. She caught sight of his rakish grin, and it shot through her like an arrow to her heart.

He reached out to her, placed a hand on each of her shoulders, turned her around, and gently pushed her toward the stairs. “Good, because the only thing you need to do right now is take a long, hot shower.”

“Okay, okay. If you insist, but I’m warning you Jake Taylor, I will not be bullied,” she called over her shoulder as she ran up the stairs, a mischievous smile curving her lips.

“I could smell the pizza from my bedroom,” Kimberly exclaimed as she stepped out of the hallway and into the guest bedroom. She stopped in mid-step to take in the sight of Jake standing on a stepladder, his bare back facing her. She ran the tip of her tongue over her dry lips as she realized he must have removed his shirt to avoid getting paint on it. Her eyes glazed over, mesmerized by the strong muscles in his back contracting and relaxing with each stroke of the paintbrush. She couldn’t help but admire the way his jeans hung low and inviting on his narrow hips.

The thought of him turning around and facing her with his broad, naked chest terrified and excited her at the same time. She swallowed hard. Her entire body was suddenly melting inside. She hoped he’d assume that the flush crawling over her skin was because of the hot shower she had recently vacated and not her wayward lust showing its true colors.

“The box is over in the corner. I want to finish the last of this trim. Eat,” he told her without turning around. He continued to paint while she headed for the pizza.

“It smells wonderful,” she commented. She kneeled on the floor next to their dinner and pushed a hunk of her damp, black hair laying loose in a mass of curls, to the back of her shoulder. She sighed appreciatively as she opened the large pizza box.

“I hope you like mushrooms and green peppers?” He stepped off of the step stool and placed the paintbrush down on top of the paint can. After wiping his hands on a rag, he joined her on the floor.

“Nice pajamas,” he remarked with a nod at her baggy sweatpants and extra-large Stanford T-shirt.

She swallowed a bite of pizza and smiled at him. “I typically wear a black leather teddy to bed, but unfortunately it’s at the dry cleaners.”

Jake’s hand paused in mid-air, the slice of pizza never making it to his mouth. “Really?”

She tilted her head slightly to the side. Her brows arched high on her forehead, and her eyes followed them. “You are such a typical guy. And the answer is, no. I live with a St. Bernard, Jake. I doubt Daisy would be impressed with a teddy. Besides, I prefer comfort over style,” she responded defensively, crossing her legs in front of her.

She took a bite of her pizza and swallowed. “Let me guess. You’re one of those men who wears silk pajamas to bed? I’m right, aren’t I?” she teased playfully. She was determined to keep her eyes focused on his face, refusing to allow her attention to wander to his chest, despite her desire to check-out every exposed inch of his muscle laden torso.

“Actually, I don’t wear any… let’s just say, I don’t wear silk pajamas,” he hastily amended.

He set what was left of his slice of pizza down on the box. “Kim.” He released an exaggerated breath. “I guess this is as good as time as any to discuss this.” He paused and took a drink from his beer before placing the empty bottle down on the floor. He ran a swift hand over the hair confined at his nape, and he stared down at his half-eaten pizza. “Since my divorce, women haven’t exactly been on the top of my priority list. Not that I don’t like them anymore…” His head darted up, and he looked straight into her dark eyes and softly chuckled.

She watched him struggle to explain. She wondered about it, her lips twitching with possibilities. “Ah, okay.”

“What I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to worry about me bringing women here. I wouldn’t do that to you. I respect the fact that I’m a guest in your house, but that’s not to say if you, ah, you know. I mean, I never stopped to think before that maybe, perhaps, I’m invading your privacy? I want you to know if you have someone, you know, staying overnight.” He coughed uneasily. “You can tell me to go and get lost. I can get a hotel room, or...what the hell is so funny?” He paused, and his eyebrows narrowed over his eyes. He was obviously irritated because she found humor in what was an awkward conversation for him. A warm thrilled cursed through her.

“You.” She laughed and quickly placed her bottle of beer down on the floor. “Jake.” She rubbed her palm down the leg of her sweatpants. “I’m sorry, and you tried to be so serious, too. It’s just that I’m at home painting your room on a Friday night. I’m not an expert, but I would have to assume that’s not a great example of an active love life.” She straightened her back, and her expression became serious. “I guess, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t have much of a social life either, particularly in the area of overnight guests. Not that I’d object…. I mean, ah...” The words tumbled out before she had a chance to stop them. Hurriedly, she reached for their empty beer bottles before uncrossing her legs and standing up.

“Why don’t we drown our dull lives in another beer?” she suggested with an inquiring tilt of her brows toward the bottles.

Jake smiled at her, and she was reminded of why she found him so irresistible. His lips, while not overly generous, were a pale rust color, and when they curved into a grin, and they often did, she wanted to reach out and trace them with her fingertips.

“Sounds good, although I can’t guarantee what the walls will look like after I’ve had a few beers,” he answered. He stood up, stretching to his full height.

Fascinated by the sight of him raising his arms above his head in a lazy sigh, Kimberly found herself unable to watch him without wanting to drool. He closed his eyes, which gave her the opportunity to study him without his knowledge. His chest was covered in a soft golden matte of hair that gradually tapered into a V down his torso, until it disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. She wanted nothing more than to trace the outline of each finely defined muscle in his taut stomach with her fingernails. She raised her eyes and found him returning her gaze with an amused expression in his eyes. She quickly looked away. “I, ah, will be right back,” she stammered before fleeing the room.

It wasn’t until she was safely in the kitchen that she was able to breathe normally again. If ever a man could be described as beautiful, it was Jake Taylor. A jolt of longing coursed through her, and she brought her fist to her mouth. Before she knew it, she found herself leaning against the refrigerator door for support because her knees had gone weak. “Get control of yourself,” she whispered under her breath. “Jake is here for a short time, and it is not because of you. At least not until you figure out how to change his mind otherwise, which, by the way, Kimberly Urbane, you suck at.” She opened the refrigerator door and reached inside for two bottles of beer.

A quick glance out the kitchen window reminded her to check on Daisy. “Daisy?” she called out the back door. “There you are, girl. How are you doing, sweetie?” She walked out to the back porch and then sat on the edge of a wicker chair. Daisy took the opportunity to jump up and slather a series of sloppy kisses across her face, and Kimberly felt some of her earlier anxiety disappear.

“I know you want to come in, but not while we are painting. I read online that you could get sick if you lick any paint, which we both know is something you would try to do, so you’re staying outside for a little while longer. Yes, I know, Daisy, I’ll miss you too,” she crooned, amused by the dog’s attempt to sit on her lap.

She gave Daisy one last pat on her shaggy head before returning indoors. Kimberly was grateful for the warm night air and that Daisy could stay outside and out of trouble. She sighed, if only she could do the same thing.

Jake was waiting for the drink she offered to get him, and she couldn’t stay in the kitchen avoiding him forever. She grabbed a beer with each hand and left the room. Remember, you want him to get to know you, so stop staring at him like you want to jump his bones. Just don’t look at his bare chest, and you’ll be all right, she silently repeated as she climbed the stairs. Or his muscular arms, she mentally added with another step. Or his sinewy back, or his chiseled cheekbones, or.... “I am in so much trouble,” she whispered anxiously before entering the room.

“Did you run out to the grocery store for more beer?”

He put the paintbrush down, wiped his hands on a rag, and then reached for the beer she handed out to him. “Thanks.” Jake twisted off the cap and took a long, slow drink from the bottle. Kimberly watched him, mouth gaping, until she realized what she had done and quickly returned to her seat on the floor. She anxiously moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.

She looked up at him and a playful grin creased his lips before he turned away and reached for the paintbrush again. “I went out back to check on Daisy.” She placed her beer beside her, reached for one of the few remaining boxes of photos in the room, and then placed it on her lap. She had to get in control of her emotions and not make them so obvious around him. She was not a silly girl with a crush on him; she was a strong, independent woman who loved him. She needed to show him the difference, and so far, despite her admittedly weak attempts, all she had done was drool over him. She sucked in a deep breath and reached inside of the box.

“I hope Miss Daisy isn’t too upset because we’re inside eating pizza, while she’s forced to stay outside?”

“Ha, no, she’s fine.”

He painted for several more minutes before he remarked, “By the way, where did the name Daisy come from? Kind of unexpected for a two-hundred-pound St. Bernard. You mentioned that she didn’t have any tags. I assume you named her?”

“It was simple.” She looked up from the photographs she had been sorting to gaze back at him. Once again, she found herself staring at his backside and did not complain one bit about it. Low rider jeans really were one of the world’s greatest inventions. She ran her tongue over her lips and forced herself to hold back a sigh of longing. “Growing up, the only true animal lovers in my family were my grandmother and me. Grandma always had at least a few stray animals living with her, dogs, cats, even a pig for a while.” She paused and put a photo in a pile with several others. “Once I knew I planned to keep the big fur ball and had to think of a name for her, I instantly thought of my grandmother.”

“And your grandmother’s name was Daisy?”

“Of course not.” She giggled, unable to stop herself. “My grandmother’s name was Lily. Daisies were her favorite flower. A St. Bernard named Lily would sound ridiculous, Jake.”

Jake twisted his upper body from his place on the step ladder to look down at her. “Kim.” His deep, rich voice was peppered with laughter. “You have a very witty sense of humor.”

She smiled back at him, pleased by his compliment, and returned her attention to the stack of photos.

“Does your grandmother live in the Bay area?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

She looked up from a photograph of Daisy that she had taken a few days after she had found her and smiled longingly. “Actually, she died five years ago.”

“I’m sorry, Kim. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay.” She paused to flip through several more photographs. “I have little things, or should I say big things, like Daisy to remind me of her.”

“You’re fortunate.” His hand stopped in mid-air, the paintbrush never quite reaching the wall. He stepped off of the ladder and laid the paintbrush down on the can. He reached for his beer and took a long drink.

Jake set his beer bottle on the bottom step of the foot stool. He secured the lid on the paint can and gathered together the dirty brushes and rollers. “I think that’s it for tonight. I’ll be able to determine in the morning whether the walls need another coat or not.”

“Wow.” Her eyes darted around the room. “I was so caught up in sorting photos, I didn’t realize you had made so much progress. The room looks great, Jake. Thanks.”

“No, thank you, Kim. I’ll wash the paint brushes, and then I’m heading to my hotel. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

“Forget the brushes; I’ll wash them out. I really appreciate your help.” Her smile quickly faded as she watched him stretch his T-shirt over his head. His stomach muscles contracted in response to the movement, emphasizing the sharply defined muscles under his deeply tanned skin. She took a large gulp of air, jumped up from her seat on the floor, and scurried out of the room like a frightened mouse before he caught her drooling over him again. If Jake wondered where she’d gone, he’d figure it out soon enough when he found her waiting at the front door for him.

“I’ll be going to see my grandfather in the morning, so I should be here around two o’clock tomorrow. It will still be early enough in the day in case I need put on a second coat of paint.” He opened the front door and breathed in the warm California night air.

“Jake,” she said before he had the chance to say goodnight. “I wondered. I mean, I thought perhaps, if it was okay, that I might go with you when you see your grandfather sometime? I didn’t know him as well as Carly did, but he used to come to our house for dinner occasionally, and I thought it might be nice to see him. If it’s okay with you?”

Jake studied her upturned face for a brief moment, and she had to force herself not to squirm under his intense scrutiny. “Sure.” He smiled faintly. “Maybe next week?”

She smiled softly in return. “See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.” He looked at her, and with a quick wink, he turned and walked away.

Once again, Kimberly found herself following his movements until he reached his car and drove away. She shut the door and locked it. She made her way through the kitchen and opened the backdoor to let Daisy inside.

She doubted that she had made any progress in her effort to win Jake’s love tonight; he certainly didn’t give her any positive vibes if she had. Her disheveled appearance likely didn’t help, although she had caught him watching her a few times tonight. Or was he returning her stare? She shook her head. Didn’t matter, she wasn’t giving up on him. She was determined not to get discouraged. A tiny smile curved her lips. She might need every minute of his stay to convince him that she was the one for him, but she was up for the challenge. She yearned for Jake Taylor to return her love and planned to do whatever it took to make that happen. In the meantime, she would hold him to his earlier offer. Jake claimed that he wanted to be responsible for the work around the house, and she’d let him. She mentally wrote a list of home repair projects she needed completed while she turned off the lights and made her way up the stairs and into bed. Her lips continued to tilt upward until they grew into a large smile.