10. Jake
10
JAKE
T he drive back home feels easier than it should. I don’t even turn on the radio. I just let the quiet of the truck settle over me like a blanket.
My head’s buzzing, though, full of her—Grace, with her sharp tongue and soft eyes. She’s… something else.
I park, kill the engine, and just sit there for a second, staring out at the dark. I should be exhausted.
The day’s been long as hell, and Rhys’s place was loud enough to fry anyone’s nerves, but I’m not tired. Not even close.
There’s this weird charge running through me, like I’ve just had a shot of adrenaline straight to the veins.
For the first time in… hell, maybe forever, something feels good. Not just fine. Not just manageable. Good. And that scares the shit out of me.
I get inside, kick off my boots by the door, and toss my keys on the counter. The house is quiet, the kind of quiet that usually feels heavy after a long day.
But tonight, it doesn’t bother me. Tonight, my brain’s too busy replaying everything that happened over dinner.
The way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention, like she was trying to figure me out. The way her laugh cut through the noise in the restaurant and stuck in my chest.
It’s terrifying, this thing she’s stirring up in me. Terrifying, but fun.
My whole life, I’ve kept shit simple. Work and a couple of beers with friends when the mood strikes. Simple.
But Grace? She’s not simple. She’s complicated as hell, and I want every messy piece of her.
I grab a beer from the fridge, twist off the cap, and take a long pull. Tomorrow, I’ll walk into that flower shop of hers, and the whole damn town will see us together.
They’ll start talking—hell, they probably already are. And for once, I don’t care.
Let them talk. Let them spin their stories and link my name to hers. Rowan’s too, though I don’t want to think of that too much.
Because tonight, as I sit here in this too-quiet house, the thought of being tied to her—Grace and all her sharp edges and secret smiles—feels like enough. Like more than enough.
And that’s terrifying, too. But for the first time, I’m ready to lean into it. Ready to see where the hell this goes.
I’ve been pining for her for forever. Now I get a chance at what it feels like to belong to someone like her… even if it is all pretend.
The phone rings close to midnight, her name lighting up my screen.
“Didn’t think of you as a late-night-phone-call type,” I say, settling back against my pillow.
“I—uh, sorry. I didn’t wake you, did I?” Her voice is softer than usual. No bite, no teasing. Just… unsure.
“Nah, wasn’t sleeping.”
A pause. Then a quiet inhale like she’s trying to gather her thoughts.
“I just wanted to say… I’ve been kind of short-tempered with you lately,” she says. “And I’m sorry. You didn’t have to go along with any of this, but you did. So… thank you.”
I huff out a laugh. “You calling to apologize or make me suspicious?”
“Maybe both,” she mutters.
Another pause. It feels like she’s working up to something, but nothing comes.
“Can I ask you something?” I say, shifting on the bed.
“Yeah.”
“How’d you and Rowan end up together?”
Silence. Then a shaky exhale. “You really wanna know?”
“Yeah, Grace. I really wanna know.”
She’s quiet again, but I hear the way her breath quickens.
“Well… I told you I went into heat last night,” she finally says. “And… he helped me through it.”
Something tightens in my gut. I noticed the way she looked at Rowan tonight, and the way he looked at her. I know something happened, but I need to hear it. “How?”
More silence. I hear movement, like she’s pacing. Then?—
“We technically didn’t have sex,” she says. “If that’s what you’re asking.”
Technically .
My brain is already working through the possibilities. Grinding on one another? Oral? His fingers? How the fuck did he get her through it without fucking her?
I shift again, adjusting the blanket over my lap.
When I don’t respond, she asks, “You ever been with someone in heat?”
A memory flickers—me, a girl I barely knew, a cabin out in the woods, the scent of her all-consuming.
“Yeah,” I say, voice rougher than I meant it to be. “Once.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I know she’s waiting for me to continue.
“It was a hook-up. Nothing serious,” I say. “We had to sequester in this cabin. Spent the whole damn time fucking.”
Grace makes a sound, something between a hum and a sharp inhale.
“She was so far gone by the time I got her inside,” I say, my mind slipping back. “Desperate as hell, couldn’t stop touching me, rubbing against me. Needed it bad.”
There’s another pause, but this one is heavier. Charged.
“And you helped her,” she says quietly.
“Yeah.” I swallow. My skin feels too hot, and not just from the memory.
“Bet it was intense,” she murmurs.
My jaw clenches. My dick is already at half-mast just thinking about it.
“Yeah. Heat’s no joke,” I say. “Everything’s sharper. Tighter. Feels like you’re on fire, like nothing’s enough.”
Grace makes another small noise, and fuck, I shouldn’t be imagining her like that. I shouldn’t be thinking about what she’d sound like, what she’d look like if I were the one helping her through her heat.
But I am.
I close my eyes. Jesus.
“Sounds…” she trails off.
“What?” I push, my voice low.
She exhales. “Hot.”
My stomach clenches. So does my dick.
“Well, if you ever find yourself needing help again?—”
“Jake.” Her voice is sharp, but there’s laughter in it.
I grin, shifting again, trying to find a position that doesn’t make me want to groan.
“Just saying,” I murmur.
She’s quiet for a second, then says, “I should let you sleep.”
Right. Sleep. Like that’s happening.
“But I was thinking,” she continues, “maybe I could make you breakfast. As a thank you. For everything.”
I smirk. “You trying to bribe me with food, Grace?”
“Maybe.”
“When?”
“Let’s say nine? I have to pass by the store first.”
“Bright and early, huh?”
“Jake.”
“Fine, fine,” I say, grinning. “Nine it is.”
Another pause. Then?—
“Goodnight, Jake.”
My chest goes tight. I clear my throat. “Goodnight, Grace.”
The line clicks off.
I stare at my phone for a second, then toss it onto the nightstand and drag a hand down my face.
I’m hard as a fucking rock.
I shake my head and reach for the romance novel on my nightstand. Maybe a book will help. Maybe it’ll make me stop thinking about her—her voice, her breath, the way she’d look desperate and aching under me.
Yeah. I’m completely fucked.
And tomorrow’s already shaping up to be a damn good day.