3. Taylor
Three
Taylor
I have no idea what comes over me, but I’m overwhelmed by a sense of loneliness. So lonely, in fact, that I desperately take Jake up on his offer to show me around Sydney. What I do know is that I was clearly affected by Dean’s sudden engagement to Kaitlin, especially after I had just recently thrown myself at him.
Getting turned down stung and as much as I don’t want to admit it, it forced me to re-evaluate the way I look at my life. Random hook-ups have started to leave me feeling disappointed in myself, like they are my consolation prize for not being able to fall in love.
We’re now standing in the lobby of the hotel, Jake’s eyes watching me as if he’s trying to process what I’ve just asked him. He looks over to where the crew is standing, the elevator doors shooting open as he asks, “You sure?”
“Ask me again and my answer will be no.”
He smirks at me and it’s cute and cheeky and my breath catches in my throat, holding itself there for a moment.
“Then we’re not staying here.” And without warning, he’s walking out of the hotel with me trailing behind.
“Where are we going?”
“Do you trust me?” he asks, that smile, that panty-dropping smile plastered on his face. It’s the kind of smile that has gotten me in trouble. It’s the kind of smile that left me divorced.
“No.”
Jake lets out a long, slow breath, his hand moving to his chest and covering his heart. “That hurts. That really hurts. I just safely flew you across the Pacific, and you didn’t even hesitate in your answer.”
“Whoa there, cocky,” I say, my hand flying up, but a small smile tugs at my lips. His confidence is far more attractive than I thought it could ever be. “I’m pretty sure I had something to do with that too.”
“Of course you did,” he responds, his hand now up hailing a cab as he winks at me.
“So are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“What fun would that be?” He shrugs his shoulders and steps a little closer to me. His voice dips a little lower, his fingers brushing the inside of my wrist as he leans in and says, “Tell me, Taylor, when was the last time you did something for the first time?”
“I don’t know.” My hand covers the spot on my wrist where Jake’s fingers just were, trying to soothe the burn left by his touch. I take in a deep breath, but my resolve is failing fast.
“Then let’s change that. Let me be your first.”
His words drip with insinuation and the tension that builds between us burns hotter than the Australian sun. I swear if I were a cartoon character steam would be rising in lines from the top of my head.
I wet my lips, and his eyes dart to my mouth. Swallowing hard, he turns away from me, grabbing our bags as the cab pulls up to the curb.
I slide into the backseat as Jake puts our bags in the trunk and slips in next to me. Without missing a beat, he gives the cab driver an address. This whole not knowing where we’re going is killing me. I can feel the anxiety meeting the sexual tension as they vie for which will win out: butterflies or constriction, elation or nausea.
I can’t remember the last time my body warred against itself, but it’s making me feel alive for the first time in a long time.
“Are we going to your house?” I press, and Jake shakes his head, giving absolutely nothing away. “Just tell me.”
“Can you give up control for thirty minutes?” he asks, his voice firmer now, as if he knows I’m completely out of my comfort zone. “If it’s horrible, you can leave.”
“I don’t want to leave,” I blurt out, my cheeks growing hot from my admission. I begin to chew my lip, picking off the loose pieces of skin with my teeth.
“Good, because I don’t want you to.” He reaches over, and with his thumb, he pulls my lip from my teeth, and again my skin burns red hot at his touch.
I shift away from him, looking out the window and trying to settle myself down.
What the hell am I even doing?
He’s young and flirty and cheeky, and this can only lead to a whole lot of trouble. But I find myself drawn to him, like walking away now would be harder than staying.
“So, will you give me thirty minutes?”
“You can have the whole day.” As the words leave my lips, they sound far more seductive than I intend, breathy and soft. “What else do I have to do, anyway?” I tack the last sentence on in an attempt to appear casual and bored, but he sees right through me.
Jake laughs, his head falling back. “Keep telling yourself that, Captain.”
“Ok, maybe now we’re not working, Taylor is fine,” I quip back, and again Jake laughs, deep and sexy, and no matter what I say, he can pull me back in.
We eventually pull up outside a large industrial building with no windows, and it’s completely surrounded by a black wrought iron fence. There are cameras all around it along, with several keypad gates.
I give Jake a quick side-eye as he pays the driver and climbs out of the cab. Reluctantly, I follow him.
“Where are we?” I ask, looking around.
“How about this: for every question you ask me, I get to ask you one?” He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscular arms flexing against the sleeves of his uniform.
I pause, taking in his offer and wondering just how personal this could get. Throwing caution to the wind, I hesitantly agree.
“One more stipulation,” Jake adds, his eyes narrowing at me. “Only yes-or-no questions.”
“Are you trying to kill me?” I ask, in all seriousness.
“I’m trying to figure you out, Taylor Patterson.”
He walks over to one of the gates, and punches in a code and the gate clicks before he pulls it open. Waiting for me, he holds the gate, and I shuffle through, dragging my bag behind me. I stop, unsure of where to go next. Stepping aside, I let Jake lead.
We come to another door with a keypad, and he enters a second code, the door unlocking. And just like before, he holds the door open for me.
This is all starting to feel very Willy Wonka as we walk down a long hallway, making turns every so often, and I giggle a little.
Jake turns around, his eyes intense as he looks me up and down.
“Did I just hear you laugh?” he asks, feigning shock, his mouth falling open.
“It just reminds me of Willy Wonka. All these doors and hallways, turning and walking with no idea where I’m going.”
“Willy Wonka?”
“Yeah, remember when they get to the factory, and they’re walking, and they turn right and then left, and it keeps going? Then that creepy boat appears out of nowhere. No one questions a damn thing; they just get in the boat. But it turns out the boat is out of control, and everyone is screaming that Wonka’s crazy. That’s me right now.”
“Remember when Charlie wins the whole fucking thing?” he asks, and I nod my head, wondering where he’s going with this. “This is going to be even better.”
He pulls a set of keys from his pocket and stops in front of a door. Unlocking it, he reaches in and flips on a light switch.
I push up on my toes to see around him as his muscled frame blocks most of my view, and what I see is just about as crazy as a giant pink boat.
“Whose car is that?” I ask, pushing closer to him until my chest is practically touching his back.
“Yes or no questions only.”
“Is this your car?”
“Yes.”
It’s a beautiful, pristine bright red 1960s Corvette convertible and it damn near takes my breath away. Growing up with an auto mechanic father, I know he’d be losing his shit right now if he could see this. I’m practically losing it too. But like hell if I’m going to let Jake know he’s shocked me.
“Small penis, Jake?” I question, cocking an eyebrow up and giving him a pout of my lips.
“You’re good, but you know that already,” he replies, chuckling a little. He runs a finger over the hood of the car as he walks through the garage toward the back.
“Can I put my bag in your trunk?”
“I’d like to put something in your trunk.”
I burst out laughing, my hand running down my face as I shake my head at his horrible pick-up line.
“Does that really work?” I ask. “Girls falling at your feet in response to your horrendous pick-up lines?”
“I’m not hurting, but right now, I’m thinking there’s only one woman I want.”
“Well, you know what they say, you always want what you can’t have.”
“I’ll take that as a challenge.”
I roll my eyes and toss my bag into the now open trunk before I open the door to the car. I catch myself just as I’m about to sit down, remembering where we are and realizing I’m on the wrong side of the car.
“Damn it,” I mutter, remembering all the times I’ve gotten into the wrong side of the car on my layovers in foreign countries. But when I bend down, I notice the steering wheel is on the left side of the car.
“This is an American car.”
“It is,” Jake confirms, climbing in and starting the engine as he hits a button that opens the large garage door behind us. He lowers the top and I get a good look at the inside as I climb in next to him.
“Fifty-nine? Sixty?” I ask, my hand running over the smooth surface of the dashboard.
“Sixty, but how’d you know that?”
“My dad was a mechanic,” I tell him quickly. “Is this the original paint? Roman red? They produced about fifteen hundred in this color. This was the first year you couldn’t get the Corvette in an automatic transmission. When they upped the horsepower, it was too powerful. It had to be manual.” I look down, Jake’s hand resting on the gearshift. “Shit, this is a four-speed, not standard at all.”
Jake cuts in, “You gotta stop talking.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve got a raging hard-on.”
I laugh out loud, my hand covering my mouth, trying to stifle the fact that he was able to catch me off guard. My eyes shoot to his crotch, and I look away quickly.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Get a good look?” he asks, winking at me.
“Just drive.”
Jake backs out of the garage, and within a few seconds we are on the road, the wind blowing in my hair and the sun warming my skin. It feels amazing and I lean my head back and close my eyes.
“Where you from, Taylor?” he asks, his voice cutting into the peacefulness of the ride, but his accent now more apparent than it had been when we first met.
“Minnesota. Minneapolis. I thought we were doing that whole yes or no question thing?”
“The car seems to relax you. You haven’t asked a question in at least five minutes.”
“Where are we going?” I shoot back, but this time it’s me winking at him.
“There’s my feisty girl, but I’m not telling you because this is all about me showing you the Sydney I love, and what fun would it be if I told you everything ahead of time?”
Maybe it’s the car, maybe it’s him, or maybe it’s this sudden feeling of freedom that fills my body, but I honestly don’t care where we are going. The air smells of the ocean, and the sun beams down in a way that melts my cares.
“You got a swimsuit in that bag?” Jake asks, his thumb motioning to the trunk of the car.
“Nope.”
“Perfect because that’s our first stop.”
We pull up outside of a small surf shop with the name Soaking Wet Surf Shop emblazoned on a sign above it, and again I chuckle.
This guy is turning me into a fifteen-year-old boy.
“Something funny?” he asks, a small pitch of insinuation in his voice, baiting me to respond. “A mate of mine owns this shop. We’re gonna go in and pick out swimsuits for each other, and then I’m gonna teach you how to surf.”
“Okay, first of all, you are not picking out a swimsuit for me.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re going to pick out the most inappropriate suit you can find. Ass floss, and there’s no way I’m wearing it.”
“And you could do the same for me, but I trust you. That’s where we differ.” He reaches over and tucks a few strands of loose hair behind my ear, causing goosebumps to prick my skin instantly. “And what was the second thing?”
“What?” My word comes out somewhat garbled, my thoughts a mess because fuck me if him touching me isn’t totally screwing with my plan to avoid men at all costs.
“You said first of all. What was the second thing?”
“I don’t know.”
“So, we’re good then? You pick my suit, I pick yours, and we meet up outside the changing rooms.”
I have no idea why I agree to this, but I nod my head and watch as Jake darts out of the car like it’s a race to find the worst suit. I take off after him, and when he looks over his shoulder and smiles, my heart practically stops.
I’m just grateful I got a wax before I left.