6. Jake
CHAPTER SIX
jake
T he engine of my black Harley Dyna cuts through the quiet evening as I back it into a parking spot in front of my new store.
My store. I have my work in showrooms in Seattle and Spokane, but this one here is all mine.
Anderson’s Fine Furnishings is becoming everything I dreamed it could be.
It will showcase my work and have pieces people can buy off the floor.
I’ve been saving for this next step since before I put my work into other showrooms, and when the previous location I used as a workshop was no longer available, it forced me to take the leap.
The storefront itself isn’t exceptionally large, but it will do.
I’ll spend most of my time in the workshop out back anyways.
This is a better setup than what I imagined, and when Michele and I did the walk-through, I knew it was the right place.
Amber owning the store next door is just icing on the cake.
My chest vibrates, so I pull my phone from inside my leather jacket.
Dad:
Proud of you, son.
Jake:
Thanks, Dad. I’ll get you in here as soon as it’s finished.
A proud grin fills my face as I step off the bike and take in my future.
While this is my dream, I also did it for my parents.
To make them proud and pay back a tiny bit of the hard work they put into raising me.
My mom was a homemaker while my dad worked construction.
Money wasn’t abysmal, but it wasn’t something we had in abundance, yet they made it work.
When I started asking to play sports, Dad increased his hours while Mom took on odd jobs to help pay for my equipment and fees.
They never told me no, always just found a way to make it work.
Ever since Dad’s accident, though, I have worked my ass off to switch those roles and take care of them in the same way.
My parents deserve it, not only because of the way they raised me but for being my best friends.
I struggled with friendships in school. Thoren and River have had my back since day one, but close friendships outside of them are few.
It takes me time to let people in because of how I was treated by other kids.
Cedar Ridge isn’t an exceptionally wealthy town, but there’s still a disparity between middle and lower class.
Teasing started at a young age for those of us who wore secondhand clothes.
Even with my mom’s incredible sewing skills, it was easy to see when she repaired holes in clothes instead of buying me new ones.
That bullying shut me down at such a young age.
Feeling like you don’t belong and seeing others turn their nose up at you messes with a kid. It hardened me to the world and made me angry. I saw the cruelty of the people around me early on, so I vowed to be a protector. To use that anger to stand up for those who were different; less fortunate.
I let comments about me roll off my back because I had my parents’ love and support.
Comments about my mom, my dad, other kids, women—I didn’t stand for that.
It got worse as I got older, so I tried to fit in with different crowds.
I was always accepted but as a kid on the edge.
The jocks had a reputation for bullying and treating girls badly, neither of which I stood for.
The popular kids liked that I had a reputation for fighting because they felt cool around me.
Girls wanted to hang on me and liked that I filled out faster than a lot of my peers.
None ever took the time to get to know me, not wanting to actually date the poor kid who liked to hang out in the woods with his best friend.
In college, I struggled with more of the same.
I stopped making so much of an effort to seek friendships, but then women came to me for the same reasons.
The broody guy slinging drinks at the bar, the quiet tall guy with big muscles and tattoos.
I know I’m attractive, and I’ve used it, but I didn’t want to.
I wanted someone to see the real me and to make an actual effort.
I tried to protect people. To support them and help others feel like they belonged, but it all turned into more anger and more fighting as I retreated further into myself.
My parents were supportive through it all.
They knew I used my size to stop bullies, and they knew I struggled with our financial status, but they loved me anyway.
Several times, I tried to change people’s perception of me, taking on an easygoing persona, someone always ready with a smile who could move from crowd to crowd.
The kids ate it up, but still, the friendships remained surface level, outside of Thoren and River.
Even with them, I struggled with feelings of not being good enough.
They had things I didn’t, could do things I couldn’t, and life just seemed …
easier for them. To no fault of their own, it got worse in college when I saw how they hardly studied but had amazing grades.
How women flocked to them, and they could so easily let them in.
Them paying for my part of the rent was as humiliating as it was lifesaving.
Yet, through all my struggles, my parents were there, encouraging open communication, providing support, and lightly scolding me for my attitude and fighting problem. So yeah, this is for them as much as it is for me.
Placing my helmet on my handlebar, I run my fingers through my hair and turn toward Amber’s store.
Thoren and I spent the afternoon moving equipment into my workshop and setting up worktables and storage.
I still have more to move and organize, but the majority is thrown in there.
We separated around five so he could have dinner with his wife, and I stopped at home to grab some food and a shower.
Now it’s time to pay a visit to my favorite plaything.
All day I waited for her to come storming over and yell at me, but I should have known that’s not her style.
She put me in a fucking headspin these last few weeks.
My brain felt like a pendulum going from feeling awful that I was too rough with her for her first time and furious that she didn’t make it fucking clear to me.
I’m not sure I would have stopped if I had known, but I would have treated her differently, been gentle and slow and took my time getting her ready.
How dare she put me in that position to feel like the asshole when I didn’t know.
Bells chime from above the door when I open it, drawing golden eyes to mine. Her face pales, and her breathing shallows in the tight crop top she’s wearing. That’s right, Whiskey, you can’t hide from me anymore.
Michele informed me she told Amber, and the way her back straightens and she works her jaw tell me she’s ready for a fight. “Jake. Let me lock up and close the store, then we can talk.”
“You sure you want to be locked in here with me?” I ask, trailing my hand over a clothing rack as I walk toward her.
“Please.” She rolls her eyes, letting her sass come out. “If you want to go somewhere else, be my guest. The door’s right there.” The smirk on her face is a challenge, one I won’t back down from .
I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back my smile. Her spark is back, and it’s everything I hoped for. There’s a single chair in the corner of the store near two small dressing rooms, so I take a seat and put my hand out for her to continue. “Go ahead, I’ll wait right here.”
Looking around, I see it’s a nice store.
She has a plethora of items, from clothes and shoes to accessories, home decor, and even bath products.
It’s cute, but the shelves and displays have seen better days.
I train my eyes anywhere but on her thighs being hugged by black leggings, remembering how smooth they felt beneath my palms. The last thing I need is to get hard thinking of her breathy moans and the way her nails dug into my skin when I licked her pussy. Fuck, Jake, get your head on right.
A jingle catches my attention before a black and white kitten jumps onto my lap.
It’s a fluffy little thing wearing a blue collar with a small bell.
Cats aren’t my thing, I’m more of a dog guy, but I have to admit it’s a cute little fella.
He climbs up my chest, sharp claws digging into my skin as he makes his way to my neck and settles in.
“Who is this little guy?”
Amber glances over from where she’s closing the register. “That’s Socks. I found him in the back alley last month, so if you find another one, it’s your turn to take him home.”
I scoff. That will not be happening, even if his soft fur feels nice against my scruff.
I give him some pets, setting off quiet purrs, then let him snuggle into my shoulder.
Amber disappears through a door in the back, only to reappear a few minutes later with a stool that she places a few feet away from me.
Her foot taps on the floor as she wipes her hands down her thighs.
I make her nervous, it seems. My gaze travels from her top knot to the sliver of skin peeking between her top and leggings.
There have been too many nights over the last few weeks that I wrapped my fist around my cock and stroked it to thoughts of her.
As much as she may piss me off, I can’t deny that the sex was beyond compare.
“I would like to start over. Clearly, we’ve had some miscommunications and lapses in judgment. We’re going to be neighbors now, and I really would like to rent the storage room from you.”
My grunt scares the kitten, who meows in my ear. “Miscommunications? That’s what you want to call it? When you told me my reputation precedes me, then told me you didn’t mean in a fuckboy way, then immediately slept with me while lying about being a virgin?”