Chapter Eighteen #2
Liz stared blankly at the wall of romance-novel spines staring back at her, perplexed at what to choose. She sipped her coffee and slid her gaze over to Jake, who was picking up books, reading the covers, raising his eyebrows, and then gingerly putting them back, as if something sticky was on them.
“No wonder we can never do anything right,” he said, his tone light. “Every single dude is a billionaire with perfect abs, royalty, or a special ops military guy who can kill you with his pinkie but won’t because he’s a good guy.”
“My mom reads them, says she likes the happy endings. It’s not reality, though. Love isn’t like that. It isn’t happily ever after,” she replied bitterly.
“Easy there, Sister Mary,” Jake murmured as he stepped close to her, his arm rubbing hers as he ran his finger over the spines. “Why else does your mom like them?”
Thankful for his deflection, Liz shook off the irritation his question had raised.
She’d asked her mom that question many times, after hearing about the latest bodice ripper her mom was glued to.
Her mom consumed at least two books a week, if not more.
Liz had always wanted to buy her an e-reader, but they were expensive, and she wasn’t sure her mom would like the experience as opposed to holding a real book and turning the pages.
Liz thought it was more than just reading for her mom; it looked more like a form of meditation when she’d catch her mother curled up with a book.
“She says she likes the fact that the stories are about women being in charge of their destinies, they have agency, that sort of thing,” she said. “I think truthfully she likes the sex in them. Some of them are really spicy.”
“Spicy, huh? Like lots of sex?” Jake asked.
“Yeah. I don’t know, though, sometimes the scenes in older books she picks up at garage sales feel wrong. Like the woman is forced to do things against her will, and stuff.”
Jake hmmed and picked a book off the shelf, examining the cover. “What about this one? The dude on the front looks constipated. Says here he’s a ‘shifter.’ What in the hell is a shifter?”
Liz held in a laugh and shook her head. “Beats me. Maybe a fictional race-car driver type? Who knows. I’ll just get her some of these, the historical ones. She likes them best.”
She quickly swept up three of the New Regency Releases on the end of the aisle, with women in flowing dresses and frilly parasols gracing the covers, and tucked them into the crook of her arm.
The fact that she was shopping for romance novels with Jake of all people felt oddly good, yet nerve-racking.
His hand brushing her hip as they browsed made making decisions about which books to get her mother difficult.
The entire time they’d been in the bookstore her body and her mind had been fritzing from the simple contact.
“It can be, you know,” he said suddenly.
“What can?”
“Love. It can be happily ever after,” he said, eyes roving the books in front of them and crinkling as he smiled.
“I wouldn’t think you’d believe that,” Liz countered. “I mean, you’re divorced and all that, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but I still think it can happen. Love doesn’t necessarily have to be this passionate adventure. It can be slow and gentle, strong and resilient,” he said, surprising her.
“Why, Mr. West, I do believe you’re a romantic!” Liz mock gasped, eliciting chuckles from him as he caught her eye.
“Nah. Maybe,” he said, smiling sadly. “I met my ex at a restaurant we both worked at, and we just clicked. It wasn’t passionate really, but it was mutual respect, and we thought it was enough, until it wasn’t.
Doesn’t make it any less true, though. Love is different for each person, you have to learn their love language. ”
Liz thought about her mom, and how she’d had a very different take on her marriage to Brett compared to what everyone else thought was true. Perspectives Liz hadn’t ever considered.
Black and white were more her speed. She was either in love or not in love. There were no semantics or variations on that. But it wasn’t a switch you could turn on and off, and she had never really been good at being “in love” with Darren. He’d made that clear.
“What do you believe? I already know the happily ever after part isn’t it,” Jake asked suddenly.
They turned down another aisle, this one with a sign that screamed erotica in bold red letters.
They browsed the books, most of them with suggestive names and oddly placed objects that were euphemisms for sex or something more.
Apples, a whip lying casually on a tile floor, ripples of sensual silk across a bed with a hand clutching the folds.
Liz pursed her lips, thinking. What did she believe?
Darren had broken her heart. After she had dumped him in a very public way, he’d made stupid excuses, claiming that it was her pushing him away that had led to him cheating, not his own lack of respect and control. He went so far as to say he didn’t think she really loved him.
She thought she had, she just didn’t know how to show it the way he needed, and even though he’d asked her to marry him, she’d never felt head over heels for him. Showing love, or being intimate wasn’t her strong suit. He’d tried to change her, but maybe she was too stubborn.
Because of all that, Liz decided that perhaps love wasn’t enough, but that wasn’t what Jake was asking.
“I don’t know anymore,” she offered, and shrugged. “I—”
“What happened between you and Doctor McFancypants, anyway?”
He’d caught on better than she’d expected and she laughed, making him chuckle too.
“Darren? He—” She stopped and inhaled through her nose, wincing at the pain of it, and touched the bridge with her finger.
Jake’s hands were suddenly on her waist, and he drew her in close to him.
He smelled damned good, like fresh soap and some sort of cedary cologne, the planes of his chest smooth and hard, and it was making her want to forget that they were talking about something she hated thinking about, which was her one failed serious relationship.
He pulled her into a hug, nestling her head on his shoulder.
They were somewhat shielded by the bookshelf, and he let out a deep, frustrated sigh.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he murmured in her ear.
“He cheated on me with one of the nurses he works with. It didn’t last long, but it was enough. He blamed me. Obviously, my idea of love wasn’t his, working on your theory.”
Jake’s grip on her tightened, and his arms flexed. “Jerk,” he muttered.
“It was probably for the best,” she replied lamely, and pushed away from him, the intimate contact a bit much. She looked up at him, and his eyes were serious, his face set the same way Tanner got when he was about to be a big, tough man about something.
“No one should ever be disrespected that way,” he said. “He had no idea what he was letting go.”
Her heart skipped a beat, and she wanted to lean into him again. He said things guys had never said to her before and it made her feel special in the moment, like she mattered. She studied his face, and he flushed slightly, maybe because she’d caught him being sweet.
He cleared his throat. “Right. You have what you need? You sure you don’t want to buy your mom some of these? You did say she liked the sexy parts.”
“I am not buying my mother erotica. I think that crosses some sort of hard line in mom-daughter relationships.” Liz laughed, thankful he was being playful despite her surly mood and heavy topic. She hadn’t laughed a lot lately, and it was nice to flirt with him like this.
“Suit yourself. Might buy myself one . . . for pointers, you know.”
He’d said that as she was taking a sip of her coffee, and she nearly sprayed it back out everywhere. Oh hell, that was pure invitation. How was she supposed to answer that?
He ran his finger across a few spines and then chuckled, knowing he’d shocked her. Time to keep moving or she’d jump him behind the bookshelf, and that would get them kicked out of the store.
“Come on,” Liz replied, and quickly turned toward the cash register with her armload of books before he could see her cheeks turn bright pink.
* * *
There were absolutely no streetlights on country roads, and it was unnerving for Jake as he sat in the truck, feeling every bump. More so because he couldn’t see them coming.
The headlights on the truck wavered over the rough road as Liz drove, a study in concentration. She seemed unfazed by the inky blackness.
“It gets dark out here quick,” he remarked, and Liz hmmed.
“You tired? I got a high spot I should take you to. Stars are out tonight,” she replied, and hit a turn he hadn’t even seen coming, heading up a climbing gravel road before he could answer.
“Stars,” he deadpanned, and raised his eyebrows at her as she smiled.
“S’beautiful,” she replied, and pulled off suddenly into what appeared to be a parking lot. They were alone except for another car with fogged-up windows at the other end of the lot.
She turned the truck off and undid her seat belt, her body straight and tense, uncertain, like it had been all afternoon.
Was she regretting her bold move the night before?
Was this attraction all it was, and she was about to squash it because of his overprotective brother?
He hoped not. He wanted Liz. He wanted her to give in to the attraction churning between them, see where it would go, because she was holding herself back from it.
He couldn’t read her right now; her anxiousness was a direct contradiction to her normally decisive, blunt personality.
He looked into the inky blackness, spotting the odd winking light from a house, and let out a big breath, trying not to take on the tension he felt radiating across the cab of the truck at him.
“Look. I’m no good at relationships,” she blurted, and he turned in his seat to look at her. She was staring out the windshield, hands twisting nervously on the wheel.