In preparing for the day, I took that time to go over Jake’s behavior since practically the moment we met and I felt slightly foolish that I had not grasped that Jake and I had been dating thus there was a Jake and me.
But that didn’t change the fact that there was indeed a Jake and me. He liked it. I liked it.
Even so, it was not lost on me that there were some anxieties curling under the surface of my happiness.
The last man I’d chosen, the last one I’d let in, the one and only relationship I had outside of my high school boyfriend…
It didn’t bear thinking about.
But Jake was not him.
Nor was he my father.
Jake was gallant, protective, generous, selfless and tenderhearted.
And none of those were my father or…him.
So although I’d never attempted to have a relationship with a man, not for twenty-three years, and it was clear I was embarking on a relationship with Jake, and Jake was all things Jake (thus I didn’t want to lose any of them), those anxieties were curling under the surface.
Even so, I knew I had only to discuss them with Jake and from what he’d already given me, I had the strong suspicion he’d help me set those anxieties away.
And that felt beautiful too.
We went to his home and I was delighted to discover it was rather an old one, but one in very good condition, standing tall (three stories) and proud. Through some dense trees it even had a view of the sea.
I also discovered during the tour Ethan gave me that Jake had a good eye for decorating, which was rather shocking but not unwelcome. Of course this eye came with a mind to comfort but the colors and pieces he chose were excellent (albeit manly—so manly I feared Amber felt cast adrift in that masculine sanctum), the furniture very high quality and the fixtures and fittings handsome.
He could use some toss pillows to add a splash of color and his wall décor seemed rather slapdash but these were minor issues.
During the tour, I decided I had three favorite rooms in the house.
The kitchen, which was obviously built as an extension, with its exposed beams in a beautiful blonde wood that jutted under skylights so prevalent they appeared to be the entire ceiling, stark red cabinets, stainless steel appliances and black granite countertops.
Jake’s bedroom on the top floor, which had a masculine but extraordinary sleigh bed that was so enormous, at first glance it seemed to take up the entire room, and regardless of the fact that it was unmade, it was also extremely inviting. Not to mention its master bath which also had skylights, a very large shower with smooth stone flooring and three shower heads and an oval bath that had steps up so it was sunken and would be a giving-yourself-a-facial, pumicing-your-feet, soaking-your-cares-away woman’s dream.
And, last, his office, next to his bedroom, which was what had the view to the sea. It also had a fabulous antique desk and a seating area by the window consisting of comfortable chair with a table and lamp which I took one look at, longed to find a book and curl up there to read and, should my mind wander, gaze at the sea.
On the way back downstairs, Ethan announced, “Dad totally did all this stuff. With Tom and Bert and Coert and sometimes Mickey.”
I stared at the back of his head while we were descending.
“Pardon?”
He looked back at me grinning. “Place was a dump. Totally. Dad gutted it and fixed it up before we moved in. We got pictures. Wanna see?”
I absolutely did, so I nodded.
We got to the bottom of the stairs and Ethan ran off, presumably to get the photo albums.
This was when Jake claimed me, pulled me to the kitchen, pushed me into the counter, slapped my mobile into my hand and said, “Mick.”
I glared at him.
Then I remarked, “Ethan said Mickey helped you renovate your home.”
“Yep,” Jake replied. “Now call him,” Jake ordered.
I glared at him again before I announced, “I am quite capable of telephoning Mickey to cancel our date and doing it without you standing nary an inch away with your hand on my neck.”
“I know that, Slick,” he stated, his lips again quirking with amusement (although I found nothing humorous in our current scenario). “I also know Mick’s a good guy. He’s a bud. Known him a long time and my guess would be he’ll be cool with you because he’s that good of a guy. But another thing I know is that he was in the hall last night when I finished my fight, had showered and was probably on his way to the empty seat beside yours. So I figure he either saw you go into my locker room or he’s heard of it. So he feels like bein’ a dick, and gotta say, can’t blame him, then I’m here to tell him to go fuck himself because even if I can’t blame him, that shit is not going to happen.”
It was too mortifying to think that Mickey knew what had happened between Jake and me last night so I decided instead to focus on breaking this down.
“So you’re standing very close with your hand on me, demanding I phone Mickey while in your presence in order to be readily available should Mickey be unpleasant.”
“Hit the nail on the head,” he confirmed.
“You are aware I’m a grown woman,” I asked.
“Yep. I’m very aware of that,” he answered on a roguish grin that, even during our mildly irritating conversation, I found highly attractive. “I’m also aware that officially as of last night against a wall in a locker room, you became my woman and no man is a dick to my woman.”
As ludicrously protective and preposterously overbearing as I knew this was, I couldn’t help but like it.
I also found it more than mildly irritating, not only him doing it but me liking it.
Thus, I continued to glare at Jake but Jake continued to stand very close to me with his hand on my neck, holding my eyes.
He lost our staring contest and I was learning I should not be surprised he lost it by demanding with a preposterously overbearing jerk of his head to my phone, “Babe. Mick.”
It was then I realized he was not going to move and I knew with no doubts I couldn’t forcibly move him so I gave him one final glare, beginning to think Jake and I had more than a few things to talk about as I officially became “his woman.”
Then I turned my eyes to my phone and called Mickey.
It rang three times before he answered strangely with, “She finally calls to give me the crash and burn.”
“I…uh, Mickey?” I stammered after receiving his greeting.
“Let me guess, Jake’s standing right in front of you.”
I felt the strong desire to laugh bubble up inside of me at the same time I still felt very badly about what I needed to do, more so if he’d heard what happened between Jake and I last night, either firsthand or through another party.
“Indeed,” I agreed, deciding to stare at Jake’s throat, but finding it altogether too attractive so moving my eyes to his now t-shirted (he’d clearly changed from his training gear while Ethan gave me my tour) shoulder.
“That’s where I’d be,” Mickey muttered.
“I’m assuming you know why I’m calling,” I said quietly.
“Babe, way you looked at Jake, way he looked at you, I knew I had nothin’ but a sliver of a chance to slide in there. I told Jake last night we had a date, a cocky move and cocky’s always stupid. He wasted no time and moved to stake his claim. I’da done the same.”
I wasn’t fond of the terminology “stake his claim” nor was I certain that’s what actually happened (though it must be said, Jake rushed me in the locker room, pushing me into the wall; I just didn’t stop him). But as Mickey was being very kind about an uncomfortable situation, I decided not to debate that with him.