The Wager - Dyken Rachel Van - Страница 13

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“Great, Grandma.” Jake swore. “May as well just give them permission to get arrested.”

“That was one time!” Grandma argued.

“You were in a Mexican prison. We’re lucky you’re alive.”

“Oh, Pablo, he was something.” Grandma tugged at her necklace and began caressing the pearls.

Beth’s mouth dropped open.

Char had to kick her under the table again to get her to close it.

“Well, ta ta!” Grandma waved and then pulled Jake by the shirt until they were out the door.

The table fell silent.

Tequila shots were everywhere.

Beth looked at Char.

Char looked at the table.

“So.” Beth sucked on part of a lime. “That was fun.”

Char groaned and then banged her head against the table. “How am I going to make it through the next few weeks with those two?”

Beth laughed. “Easy.”

“Huh?”

“Xanax.”

“Very funny.” 

Jake paced in front of the door. Char had texted and said she’d stop by around noon. It was officially five minutes past. Where was she? He needed to find a way to get back his job and his manhood, preferably in reverse order.

The morning had started off normally enough, with Grandma doing her damn yoga and then demanding he drop her off at her Bridge group. But even when Grandma asked for one thing, it was never just one thing. No, she’d demand you do something else, fail to give an explanation, and then look at you like you were an idiot if you asked why.

He felt like a kid again, like he had the time Grandma caught him stealing M&Ms from the convenience store and then bought him a five-pound bag and demanded he sit and eat the entire bag in front of her.

Her reasoning was that it would keep him from stealing again. Because if she ever caught him with sticky fingers, he’d either have to consume said object or wear it around the house.

In high school it had happened again with beer. She’d given him a six pack and told him to chug until he got sick. It took him three before he was puking. Naturally, Grandma had finished the rest of the pack.

Suffice it to say, it was always wiser to agree with the woman than to tempt fate. So he drove her around town, played the nice grandson, and then prayed to God she would finally hire him back so he could stop playing chauffeur and wedding planner.

Good God, he was going to turn into a woman waiting for that damn irritating girl.

The doorbell rang.

He ran to it. Then stopped and took a few deep breaths. Yup, definitely turning into a woman. He was acting like this was a first date or something! It was Char! Char! He had to repeat her name several times out loud before he was able to finally pull the door open.

Her smile lit up his dark mood and suddenly he remembered all over again why he stayed away from girls like her.

They were trouble.

They promised you pleasure and in the end wanted commitment, something any guy would run from—especially a guy like him. He didn’t deserve anything like it—he wasn’t that much of an ass to not know that a girl like Char, well, she deserved one of the good ones.

Not him. Definitely, not him.

Her eyes lit up when he smiled.

Shit. He was going to have to stop flirting with her. She was going to get the wrong idea, and he was going to lose his mind if he had to partner up with her for the entire wedding week, wondering if she was just waiting for the right time to pull a knife on him.

“Come in.” He opened the door wider and fought hard not to stare at her backside as she walked past him and her heels clicked against the marble floors. Clearly she’d been at work. She was wearing a tight pencil skirt, white blouse, and red heels.

Poor choice.

Because now he was thinking about Grandma and her stupid airport story and…

“Jake?” Char’s soft voice brought him back to the present. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No.” He laughed awkwardly. “I was, um, just admiring your shoes.”

“My shoes?” Her eyebrows arched in amusement. “You have a thing for heels?”

“On you?” He nodded. “I think I just might.”

Shit, there he went again. What was wrong with him? It was like second nature with Char, as if he couldn’t help but be drawn to her. His body involuntarily moved toward her. Was it her eyes? Her hair? A little voice, one he hadn’t listened to in a long time, told him no. It wasn’t physical; it was something completely different, something foreign. Something he really didn’t want to think about or dwell on too much, because then he’d have to admit to actually having a heart, which only meant one thing… Eventually it would break, only this time he wouldn’t have anything to fall back on, just air and nothingness.

He swallowed and looked away. “So, lunch?”

She took his arm and looked around the house. “Sounds good.” Her eyes narrowed.

“What?” He stopped in his tracks. “What’s wrong?”

“A girl forgets.” She chuckled slightly.

“Forgets?”

“How totally and ridiculously rich you are.”

Jake snorted. “Jobless at the moment, but thanks.”

“Oh please.” Char pulled her arm away and walked ahead of him as she stepped into the giant kitchen. “All of this? This is what people dream of living in their entire lives. I mean, I would kill for your kitchen. You have two ovens! My one oven barely works.”

Amused, Jake leaned against the counter. “You like to cook?”

“I love it.” She sighed. “I don’t have as much time as I used to, and my kitchen kind of sucks, just like you…” She smiled sweetly. “If I had a place like this I wouldn’t be feeling sorry for myself like you are.”

“Gee, thanks.” He mumbled, feeling scolded. “And I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”

“Yeah, you kind of are.” Char drummed her fingers against the granite counter top. “So, where’s lunch?”

“In the fridge.”

Char walked over and opened the fridge. “You have more food than most small countries.”

“Grandma likes her food.” Jake shrugged. “I’ll grab the croissant sandwiches and veggies. You want to eat outside on the porch so we can sit by the water?”

“Um, sure.” Char looked around the kitchen. “Anything else we need?”

“Grab a bottle of wine from the fridge, too… maybe a white wine? Your choice.” He winked and walked toward the sliding glass door that led to the veranda that overlooked Lake Washington.

Now, all they needed to do was eat, play nice, and get done with Grandma’s damn list and he could be free to move on with life. His plan was still the same. Survive WW3, also known as the invasion of Grandma, and then go back to his lifestyle.

Though, as he took a minute to sit and enjoy the view, he realized it had felt like years since he’d actually relaxed or been sober enough to enjoy it.

Char’s footsteps echoed across the deck. “Here you go.” She handed him a glass of wine and set the bottle on the table. “It’s pretty out here.”

“I guess it is.” He squinted against the sun and shrugged, forgoing the glass of wine and taking a sip of water instead. “Guess I don’t really notice it much.”

Char snorted and shook her head. “So, this list. Let’s get it over with.”

Abrupt subject change, but fine. Jake pulled out a new piece of paper. “Okay, we have to be careful with this one. The last one was lost in a tragic paper shredder accident. I had to steal Grandma’s backup while she was sleeping last night.”

“Wow, you’re a regular 007.”

“The woman sleeps like the dead.”

“So it was easy?”

“She has a gun under her pillow and has never taken a shooting lesson in her life—easy?” Jake shuddered. “Not if you want to keep all your parts.”

“Fair enough.”

Jake cleared his throat. “It looks like we just have to worry about the cake topper and Kacey and Travis’s wedding gift. Grandma says it will be delivered later this afternoon so I guess we’ll just take it on the plane with us?”

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