The Wager - Dyken Rachel Van - Страница 29

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Char and Jace fell into easy conversation while Jake opened the window and wondered how awful it would be to jump from a moving vehicle, or to plan a homicide for that matter. Was there still a jail sentence if he paid someone off?

The car pulled to a stop.

Jake groaned against the window.

“Hey, champ, you okay?”

Champ? Did Jace just call him Champ?

“Fantastic.” Jake said through clenched teeth.

Jace’s smile was so damn irritating that if Jake did throw up, he vowed to do it all over the man’s black t-shirt and white linen pants. Who wore linen pants in the city? They weren’t at the beach, and they were practically see-through. The man might as well say, “Please stare at my junk.”

“Jake, are you sure you’re okay?” Char sounded actually concerned. He set his eyes on her and wanted to yell. He wasn’t okay, far from it, but he had to look strong; his self-esteem had suffered enough. Swallowing the bile in his throat he nodded once and winked at Char.

Her cheeks stained a pretty pink before her eyes darted away from his and back to Jace.

“Anyways, as I was saying…” Jace cleared his throat and shot an irritating glance at Jake before turning his megawatt smile back on Char.

The smell of fast food floated through the window. Jake tried to push the up button but it was too late. It knocked him flat. All of the nausea he’d been holding in starting rushing toward the back of his throat.

“I think I’m going to be si—”

He didn’t have time to finish the sentence; he hung his head out the window and lost every drink he’d had the previous night and probably the past year on the door.

And then he heard sirens.

Too miserable to say anything, he could only stare in horror as the cop pulled over the limo and approached Jake’s puke-stained door.

“Sir, you do know it’s against the law to—”

“It’s okay, Jim.” Jace said from behind Jake. “He’s with me.”

“Mr. Senator! Lovely day, isn’t it?” Jim, a pudgy cop, saluted. “You sure you got this? I could bring him in, rough him up a bit.”

You know you’re hungover when the thought of prison actually sounds like an attractive alternative to the pounding in your head.

“Not necessary.” Jace slapped Jake on the back and laughed. “Seems to me he just can’t hold his liquor.”

“Not many men can compete with you, Mr. Senator.”

“Get a room.” Jake mumbled under his breath.

“Pardon?” Jim reached for his Taser. Oh, hell no.

Jace cleared his throat. “We need to get going Jim. Say hi to Linda and the kids.”

“Will do!” Jim waved then leaned down to Jake. “I’ll be watching your punk ass.”

Great, so he wasn’t just a sport—well, that was a relief—now he was a punk ass kid. Did that mean he would only go to juvy if he went through with his murder plan?

Hmm, things to think on.

The car pulled away and again Jake was left alone in his corner while Char and Jace laughed and talked as if they were already buying a house together.

Shit.

He needed to find his A-game and fast. For the first time in his life he had serious competition. Of course, because karma’s a bitch, it also happened to be the first time he had any real danger of losing not only to said competition, but his heart altogether. 

Jace was hot. He was more than hot. He looked like Thor, only his eyes were green, not blue. She noticed because they were framed by such long eyelashes that she almost wondered if the man was wearing some sort of eyelash extensions.

He was incredible.

And his tan skin?

He was like dessert, a really nice dessert that your mom won’t let you eat until after you clean up your plate… the dessert that spoils you for other desserts. The type of man that girls watch from afar but never actually talk to.

And he was talking to her.

Her stomach clenched with excitement, until she looked over at Jake. He was miserable. She didn’t want to feel sorry for him. After all, he was with skanks all night, but still.

While her body was responding to Jace, her heart was calling to Jake, which really sucked if you asked her. It wasn’t even fair; for once in her life it seemed like the guy that was interested in her was actually just as great as everyone else said and her heart decided it wasn’t interested? Seriously?

They pulled to a stop in front of Titus Abby. They still a good week before the wedding but you wouldn’t know it by looking.

Catering vans were everywhere, along with decorators, florists—geez, it was like a wedding magazine threw up on the place.

“Char!” Kacey ran out of the house toward the limo and stopped dead in her tracks. “Holy crap, did you guys hit a rotten cat or something?”

“Rotten cat.” Jace laughed, getting out of the car. “Sounds about right, huh Jake?”

With a groan, Jake got out of the car and made a beeline toward the house.

“Oh, come on, weddings aren’t that bad, Jake!” Jace called after him, laughing.

Char squinted, not liking that Jace was taunting Jake. Truthfully, he deserved that and more, but still. It wasn’t attractive. Not to her.

“Looks like Jake’s returned to his partying ways, huh?” Kacey nudged Char and looped her arm in hers, totally oblivious to the fact that Char’s heart was clenching in her chest over the thought.

He’d spent a few days with her.

And it hadn’t been enough to keep him away from that lifestyle. Which just proved the point again—he wasn’t worth it, because in the end he would always choose himself, his lifestyle, his money. It would never be about her.

“So.” Char ignored the pain in her chest. “Jace is really nice.”

“He’s a senator,” Kacey sang. “And he graduated two years early from college. He’s a MENSA member and I have it on good authority he adopts injured dogs.”

“You talking about Jace?” Travis came up and gave Kacey a kiss on the head. “He’s like porn to women. Seriously, if you don’t like him, there’s no hope for you.”

Char didn’t have time to reply. Grandma soon burst into the room carrying a large microphone embellished with small pink crystals.

“Um, what’s that?” Char pointed at the offending device.

“My microphone, for the wedding.” Grandma lifted it out of its case and handed it to Char. “It makes me sound like Mariah Carey.”

“If Mariah Carey was a dying squirrel,” Kacey said under her breath.

“Heard that,” Grandma snapped.

“You won’t be singing at the wedding.” Kacey grinned. “So it doesn’t matter anyway.”

Grandma took the microphone back, careful to put it in its case, which looked a heck of a lot like a caboodle and stuffed it under her arm. “What you and Travis are engaged in is mere child’s play. I dated a Kennedy.” She straightened her blouse. “Enough said. Now move along, I have things to plan. Tonight we celebrate!”

“What’s Grandma talking about?” Char asked, wondering why Travis and Kacey were staring after Grandma as if they could figure out the puzzle that was her life and behavior.

“Dinner party and cocktails for the guests,” Kacey said, still watching Grandma. “I don’t like her tone. What does she know that we don’t?”

Travis scratched his head. “She’s just trying to get in our heads.”

“Feeling left out here.” Char raised her hand. “You guys in some sort of war with Grandma?”

“No,” Kacey snapped and looked back at Char. “A battle of the minds, possibly… but we’ll win. Grandma thinks she’s knows what’s best but for once, she’s wrong. We’ll prove it and then she won’t be singing at the wedding.” 

Char watched with Travis and Kacey as Grandma moved to the middle of the room and pulled out a red whistle.

“Who the hell gave her a whistle?” Travis muttered an oath under his breath and groaned about how slight breezes were making him horny just as Grandma blew loud enough to cause deafness.

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