Page 44 of Fish Out of Water

But it was too late. He was awake, and his day had officially started.

Isabel sentJake off to the store with a grocery list once he’d eaten breakfast and had some coffee. She told him he could wait until after lunch, but Jake needed to get out of the house anyway. A quick drive to Sandway would do him good—as long as Robbie wasn’t there this time.

People were starting to recognize Jake now, and as Jake walked down the wide aisles tossing boxes and cans and bundles of fruit and vegetables into his basket, the occasional townsperson nodded in his direction or smiled and waved.

“Hi, Jake,” one of Isabel’s friends said.

“Hi,” Jake said back, offering a brief smile.

He was on his way back to the house an hour later with two bags’ worth of groceries and a car full of gas, the latter courtesy of Robbie’s parents. It was as successful a day as he could hope for out here, and that made him miss his old life all the more.

When he returned to the house, there was another car in his spot in the driveway. He pulled up to the curb, getting out without the groceries so he could examine this new car. It was almost familiar, though Jake couldn’t quite tell if his mind was playing tricks on him.

It was a sleek black little thing; an expensive make. He peered into the tinted windows to see a smooth brown leather interior and polished wooden trim. There was only one family in town that would drive a car like this, and Jake highly doubted Isabel would have Robert Jr. or Madeleine Eaton over for lunch.

With a scowl on his face that he could feeldragging his lips down, Jake hauled the two bags out of his own car and stomped up the front steps. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, listening carefully for that warm, honey-sweet voice he used on people like Isabel.

“Marcus really did have an impressive collection.” The words filtered in from the kitchen. Why was he in the kitchen?

“Thank you,” Jake heard Isabel say, clearly flattered. “Like I said, any and all are yours if you want them. It would make him happy to know they’re going to a… what are people like you called?”

“Pricks,” Jake muttered under his breath. “Scheming, manipulative little pricks.”

“A bibliophile,” Robbie said. Jake could hear his smile.

Isabel snapped her fingers. “That’s it.”

“Well, I’m hardly that, but I appreciate your flattery.”

“God knows you don’t need it.” Jake burst into the kitchen, slamming the bags of groceries down on the counter. “Hey, Robbie, why areyouhere?”

Both Isabel and Robbie looked up. Robbie was holding a cup of coffee, and Isabel her favorite mint tea.

“Oh, Jakey, you’re back just in time for lunch. Want some coffee or tea?” Isabel seemed entirely unfazed by his attitude, if she’d even noticed it at all.

“Not until Robbie answers my question,” Jake said, folding his arms over his chest as he scrutinized the man he’d looked at entirely differently just half a day earlier. “Why are you here?”

“Isabel invited me,” Robbie said simply.

“No shit. Why did you come?”

“Jake, what’s gotten into you?” Isabel set her tea down, moving closer to Robbie as if to protect him. “I asked him to come look at some of Marcus’ old books and see if he wants any or if I should try selling them. That’s all.”

Jake glared at Robbie, his gaze unflinching. Slowly, that punchable smirk spread across Robbie’s face. “I can leave if this is going to be a problem,” he said, his tone as calm as the sea on a quiet day.

“No.” Jake set his jaw firmly. “Not a problem for me. Stay, Robbie, have lunch. Tell usallabout what you’ve been up to these last few days.”

Robbie’s smirk faltered. He took a sip of his coffee, his lips parting to take in the liquid, and then he set the cup down on the counter, never once taking his eyes off Jake. As ceramic clinked on granite, his eyes twinkled, and Jake knew he’d just lost. “With pleasure.”

Isabel had Jake set the table for lunch, allowing Robbie to sit back, finish his coffee, and flip through books while they worked.

“You know you can make him do something too, Aunt Isabel,” Jake told her as he tossed napkins haphazardly onto the table. “He’s had a lifetime of sitting on his ass already. Put him to work for once.”

“You can be a little kinder to our guest,” Isabel said, keeping her voice down as if Robbie couldn’t hear as little as a whisperfrom the living room. “Besides, I thought you two were getting along better.”

Jake shrugged. “We were. Are. It’s just that I didn’t expect him here. This is sort of my own private space, you know? I don’t have to worry about hurting the poor little rich boy’s feelings here normally.”

“You won’t hurt Robbie’s feelings. Haven’t you learned that by now?”