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Her hair was clipped to the top of her head, though straggly pieces hung around her ears and neck. Dressed in a gray sweatshirt two sizes too big and a pair of jeans that were well worn and threadbare in the ass, she looked no older than a college kid. Her pale skin shone like alabaster in the muted light as her head bobbed to a beat that only she could hear.
For that one moment, she looked young, carefree and—as she smiled and sang, “So, call me maybe”—like the most beautiful thing in the world.
His eyes and his heart drank her in as if he was dying of thirst, and he took a step back, hiding in the shadows near the door. It had been so long since he’d seen her like this. Dancing, singing, living.
She wiggled her hips and took a step to the right and her voice rose, trying to reach a note that he knew she wasn’t able to reach, but he knew she was going for it anyway. One thing about Raine: she couldn’t carry a tune to save her life, and she totally didn’t give a shit. She sang it out and he winced—it was particularly bad—but then she bent over, head bopping, hips swaying, and his mouth went dry as his gaze rested on the sweetest ass he’d ever laid eyes on.
With it thrust in the air like that, he supposed any red-blooded man would react the same way he did. His gut tightened. His heart rate increased. Blood pounded in his ears and rushed through his body. It rushed down and kept going. Down to where it had no business being, and he clenched his jaw tightly as his cock hardened, his erection instant and fierce.
Hot, consuming need rippled through him, and for a second he closed his eyes, because he was that close to the edge. He thought of the women he’d had in the past. The ones who’d assuaged that ache, even if it had only been for a brief time. But that was the thing. The ache never completely went away, and after last night he was pretty damn sure he was cursed to live with that hole inside him.
Gibson ran across the floor and attacked her feet, the tubby bundle of fur yipping and tugging on her sneakers. She laughed, scooped Gibson into her arms to scold him, and froze when she noticed Jake for the first time. The light in her eyes vanished immediately as she slowly removed her earbuds and stared at him in silence.
A silence that she was first to break.
“Jake, I…didn’t think you’d be here today.”
Her words snapped him out of his funk, or maybe it was just the sound of her voice. Whatever it was, something ugly sprang to life inside him. “Really? I kind of own this place, so I’m not sure what part of that you don’t understand.”
She opened her mouth, no doubt ready to curse him out, but then she closed it again, setting Gibson back onto the floor before leaning against the cracked countertop.
“Don’t get your panties in a knot,” she said slowly. “Last night you told Salvatore that you would help him with his Christmas float and”—she glanced at her watch—“he was expecting you about an hour ago.”
Jake frowned. Shit.
He remembered Salvatore bugging him about something, but the man had been buzzing in his ear at the same time Matt Backhouse had been all over Raine. Jake was good at a lot of things, but fielding questions fired at him by Sal while at the same time trying to listen to whatever the hell Matt was saying to Raine wasn’t one of them.
“Christ.” He ran his hand over the two-day-old stubble along his chin and shook his head. “I don’t have time for that crap. I’ve got my own pile to deal with.”
“Call him and tell him you can’t go.”
He thought of the list he’d made—the one that was miles long—and he knew he’d have to call and cancel. Maybe he could help Salvatore out during the week, but right now he needed to get the garbage off his driveway and into the refuse bin before the storm hit. And he had a few things to get ready for the electrician when he came Monday.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Raine said softly, “but I thought I would work on the cottage for you.” She glanced around and smiled. “It’s actually not in bad shape. I think the last Wyndham rented it out about ten years ago. The water runs and the power’s on too. It just needs to be cleaned really well, because you don’t even want to know what I’ve found inside the cupboards.”
“Why are you here?” He sounded like a dick, but couldn’t seem to help himself. She’d really thrown him for a loop. The look in her eyes last night? The sexual signals she’d thrown at him? What the hell was up with that? Didn’t she know what he wanted to do to her?
Didn’t she know how weak he was?
Another thought struck him and his fists clenched so hard, they ached, while the muscles along his shoulders tightened painfully.
Raine was a young woman, and she was no different than any guy he knew. No different than himself. She had needs. Everyone had needs. If she’d sent those same signals out to any other guy, they would have been all over her. Even Matt Backhouse, fucking skirt that he was, would have taken what Raine was offering. The thought of anyone touching her made him sick.
And that was a problem, because Raine Edwards could do whatever the hell she wanted with whoever the hell she wanted to do it with. She was a grown woman.
A grown woman with needs.
God, he needed time and space to think so that he could get his head screwed on right. He needed her to be gone from here.
“Why are you here, Raine?” he asked again, his emotions so ragged he was sure he sounded like a lunatic.
Raine glanced away but not so fast that he didn’t catch the hurt in her eyes. It was a look he’d seen before. A look he’d been the cause of before. And a look he would surely see again.
It’s what he did to her, bastard that he was.
His heart squeezed tight, and it took everything in him not to cross the floor and crush her to his chest. He hated that he was the cause of her pain, but he felt helpless to do anything about it.
For several moments there was only the sound of Gibson poking around beneath the sink, and then Raine looked back at Jake, her blue eyes shiny like they were full of tears.
