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“Jess? Shit are you okay? I’ll call an ambulance,” he exclaims, pulling his phone from his pocket.
“No!” I bark. Sighing, I try again with less force. “No, please, I’m fine. I’m not hurt, just in need of a recovery truck, that’s all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. But thank you.” I find my phone, and after searching for a recovery company, make the call.
Jake waits by his car, while I talk on the phone, and when I’m finished, he offers to give me a lift home.
Thankfully, they arrive within thirty minutes and within the hour, I’m on my way home while my car is taken to the garage Jake recommended.
“Thank you,” I tell him as we turn on to the main road to the reserve. “How did you know about the garage?”
“Oh, err… I’ve stayed up here a few times, and the last time I was here, my car wouldn’t start, so…”
“I see. Have you stayed at the cabins before then?”
“No, not there before. How about you?”
“Have I stayed at the cabins before?” He gives a nod. “Yeah, plenty of times. As I said before, Harry and Eleanor are family friends, so we used to come here as kids. This is the first time in a while, and I’d forgotten how much I love it here,” I say wistfully. The thought brings a flurry of images of Christian and me building a camp in the copse, bug hunting and even fishing with Harry. I feel a smile spread across my face at the happy memories, but they are suddenly replaced with the image of my brother in the pictures I can feel burning in my bag.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Huh, err…yeah, sorry.” I shuffle in my seat, pushing my bag to the footwell away from me. I try to ignore the pounding of my heart and the throbbing pain across my chest by making small talk with Jake. “So, tell me, what is that you do, Jake?” I ask, needing to steer the conversation away from me and anything that reminds me of what’s sitting at my feet.
“Nothing exciting. I’m a data analyst.” His eyes remain on the road, but I don’t miss the way his hands tighten on the steering wheel or the small tilt of his head. Something tells me there’s more, but I don’t question him. It’s not my business.
“Exciting,” I say with more than a hint of sarcasm. He laughs, and it’s easy and light.
“Sorry my job isn’t to your liking. Let’s hear how thrilling your job is then,” he mocks.
“I’m afraid you’ll be equally disappointed as I’m in between jobs right now.” He turns to look at me, raising his brows. “What?” I say with a shrug and a smirk lifting my lips.
“Come on, that’s not an answer. ‘I’m in between jobs’ is lame even by my standards.”
“Okay, fine, but don’t go getting all bent out of shape when I tell you,” I snigger. “I’m a CPO, Close Protection Officer.”
His head snaps to me, no doubt to see if I’m telling the truth, which I am, then he laughs. A deep, roaring laugh that brings a smile to my face. As his laughter subsides, I see him trail his eyes over my body. Assessing me and surely judging my strength and physique.
“Well, colour me surprised. Not going to lie and say I was expecting that because—”
“Because I’m a woman, huh? Nice,” I cut in with a snort of displeasure.
“What? Hell no, not what I meant at all.” He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Look, I’m sorry if that’s what you thought. But… God, anything I say is going to sound sexist or condescending now.”
“Don’t worry about it, Jake. I’ve spent my whole career working with men who can’t deal with a woman doing a ‘man’s’ job.” I tell him honestly, and I watch as he shakes his head at my words.
“That says much more about them, Jess,” he states, turning into the gate of the cabins and pulling up outside the main house. He hesitates before turning in his seat to face me, and I know what the next words out of his mouth are going to be.
“I was wondering—”
“Jake, you’re a great guy, but—” Now it’s his turn to interrupt me.
“Say no more. It’s probably for the best anyway.” He turns his head away, hiding the sting of rejection that nobody ever wants to feel. “Can we just forget this part of the conversation ever happened?”
“Sure,” I say, offering him a smile. His returning one isn’t convincing, but he doesn’t dwell on it, exiting the car and coming round to open my door.
“I hope he appreciates what he’s got,” he says as I gingerly climb from the car. Now the adrenaline is wearing off, every little ache and pain is slamming into me.
