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I shut the door behind me and feel like I’ve slammed it on my soul.
SIX
Jake
My footsteps areslow as I make my way up the stairs to my apartment above the shop.
Helping Mom with her dishwasher took longer than expected, just like I knew it would. I hoped Lia would go with me so that we could come back and pick up where we left off. I’ve thought about calling her a dozen times since I left Mom’s but it’s closing in on midnight. Would she still be awake?
She used to be a night owl back in the day, but being a high-powered ad executive now, is she an early bird? The fact I don’t know pisses me off.
Not to mention I’m not sure she wants to talk to me given the way she left when Mom called.
And I’m sort of pissed off that she left without giving me a chance to convince her to stay.
Especially since she’d just kissed me like it’s her job.
So I leave her alone. My head tells me that’s what I need to do.
The head below the belt, however, has other thoughts on the matter.
The pizza box still sits on the counter in my galley kitchen, taunting me with all that didn’t happen. I ignore it and head to the bedroom, stripping out of my shirt as I go. I toe off my boots and collapse face-first onto the bed. I lie there a moment, inhaling the comforter before turning my head to the side. After about thirty minutes, I realize that sleep isn’t coming anytime soon.
Exhaustion seeps into my bones, and I should be able to pass out with no issue.
But the disappointment sitting heavy in my chest makes it impossible. All I can think about is Lia. That’s all I’ve been able to think about since she darkened my door when she got back to town.
Had I ever gotten the woman out of my head?
No.
We arethisclose to rekindling what I know is still there, even if her stubborn ass wants to fight it. There was no denial in her kiss tonight.
Our chemistry is still scorching.
I want to taste Lia and do all the things I didn’t do the one and only time I had her underneath me all those years ago.
With a resigned groan, I push up off the bed, grab a flannel out of the closet—not bothering with a T-shirt—and shove my feet back into my boots. I head downstairs, figuring I may as well go work on Cherry Horse for a bit.
Within minutes, holiday tunes are playing and my head is under the hood of my 1968 Mustang Fastback.
I’m wrenching off a nut that doesn’t want to budge when the side door to the garage slams. I smack the back of my head on the hood when it snaps up to see who the hell has walked into my garage in the middle of the night.
“Fuck!” I rub the back of my head as I turn.
And freeze.
“Lia, what are you doing here?”
Eyes on mine, she saunters toward me. Her hands slide into the pockets of her long black trench coat, belted at her waist. All the thick, dark hair that drives me crazy is in a high ponytail, the ends of it curled and brushing her shoulders. Those lush lips are painted a deep shade of red, and she’s wearing black heels.
I narrow my eyes and lay the wrench aside cautiously, eyeing her every move as she comes closer to me. Her perfume is subtle but intoxicating as it wraps around my senses.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
I slam the hood and lean my ass against it, my arms crossed over my chest. “You could have just called me.”
Although this is much better.
