The Wager - Dyken Rachel Van - Страница 14
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“Sure.”
They fell into an awkward silence. Jake wasn’t really sure why things felt so stilted. Like all the fight had been taken out of Char and suddenly she was just ready to do anyone’s bidding and be done.
But that was exactly what he was doing.
Except, he wanted her to want to be with him. He liked her fiery. Shit, he was happier when they were fighting than when she was quiet.
“Rough day?” he asked after a few more awkward moments of silence.
Char shrugged.
“Whoa, I got the shrug.” He poured her another glass of wine. “You want to talk about it?”
Sighing, Char tilted her head and faced him. “Not really.”
“No pressure.” He lifted his hands. “But maybe I can help.”
“Ah, the millionaire’s offering his help. How thoughtful.”
Jake winced. “What the hell is your problem?”
“My problem?” Char repeated. Then in a flurry she stood, nearly knocking over her wine, and threw her napkin on the chair. “My problem is everything is so damn easy for you! It always has been! You have this perfect life, perfect grandmother—and don’t you dare say a word against her. She may be crazy but at least you have a family that cares, not parents who forgot, again, about your birthday.”
Jake froze, a sickening feeling began to stir in his stomach as he watched the sadness wash across Char’s face. He knew that look—he knew it well: loneliness. Feeling like the forgotten one in the family was almost as bad as being the black sheep, the one nobody wanted. So, yeah it was possible their situations were different, but not by much. She was forgotten and he was a joke.
“It’s fine.” Char laughed bitterly. “We barely talk to one another anymore; there’s no way you would have known it was my birthday. I just—I don’t know. Beth had to leave for a work trip this morning and I know she was stressed, too. Maybe I sound like a complete child, but just for once… I wanted someone—other than Kacey—to remember.”
“I’m an ass,” Jake whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“No.” Char pointed at him. “See, that’s not what I want. Pity isn’t the same thing. It sucks. I get pity all the time. ‘Oh look, that’s the poor news reporter that was drunk during the five o’clock news and fell out of her chair!’ ‘Oh look, there’s Char; she’s funny but don’t take her seriously.’ ‘Oh, how sad, Char’s family doesn’t even celebrate Christmas together because they leave her for vacation.’ Or how about this one: I can’t even visit my parents today and give them a piece of my mind because they’re spending the weekend on Alkai Beach.”
Jake licked his lips and watched as Char’s dark hair blew in the wind. Her blouse tightened across her chest as it rose and fell with her exertions. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “Maybe lunch wasn’t such a good idea. I’m just not in the mood to be social, and then I come here and everything is so easy for you, and you have the audacity to feel sad because your grandma’s living with you and forcing you to eat donuts and drink wine. Hell, I’d kill for that.”
Never in his life had Jake ever felt so low. He’d just yelled at Grandma that morning for fixing him eggs. In fact, he’d told her to eat her own damn eggs and leave him the hell alone. Then he’d taken it a step further and actually asked for his job back. And here Char was, alone on her birthday, and apologizing for being bad company. What the hell was wrong with him? He deserved her reprimand and more, though to be honest, nobody had ever reprimanded him other than Grandma.
And that’s when he saw it.
The pull, the reason he was so unable to leave well enough alone—her strength. He craved what he saw in her so much—his subconscious, moral compass, everything about him was so screwed up that he craved her the same way an alcoholic craves whiskey.
Regardless of his feelings, he needed to tread carefully. The last thing he wanted was to get involved with anyone when he knew his own life was on such shaky ground. But he could—no, he would—make it better. He was being given a second chance, to be the hero, to be the good guy, and he was going to take it.
He stood very slowly and walked around the table to where Char was standing. With fluid movements he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug. “Do you know where your parents are staying?”
She cursed into his chest. “I could always text them; that is, if they even answer their phones. Why?”
Jake laughed, though on the inside he was cursing a blue streak for her parents’ selfishness. “Well, I have a plan. We’re going to visit them, right now. Call work.” His heart beat a little faster in his chest, almost like a rush of adrenaline as a plan began to form in his head. Maybe it was pride, not selfish pride, but him actually being proud of a decision he was making on someone else’s behalf.
“But Jake.” Char pulled away. “What are we going to do? Go to their little bed and breakfast and demand they wish me a happy birthday?”
Jake laughed. “You’ll see.”
“Jake, seriously, I’m not in the mood for games and I don’t even know where they are.”
“We may not know, but I think I know a woman who used to work for the CIA.”
“Huh?”
“Let me give my people a call.”
“Your ‘people’?” Char repeated. “I think being jobless has already addled that sexy brain of yours.” With a gasp she covered her mouth. “It was the wine! Crap!”
“You think I’m sexy?” He baited her with a wink; old habits die hard. And he hadn’t participated in said habits for over a week now. The fact that she said he was sexy both terrified and excited him. Blood pumped to all the wrong places. Easy, his brain told him, it would be so easy just to bag her and then you could forget about caring. Forget about trying. The truth? He was scared shitless that the minute he took a chance on someone actually worth taking a chance on, they’d laugh in his face. He wasn’t good enough for Kacey; why the hell would he be good enough for Char?
“No.” She turned away and shook her head as if trying to understand where saying “sexy” had come from.
“It’s okay.” Jake came up behind her. “Lots of women do.”
“I needed to hear you say that.”
“Why?” He tensed as she turned around and ran her fingers up and down his chest.
“It helps me remember what a selfish ass you are.”
“You may change your tune after this afternoon.”
“I have my doubts.”
Jake leaned in until their lips were a breath apart. “I live to prove you wrong.”
Char sighed. “Fine, make the call. I’m worthless at work anyways.”
Grinning, Jake pulled out his phone and dialed Grandma’s number. She answered on the second ring. “This better be good, Jake. I’m winning.”
“I need you to find someone.”
Grandma was silent.
Jake groaned. “It’s for Char.”
“Text me specifics.” Grandma said in a low voice, “I’ll see what I can do.”
The phone clicked off and Jake shoved it into his back pocket. Char was glaring at him through long lashes. “That’s your people?”
“Sweetheart, you have no idea.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and grabbed the food with his other hand. “Now, run home, change into something sexy, grab an overnight bag and meet me back here in an hour. We have some celebrating to do.”
Char’s shoulders slumped beneath Jake’s arm. “You don’t have to do this. Seriously, I’m fine now. See? All better.” She pointed at her face and managed a pathetic smile.
He didn’t have the heart to make her feel worse by telling her how sad she looked, so he went another route. The one that made him look like an ass. At least he knew how to default into that guy. The type of male who knew exactly what to say to push a woman’s buttons. Only this time, it was to save her from herself, not to selfishly convince her to be with him. Odd, how past weaknesses could turn into strengths. He gave her a crooked grin and eyed her up and down, then reached for her face and tilted it as if examining it for age lines. “Fine. Have it your way, but if I was turning another year older—you know, approaching thirty as fast as you were—I’d want to be with someone who knew how to have a good time. Besides, I’ll buy you dinner.”
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