Page 21 of Crave

“You’re not into family drama,” he repeats slowly, as if he’s trying to make it stick in his memory. “Noted. Now, let’s get out of here so you can find out exactly who I am,” he orders.

I ball my fists and take a step forward. This man abandons me in the middle of a dance, insults a pregnant woman, fights with his brother, and ruins the cake my mother spent hours working on, and he just barges in here and orders me to go out with him.

I open my mouth to tell Jacob Clark exactly what I think of him, but my mother comes walking out of one of the side rooms she reserves for cake tastings. She’s laughing as she tells the future bride and groom that she’d be right back with some more samples.

She turns towards the counter, facing me and Jake. She starts to speak to me but stops mid-sentence after she gives Jake a quick glance. She looks back as if she cannot believe who she’s seeing standing in her place of business.

She takes another step closer and looks from me to him and back again.

“You are the Clark boy,” she says. Gabrielle Etienne is never one to mince words. With her limited English, she gets right to the point.

“Jake Clark, Mrs. Etienne,” he says politely, extending his hand to her. She takes it and her small hand is nearly swallowed by his much larger one. Unlike my brown skin, my mother’s is much lighter, so the contrast is not as obvious as it is with mine. She continues to hold his hand as she walks closer to him, studying him. Her eyes search his face as if she’s looking for an answer to a very important question.

“I remember you.” She continues to search his face. My mother, though barely five feet tall, can be quite intimidating to those who don’t know that behind her stern appearance is the most loyal, loving woman.

“I remember you as well.” To Jake’s credit, he doesn’t break eye contact with her, nor does he try to pry his hand out of hers.

“You here for cake?” she asks.

“I’m here for your daughter.” Five of the sexiest words I’ve ever heard. Five words that cause my mother to stop staring at Jake and turn her probing gaze to me. Five words that make me want to be swallowed up by the tile floors.

“How you know my daughter?” She asks him this question, but her eyes are on me. I refuse to look at her.

“At my mother’s party last week. She delivered the cake and stayed for the party. She kept me company, in fact,” he says while looking at me the entire time.

“I send you to deliver, not to party,” my mother says to me. I refuse to cower even though I want to. Despite being twenty-eight years old, my mother still has the ability to reduce me to a child.

“My mother insisted. Sandy was gracious enough to indulge her,” Jake says. My mother remains quiet but continues to look from me to him.

“I don’t care if your name is Clark,” she says, craning her neck to look up at him while she points her finger in his face. “You do not mess with my daughter. I have a feeling you are trouble. Deedee, we talk later.” She releases Jake’s hand and walks away, not giving him a backward glance.

“Don’t tell your mom, but that’s the most scared I’ve been in a long time. Holy shit,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s the matter? The truth hurts??” I say to him.

“Hardly,” he scoffs. “When can you get out of here? You promised me a date.”

I take a step closer and rest my elbows on the counter.

“Why? Why me?” I ask him, looking him directly into his deep, brown eyes.

“Because you’re beautiful.” Three simple words I desperately want to believe but refuse to.

“I don’t think that’s it at all. I think my mother is right and you’re trouble. Do you want to shock your family by going out with me, is that it? You crave any kind of attention, don’t you?”

“Any kind you want to give me.” He leans over the counter and gets as close to my face as possible without touching me. I know I should step back from him, but I can’t. He moves his head a fraction and whispers in my ear. “Actually, I crave anything you want to give me.” I stare at him, incredulous at his words.

“Stop that,” I say to him.

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asks with his voice lowered. “Like you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen? Like the only thing I want is to reach across this counter and touch you? Kiss you? I bet your lips are so soft.” His lips touch my earlobe and I jump back as if burned.

“I know you feel it too,” he says with a smirk.

Before I can think of a response, my mother comes back.

---