“You said you were prepared.” He shook his head. “You weren’t.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Your clothes.”
I looked down. “I’m not following.”
“Too much skin.”
What the hell? What century did I unwittingly time travel to?
“Maybe if I was a nun.” My thick strapped, black ribbed tank and black cuffed shorts hardly seemed indecent. It was Massachusetts in July, which meant it washot. I could look outside and see a handful of women, and even a couple men, wearing much less.
“Trust me. There were other customers in the waitin’ room. Shorts, emphasis on the short, and a tank top. Definitely too much skin.”
“Thanks for the heads-up, fashion police,” I muttered.
“Eat.”
I didn’t know what to say. So, I didn’t say anything.
I glared.
“Eat,” Jake ordered again, immune to my dirty look.
I picked up my turkey sandwich and we ate in silence.
*******
After lunch, I wasn’t surprised when Jake brought me to the break room. We hadn’t said more than a few words to each other on the walk back, though he’d held my hand again.
So, awkward, silent lunch followed by hand holding?
Meh, I’ve had worse days.
“I gotta see how much fuckin’ around they’re doin’. Hang out in here ‘til the van is done. One of the men will come get you.”
Since I couldn’t wait to investigate the break room, I nodded.
Jake started to walk away before pausing and turning back. “Piper?”
“Yeah?” Breathy. Again.
God, I was an idiot.
I’d decided Jake was kind of an ass, though a hot one. Coincidentally, he was a hot asswitha hot ass. But he was still an ass.
I was trying to avoid people who made me feel small. Well, small-er.
“Just… Help yourself to anything, yeah?”
“Okay. Thanks again, Jake.”
“Yeah.” With a chin lift he was gone, leaving me to explore.
Their break room was a full blown, restaurant grade kitchen. It had a six burner gas stove and a shit ton of counter space. The countertops were a gorgeous black granite and the appliances a gleaming, stainless steel.
It was what I’d want my dream kitchen to look like. Modern, but comfy.