Page 38 of Falling for Red
As the boat joins a slow procession heading back toward the pier, my mind races. Am I ready for a boyfriend?DoI want a boyfriend? Jake is incredible. But … my life.
When we dock, I step off the boat and wave to the others before Jake and I walk together toward my car. I am flirting with a lot of things right now. It will be good to have a “me day” tomorrow to be with all of my thoughts.
The sound of the water lapping against the shore fades behind us, replaced by the dull hum of crickets and distant laughter from the crowd still lingering by the pier. We walk in silence for a few moments until I find the courage to say it. “I really like you, Jake.”
“I know.”
I swat his arm, but I’m already smiling. “I don’t want to rush into a relationship,” I admit. “That’s my move. That’s what I typically do, and I can’t do that anymore.”
Jake nods. “I get it. You know where I stand. When you’re ready, I’m ready.”
Why does that make me want him more?
I hesitate, biting my lip, wanting to invite him back to my place—to stretch out this night, to keep feeling his hands on me, his lips tracing my skin. “Come back to my place?”
“Not tonight.”
I arch a brow. “Are you withholding sex until I’m your girlfriend?”
Jake doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he steps closer, crowding me against the car. His hand slides along my jaw, tilting my face up toward him. And then he kisses me—deep, slow, consuming. His force presses me back against the door. I’m lost in this moment. Completely lost in the way his tongue traces against mine, in the way his body feels solid and unmovable against me.
He pulls back just enough to murmur against my lips, “We’re not rushing. I’m respecting your wishes.”
I groan, hating and loving his restraint all at once.
Jake smirks, brushing one last kiss against my forehead. “Goodnight, Sparky. Enjoy your ‘me day’ tomorrow.”
I watch as he walks away, my heart pounding in my chest. I should feel relieved that he’s giving me space. But all I feel is the ache of wanting more.
24
Claire’s nervous to make this official, and I can’t believe I’m thinking she could be the one. I’ve never felt this way before. I know she’s on vacation from her day-to-day life, but I see us. I see our life together. And Iwantit.
As I drive home, my thoughts race, replaying all of our time together. I tap my mom’s contact. It’s late, but I need to cancel family dinner.
She picks up after a few rings, her voice groggy through the car’s Bluetooth. “Jake?”
“Sorry for calling so late. I’m not going to be able to make it for dinner tomorrow.”
“Everything alright?” She’s more alert now.
“Yeah. Everything’s great, actually. I’ll be cooking dinner for someone special.”
“Oh?” Her voice lifts, the sleepiness fading.
“Her name is Claire. I think she could bethe one.”
Silence stretches for a moment. Then another.
“The one?” she echoes. “Jake, I’ve never heard you say that before.”
I nervously adjust my grip on the wheel. “I know.” No one has ever made me feel this way. I started telling myself that maybeI was looking for a feeling that wasn’t real, that was only told in stories, but then I met Claire.
Mom exhales. Then her tone softens. “So, what are you cooking for this special girl?”
“Haven’t decided yet.”
“Something easy for conversation. Maybe garlic herb chicken with vegetables in a slow cooker—something you can set and forget.”
