For someone who acted like they couldn’t care less, he seemed awfully concerned about me. I wasn’t sure how to take it.
He helped me stand and moved us backward to the bed, sitting me at the edge of it. The bedframe had no headboard or baseboard, just the simplest metal casing under the box spring and enough wood to stop the mattress from sliding off.
His hands curled around my arms perhaps a bit too tight, and I met his hazel eyes. Just like that, the world stopped spinning. Whatever nauseous feeling had taken over me mere moments ago vanished into thin air. Being this close to him, it would be impossible to not notice how handsome he was under the gruffness of his personality. His chin was square, his jaw wide. He was a rugged man, a man with problems of his own, but one who’d take the time to help me, even though he didn’t have to.
What was he playing at, here? Was he hoping to win me over and get a little extra thanks from me, or was he simply trying to protect his investor? I was a client of his, and without me alive and intact, there would be no future payments for him.
“The next time I tell you that I’ll do something, let me do it,” Jacob frowned out, finally releasing his hold on my arms. He went to the pants on the floor, picking them up and searching the pockets, stopping when he pulled out my phone and handed it to me. When I took my phone from him, my fingertips brushed his, and our eyes met.
Our eyes met, and then—stupid me—my gaze dropped to his lips. My mind immediately wandered. What would a kiss from Jacob Hall be like? Would it be rough and wild, akin to his appearance and his demeanor, or would it be soft and sweet, a surprising kind of kiss?
I shouldn’t be wondering about his kisses at all. Now was literally the worst time to think about kisses, especially Jacob’s kisses.
Jacob immediately gave his back to me, though he didn’t leave the room entirely. “Are you well enough to go back into the living room, or are you deciding to rest in my room?”
Being in Jacob’s room felt a little…strange. I shouldn’t know what his bed felt like. Hell, after what happened with Archer, sex and all that should be the last thing on my mind.
“I’ll come out,” I said, getting to my feet. I followed him out of his room, heading to the couch with my phone in my hand. I wasn’t going to text my mom right now, but it just felt good having it near. Was not going to tell her where I was or who I was with—because then I’d have to explain everything to her, which I bet would only upset her—but only that I was safe. Mom and I didn’t exactly part on great terms earlier.
My mind recalled what she’d said, that I looked like him. My dad.
I looked like my dad. Just as well, because I sure as shit didn’t look like Mom. Mom had the pretty blonde hair and blue eyes, while mine were the opposite. Black and brown, thick and unruly. Even my skin was a few shades darker than hers, but she was like a ghost, never getting a tan, even in the best of summers.
My mom lied. There was no father on my birth certificate because she’d claimed to not know who he was, but now I knew that was a lie. A fib I so willingly believed all my life, because why would my mom lie to me about something like that? Did she not want my dad to be a part of my life?
I didn’t know what to think of that, but I knew I was a bit miffed at it.
“Dinner is served,” Jacob spoke, interrupting my roaming thoughts as he set a plate on the small coffee table before me.
I snapped back into reality, noting that he’d made me…a hot dog. Just a hot dog. Not even in a bun, no ketchup, no anything else. Not exactly what I expected, but then again, I wasn’t sure what the hell I expected. He was clearly no chef.
And then, in spite of myself, in spite of everything that had happened tonight, I started to laugh. I laughed at the hot dog, at the state of my life, at everything, really. I laughed like I’d never seen something funnier. I laughed like I’d never laughed before.
Jacob stood near me, folding his arms over his chest, as if my laughter insulted his immaculate cooking skills. After all, he’d slaved over that stove, frying up this hot dog for me.
“I’m not laughing at you,” I told him, grinning as I leaned forward and plucked the hot dog off the plate. It was, to his credit, a perfectly-cooked hot dog. No parts browner and more fried than the rest. It was all an even color, warm to the touch. “I’m not. I love hot dogs. I haven’t had one since…” I trailed off, the smile fading on my face. “Since before we moved here.” I took a bite, chewing it softly, slowly, swallowing it as I watched Jacob unfold his arms and sit beside me.
And I meant beside me as in right next to me, no extra cushion between us.
This guy better be careful—or maybe I should be careful. With how willy-nilly I threw around my feelings, you’d think I’d have learned my lesson when it came to guys with handsome faces and secrets of their own.
I took another bite of the hot dog. It wouldn’t be overly filling, but it would be enough. “I’m worried that my mom has been lying to me.”
Whoa. Not sure why the hell I felt comfortable telling Jacob that, but…well, once it was out, it was too late to take it back.
“Lying to you about what?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. The gesture made me glance at his arm muscles perhaps a bit too long. It was easy to ogle this man. Too easy.
“My dad,” I said. “My whole life she told me she didn’t know who he was. Even on my birth certificate, there’s no name.” Another bite of the hot dog, my mind racing. With the hot dog settling in my belly, I was starting to feel better. “But tonight, we sort of got into it. She didn’t want me to go to the party.”
“For good reason, apparently,” Jacob muttered, stretching his arms out on the back cushions of the couch. If I leaned back, I’d touch his arm.
No leaning back, then.
“You don’t understand,” I said, shooting him a look. “I’m not allowed to date. She didn’t like it when I slept over friends’ houses. Ninety percent of the time, they had to come over our house. She’s always been so controlling—”
“That’s how parents are supposed to be.”
“No, not that much. I’m eighteen years old. If I want to date, if I want to go to a party, I should be able to—though tonight’s party doesn’t really prove my point.” I shifted in my seat, setting down the butt end of the hot dog onto the plate. Granted, technically both ends of hot dogs were the same, but in my head, the leftover end was the butt end, and I never ate it. Letting out a sigh, I said, “Anyways, tonight, she slipped up. She told me I looked a lot like my dad.”
Jacob, ever the investigator, put it together quickly: “So she’s known all along who your dad was. She just kept it to herself all these years.”
Even though it was probably a mistake, I leaned back. His arm grazed my neck, but I acted as though I couldn’t feel it, like it didn’t bother me. It did. It bothered me in a way it shouldn’t. That arm…I wouldn’t mind having it wrap around me. In fact, tonight of all nights, I could really just use a hug.
“Why would she do that?” I asked a man who would have no answers for me. Jacob was a PI, but he couldn’t figure out the answers to everything. He was no all-knowing man. I was asking the wrong guy.