That was a decade and more ago.
Jacob had a more typical experience. His All-American experience included the pressure to perform in athletics, only he was small when he was younger and not as physically fit as he is now. Over time, he built himself up, both in body and spirit. He assures me I can do the same.
“Tell me why you don’t like Ethan?” he asks once our individual slices are delivered, and I take a sip of the sugary sweet cola I’ve denied myself my entire life. I swallow the sharp taste, letting the fizz burn my throat before I answer him.
“It’s not that I don’t like him. I don’t need him.”
“Well, I need him,” Jacob states although he’s wrong. He won’t even be there because he’s hired Ethan for the six weeks Jacob will be on tour. “I need him for my own peace of mind.”
“It’s only six weeks,” I state, and Jacob sheepishly looks away.
“Yeah, it might be a little longer.”
“Jacob,” I groan.
“I want him to get used to the house before I go, and you need more than me,” he states. I wonder if he’s trying to tell me something. Maybe he means he needs someone besides me. His long stretches in the woods keep him from New York City, where he owns a condo and has an awful girlfriend, in my opinion. But he’s been a constant support over the past year-plus. He and Pam.
“I’m sorry if it’s too much,” I say, looking down at my pizza, no longer hungry. Was I even hungry before?
“Don’t. Don’t do that. You know you aren’t a burden, and I’m glad you’re here. I’m happy to have you away from them.”
Them. Our parents. My mother, the pageantry-turned-model manager, and his father, the money-hungry investor who pushed me to take every job offered—dressed or barely dressed.
Your body is a wonderland, Nick Vincentia once told me. Jacob didn’t like the sound of that statement. I was sixteen. Unfortunately, my mother agreed with Nick.
No more wonderland. At twentysomething, I was nearing the end of my time in the industry—aging out, actually. My hair was the most notorious part of me, and the most profitable, until the skin too close to my hairline was wrecked. Then I was nothing.
No longer a pretty face. No longer their precious daughter. Dispensable.
“I can see you thinking,” Jacob states, devouring his second slice of pizza and eyeballing mine. It’s a wonder he’s in shape for all the junk food he eats. He’s obsessed with frozen pizzas for some reason.
“You know, if you can control that temper of yours, you might actually be friends with Ethan.”
Temper? What temper? I want to retort, but I know exactly what he means.
“Friends?” I snort instead. “What am I, five? Are you arranging playdates for me now?”
Jacob rolls his eyes, and I push my pizza slice toward him. He lifts a brow, and I realize this is another reason he’s hiring Ethan. He’s worried I’ll stop eating. It’s a valid concern but no longer an issue.
“I’m not going back,” I whisper, speaking to him of the unspoken. Eating disorder. I had one in my teens and then again in my early twenties. I’m almost thirty, and there’s no longer a reason to fight my body. It disgusts me anyway. At least, my face does.
On habit, I tug at the hood near my cheek and check that my hair remains in place to cover the scar. Jacob reaches up and pushes my hand away from my face, giving me a knowing look. He shakes his head in warning.
Friends? I no longer have any as the few who knew what happened were too repulsed to look me in the eye. My other friends were merely business relationships and not true friendships. I can’t recall anyone standing by my side other than my parents, and even that turned out to be a huge lie. I was their meal ticket, which makes me wonder why Ethan would even want to be friends with someone like me. What would be in it for him? Money, I suspect, as it’d be a job to stay in Jacob’s house.
I shake my head at the thought of more people taking advantage of me for money, even if indirectly. I don’t want Jacob to put forth the finances or the trouble.
Besides, I can’t imagine being friends with the likes of Ethan Scott. He looks too good to be true—with his angelic curls, perfect scruff, and dashing dimples—and most of the men who look that good are normally very bad for you.
Card 5: Scrambled Eggs
Whisk vigorously
[Ethan]
Like some covert mission, Jacob welcomes me into the house near midnight.
“I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.” His strong voice is quiet as he leads me through the great room into the kitchen and then to a room behind it. It’s a servant’s quarters, as I’m the hired help, and this space keeps me out of sight. It feels strangely prophetic as this entire situation has an aura of mystique around it.
Ella is going to freak out when she sees me tomorrow, but I’ll let Jacob deal with his sister.
Think of the money, Ethan. Restaurant. Dreams happening.
The bedroom faces the front of the house, and I’m a little disappointed I don’t have that fabulous view of the lake like the other rooms do, but beggars will not be choosers. A queen bed rests under the window, and a dresser sits under another window to the side of the bed. I have my own bathroom, and the setup reminds me of living in the resort lodging.
Thankfully, the grays and blues of this room are soothing enough that it doesn’t feel as hotel-ish as other places I’ve stayed. I brought one bag with me as it’s all I could strap to my bike. I’ll have access to Jacob’s SUV for grocery detail, and I’ll use it to nab some stuff I have stored with Pam. I don’t want my parents to know I’d lost my job.
It’s strange to think about Ella sleeping above me in the room upstairs. There’s no noise coming from the floor above, but I consider her up there, wandering around naked after a shower, or hardly dressed, hanging out in the comfort of her room. I wonder how soft her skin is and again imagine pressing kisses to her slender throat. Her peachy lips haunt me as if the savory, juicy ripeness drips against mine. I lick my lips, tricking myself into thinking I can taste her, and wonder why I’m thinking about her so much. What keeps pulling my thoughts to her? Her mouth. Her neck. Her long legs potentially wrapped around my waist. My dick jumps to life, but I ignore it.
I decide it has to be her rejection of me. She’s a blow to my ego just as I thought earlier. I attract more than I repel, but even that isn’t it. I don’t know what it is that has me pulled to the thought of her.
Rolling to my side on the bed, I tell myself not to let Ella get in the way of what I want most. I refuse to be distracted by my sudden attraction to a woman who doesn’t even like me. I drift off to sleep with images of her in my head. Her hair cascading out of her cap on her run. The glow of her skin when she first entered the house and found me in her kitchen. Something about those summery green eyes . . .
+ + +
Warm lips cover mine, sipping at the lower curve before nipping me. The sharp sting turns me on as her mouth lowers, sucking at my jaw and nibbling at my neck.
Fuck, that feels good.
My fingers slip into her hair, the waves thick but soft like I imagined. I make a fist and tug. She purrs against my skin, working her way down my chest, licking over a nipple.