Home to You (26 page)

Today was his thirtieth birthday, and although I knew I wouldn’t be able to relax until everything was out in the open, I didn’t want to start the day with a fight. I went back to my room, splashed the sleep from my still-tired eyes, brushed my teeth, and threw on cut offs and a T-shirt. As I was just about to pull away from the curb to go to the store, a patrol car drove past me. I needed to tell him—and I would. Soon.

When I got home, he was still asleep, and I slipped into the kitchen to mix up the batter for crepes. It was a recipe from one of my favorite food bloggers, and I’d been saving it for a special occasion. I didn’t know if this was to be our first of many breakfasts together, or our last. But either way, I wanted to remember it.
 

The crepes were paper thin with hints of caramelization around the edges. They smelled of browned butter, freshly baked pastries, and sweet vanilla. I piped a filling of lightly sweetened cream infused with lemon zest in the center, then finished the plate with a dusting of confectioners’ sugar and sun-ripened berries. It was a dish made in heaven, but my stomach was turned in knots.
 

Jake stirred as I sat on the edge of the bed, the plate of crepes on the verge of snapping under my vise-like grip. His eyes cracked open, and a slow, sleepy smile transformed his face as he rolled to his back.
 

 
“Morning.” His voice was deep with gravel and flirtation.
 

My stomach squeezed with an awareness so strong I nearly lost my balance on the edge of the bed. “It’s not morning.  It’s almost noon. What time did you get home?”

“I don’t know. Four maybe?” His eyes shifted to the plate in my hands. “Is that for me?”  

My skin pricked as the scent of warm skin and pure male drifted toward me. It was more than I could take sitting so close to him like that. His naked chest practically begged to be touched, and my mind ran with naughty images of what he wore beneath the sheet. “Happy birthday.”  

He smiled, then sat up. The blankets strained under my bottom, effectively pulling me closer. He cut a forkful of crepe and shoveled it into his mouth. The groan that followed was almost my undoing, and I was thankful he closed his eyes so he couldn’t see my face. A hint of cream lingered at the corner of his mouth, and I had to fight the urge to lick it off.
 

“This is amazing. Have you tried any yet?”
 

I shook my head, suddenly parched.
 

“Here.” He cut another piece and slipped it into my mouth.  

I was mesmerized as the taste of cream and berries exploded. I’d never been fed like that before. Let alone by a practically naked man, in an empty house, in the middle of a king-sized bed.
 

His tongue darted out to catch the cream I’d wanted to lick, and he cut another bite.
 

I couldn’t stay there like that. He did things to me. Things that were primal and urgent, and I simply didn’t trust myself. I stood, and thrust the plate toward him. “There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen when you’re ready,” I blurted, then turned around and left the room, not allowing him a chance to speak.

As I fixed another plate in the kitchen, I heard Jake enter behind me.  

“Any more of that?” he asked.

“Sure.” I turned around and locked eyes with the hard wall of his chest.  

He took the plate with one hand and lifted my chin with the other. His thumb trailed over my lower cheek as he smiled down at me. “Flour.”

“What? Oh.” I began wiping at my face with both hands. Had it been there the whole time?

“Don’t worry, I got it.” He winked, then grabbed a cup of coffee on his way to the table.
 

I turned to the counter to fix myself another plate, my heart behaving like I just got back from running a five-K. “How was your trip?”

“It was good. Hectic, but I’m glad I went…”
 

He continued to talk, but all I could think about were the questions that hammered for release inside my head. My plan was to wait until after breakfast. To enjoy our last moments before everything fell apart. But I wasn’t sure I could. I was teetering between jumping him like a sex-crazed lunatic and having a nervous breakdown.
 

With a plate full of crepes my stomach would barely allow, I sat down.
 

His brows wrinkled with concern as he looked at me. “Are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”  

The questions were eating me alive, and I couldn’t take it any longer. “Jake…” I took a cleansing breath, then blew it out before I continued. “We need to talk.”  

He set his mug on the table, the words of doom floating between us, and leaned back in his chair. His brows came together, and he looked confused.
 

The knock which came next surprised us both, and his eyes bored into mine, silently telling me not to move as he rose from his seat to answer it.
 

My hands raked over my face when he disappeared. There was no going back now. In a few minutes, I would have answers. Answers I both wanted and didn’t want all at the same time.
 

When he came back into the room his forehead was creased with concern. “There’s an officer here to see you.”

I swallowed the bile that rose in the back of my throat, and brushed past him to the front door.
 

Officer Peterson stood in the middle of the room and nodded to me as I entered. “Ms. McGregor.”  

I wrapped my arms around my middle, and Jake came to stand by my side. “Is everything okay?”

The officer looked from me to Jake. “There was another attack last night. A few miles from here. We think we got them this time.”  

I could feel Jake’s eyes focused on me as I stared at Officer Peterson.
 

“We’d like you to come down to the station to ID them in a line-up.”

Jake turned to me, a scowl of concern replacing any shred of the smile he wore earlier. “Katie, what’s going on?”  

My eyes focused at nothing as I looked out the window on the way to the station. Jake hadn’t said a word since Officer Peterson told him about the attempted break-in, the women who were attacked, and the fact that I was almost a victim. He needed time. It was obvious the news upset him. I could practically see the adrenaline pumping through his veins. But more than that; he seemed hurt.
 

When we got out of the car, he grabbed my hand as we crossed the parking lot, and sat with me as I filled out more paperwork. Eventually we were escorted to a small room where a detective sat in the corner and explained the identification process to me.
 

The room was bare except for a couple of seats and a curtain I knew covered a one-way mirror. Jake’s arm wrapped around me as I stood waiting to face the man who tried to attack me two nights earlier.
 

Eventually the detective opened the curtains, and eight men walked into the room on the other side of the glass. They stood in a single-file line, while I looked into their faces. The room was warm and stuffy, and it was almost impossible to breathe the thick, fear-laden air. I began to tremble as I scanned from one man to another. Their faces smug and terrifying—all strangers. Jake held me close, bending down to kiss the top of my head every few minutes. But this job was mine, and I continued to stare into the eyes of all the men. They were all big and strong, the right size, but I realized any one of them could’ve been my attacker. I turned to the detective, my voice shaking. “I...I just don’t know.”
 

“Are you sure, Ms. McGregor?” he asked.

“Yes. It was dark. I just don’t know.”
 

The curtains closed and Officer Peterson entered the room. I started to cry. “I’m so sorry. I wanted it to be one of them, but it was just so dark.”
 

“Ms. McGregor, you did great. We have a positive ID from two other women. We have a case with or without your identification.”

He continued to give us information about what would happen next. The assailants would be taken into custody, arraigned; then a date would be set for their trial. I was told to prepare myself for the possibility of having to testify, but due to the fact I couldn’t make a positive ID, it might not be necessary.
 

When we made it back to Jake’s house it was nearly six, and a catering truck was parked in the driveway.
 

Jake’s shoulders sank as he pulled along the curb. “Shit.”
 

“Your party…” I said in a low, distant voice.
 

He hopped out of the truck and walked around to open my door. “We’re canceling it.”
 

As much as I wanted that, it wouldn’t be possible. “People will be showing up in two hours. There’s no way you could contact them all in time.” I climbed out of the car and began to make my way to the front gate.

He grabbed my arm and spun me around. “Why didn’t you call me, Katie?” His voice was deep with emotion, his eyes hard and searching.
 

“It all happened so fast... I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You didn’t want to bother me? You were attacked in my home, and you didn’t want to bother me?”

“Jake—”

A man dressed in a culinary jacket and carrying a clipboard approached us. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but are you Katie McGregor? I’m from Banquet Catering, and we’re supposed to be setting up.”  

I looked back at Jake, seeing all the questions in his eyes, having a million of my own, but knowing that soon the house would be swarmed with people. I couldn’t do this now. Not like this.
 

I turned to the caterer and nodded. “Please, right this way.”

BY THE TIME I’D SHOWN the caterer where to set up, the decorating company was at the front door. At least ten men began trampling back and forth to the backyard, carrying large poles and fabric, shouting orders, and all I kept wondering was where Grace and Gigi were.

“Can you sign here, ma’am?” one said, shoving a digital pad in front of me.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“The contract for the tent. We need a signature before we can begin installation.”

“A tent?” Grace said nothing about a tent.
 

“Yes. Because of the rain.”
 

He pointed to the sky with the stylus, and for the first time that day, I noticed the ominous clouds. Even the weather had sensed my doom and decided to watch the show.
 

As soon as I signed the little box, the man began barking orders to his crew, and in just over an hour the tent ran from the back door all the way to the pool. White organza cascaded from the ceiling in a swag, then down the sides fastened in bundles of elegant, draping fabric. The lanterns Grace spoke of were hung across the ceiling and reminded me of something you’d see at a wedding, not a man’s thirtieth birthday party.
 

Chairs and cocktail tables were brought in, arranged around the edges of the tent, and covered in dark cloth. I spun around in a daze, seeing but not really observing my surroundings—with the exception of one thing. Jake was nowhere to be found. A part of me ached to know what he thought of all this, to know if he was still upset with me about not telling him about the break-in, but the other part was thankful he couldn’t see my face. The ordeal at the station had shaken me, and I didn’t have the strength for such a serious conversation now.
 

Questions pulled me from one direction to the other. Questions I didn’t know the answers to. Where the hell was Grace? And why had she left me in charge of this?
 

“Hey,” John called to me as I finished up with the caterer. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“What?” I spun around, glancing down at my cut offs and T-shirt. “What time is it?”

“Quarter to eight.”
 

“Shit. I don’t even know what I’m going to wear.”

I tried to brush past him, but his voice stopped me. “Did you talk to Jake?”

I shook my head.
 

“I passed him in the garage. Go talk to him. Before people start showing up.”