Outside the Lines (33 page)

“Yes, I know. I’m falling for you, too.” I paused. “But I want to know more about the man I’m falling for. All your nooks and crannies.”

“Sounds kinky.”

“Jack.”

“I’m not very good at opening up,” he said.

“You can trust me,” I said.

“I know I can,” he said quietly. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

I was silent, waiting for him to continue. I’d told him so much about my life, my father’s illness and suicide attempt. My emotions had been spilled out all over the floor pretty much since the day we met. I was ready for him to offer me a little more of the same. He’d told me the story of what he witnessed his group of friends do to the homeless man, how it had spurred him to open the shelter. But I wanted to understand other parts of him. I wanted to know where he came from.

“What do you want to know?” he asked after a few minutes of neither of us speaking a word.

His words startled me; I’d half thought he’d fallen asleep. “When was your last serious girlfriend?” I asked, fairly drowsy myself.

“Five years ago. Her name was Darcy.” He said her name like it was something sour in his mouth.

I snapped awake, instantly hating her, whoever she was. I pictured her glistening and perfect, with long, flat-ironed blond hair and a cute turned-up nose. It made me feel ill to think about his kissing another woman the same way he kissed me. “How long were you two together?”

“Since we were twenty.”

I did some quick math in my head. He was thirty-one and it ended when they were twenty-six. That meant they’d dated for six years.
Six years?
That was longer than the relationships I had with some of my appliances. I was suddenly very intimidated.

“Who ended it?” I asked in what I hoped was an interested but lighthearted voice.

“I did.” He was still staring at the ceiling. “Both of our parents thought we’d get engaged. She thought we’d get engaged. She hinted about it often enough.”

“But you didn’t love her?”
Please, please, tell me you didn’t love her.

“I cared about her, I guess. We’d known each other almost our entire lives. It was sort of expected we’d end up together.”

“Like how it was expected you’d take over your dad’s company?”

“Exactly like that.”

“What does your dad’s company do?”

Jack laughed, a short, barking sound. “The question is, what doesn’t it do? Baker Industries has its fingers in pretty much every pot. Mergers and acquisitions, imports, exports, technologies. You name it, the Baker name is probably stamped somewhere on the paperwork.”

“You’re one of
those
Bakers?” I was stunned. Baker Industries was one of the largest multinational corporations based in Seattle. Emerald City Events had catered more banquets and dinners for them than all of our other clients combined. It was such a common last name, I never thought to link Jack with the company.

“Yes, I’m one of ‘those’ Bakers.” I felt him move his head, so I adjusted enough so I could pull back and look at him. “You’ve heard of us, I guess?”

“I’ve done a lot of catering for the company’s events.” Questions began shooting through my mind. Was Jack a trust-fund baby? Or did his father disinherit him when he didn’t follow the path expected of him? Was that why they didn’t speak, because Jack didn’t get the money he was expecting?

“I’m sure you have. Dad’s fond of high-end parties.”

I was silent for a moment before a thought struck me. “Does Tom actually work for you, then? I remember he said, ‘Mr. Baker takes good care of me,’ but you said it was a joke.”

Jack shook his head. “No, Tom’s just a friend. He does work for my dad, though. That’s how we met.”

“Aha. Now it makes sense.” I went back to the ex-girlfriend. “So, why did you end it with Darcy?”

He sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” I said, attempting to keep my tone light.

“I made it more so by leaving my position as VP for my dad’s company. I told Darce I wanted to live a more simple life and do something to make up for what I’d done to that man back in high school. I also wanted to build something of my own instead of riding on my father’s coattails. I wanted to create my own success instead of just inheriting his.”

“And she didn’t understand that?”
Please don’t call her “Darce,”
I thought.

“Oh, she understood it. She even supported me in it the first year or so after I quit working for my dad. She helped with some of the initial fund-raising and grant applications. She’s a lawyer, so she was good at that kind of thing. But then the novelty of the situation wore off, I guess, and she started having a hard time with the idea of not living the lifestyle she was accustomed to.” His words were bitter. “Once reality set in, it turned out what she really wanted was all the money and prestige that came along with marrying Jack Baker, not Jack Baker himself. I felt like an idiot for ever believing anything different. So I broke up with her.”

“That sucks,” I said sympathetically. Jack didn’t strike me as someone who’d fall easily for a disingenuous woman. It could be that she thought she could leave the wealthier lifestyle but after living it awhile discovered she wasn’t cut out for a simpler life. I wasn’t sure that made her a bad person, exactly, but I was happy the result of her decision was my ending up with a man like Jack.

“Did she come from money, too?” I asked.

“Not really. I mean, her mother was successful in my dad’s company, which was how we got introduced in the first place. We dated and our families cooked up the idea we’d get married and I’d head up the company with her as the trophy on my arm.”

I cringed, shifting my prior vision of her to statuesque Brazilian supermodel. “Trophy, huh? She must be very pretty.”

“Some might think so,” he said. “Not when I finally saw her true colors. I wanted to build something meaningful with my life, you know? And she just trashed it. When I broke up with her, she called me an idiot and a loser who’d never amount to anything. My father pretty much followed suit.”

“Oh, Jack, I’m sorry.” I hugged him and kissed his chest.

He shrugged, mindlessly rubbing my back with his open palm. “It happened a long time ago. The sting has worn off. But you can understand why I’m hesitant to go see him. I don’t think his opinion of what I’ve chosen to do with my life has changed any. I don’t know how I’d explain to him how so much of what I’d been given in my privileged life were things I didn’t need or really even like.”

“Like what?”

“Like country club memberships and summer houses. That kind of thing. My dad is all about accumulating more and more stuff. More money, especially. I wanted a simpler life. Less encumbered by things, more enriched by people.” He rolled over to look at me. “I tried to make him happy for a few years. I worked with him, schmoozed over business dinners and Saturday golf. All that crap. And I was good at it. But I hated it. I literally had to force myself out of bed in the morning to go to work. I felt like I was living someone else’s life. Like I wasn’t being the person I was meant to be.”

“Did your dad disinherit you when you told him how you felt?”

“Does that matter?” There was an instant edge to his voice—a guard thrown up. Money was obviously a touchy subject for him. I’d need to be careful how we talked about it.

I sat up and pressed both my hands flat against his chest, pushing him from his side over onto his back. I stared him down, unblinking. “It absolutely does
not
matter to me. I fell in love with an idealistic, underpaid social worker, okay? I couldn’t give a shit about your bank account.”

He smiled. “You fell in love?”

My cheeks suddenly burned and I had to avert my eyes from his. “Did I say that? I think I said, ‘I’m falling
for
.’”

He nodded. “You did. But that was earlier.” He reached up and touched my cheek with the tips of his fingers, gently turning my face back toward him. “I’m pretty sure you said you fell in love with me.”

My heart pounded. This wasn’t good. I wasn’t supposed to say it first. How could I be in love with him in such a short time? It was only infatuation. A crush. Lust, even. I made myself look at him. His expression was kind; his gaze was softened by the warm light the candles created.

“I’m falling in love with you, too, Eden,” he said. “It’s scaring the shit out of me.”

I laughed and threw myself on top of him, shoving my mouth against his neck to kiss it. “We’ll be scared shitless together, then.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He paused. “And, Eden?”

“Yes?” I asked a little dreamily, basking in the glow of being told he was falling in love with me, too. It was better than any drug, any success I could ever reach.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about asking about my inheritance. It’s just an old button of mine. So many women I’ve dated, as soon as they found out about my family, they became all about what I could do for them. What I could buy them or what kind of trips I’d pay for. It’s why I pretty much stopped dating altogether.”

“And then I came along,” I said, still pressing my lips against his neck.

“Yes, you did. And I’m happier for it.” He squeezed me, then rolled me off the top of him. “And just so you know, my father didn’t disown me financially. But I haven’t touched my inheritance since I quit my job with him. The only thing I did was use it for collateral to buy the building and land around the shelter. The down payment, the mortgage, that all comes from my own personal savings and the funding and donations I’ve drummed up on my own. That’s why it took almost four years to raise enough capital to open the doors. I live in my crappy one-bedroom apartment and love it. I don’t see myself ever going back to the kind of existence my family wants me to have. You should know that up front.”

“I don’t care where you live, Jack. I really don’t. I’d hang out in a cardboard box with you.”

“Well, at least we’d know some of our neighbors.”

We both laughed, and he tucked my back against him, spooning our bodies together. “Now, get your nook in my cranny, woman.”

I giggled and snuggled up to him, making sure every inch of my skin was pressed up against his. Our breathing fell into a slow, synchronized pattern, and within minutes the last remaining candle flickered and then went out.

Since Georgia’s Mercedes was too compact to fit all of us and our bags, we ended up setting out for our road trip to Portland in Jack’s SUV. We dropped Jasper off with my mom, then drove to pick up Bryce at his apartment, and then Georgia at her house.

“You want the front seat for the leg room?” I asked Bryce as Jack helped Georgia fit her suitcase into the back of the vehicle. Despite my brother’s apparent nonchalance about their one-night stand, I thought he might be uncomfortable sitting next to Georgia for the entire trip.

“No, thanks,” Bryce said, surprising me. He had completely backed off on the tanning; his skin was almost a natural shade again.

Georgia came around the corner of the car. “I’m okay in the backseat,” she said, though not quite looking at Bryce as she spoke. There was only the tiniest bit of tension between them—perhaps it was embarrassment more than anything else. Rather than draw attention to the situation, I decided to ignore it and act as if nothing had ever happened, taking them at their word that they were fine.

“We should get going,” I said. Everyone climbed into the car and we hit the freeway headed south. No one spoke much as the miles and hours passed, but anticipation wiggled in my belly as we got closer to the Washington/Oregon border. What if my father
was
actually living at Common Ground? What if he was living peacefully in a place that encouraged his art and helped keep him on his meds? I tried not to get too excited about the possibility, as Jack had advised, but I couldn’t help it. Something about this felt right to me.

Georgia spoke up as we crossed over the Columbia River and into Portland. “Are we there yet?” she asked sleepily. Lost in my own thoughts, I hadn’t realized she had been asleep.

“Almost,” Bryce said.

“Do you want to check in at the hotel or go straight to the house?” Jack asked me, turning his head only for a moment so he could smile at me.

“I’d like to go straight there,” I said. “If you guys don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Georgia said. “That’s why we’re here, right?”

“Right,” Bryce said. He reached his thick fingers through the headrest and briefly massaged my shoulder. “You doing okay, sis?”

I nodded. “Yep. Just a little nervous. Sort of how I felt when I first arrived at Hope House.”

“You were nervous?” Jack punched a few buttons on the GPS to look up the address he’d programmed in for Common Ground. “I never would have guessed.”

I looked at him. “Really? I was a wreck inside. And you were such a jerk.”

“And now you love me.” He flashed me a quick wink.

“I know, I know,” I said. “What’s
wrong
with me?”

“Hey,” Georgia interjected, “you guys are dropping the L-word up there?” She leaned forward and poked Jack’s arm. “She’s pretty great, isn’t she, Jack? How could you
not
love her?”

“Georgia . . .” I moaned.

Jack laughed. “It’s okay, Eden. You’re right, Georgia. You obviously have excellent taste in friends.”

“Damn straight,” Georgia said. “Just remember, if you hurt her, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Duly noted,” Jack said solemnly. He followed the GPS’s digital directions, took the exit marked “Downtown/City Center,” and then turned right.

“I’d be careful, dude,” Bryce warned Jack. “Georgia’s kind of a badass. And I’m Eden’s brother, so I’ll be next in line if you screw her over.”

“Oh my god,” I said. “You guys, please.”

Jack laughed again, pulling into the parking lot across the street from where the GPS told us our destination was. “You’ve got a posse, baby. I’d better be careful not to break your heart.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head a few times, secretly pleased Georgia and Bryce were putting on such a protective show. Then my eyes wandered over to the house, a two-story colonial with a small front yard and a wraparound front porch.