Pierce My Heart (Women of Willowbrook Book 1) (34 page)

“No, you don’t have to do that. Do you guys want to come in for, um, drinks?” I ask even though I've not stepped one foot in the house yet.

Jake’s hand squeezes my hip in a warning, clearly saying to let them leave.

Angie gives me a sweet smile. “No, honey, Frank’s right. It’s about time to feed the little ones and start the fight to get them to bed.”

“Oh, okay. Well, it was nice meeting all of you.”

“It was great to meet you too, Anna. If you ever need anything, feel free to pop by,” Angie offers.

“Good meeting you too, girl,” Frank puts in with a smirk on his face, his eyes dancing while he looks back and forth between Jake and me.

Ignoring Frank, and the pink in my cheeks, I bend down (though not very far since the top of Miles’ head hits the middle of my chest) and hold my hand out to him. “It was nice to meet you too, Miles. And your dad’s right, girls don’t have cooties,” I say on a wink.

He looks at me, and then my hand and seems to come to some decision before reaching up and giving it a couple pumps. He lets go, throws a half-wave at Jake as he takes off like a rocket yelling over his shoulder, “Bye, Jake!”

“Jesus. That kids gonna be bouncing off the walls tonight,” Frank mutters to no one in particular.

“You’re the one who let him have
three
sodas today, remember?” Angie says as she gives us a final wave and starts following her son, Frank at her heels.

“You’re the one who’s supposed to stop my bad ideas, woman,” he fires back.

I let out a quiet laugh at their conversation.

Jake pulls me closer.

“Ready to see the house, babe?”

I turn my attention to him and nod.

He turns us, not moving his arm from around me, and leads us up the driveway, into the garage, and towards the door that leads inside.

The door to the garage enters into a nice sized laundry room filled with so many cabinets and storage that even I have no clue what they’d be used for. The room itself is a pretty sky blue color—light and cheery but not blinding in the sterile feel of all the white.

Jake ushers me towards the open doorway with a hand at my back, so I almost miss the faded names on some of the cabinets.

Jacob and Gracelynn.

I’m curious as to why his and his sister’s full names—of all things—are on his laundry room cabinets when I come to a complete standstill.

My eyes widen and my mouth drops open in shock as I take in the first floor of Jake’s house.

The whole floor is open concept. I can see into the huge living room situated to the right, the small foyer the front door leads into, the stairs that take you up to the next floor, the space he’s designated for eating with a big round table, and all the way into the kitchen—that's competing in size with the living room. The only thing I can’t see fully into are the two rooms in the hallway that's off the living room towards the back of the house.

Everything about the place screams ‘home’; from the warm tones of the tans, blues, creams, browns, and reds that color the space, to the expensive, yet worn and comfortable looking, furniture.

What I can’t believe is that Jake’s the one who decorated the place.

From what I know of Grace, and even Gail, it isn't their taste either, which meant Jake either hired a decorator (something I don't see him doing) or another woman had decorated this as her home.

Just the thought has my stomach rolling with anxiety.

“Do you wanna eat first or see the upstairs and then eat?” Jake asks, heading towards a big sliding glass door, situated between two equally big windows in the dining area.

My stomach revolts further at the idea of food.

“See the rest of the place.”

Once the dogs come in—Juliet immediately shoves her nose to the ground to start sniffing and exploring—Jake comes back and grabs hold of my hand, leading me to and up the stairs.

Where the downstairs had been open, the upstairs is nothing more than a wide hallway with doors—one door on the left side, and three on the right. Jake starts towards the doors on the right. The first being a weight room of sorts, the middle a bathroom, and the last a decent sized guest room. It was decorated in pink and white, and had the feeling in my stomach crawling up my throat, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

When he starts towards the last door on the left, I want nothing more than to bail. I do
not
want to see what is likely the master suite decorated in a way that shoves a past serious relationship of Jake's in my face.

I don’t want the knowledge that I’m not the first one here.

That I’m merely
no one
compared to the woman who this house had been for.

And the second Jake opens the door, I know I should’ve run.

There’s a huge king size bed smack dab in the middle of the back wall, the frame white washed wood that had been made to look antique—when in reality it probably cost more than six months of my car payments. The matching end tables, dresser, and vanity further confirm it.

The walls are a light cream color that looks like it has streaks of shimmery gold shooting through the paint while the carpet is lush and dark, almost a deep rose in color. I notice a few photographs decorating the walls, but I’m too lost in everything else I’m seeing (and feeling) to give them much attention. The only thing that screams Jake is the ginormous flat-screen situated on the wall across from the bed.

There are two other doors—side by side—which I can only assume are the walk-in closet and the master bath, neither of which I’m dying to see.

Before Jake can bring me any further into the room, I turn on my heel and set off for the stairs, kicking myself for not bringing my car so Juliet and I could make an escape.

“Where are you going?”

“Leave me alone, Jake. I’ll call a cab or someone, but I’m leaving. The least you could do is let me go since you didn’t have the decency to tell me,” I inform him the second my foot hits the floor in the foyer.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You’re not going anywhere. We’re making dinner, eating it, then I’m taking you upstairs and finally getting inside of you.”

I whirl on him, ignoring the tightening of my core and focusing on the hurt. “That’s not going to happen. I’m not staying and you’re definitely not getting inside of me tonight, or maybe ever!”

His eyes go scary and I start to feel the mood in the room shift.

“Ever?” he asks quietly, but I’m too lost in everything I was feeling to notice the undertone.

“Yes, ever. How could you bring me here and not even warn me? Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Do you think I’m stupid? How could you let me walk in here and be smacked in the face by all this shit?” I bite out, throwing my arm around the room.

His eyes lose some of the scary as he searches my face, but he’s no less pissed off.

“What exactly do you think you’re seeing, babe?”

I cross my arms on my chest, mimicking his pose.

“Are you serious?”

When he just stands there, not answering, I let out an aggravated sigh.

“Fine. I see a house, no, a
home
, that someone took their time decorating to make it that way. I know it sure as hell wasn’t you. It’s not Grace’s style, and it’s definitely not Gail’s style, and no way you’d hire a decorator, so that tells me it was someone else. Someone you bought this place for to have a family with because you sure as shit don’t buy a place like this if you don’t intend to have a family.”

I suck in a breath and look away, trying to control the tears of anger and hurt that were threatening to fall, so I missed the scary and pissed off in Jake, being replaced by something else.

“You let me walk in here with no warning. Sure, it would’ve hurt to know this place was meant for someone else, but not as much as getting slapped in the face with all she created to make a home for you two. You promised to always catch me, baby, but you let me fall right on my face,” I finish on a whisper, watching as my words burn through him.

And fuck if watching it doesn’t hurt more than anything.

“Christ, Annie,” he grinds out, his voice rough.

“I’m going home, Jake. I need time to think.”

“The fuck you are.”

My arms drop.

“After everything I just told you how can you ask me to stay?”

“I’m not asking you.”

I roll my eyes.

“You know what I mean. I can’t—”

“I grew up here,” he interrupts me.

“What?”

He shakes his head and walks towards me.

When he clears the five feet between us, he wraps one arm around my back while his other hand settles on my neck.

“Grew up here, sweetheart. You were right about a man buying this house for a woman to make a family with, but you were wrong about what man.”

My eyes close in embarrassment, but his hand tilting my head back farther has me reopening them.

“My dad bought this place for my mom. She’s the one that decorated it, every fucking inch. Was doing it until Grace and I were old enough to start helping, and kept doing it until she got it exactly how she wanted it. For her, for my dad, and for Grace and me. It's something you two have in common. The only thing I’ve changed is upgrading the TV’s and putting a dog house in the back for Romeo. All this shit, babe, it’s my mom. There’s never been another woman I wanted to make a family with.”

“I’m such a bitch,” I mutter immediately, taking Evan’s words from earlier.

His shaking body brought my attention back to him.

“You’re not a bitch. What you are is a gorgeous, fucking sexy woman, who feels a fuck of a lot for her man. A woman who did not like the idea of her man being serious with another woman. And a woman who wasn’t afraid to share how I fucked up.”

My hands move to his cheeks. “You didn’t fuck up, baby.”

He kisses the inside of my right palm and gives me a small smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, babe, I did. I should’ve shared that shit with you, but I’ve never brought another woman here, let alone one I gave a shit about, so I didn’t think about it. I made you think I didn’t catch you when I promised I always would. That’s a fuck up, Anna, whether you agree or not. One that will not happen again,” he promises in his way where I know he’ll do everything he can to make certain of that.

“Well to be fair, I probably should’ve just asked instead of jumping to conclusions,” I offer, trying to take some of the blame, but he just shakes his head. “I’m serious, Jake. I jumped to the worst conclusion, and even after this morning I put that shit on you. That’s not fair for you and it’s not nice for me to keep doing. I promise I’ll do better,” I say, the tone of my voice mimicking his.

Before he has a chance to respond, Juliet and Romeo come barreling down the stairs. Juliet, who isn’t accustomed to so many stairs at once, was not having luck with stopping and ends up slamming into our legs with Romeo right behind her. Thankfully, Jake already has a hold of me so when the momentum from their collision hits, he’s able to keep us upright.

Peering down, I see both dogs on their feet, tails going a mile-a-minute, tongues hanging out of their mouths, and I can't stop the laughter that bubbles out of me.

Jake isn’t too far behind.

“Let’s get some food in them and then some food in us. Sound good?” he suggests after our laughter has died down.

“Sounds good, baby,” I answer, turning my head just in time to watch
that
emotion sparkle through his eyes as he watches me.

*              *              *

It was after the quick and delicious dinner of spaghetti, after I oohed and awed over every inch of Jake’s kitchen—from the mocha brown cabinets with off white granite counters, to the top of the line appliances he had dotting said counters. It was seriously a dream to cook in (though, it didn’t have my awesome cutting-board counter). After a quick, and surprisingly fun, clean-up using the big farmhouse sink, and after snuggling in the comfortable-as-heck, brown leather couch while we watched an episode of Blue Bloods.

It’s time for bed.

While Jake is letting the dogs out one more time, I scurry up the stairs and try to calm my nerves.

I have no clue if his plans to ‘finally get inside me’ are still a go or not, but since I’m
not
against it (at all) I move towards my bag with one thing on my mind. The nightie I bought awhile back and had packed, just in case.

I manage to snag the garment and shut myself in the bathroom before he even starts up the stairs. After I shuck my jeans, my lavender lace overlay top, my navy tank, my bra, and all my silver off, I slip the nightie on and go solid when I catch sight of myself in the mirror.

My hands drop to the counter to steady myself.

Bright eyes, cheeks flushed with excitement and nerves, but the nightie is all I can see.

It’s cinched under my bust, flowy, black, short, covered in lace, and
sheer
—even the cups. If it wasn’t for the strategically placed lace, you’d be able to see
every
detail. And, while the lace covered the more important things, there was no hiding the soft curve of my tummy.