Rough Edges (13 page)

He turned his head to look at her, his hand over the mouthpiece and said, “It’s Tony. He wants to know if we want to meet him at Magoos. You want to go?”

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She smiled. “Yeah, if you want to.”

He nodded and said into his phone, “We’ll be there in a little bit. Later.” He hung up and said, “I think I’ve told you about Magoos. It’s just a pool hall where we hang out sometimes.”

“I remember. Who all is going to be there?” she asked.

“Tony and the usual crowd.” He shrugged, grabbed his beer and took a drink. “I thought we might ride the bike. Is that cool?”

“Sounds great.” She stood and laid a hand against his side. “Jake, I’m really sorry about what happened.”

His eyes when they met hers told her nothing. Whatever ground she had gained in that quiet moment was gone. He had withdrawn again.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s over.” He walked out of the room and grabbed his shirt, which lay on the floor. Jerking it on, he continued walking through a small laundry room and into his garage.

She followed him and was struck again by his size. He towered over her, his shoulders so broad she wondered that he didn’t have to turn sideways to walk through doorways.

Stepping into the garage she glanced around. Shelves lined one wall, a workbench and a roll-around toolbox ran the length of another wall and a pegboard over it held a lot of tools—everything in its place. Three barstools with the image of a skull on the vinyl seat sat in front of the workbench. Two motorcycles sat in one bay of the two-car garage, a dirt bike and a street bike. A punching bag hung from the ceiling in the other bay.

“I bought you a helmet,” he said as he walked to the workbench. “I got you a small.

I’m hoping you don’t wear an extra-small.” He opened a box and pulled out the helmet.

She padded to him, the concrete cool under her feet, and took the helmet. It was pink, but it was far from girly.

“This is really cool. But you didn’t have to buy me a helmet—”

“Yes I did. You can’t ride without one. Here.” He took it from her and opened the straps. “Try it on to see if it fits.” He pulled it down over her head and flipped up the clear visor. Wiggling it, he nodded and said, “Yeah. Looks like it fits good.”

“It’s pretty tight.”

“It’s supposed to be.”

She pulled it off and shoved her hair from her face and traced the pattern on the helmet. “It’s pretty cool looking. What’s it supposed to be?”

“Torn skin revealing the muscle and bone.”

She jerked her gaze back up to him. He was half-grinning at her and she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Sorry. But at least it’s pink,” he said, followed by a light laugh.

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“Oh, I wish I could have seen that. The mean and bad Jake buying a pink helmet.”

“Don’t worry. They knew it wasn’t for me.” He winked at her.

After changing their clothes and grabbing a bite to eat, they were on the bike and riding. The only thing she had ridden was a scooter and she didn’t think he would qualify it as a motorcycle. Especially when she realized the speedometer on Jake’s bike read 220 mph. And when she asked if he had ever driven it that fast, he only grinned.

After her initial fear, she relaxed. The ride was exhilarating. Freeing. The sound of the bike, the feel of his abs tightening every time he shifted gears gave her a thrill. She loved how when they passed another bike they waved. Or at least a biker version of the wave. Mainly just a hand barely lifted in silent communication. It was like bikers had their own community, something she’d never noticed before.

When they pulled up to Magoos, the parking lot was crammed. He backed up next to another bike similar to his near the front. Some girls walked by them, smiled and said, “Hi, Jake.”

She noticed he barely even looked at them and said a simple, “Hey.” For all he knew he could have been talking to aliens.

“Here, let me take your helmet. I’ll attach them to the bike,” he said.

“Thanks. I wondered what we would do with them. Won’t someone steal them?”

she asked.

He snorted. “No one is stupid enough to mess with our bikes. By the way,” he said and pointed to the blue one. “That’s Tony’s.” He grabbed her hand, which made her smile and led her into the place. She loved the feel of his large hand encompassing hers.

The music was loud and the interior huge. Rows of pool tables lined the place and in back she thought she saw a dance floor and stage. Several people said hi to him, but he just nodded and said his usual “hey” and kept moving. After he ordered them beers at the bar, he turned and spoke in her ear. “Tony is probably over there.”

She nodded and they wound their way to the other side. Tony wasn’t hard to spot as they got closer—he was taller than most anyone there and laughed the loudest.

“Hey, ya’ll made it!” Tony said and shook Jake’s hand. She was shocked when he wrapped her up in a bear hug.

“Yeah, we parked by that piece-of-shit blue bike sitting out there. Someone should have it hauled off,” Jake said with a smirk.

“That means so much coming from a Ford freak,” Tony shot back.

She felt almost out of place, standing in between these two huge guys. People laughed at their joking but they stared at her. Jake’s hand reached up and cupped the back of her neck and squeezed lightly. She glanced up at him and he started pointing to people.

“That’s Aaron, his girl Krista, Mike, Travis, his girl Sam, Kevin and Mack,” Jake said. “This is Becca.”

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They all smiled and said some sort of greeting but most couldn’t hide their obvious surprise, although she had no idea why. When Jake left to go to the restroom, Tony leaned down to her.

“Jake doesn’t date. At least not in a normal sense. So don’t mind the weird looks.

They’ll get used to it.”

Confused, she was about to ask him what he meant when Tony walked away to rack balls on a pool table. She followed him and leaned her hip against the table.

“What do you mean, he doesn’t date?”

Tony grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. “What I mean is he fucks them. He doesn’t take them to eat, ask them to stay at his place, let them ride his bike or bring them around his friends. He doesn’t ask for their phone numbers or half the time for their names. He doesn’t date.”

Shocked, she stared him. Her mouth must have been hanging open because Tony placed a finger under her chin to close her mouth.

“You’re only the second girlfriend he’s had since I’ve known him. And I’ve known him for fourteen years.”

“But I’m not his girlfriend,” she said so quietly she was surprised he heard her.

He laughed. “Yeah. Right. Which would explain why he fed you, let you stay at his place, let you ride his bike, brought you around his friends and asked you your name.

Do you get it yet, Becca?”

She clamped her mouth shut and her eyes left Tony to watch Jake walk back to her from across the room. He wore simple clothing, black shirt, jeans and riding boots. He looked good enough to eat.

“Yup. Exactly what I thought,” Tony said and went to grab a pool stick.

She shook her head and slid a hand through her hair. What Tony said echoed in her head. Was he really that cold to girls? Or was Tony exaggerating? She lifted her forgotten beer and took a sip.

Once the weirdness had worn off Jake’s group of friends, the evening went pretty smooth. Krista and Sam were funny.

“Where did you meet Jake?” Krista asked. “I swear you’re the first girl he’s ever brought here.”

Becca paused, wondering what the hell she was going to say. Since nothing else came to mind, she opted for the truth. “I met him online.”

Both sets of eyes went round.

“You serious, girl?” Sam asked. “That boy knows how to work a PC?”

She laughed. “Why wouldn’t he know? And yeah I did. Then I met him in person when he flew down for his sister’s wedding. I live in Virginia.”

If she’d grown two heads they couldn’t have looked more shocked.

“You mean Tony’s sister?” Krista asked, her eyes still round as saucers.

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“Yeah. But Jake considers Amber his sister, too.” Becca glanced at Jake who was playing pool with Tony and she realized he was staring at her. She smiled and he gave her his half-smirk before he leaned to take a shot.

Sam let out a low whistle. “Damn. I don’t believe it. I think Jake is finally toast. I don’t know whether to congratulate you or feel sorry for you. That man has a rep of being the coldest bastard around.”

Becca sighed and downed half her beer. She was getting tired of the same comment.

“Jake’s not cold. Far from it.”

Sam laughed and Krista said, “You’re a goner, girl.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Becca muttered. She walked up to Jake, placed a hand on his arm and said, “I think I’ll hit the dance floor.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything, his expression shuttered like it had been most of the night. She downed the rest of the beer, tossed it in a trashcan and then moved to the crowded dance floor. A live band was playing and mostly covered the seventies stuff. But she didn’t care. She wanted to move and close her mind to everything else for a while.

Finding a small spot, she danced. Nothing fancy, nothing too crazy. Summer would call it a
white girl dance
. The thought brought a smile to her face and she wished she were here. She loved being here with Jake, but not knowing anyone else made it kind of hard. Forgetting about his back and forth aloofness, she moved with the crowd.

“Want to dance?” a guy asked.

She glanced up and shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m with someone.”

“I don’t see him,” he said and tried to move closer.

“Now you do.” She jerked her head at the sound of Jake’s voice. His face was a mask of contained anger.

The guy backed up and said, “Sorry, man.” Then he turned and walked away.

“I could have handled that,” she said, feeling irritated.

“Yeah. But you didn’t have to,” he replied. Then he turned her so she faced him and he brought his arms around her.

“I thought you didn’t dance?”

“I don’t.”

“I’m a big girl. I know how to take care of myself.”

“I never said you couldn’t.”

She gritted her teeth, it was obvious he was angry, even though he held her gently.

“I have to go to the restroom.”

When all he did was nod, she fumed and pushed her way through the crowded room. Closing herself in a stall, she sat and took a deep breath. A part of her thought she had made a mistake coming here. It was obvious Jake was tense. She didn’t know if it was because she was here with him, or if it was residual from the encounter with his 76

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parents. Either way, it sucked. And worse, she knew, as Krista had said, she was a goner. Her thoughts stopped when she heard a girl say Jake’s name.

“Did you see that girl with Jake? What was he thinking? She looks more like a little kid than a woman.”

“I know. No way could she handle him. Hell, we couldn’t.”

They both laughed and Becca had all she could take. She pushed open the stall door and glared at the two women. Both were tall, big busted and overdone—hookers, in her opinion. She stared at them, making sure they both saw her, then stepped between them to wash her hands. They didn’t say anything, just wore shitty smirks on their faces. She toweled off her hands then looked them both in the eye.

“I handle him just fine. And for the record, I’m going home with him. You’re not.”

She barely got a glimpse of their stunned faces before slamming out of the room. She hoped they both choked on their hairspray fumes.

Before she could reach the table where they had been sitting, Tony stopped her.

“Get Jake out of here.”

A sharp comment was on the tip of her tongue when she realized Tony wasn’t joking. “Why?”

“You’ll see why when you get to the table.”

Tony walked with her and what she saw stopped her. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his foot tapped nervously and a glower marked his face.

This was more than irritation, he was furious.

When he saw her, he dropped his arms, some of his ire evaporating from his stance.

“Let’s go,” she said. He all but hauled her out the door, not even bothering to say bye to anyone.

He hadn’t said anything to her on the way to his house. And even when he parked the bike in the garage, placed their helmets on the workbench and walked inside, he still said nothing.

Hating the silence, she started to speak when he walked into his room and shut the door.

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Jake sat on his bed and dropped his head into his shaking hands. He choked on every feeling that swamped him. Every emotion that Becca had brought to life. Seeing her with his friends, watching her easy interaction, her smile, the way she held her beer—everything, had his stomach doing back flips. And that’s when he noticed the attention she was getting. Seemed every man in the place had his eye on her, along with the women. That’s when he realized what he had done.

He had brought her to a place where he had picked up a lot of mindless fucks. Most of the women were nameless faces to him, but they all knew his name. It never mattered before. But it mattered now. There was no way Becca could not see them for who they were. She wasn’t stupid.

Raking a hand through his hair, he felt like the bastard he was. He screwed up royally by taking her there. She was better than that. Deserved better than that.

Deserved better than him.

He fell backward and stared up at the ceiling fan that whirred in an endless circle.

Then her scent tickled his nose. He turned his head and inhaled. She had been in his bed and he knew she was imbedded in his heart.

Damn.

He jerked, his eyes flying open, his heart thundering in his chest. Shit. He wasn’t capable of loving somebody.

Was he?

Thinking about her he could picture her vividly in his mind. The way she always slowly smiled at him, those eyes looking at him with passion, hunger, want, concern.