Real Kind of Love Page 7

  “That’s our cue,” Jake whispered while everyone else laughed at her Grandma’s crass pun.

  They escaped back to their cabin, stopping first to collect their things from her car. Every bit of energy she’d gained from her nap on the way over had been drained by the time she remembered where she’d written down the lock code and let them inside. Clem walked straight to the white wicker couch and dropped her head into her hands.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I won’t blame you if you want to leave. You can take my car. I’ll hitchhike back. Or get eaten by a bear. Either one is better than this.”

  He sat next to her, couch dipping from his weight. Her body reacted instantly to his proximity, like a lightning rod in a storm. “Nah, your family’s not that bad. Trust me, I’ve dealt with worse.”

  “Your fiancée’s?” She regretted asking that before the words were out of her mouth. His tangled past was none of her business.

  “My own.”

  “How bad could they be? You’re normal and well adjusted.”

  “Not even close.” He bumped her shoulder with his, but there was a tightness in the muscles of his face where a smile should have been. “Besides, it’s a lot easier to deal with the whole meeting the parents thing when it’s fake.”

  “You say that like you’ve faked it before.”

  “For twelve years.” He jumped to his feet before she could process the admission, and held out his hand. “Come on.”

  She let him pull her to feet and drag her back to the door. “Where are we going?”

  He grabbed her tablet, which was sticking out of her purse next to the door, and placed it in her hands. “This place comes with access to that little boat at the dock, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you’re going to get some reading done and I’m going fishing.” He placed his hand on her shoulders and steered her out the front door.

  “Wait a second…” she said when they were halfway to the dock, “…fish don’t bite in the afternoon. You’re not going to catch anything.”

  “Probably not.” He waved at her family who were engaged in a chaotic game of croquet. “But I promised you a relaxing week, so let’s find a couple life jackets and enjoy the quiet where no one else can find us.”

  It only took Clem about five minutes to realize Jake had no idea how to fish. Not one clue.

  His bait was completely wrong and his patience almost zero. It seemed like he had more fun casting his rod and choosing tackle than he did about the prospect of actually catching a fish—something that was not going to happen if he kept reeling in every ten seconds. But she couldn’t deny that he looked good while doing it. He had the kind of face that was made for aviator sunglasses. Strong angles and a sexy smile that hinted at a stream of wicked thoughts hidden behind it.

  Or maybe she was just projecting her own thoughts onto him.

  Still, she managed to settle into the bed of life jackets she’d piled up on the front of the boat and dive into Forbidden Sins. She didn’t often work outside, and this was definitely the first time she’d tackled a project in a little aluminum boat, but the soft rocking while they floated along the still lake was soothing in a way she hadn’t anticipated. There was no one else around for miles, and she’d be able to see another boat coming long before they got close. After what she’d been through a couple nights ago, this kind of quiet security was exactly what she needed to finally shut off the whirring thoughts in her brain and finish another read-through of the manuscript.

  Part of her—a large part—expected Jake’s presence to abrade her carefully guarded reserve of energy. She waited for it to trickle out like sand in an hourglass, gaining momentum as her brain jumped into a hamster wheel of anxiety and distraction. But it didn’t happen. Even out of their usual element, Jake’s presence didn’t change the comfort she’d developed in her safe little space over the years at the Holy Grale. Instead, it was like he somehow brought that feeling of comfort and familiarity with him, allowing her mind to drop its defenses and sink into the task in front of her.

  It must have been at least an hour before she finished the last page with a happy sigh, but she’d pretty much lost track of time once she’d gotten caught up in the story. God, she was lucky to be in the rare position of choosing the books she narrated at this point in her career, rather than taking whatever contract she could get. But it also meant extra pressure to get the narration right. The more she loved a book, the more she worried about doing it justice. She’d gotten a feel for the main female character’s voice, but the male protagonist’s speech patterns still eluded her.

  Jake was looking at her with a half grin, and she felt her cheeks flush with heat. “Good book?”

  Even her embarrassment couldn’t stop her from speaking the truth. “The best.”

  He was about to cast his rod once more, but stopped midway. The smile disappeared from his face and even with those dark shades, she could feel his gaze zero in on her.

  “What?”

  Nerves prickled her spine as he set his rod down and slowly crept toward her, bracing himself against the edges of the boat to keep it from rocking. His eyes were fixed on her with the kind of determination that made her palms sweat.

  “Nothing’s wrong. Just stay still, okay? There’s something I need to do.” He wedged himself between her thighs and raised his hand toward her chest.

  Confusion wound through her body. She stiffened beneath him, exhalations speeding up. And then she felt a little pinch at her neck, deflating her anticipation like a popped balloon. “There’s a spider on me, isn’t there.”

  He stilled, jaw tensing. “Are you going to panic if I say yes?”

  She let out a small laugh and swept her hand against her skin, pulling the critter off her. It was one of those awful dock spiders, with long black legs and a massive, fuzzy body. She shuddered and tossed it overboard. “We camped a lot growing up. This isn’t the first time I’ve had an insect crawling on me. This was nothing compared to the time I got a June bug caught in my hair when I was thirteen. It took almost an hour, a steak knife, and a lifetime of trauma before my dad finally got it out.”

  He shifted backward, giving her the chance to breathe again, and crossed his arms. “You do realize you just robbed me of the chance to be your hero.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I’ll buy you a medal and personally engrave it with an ode to your bravery.” The quick, cheeky response surprised her even as it passed her own lips. It was a clear sign just how refreshed she felt after the chance to zone out for the past hour.

  He mimed being stabbed in the heart. “So cruel. I was prepared to battle that eight-legged beast with my bare hands. How was I supposed to know you’re the one human being on earth not afraid of spiders?”

  She shrugged. “I’m okay with insects. It’s people I struggle with. But for the record, you are a hero for coming here this week.”

  “You have a twisted sense of logic, Clem. Hanging out in the sunshine for a week is a luxury, not a noble sacrifice.”

  She sat up straight and flicked open his tackle box. “My logic might be twisted, but I do know how to catch trout. Try this.” She replaced the yellow and red lure on the end of his line with a silver and blue one, then handed the rod back to him with a grin.

  “I’m going to have to smash beer cans against my forehead and wrestle a mountain lion to restore my manhood if you keep this up.”

  Her gaze flicked to his crotch as if her brain had no control over what her eyeballs were doing. She couldn’t help it. Not after reading Forbidden Sins for the last hour where the word “manhood” was the author’s favorite and frequently used euphemism.

  Of course Jake noticed. The corner of his lip twitched upward in a half smile and he raised an eyebrow.

  She was pretty sure jumping overboard would only add to her embarrassment, so she decided to go with the truth. “When you read enough romance novels, a lot of words start to take on new meanings.”

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nbsp; A small chuckle rumbled out from his chest. “Jesus, Clem. How have I known you for three years and had no idea the kind of things bouncing around in that pretty head of yours all this time?”

  She sucked in a breath. She wasn’t pretty. Not like her sisters who looked like they’d walked straight off a beauty contest stage even when they were hanging out in the middle of the woods. Clem was pleasantly average. Not hideous. Not ugly. Just not the type to get noticed in a crowded room. Not by a guy like Jake. Then again, he complimented everyone. That was his way.

  He cast his line into the lake once more and settled back into the little seat next to the boat’s motor. “After the way you handled yourself during the robbery, I should’ve known you don’t need someone to rescue you. I’ll just have to be content with my over-the-top phallic metaphor to prop up my sense of masculine self-worth instead.” He motioned to the long pole, but that’s not where her eyes went.

  Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. Dammit!

  He caught her quick glance and laughed. “It’s okay, Clem. Nothing wrong with a dirty mind. Just means you’re human. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “I wasn’t looking. Or having dirty thoughts.”

  “Right, and that book you were reading wasn’t full of hot and sweaty sex scenes.”

  She gasped.

  “Did you know you mouth the words when you’re reading?”

  If she cringed any harder, her vertebrae were going to snap like twigs. “I read out loud more than I do in silence and it’s a hard habit to shake.”

  “You’re an interesting woman, Clem.”

  Her cheeks flushed. She needed to find a way to reset her brain. It was stuck in some kind of defective mode, processing everything he said as flirtation. He was here to get away from his ex, not because of a spark between them. “Nope, I’m just little ol’ me.”

  “Why do you do that?”

  “What?”

  “Sell yourself short? You’re smart, funny, and talented. Why do you try to convince people you’re not?”

  She pulled her sunglasses off her face and cleaned them with the hem of her tank top. “I’m not good under pressure. When there’s too much attention on me, I get flustered. I choke. Sometimes it’s just easier to fade into the background.”

  “Some people shine too bright to ever fade into the background, no matter how hard they try.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to that. Luckily, the pole jiggled right at that moment and she didn’t have to. Jake reeled in the line, pulling up the tiniest little trout she’d ever seen. Barely four inches, the little guy wriggled on the end of the line

  Her cheeks tightened painfully as she did her best to suppress a laugh. “Well, I guess you can always lie about the size. That’s a thing men do, right?”

  He unhooked the tiny fish and released it into the water with the kind of gentleness that would make anyone with a heart swoon. He sat back down and perched forward with his forearms on his thighs. “Really, Clem? You’re making size jokes after I just refrained from calling you the master-baiter?”

  She gasped before breaking into a fit of laughter. Who knew dirty jokes would be exactly what she needed to loosen up a little and enjoy herself?

  He pulled off his sunglasses so she was forced to look into his deep brown eyes. “For the record, I’ve never, ever had to lie about my size.”

  By some miracle, she actually managed to keep her eyes level with his. Not that it stopped her from imagining. Unfortunately, this was one of those times she wasn’t grateful for the depth and vividness of her imagination. “Doesn’t change the fact that you suck at fishing. Like really, really suck at it. Why do you even like it so much when you’re absolutely awful at it?”

  “Honestly? This was my first time.”

  “What?”

  “Yep, you popped my fishing cherry. I’ve had this kit since my grandfather gave it to me when I was thirteen years old and promised to take me to his lake house. He died before he got the chance, and I sort of mythologized the idea of fishing as this great, wonderful thing that men do for fun ever since. Only, it turns out I kind of hate it. Why does anyone like this shit? It’s so boring. And gross. Seriously, who wants to touch those little minnows? It’s disgusting.”

  It took her more than a few moments to recover from the fit of laughter. She lifted her sunglasses to wipe the tears streaking from her eyes. “Then why are we still out here?”

  “Because you needed an escape and this was the best way to give it to you.”

  “Oh.”

  He glanced at his watch, slipped his shades back on, then motioned toward the cabin where her parents were staying off in the distance. “Five twenty-three. Time to head back.”

  7

  Smoke was already billowing from the barbeque as they stepped onto the shared dock between the two cabins. Her mom spotted them across the distance and waved them over. After a quick detour to grab sweaters and a case of beer from the trunk of her car, they made their way over.

  “I have to admit, I was a bit skeptical about the idea of not bringing any food on this trip, but I’m starting to see why you insisted,” Jake said when they were close enough to see the full spread laid out on the patio table off the cabin where her parents were staying.

  “There’s not a lot that will put you in my family’s bad graces, but refusing to let them stuff your face at mealtime with their under-salted and overcooked food is one of the few Cox family sins. They might not be Michelin starred chefs, but they are generous.”

  “Well, it smells delicious.”

  Nervous energy trickled its way back into her stomach, like her body was still unsettled at the idea of lying so blatantly. But she also found herself desperately hoping Jake would be okay with the ketchup and mayonnaise potato salad recipe her mom trotted out every time they had a cookout, or the homemade burgers her dad charred to within an inch of their life. Hoping he would like them and everyone else in her crazy family. As much as these dinners filled with bizarre traditions left her in need of a three-day nap, she loved her family. She wanted him to love them, too.

  Which was stupid. A week from now, she would be announcing their “break up.” She and Jake would go back to their separate lives where the only thing they talked about was what beer she wanted to order. In the meantime, she needed to convince her family that he was the guy who made her heart beat faster. Who made her want to cuddle on Sunday mornings in front of a fireplace and dream about the future.

  “Let me take that off your hands,” Andrew said, rising to his feet and stealing the case of beer from Jake. “We’ve got a cooler full of ice to get these bad boys nice and cold.”

  Clem grabbed a couple paper plates from the table, handed one to Jake, and headed straight for the grill.

  “You sure you don’t want two?” Her dad, wearing his “License to Grill” apron, asked after sliding one blackened hunk of beef onto the white bun.

  As per their decades long routine, she shook her head. “Just one, Dad.”

  “Oh, come one. You need some extra meat on those bones.”

  Her bones were more than properly insulated, as far as she was concerned, not that that ever stopped her dad from making that same comment every time they shared a meal.

  Jake held out his plate. “I disagree, Mr. Cox. She’s absolutely perfect. But I’ll gladly take a second if you’re offering.”

  He was just acting, playing up the role of infatuated lover, but her heart still did a somersault.

  Her dad eyed him warily, holding the spatula out of reach. “I thought you were going to catch some of those plentiful trout for dinner. Are you telling me you’re planning on mooching dinner, son?”

  “Ah, no, sir, I—”

  Clem sighed. “Dad, tell him you’re joking.”

  The older man’s loud chortle could have scared off all the wildlife for miles. “Of course I am. Here, take three.”

  To his credit, Jake didn’t flinch when the third blackened brick of m
eat hit his plate, and kept his cool when they visited the table of various side dishes. In fact, he looked downright excited when he scooped a healthy serving of marshmallow salad, which was weird considering it was as ubiquitous at family cookouts across the continent as mosquitoes and a wall of smoke in the face. Luckily, she was able to steer him off the watermelon and green bean salad with a quick shake of the head.

  They took their seats in the two folding lawn chairs set out for them near the cooler and dug into their meals, listening to Millie and Ellie give a play-by-play of their earlier croquet tournament, which, by the twins’ account, involved a sentient pinecone, the biggest mallet ever, and an imaginary unicorn.

  “You know, most of us just pretend to like the marshmallow salad,” she whispered to Jake as he polished off the last bite. “You don’t actually have to eat it.”

  “Are you kidding? This is my chance to live out a classic American dream. I’m not passing up any of it.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Marshmallow salad is your idea of the American dream?”

  He shrugged. “We never had family camping trips like this when I was a kid. My dad was always too busy with work.”

  Clem opened her mouth to joke that he was lucky, but the words couldn’t seem to form. It took her a moment to register the heavy feeling in her chest as pity. As a child, she used to dread the summers when school was out and her parents would pack her and her sisters into a too-small RV for eight weeks at a time. Everything was too long, too cramped, too excessive. But the thought of not having cookouts by the lake at all, or never staying up late to roast marshmallows on the fire while looking for shooting stars was heartbreaking. “Well, you’ll have the chance to live out as many of those classic childhood experiences as you want while you’re here.”

  “I’m here for one thing. To give you the vacation you deserve.” He leaned toward her and stole a pickle off her plate.