Jake (Downton Cowboys #2) - Miley Maine Page 0,27

him walk me out.

A serene and cleansing ride carries me back to town, and I finally arrive home to find that nothing but the night light is on. As it turns out, they probably wouldn’t even have noticed if I had stayed at Jake’s tonight.

But, no. This is good.

We made love and that was that.

Sleeping over was definitely going to give him the wrong idea.

Quietly, and with my shoes in hand, I tiptoe to my room and close the door, careful not to let it creak.

I mindlessly change my clothes, my head still with Jake and the magical time he gave me. As soon as I get into bed, I begin to toss and turn, completely incapable of settling into a comfortable position. Damn you, Jake, and your arousing fragrance that still lingers on my skin.

I’m too exhausted to shower, so I let out a long exhale and force my eyes shut.

Flashbacks of the past couple of hours continue to raid my mind, filling up the insides of my eyelids like cinema projections on a big, white screen. The way he looked at me. The way his fingers dug into my skin. The feel of his body on mine. His movements, smell, and taste.

Even the tone of his voice calling my name is ringing in my ears, prompting the blood to blaze through me, boiling, scorching my insides.

I want more of him.

Fine details of every minute surround me, capturing my senses and making me squirm as the sound of reason repeatedly begs me to sleep.

And I finally drift off…

For the few days that follow, there is no sign of Jake. If he knew how to find me, he could surely figure out a way to get my number. But he neither appears at my door nor calls.

His radio silence sends waves of anger through me as I progressively start to feel used. A day goes by, two, three. Shame begins to snake its way into my mind, tainting my emotions and slowly shadowing over the vivid memory of his arms around me.

On the fifth day, I decide that my parents can’t possibly know. It will only break their hearts. As I get out of bed, all puffy-eyed from lack of sleep, I step into the shower with a resolution to give them a good day.

When I walk out of my room, well made-up and perfumed, I hear my mother’s voice in the kitchen. She tries to lower it, but it finds its way into my ears all the same.

“I’m telling you. He’s done something.” She sounds adamant.

I stop in my tracks, frozen in a half-step so as not to make a sound. And I listen.

“Or?” My father pauses. “She simply didn’t enjoy the date with him.”

“That’s impossible. She’s crazy about him, I know it.”

“Honey, there’s infatuation and then there’s reality. And I like to think that I raised a daughter who knows the difference.”

“And I’m telling you, if she wasn’t into it, she would have come home earlier. We went to bed at eleven that night, and she was still out there.”

“What do you propose we do?”

“Talk to her?”

“You know I prefer when she comes to us. It means she’s ready to discuss it.”

“Well, I don’t know where you get your cool,” she said in irritation. “But I can’t just sit around and watch my daughter wilt away.”

“Listen to yourself. A couple of quiet days aren’t wilting away. Maybe it’s a hormonal thing.”

“Oh, and what do you know?”

“I’ve lived with you for twenty-seven years.” He chuckles.

She tries to stifle a laugh before her voice softens. “I hope you’re right.”

At that moment, I decide to announce my arrival.

“Good morning, good parents!” I muster in the most cheerful tone.

As I step into the kitchen, I see my dad’s eyes giving my mom a telling look.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” He flashes me a smile.

I lean over and kiss him on the cheek before I turn around and do the same for her. She’s standing by the counter, waiting for the coffee to be ready.

“Did you sleep well?” she tries to sound casual.

“Yes,” I lie. The makeup is helping. “And you guys?”

“Like babies.” He sets down the paper and takes the mug Mom gives him, fondly sniffing the brew before taking a sip. “So, what are you up to today?”

“I’m volunteering at the soup kitchen.”

Well, it’s the only idea I could come up with in the shower. I have to distract myself.

“That’s wonderful, honey,” Mom encourages me.

“Yeah, I haven’t done it in a while.” I