“Yeah,” Jake said.
“Okay. Later, Stephano.”
“Bye Stephano!” Jackie called.
“Bye guys,” Jake said, not correcting them on the Stephano bit. It was his name after all.
“Oh,” Nicole said, glancing down at her phone when it dinged to announce she had a text message. Jake was at the checkout. “I have to go.”
“Nancy’s done his shopping, is he?” Dan asked with obvious amusement.
“Jake,” she corrected dryly, though she knew he knew the name wasn’t Nancy. Dan had seemed to find the whole male cook/housekeeper thing a real hoot from the moment she’d explained about Jake.
“Jake,” he said dutifully as he threw money on the table to cover their coffees and stood up to walk her out. “So what’s he like, this Jake? A real mama’s boy? Gay maybe? Or what?”
“Oh, I don’t think he’s gay,” Nicole said at once, and she didn’t. She hadn’t really considered it before now, and couldn’t claim to have the best “gaydar,” as they called it, but she was pretty sure Jake wasn’t gay. At least she hoped not, she’d be terribly disappointed if he was . . . and had absolutely no desire to examine why that would be. The guy was younger than her, and an employee. She had no business thinking about him in that way at all. The last thing she needed right now was to think of any man in that way. Nicole had promised herself at least a full year of counseling before she would even consider dating again. But once that date had arrived, she’d decided maybe another six months of counseling was in order. She really did not want to jump back into the dating pool too early and land herself in another abusive relationship.
“Not gay, huh? So just a mama’s boy?” Dan said lightly as he walked her out of the restaurant.
Nicole just shook her head. Dan really seemed to have issues with her cook/housekeeper . . . and he didn’t even know him. As they neared her car, she teased, “Is someone feeling threatened? What’s wrong? Can’t cook?”
“Oh, I can cook,” he assured her. “I’m the best barbecuer around. Housekeeping, on the other hand . . .” He grimaced and shook his head. “I’m one of those guys who leave a trail of clothes from the front door to the shower. Drove my wife crazy . . . which, I suppose, is why she’s an ex-wife now.”
Nicole chuckled softly at the comment as he opened her door. She started to climb in, then paused and turned back. Holding out her hand, she said, “Thank you, Dan. For the coffee and for saving my life.”
He glanced at her hand, then accepted it and shook firmly. “You’re more than welcome, ma’am. All in a day’s work for us superheroes.”
Laughing, Nicole retrieved her hand and got into the SUV.
“I have your number,” Dan said as she settled in the driver’s seat. “I’ll call you later in the week and see how you are. Find out if you’ve recovered, had any more problems, or if Jakey boy is driving you wild,” he teased. “You might need an emergency coffee date to recover.”
“I just might,” she said on a laugh, pulling on her seatbelt. “Thanks again.”
“My pleasure,” Dan assured her and closed the door, gave her a little wave, and backed up.
Nicole started the engine, still smiling. She felt much better than she had right after the near miss. Her nerves were settled again, and while she was a little stiff and bruised, coffee with Dan had cheered her up. The man had flirted, but not seriously, just enough to make her feel good. He was a nice guy. He definitely had issues with men in non-conformist positions, but he was nice.
Nicole shifted into reverse, waved at Dan, then backed out of her parking spot to drive around to the grocery store to meet Jake.
“Do you recognize that car?” Jake asked, eyes narrowing on the little sports car waiting in the driveway when Nicole turned into it.
“It’s Joey. My brother,” Nicole added as she eased up the driveway and hit the button to open the garage door. She smiled slightly, and said, “He’s . . . well, you’ll either love him or hate him. There’s no middle ground with Joey.”
Jake raised his eyebrows at the comment. Marguerite had mentioned Joey while giving him the details about Nicole and her husband, but he’d understood that while the man had made millions in land development here in Ottawa, he’d got out of the rat race and retired down to the Southern states. Marguerite hadn’t been sure if it was Florida or Hawaii. Other than that, all he knew about the man was that he was thirty-eight, Nicole’s half brother from their father’s first marriage. That his birth mother had died when he was young, he accepted Nicole’s mom, Zaira, as his mother now, and that he adored Nicole as much as she adored him.
Jake peered at the man curiously as they drove slowly past him, and then Nicole steered into the garage and stopped the SUV. Once she’d put it in park, he opened the door and slid out.
“Yo! What’s going on? I come out to see my shut-in, workaholic sister who never leaves home and she’s not here.”
Jake glanced to the man walking up to the garage just as Nicole closed her door and hurried to the back of the vehicle to greet her brother.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she laughed as she hugged him. “I had to go to the bank and then do some shopping. What are you doing here anyway? I thought you had headed for warmer climates?”
“I did. But Mom called and did the Jewish mother guilt thing so I came back,” he said with exasperation.
“Mom isn’t Jewish,” Nicole pointed out with amusement as she pulled out of the man’s arms.
“Tell her that,” Joey said dryly and then glanced to Jake with raised eyebrows. “Replaced Rodolfo already, have we, Nicki? Nice.”