eyes lock as they did at that first AA meeting, in the Busy Bean, and on occasion at the building project. Then he leans toward Louisa and whispers something in her ear.
Relax, he said to me earlier, like a lover’s voice before he slips inside. Deep down low, my belly flips with the thought, and I swipe fingers over my brow, pinching at the tight skin of my forehead. Jake stands, and I watch him cross the bar for the restrooms.
“On second thought, I think I need to use the bathroom before we leave.”
Scarlett tips up a brow. “Should I wait for you?”
“No . . . I just need a minute.” I clutch at my belly, implying a clearly embarrassing stomach issue, but she’s my friend, and us women share a lot of shit with each other. No pun intended.
“Go get ’em,” She growls like a tiger, and I burst into laughter.
“It’s not like that,” I say. Then again, what am I thinking?
“Love you, Rita,” she says.
“Love you too, chickie. And you too, little man.” I lean forward and press a kiss to Harley’s head before swiping my hand along his pudgy cheek.
Heading toward the bathroom area, I smooth my hands down my hips and nearly run into Jake as he exits the men’s room.
“Rita.”
“Jake.”
We stare at one another for a second, neither person moving. Everything rumbles inside me like a furnace ready to burst. I fight the words, desperate to escape, wrestling all accusations. I even roll my lips inward, hoping to keep myself quiet, but I cannot stop myself.
“Louisa Miller? Really Jake?”
He tips his head, roaming his gaze down my body. “Gonna tell me she’s not my type?” His question recalls what I said to him at that first AA meeting.
“She’s . . . she’s not.” It isn’t fair of me to pass judgment. I have no idea if Louisa is or isn’t his kind of catnip. She’s beautiful and young. Maybe that’s it. “She’s something like ten years younger than you.”
His brows lift at my outburst, and then his eyes narrow. “Age is only a number.”
I snort. An uncontrollable, unattractive honk. Jake steps closer to me.
“And what should be my type, Rita?” His gaze scans down my body once more, and the scent of cinnamon wafts off his breath. “A woman wearing power suits and hiking boots that clash with her outfit.”
My mouth falls open.
“Or maybe it’s a woman with red-rimmed eyeglasses, gray streaks in her hair, and a know-it-all attitude.”
Immediately, my hand lifts for my mousy brown hair with silver striping, heavier in some areas than others. While I’m slow to register what he’s implying, I’m quick to note the tone of his voice and the insinuation that I’m unattractive to him.
“Or is it someone who thinks she knows me when she doesn’t.”
“I—” My mouth falls open, but I don’t have a response for him, and I’m quickly cut off from all thoughts.
“Want to join us for a drink?” His voice is full of disdain.
My eyes narrow. My glare is flames. “You did not just ask me that.” He knows I’m a recovering alcoholic. He’s been to a meeting which I chaired, and he’s due at the next one.
As he glares back at me, it takes a moment for him to comprehend what he’s just asked, but I don’t care. I don’t care if he doesn’t like my comfortable boots, or my snarky red glasses, or the changing of my hair. I don’t care if he wants a younger woman or to drink his night away. I don’t care about him, and I don’t know why I followed him to this hallway.
Turning on my booted heels, I give him my back and stalk away, cursing myself. I was so close to giving in to him earlier. He almost kissed me, and I would have kissed him back. It would have been my first kiss in years.
And one of the biggest mistakes, as well.
6
Jake
Fuck. I don’t know why I said what I said to her. I don’t know what I was thinking other than she’d gotten under my skin earlier, and I had to push her back. Rita was getting too close. She muddled my thoughts and stirred shit that didn’t need stirring, not from the likes of her.
Still, what I’d just said was a total dick move.
“Rita, wait,” I call out to her, but she’s quick in those hiking boots, easily exiting the restroom area, and although I reach for her, I’m too late. She slips