Page 58 of Barefoot Lake

I pop up onto my toes and press my lips to his. “There’s nothing to forgive. Thank you for texting me to let me know.”

The bar must be in hell, but Jake’s concern over being less than five minutes late has my heart singing. He gives me basic consideration, and I’m weak in the knees. I feel ashamed for assuming he’d behave the same as Reid when Jake never gave any indication that he thought Reid was anything other than trash.

Jake has a dazed smile on his face when I lower my heels back to the floor, and I silently promise not to make assumptions like that again. Jake clears his throat and seems to refocus.

“I wanted to come in to say hello first, but I want to head back outside and collect some of your pumpkins. The carved ones are turning, and I don’t want any surprise wildlife visitors popping up. Can I have the key to your garage to stack them over there for now?”

I take the key off the hook behind the door and drop it into his awaiting palm.

“I’d offer to come outside and help you, but it’s cold, and I don’t want to.” I grin at him. Being taken care of really is nice.

Jake rolls his eyes at me but drops a kiss on the top of my head before heading back out. I make some hot cocoa, so I’m ready and waiting once he steps back inside. He shudders before taking off his coat and boots and tucking them away.

“You’re right. It is cold.” He greedily reaches for the steaming mug of liquid chocolate that I hold out to him. He takes a big gulp, somehow not burning his whole mouth. Then he takes my mug from my hands and sets it with his on the kitchen table.

He looks down at me with hooded eyes, and I take a step toward him like a moth drawn to a flame. He places his hands on my hips before quickly sliding them under my shirt and pressing his freezing fingers against the warm skin of my lower back.

My eyes fly wide as I squeal and leap forward into him, trying to get away from the sudden cold. He tightens his embrace and even tries to flip over his hands as far as he can to warm the backs, too. I playfully shove at his chest, and he releases me with a full-body laugh.

“Evil!” I jab a finger at him before rubbing my back, trying to encourage the feeling to return.

His feigned innocence is completely foiled by his inability to stop laughing.

“I don’t know what you mean. I was just trying to warm my poor, poor hands.”

“For that, your work starts with the downstairs toilet today,” I huff, scooping back up my cocoa and cradling it against my chest like it’s a lifeline.

Even though Jake’s trick was a rude surprise, playful Jake is my favorite. From everything I’ve seen and heard, he seems to spend his life wound as tight as he can stand. I’m proud to be the one to help him let some of that go, even if my warmth is a temporary casualty as a result.

It turns out I need a new rubber doodad to make the downstairs toilet stop running at all hours and a couple of new hinges for the cabinet doors that hang wonky. Jake offers to go to the hardware store alone so I can stay cozy at home, but that makes me feel like a lazy schmuck, so I bundle up to take the ride with him. I smile when I see his truck parked in front of my house like he didn’t even want to waste time walking from his house to mine when he got here.

Instead of being a stubborn mule, I gladly accept Jake’s chivalry as he hurries to open the passenger side door for me, something I now realize he did whenever he could beat me to it, even when he wanted to shake some sense into me. Once he’s shut me in the cab, I scooch over to sit in the middle seat beside him, like a lovestruck teenager. The smile on his face when he climbs behind the wheel tells me that he doesn’t mind my silliness one bit.

As soon as Jake turns the car on, I immediately start fiddling with his radio, but he doesn’t say a peep about me messing with his stations. He places one giant hand on my thigh and squeezes in the most delicious, possessive way.

We don’t talk on the short drive into town, but it’s like night and day compared to our previous silent, awkward, awful drives. This time, I’m giddy and unashamed of my joy. I even proudly sing off-key with the radio. At a stop light, Jake leans over to kiss my temple but wisely keeps his mouth shut about my terrible singing.

Once we park outside the hardware store, Jake finally removes his hand from my thigh, just to hook it around both of my legs so he can slide me along the bench seat toward him as he gets out of the truck. He easily lifts me and sets me on my feet before tucking my hair behind my ear. As a tall girl, I’m not used to being so easily moved. I feel manhandled, and I like it.

Jake closes the car door, revealing Tim, the cashier from the nursery, stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway to the hardware store, slack-jawed. He looks much the same as he did the day I met him: kind of dazed, maybe stoned. His face splits into a shit-eating grin.

I look over my shoulder to make sure there isn’t something fascinating behind me. No dice. Tim is floored by us. I turn back and awkwardly wave at him. Jake follows my confused gaze over to the doorway and rolls his eyes.

“Nosy busybody,” he grumbles. He turns back towards me but gazes vaguely over my shoulder like he’s considering something.

“Fuck it,” he finally says, taking my hand firmly and leading me to the hardware store.

My stomach swoops yet again at Jake basically declaring us as something to his employee and maybe the town. I’ve been here long enough to know everybody will have this new gossip within the hour. I feel like a prize that Jake is proud of.

As we approach, Tim shuffles out of the store so we can slip past.

Tim opens his mouth, but Jake cuts him off.

“Not. A. Word.”

Before the door closes, Jake barks, “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

The second the wooden door clicks shut behind us, Tim erupts in excited laughter. A second later, it sounds like he’s on the phone. His voice is clear, even through the shut door.