20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Jake

A woman like Clara Rossi didn't quite fit in at a seen-better-days-but-still-fucking-charming bowling alley, but she didn't seem to care. Once she got over her surprise at where I'd brought her, her enthusiasm turned up, along with her competitive nature.

I did not mind being beaten by her. Not when I got to sit back and watch her wiggle her round, biteable ass in tight jeans as she lined up her shots. That was enough of a win for me.

Hell, having her here with me tonight was enough of a win. I'd been on edge all week, thinking she'd cancel on me. When she'd walked out her front door, a smile on her face, the knot in my chest had unfurled. She'd been just as eager as I had. As quickly as I could, I got her on the back of my bike, like I was getting away with a crime.

Clara spun around, her hands over her head, bouncing on her toes. I told myself tonight was about getting to know each other, not fucking, but when she made moves like that, it tested my resolve.

"Nice job, mama," I called. "How about you save some pins for everyone else? You're destroying them."

She sauntered over to me, a pretty flush in her cheeks, confidence in the sway of her full hips. "I can't believe how well I'm doing." She tapped her arm. "I guess it's muscle memory."

I got up and snagged her around the waist, pulling her into me. Her breath caught, and my heart stood still as she peered up at me. Pretty brown eyes wide with surprise…and something else. Something vulnerable.

"I can't think of many things better than seeing you win," I said. "Except when I beat you. That'll be much better."

Her haughty chin rose. "How would you know? You haven't done it yet."

A rumble of a laugh rolled out of me. "You got me there. I think I'm about to throw in the towel and admit defeat." My hand roamed down to the curve of her ass. "Can I buy you a treat for your prize?"

"You can." She smiled, pressing her palms to my chest. "Just so you know, I'm having a really good time."

"I am too."

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. "I was nervous. I haven't been on a date since college, and those were more like casual hangouts. In a way, this is my first real date."

My brows rose. "Yeah?"

She nodded.

I tugged her closer and squeezed her ass. "I'm honored to have one of your firsts. That means I'm also your best. At least I won something tonight."

She laughed lightly. "You were already my best."

Closing my eyes, I let my forehead fall against hers. That admission was big, and I didn't even have to think about whether I agreed.

"Mine too, Clara. By a landslide."

We sat in a cheap plastic booth in the back of the bowling alley, both of us sipping on a milkshake.

"Tell me how it's possible you haven't been taken on a date."

Her lips were wrapped around her straw. They broke off, and she licked the drop of chocolate off her bottom lip.

"Pretty simple. I met my ex-husband in college. He was my first serious boyfriend. We hung out at parties and in each other's dorms. Once we were out of school, we'd go out with family or friends, but that was rare since we were both so busy at our jobs." She shook her head. "Time slips by quicker than it seems. One day, we're starry-eyed college kids, and the next, we're in our thirties, entrenched in work, and checking off the have a baby by thirty-five box."

I tried not to show how miserable that sounded to me, but Clara took one look at me and winced.

"It didn't feel as lonely as it sounds until I was out of it," she said softly.

"I get that. Like boiling a frog. The water temperature is raised by small increments, so the frog doesn't notice until it's too late. Now that you're out of the pot, you can see the bubble and steam."

"Hindsight is a bitch." She took another sip of her milkshake. "What about you, Jake Hayes? You give a good date, so you must be experienced in all this."

That eased a chuckle out of me. "I like that you think this is a good date."

"It is," she insisted. "Games and a milkshake, does it get much better?"

"Now I feel like you've laid down a challenge."

She leaned forward. "And I feel like you're not answering my question. This leads me to believe you've done more than your fair share of dating. Tell me."

With a sigh, I slid down in my seat, one arm resting over the back. I didn't have much interest in rehashing my dating history, but it was only fair since I'd been the one to broach the topic. And, as I'd learned over the years, my natural closemouthed state wasn't conducive to building any kind of relationship. I wasn't certain things were going to go there with Clara yet, but I knew damn well they wouldn't have a chance if I fell back on old habits.

"If I choose to be with a woman, I like to make her feel special." I drummed my fingers on the table. "When Sage was younger, I got it into my head I should settle down to make a conventional family life for her like she had at her mom's."

"Carly told me she has two siblings."

"Yeah. Dex and Cleo. Cute kids. Sage pretends they annoy her, but she loves having siblings."

"Carly seems nice," Clara hedged, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. I heard the question behind her statement—one she clearly didn't want to ask but needed an answer to.

"She is." I took a drink of my milkshake. "We grew up in the same town. Tried things out in high school but decided we were better as friends. A week later, she got a positive pregnancy test and made up her mind to keep it. At the time, I'd thought my life was over, but we had a lot of family support and worked it out. Managed to stay friends and co-parent pretty damn well."

Something in Clara eased as I explained my history with Carly. It hadn't been some love affair, just two dumb kids irresponsible with contraception. I liked that Clara cared, that she had been a little jealous, and that she was letting it go now that she understood.

"And Carly got married, so you decided you should try to do the same," she filled in.

"Yeah." I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling sheepish. So succinctly, she'd summed up my previous way of thinking. "I dated around. Found a woman I liked well enough to be my girlfriend. We were together for two years, but it didn't work out, and I haven't had much interest in going down that road again since."

"Was it messy?" she asked. "The break, I mean."

"Clean as could be." I swiped my hands together. "One day, she was there. The next, she was a ghost in the wind."

Her brow furrowed. "After two years together, she disappeared? How did Sage take it?"

Of course that was her first thought. She had a daughter too, and she was probably imagining what that would've been like for her girl.

"Devastated." I had to look away. Letting that happen to Sage still haunted me. Hearing her crying about it being her fault, saying she'd be better, quieter, nicer if Andrea came back, had permanently scarred me. "It took a long time for me to convince her she hadn't done anything wrong."

Casual flings were easier. Nothing serious, no ties, nothing close to a relationship, and Sage didn't get introduced to anyone. It wasn't a risk I could take, and frankly, I hadn't cared about anyone enough to be tempted.

With Clara, I was dancing a line I'd drawn for myself. This didn't feel casual, but the thought of allowing her into my life with my daughter put so much pressure on my chest it was hard to breathe.

Clara's pretty brown eyes went impossibly soft. "Poor Sage. With how friendly and open she is, I can see her getting attached quickly."

I nodded, needing to make sure she understood. "So, you get me when I say I need to keep this separate from her."

"I get you, Jake."

"We managed well tonight, didn't we?"

"We did. Luckily, I have Marina and won't have to ask my parents to babysit. Well…if we're doing this again, that is."

"We are." My foot nudged hers beneath the table. She didn't pull away this time and propped hers on top. "Keeping me a secret from your parents?"

"I guess so. I'd rather not tell them I'm dating." She wrinkled her nose. "They've been waiting for me to date since my divorce as if I don't work fifty hours a week and have a small child at home."

"You make it sound impossible, yet here you are."

"Well"—her cheeks pinkened sweetly—"I wanted to be here, so I made it happen. I don't want to sign up for dating apps or go on terrible blind dates."

"Good thing you're not going to be doing either of those while I'm in your life."

She brought her milkshake to her lips. "Good thing."

I cocked my head, sweeping my eyes over her. All I wanted was to join her on her side of the booth and feel her soft, warm body against mine. But this wasn't bad. The talking. Listening to her confident, slightly husky voice. Hearing about her life.

"Your ex doesn't see Nellie?"

Her entire body tensed at my question, her shoulders bunching around her ears. The lightness she'd carried since eagerly emerging from her house dimmed almost fully, and I wanted nothing more than to snatch the words out of the air and shove them back in my mouth.

"You really don't know?" she rasped.

I slid my hand across the table to hold hers. "No, I don't. I see I stepped in it by asking about him, and I'm sorry. If you don't want to tell me, we can leave it at he's not in her life—"

"He's in prison. So, no, he doesn't see Nellie. He never has." She balled a napkin in her fist and wiped something invisible from the table. "Anyway, it's getting late. We should probably go."

She slid from the booth before I could wrap my head around what she'd said.

Fuck .

Clara dumped her milkshake in the trash and waited for me facing the exit, giving me her back. I followed her, tossing my trash and coming up behind her. She wasn't asking me for anything, but my gut urged me to give her something anyway.

All I had was myself, so I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into the wall of my body. She was stiff for long seconds but didn't fight me. I hugged her tighter and curled around her, resting my head on top of hers.

"I'm so fucking sorry for bringing that up," I murmured into her hair. "I feel like I ruined something good—"

"No, it wasn't you. It was him. Even locked up, he's screwing me over."

"The last couple minutes don't take away the last couple hours." I lowered my face to touch my lips to her temple. "I've never had a better date, and I haven't even kissed you on your front porch yet."

Her shiver vibrated through my bones, loosening my hold just enough for her to turn in my arms to face me. "You're really good at this." Her palms slid up my chest and neck to cup my cheeks. "I'm glad one of us knows what we're doing."

"Don't worry, sweetness. You want me to lead, I will. I happen to really like being in control when you give it to me."

With a sigh, she melted against me, tension seeping from her in one solid whoosh. Her hands dropped from my face to circle around my neck, embracing me in return. I kissed her hair and temple a few times, earning contented little chirps from her. We stayed like that until she was steady again then walked outside and climbed onto my bike.

She wrapped around me a little tighter, snuggling a little closer than she had on the way to the bowling alley. I didn't say anything, but I felt it, and I liked it. This woman had so many responsibilities she shouldered in everyday life, a lot of them all on her own. When she was with me, I'd make sure that weight was lifted. She could hand it all over for me to carry, and I'd be happy to do it.

The drive back to her house was shorter than I would have liked. With anyone else, I would have taken the scenic route, but Clara had her girl sleeping under her roof and an early morning ahead of her. She needed her rest, and I needed to make sure she got it.

I parked in her driveway and helped her off the bike. "Gotta admit, seeing you ride your machine made me weak in the knees, but having you on the back of mine is something else entirely."

She stepped up on her porch and smiled at me. "I've only ever been on the back of my dad's motorcycle, and now yours."

I moved into her space, sliding my fingers into the side of her hair. "Let's keep it that way."

"Okay," she agreed without hesitation.

Damn, did I like this woman. Leaning down, I covered her mouth with mine, tasting her. Sweetness and vanilla milkshake—a combination that made my heart race and stomach clench.

She fisted my shirt as I backed her into one of the pillars holding up her porch. I couldn't remember the last time I'd kissed a woman for the sake of kissing her, and I couldn't get enough of doing it with Clara. Her mouth was pliant and giving, answering my calls with the swirl of her tongue along mine, sucking and nipping and moaning when I swept my tongue between her lips.

Unable to help myself, I snuck a hand up her shirt and groaned from the contact. Her skin was unreal. So smooth and soft, like she was made of rose petals. One touch and I wanted to sink into her, coat myself in her softness. I palmed her breast, and the scratch of her lacy bra brought me back to earth.

"Clara," I murmured against her lips. "I need to let you go inside."

"You do."

Her lips melded with mine, and her grip on my shirt tightened. The idea of her going inside without me felt so wrong. I pulled her even closer until there was nowhere for her to go.

Eventually, it was either fuck on the porch or break apart. Though the first option was incredibly tempting, I did the right thing, breaking our kiss. I rolled my forehead along hers as we both caught our breath.

" Really good night," I said.

"It was."

"I like what you're showing me. I want more of it. More talking and playing games together. The good kind."

She tipped her head back to grin at me. "Is this you asking me on a second date?"

"I hope I already made it clear I want more of you. If you need me to formally ask, I will. Clara Rossi, you gorgeous fucking woman, will you go out with me again?"

"Yep." She bounced on her toes. "I will. And I'll plan it this time."

"Well, all right. I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with." I leaned down to brush my lips over hers. "Go inside now. Get a good night's sleep."

She finally unclenched my shirt and started backing toward her door. Before turning to open it, she stopped, worry pinching her brow.

"Jake?"

"Yeah?"

Her hand rose to cup her throat. "I don't want to tell it. I hate explaining everything. I think you should know, though, before we go forward. His name is Miller Fairfield. He was the CFO of Rossi. Look him up. I'm sure you'll find plenty of reading material."

I should've argued, told her it didn't matter, but it did. What'd happened with her ex had shaped who she was now, and I wanted to know her. I liked what I'd uncovered so far. I had a feeling I'd like her even more the deeper we got.

"All right. I'll do that." I locked my gaze on hers for a long moment, showing her I wasn't backing down. I took her seriously, and what she'd just given me meant something. "Best night, Clara," I said with a softness she needed right now.

"Yeah." Her lashes fluttered and there was the barest curve to her kiss-swollen lips. "Best night, Jake."

It was worse than anything I could have dreamed up.

I'd heard about commotion at Rossi a few years back, but that was before I'd taken the job as VP and the business page of the newspaper hadn't exactly been my daily read.

Miller Fairfield was a sick fuck. He'd become fixated on an elderly husband and wife who'd run a business blog with a readership of a few thousand. They'd been critical of Rossi Motors, which was what had set Miller off. He'd stalked them, harassed them, essentially terrorized them for months. He'd doxxed them online so strangers started appearing at their house looking for free puppies or kink hookups. Had sent pig fetuses and rats. A book about surviving the loss of a spouse. A fucking funeral arrangement.

The old man had been hospitalized from stress, and they'd had to sell their house to get away from the bombardment.

As if that hadn't been enough, he'd also embezzled over a million dollars from Rossi.

And this had all come to light days before Clara had given birth.

The scandal had done a number on Rossi's stock prices—it was written in black and white in the articles I read. What wasn't there was what it had done to Clara.

The woman I'd met at a bar in Skyridge, whose hands had trembled around her glass while she'd held her spine straight and proud, had survived this. Heartbreak and humiliation. The end of what she'd thought would be her life. And it had all happened in front of a thirsty audience, eager to see how the Rossi heiress had borne her world falling apart around her.

She and her newborn baby.

My hands balled into tight fists, violence flowing through my blood. There was no one to take the pure rage boiling in my stomach, though. Miller was locked up in federal prison, doing his time. He'd been sentenced to fifty-seven months, and it didn't seem like nearly enough.

Not with the wreckage he'd created and lives he'd destroyed.

I understood Clara's reticence. Why she'd always left at sunrise. Why it'd been so difficult for her to say yes to a date.

My girl was brave for opening herself up to me. She had every reason to keep herself cloistered and safe behind her walls for the rest of her life, but she didn't.

Her strength made me proud. And even more attracted to her. Something I wouldn't have thought possible.

Clara Rossi was a revelation.

No matter what happened between us, I promised myself I wouldn't become another reason for her to distrust men. I couldn't make any other promises, but she'd always have the truth from me.

Always.