Home > The Wager (The Bet #2)(16)

The Wager (The Bet #2)(16)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Jake nervously scratched his head and shrugged. “Sure, I mean if that’s what you want. I for one think margaritas are better than working any day.”

“Yeah.” Char put on her sunglasses. “Then again you’re kind of unemployed right now so…”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he grumbled, taking the downtown exit. “I’ll, uh, I’ll just look at what else Grandma has on her list and give you a call.”

“You’ll need my number.”

“I’ll get it from Grandma.” He shrugged.

Damn the man. He couldn’t even ask her for her number? Really? “Well.” Char opened the door once he’d stopped the car. “Wouldn’t want you to have to program me into your cell and risk taking up too much space from your booty calls.”

“Char, wait—”

She slammed the door before he could finish what he was going to say and walked purposefully into the office building.

Chapter Eleven

What the hell had just happened? One minute they were joking and laughing and the next Char was talking about booty calls and slamming the door in his face? What had he said? She’d seemed in a hurry so he hadn’t wanted to irritate her further by making her wait for him to get her number.

In his mind he was being a gentleman, or at least trying.

But according to Char he was being a jackass?

Women. Would he never understand them?

As he pulled out of the parking lot, contemplating all the reasons that kissing Char again would be a bad idea, his phone rang.

“What?” His voice was hoarse.

“Whoa, there… bad day?” Travis chuckled.

“I had dance class. You tell me.”

“I’m sorry, did you say you had dance class?”

“I’m not repeating it,” Jake said dryly. “Oh and by the way, Grandma may not make it to the wedding.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m killing her. Tonight. Either that or putting some sleeping pills in her Fiberease.”

“Oh. Well, just don’t use Benadryl. She’s built up a tolerance.”

“Yeah, well, ever since Kacey, I think we can all claim a tolerance. I swear last time I had allergies I went through an entire box.”

“Glad you’re still breathing.” Travis chuckled.

“Don’t be an ass. What do you want?”

Travis laughed again. “First tell me about the dance.”

“Mating dance,” Jake corrected as he took the exit to the tux shop. “It went well. Char saved my ass. The Madame, and yes that was her name, wanted a new plaything.”

“Come again?”

“Chew toy, plaything, man toy to dress up and play with. Yeah, you probably would have never seen me again.”

“Scary.”

Jake shook his head. “You have no idea. Anyway, I just dropped Char off at work and now I’m going to go get my tux fitted.”

“Okay.”

The phone went silent. “Trav, you still there?”

“Yeah.” He was quiet again. “I have to ask you something.”

“No, I won’t give you a kidney—take one of Grandma’s.”

“She only has one kidney.”

“My point exactly.”

Travis sighed. “It’s not that, it’s…”

“Okay, now you’re scaring me.”

“So, you know how Dad’s going to be walking Kacey down the aisle?”

Jake pulled into the parking lot and sighed. “Yes.”

“She, um…” Travis cursed. “She wanted to know if it would be okay if maybe… you walked with them.”

“Me?” Jake yelled. “Why in the hell would she want me on the other side of her? Is this a joke? It’s not funny—”

“Stop yelling.” Travis swore. “See? I knew you’d freak out. It’s just that… Kacey and you were best friends for so long and even though you guys had those rough couple of years, you were still a huge part of her life, and she wants to honor you because of it.”

Well, shit.

Jake never cried.

Ever.

The last time he’d cried was when Kacey’s parents died, and even then he’d locked himself in his dorm and gotten trashed so he wouldn’t remember the fact that he’d shed actual tears.

But now… now he felt a hell of a lot like sobbing his damn eyes out. Because it shouldn’t be him walking Kacey down the aisle, or his father—but hers. Part of him, a small part, felt like it was his fault. That if he could just go back in time and fix a few things, that everyone would be alive and happy.

“Jake, you still there?”

“Yeah,” he croaked. “Can I… um, can I think about it?”

“Sure.”

“Look.” Jake hit the steering wheel with his hand. “I gotta run. Say hi to Kace for me.”

“Okay. Later, man.”

Jake turned off the car and hit the steering wheel.

Once wasn’t enough. He hit it again and again until finally his hand was so damn numb he was sure he’d have to ice it later.

One of these days he would tell her everything. He’d explain to her that her father… had saved his life.

A bitter taste filled his mouth as he thought about the past—about his past in general. Would Bill have been proud of Jake and his choices? Or would he have done what he did eight years ago… take him out back and make him chop wood and dig holes until his fingers bled—until Jake realized the giant error in judgment he’d made?

   
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