The Will (Magdalene #1)(110)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“Later, Paulette, lovely to meet you,” I called after her.

“Back at cha, babe,” she replied on a wink before she went out the door.

I looked up at Jake.

“You tell her to straighten her hair?” he asked.

“I did extend that advice,” I answered.

He grinned and shook his head before he bent, grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the chair, murmuring, “Your martini’s warm. Gotta get you another one.”

I said nothing as I followed him for I had nothing to say. Another martini sounded lovely and I definitely did not like warm vodka.

Jake held my hand as we moved through the club and he seated me at the side of the bar. Only then did he let me go before he slid between the stools to stand close and jerked up his chin to the bartender (the same one from the last time I was there, his name was Adam). In very little time, a fresh martini was placed in front of me as was a fresh bottle of beer for Jake.

He picked it up and took a tug.

I did the same but took a sip.

When I put my glass down, Jake got closer and I looked up to him as he leaned into the bar on a forearm and his hand came to the small of my back, slid under the hem of my sweater and up so he could trail his fingers in a lazy pattern on the skin there.

I touched my tongue to my bottom lip in reaction to how nice that felt.

Through the dim light, I saw Jake’s eyes drop to my mouth and he leaned in closer, his fingers ceasing their trailing and pressing into the waistband of my trousers.

His head dipped close and I knew he was going to say something, something that I’d like, something that might make the tingles I was experiencing in a variety of places get stronger.

But for some reason, I spoke before him.

“Dinner was lovely, thank you.”

He grinned. “It was just cheeseburgers, babe.”

It was. With Velveeta slices. I was finding Velveeta was a staple at the Spear house. I was also finding I didn’t mind this. They melted rather well on a thick, hot hamburger and quite enhanced the taste.

“Seems like Conner’s in good spirits,” I noted for it did. He’d arrived after his shift at Wayfarer’s and behaved like the dramas of the day before hadn’t occurred.

“He’s suckin’ it up and beatin’ it down,” Jake replied. “He’s not over it. He’s just not gonna let that show.”

My brows drew together. “Why on earth not?”

“Because he’s a guy, he’s his father’s son and he’s got no choice.”

“He’s safe to feel the way he feels around his family, certainly,” I remarked.

“He is,” Jake agreed. “But no purpose in draggin’ everybody down, especially Ethan. He needs me, he knows I’m there. But only choice he’s got is to keep on keepin’ on. He knows that. He’ll get over it. He knows that too. We just gotta cut him some slack and let him handle it the way he sees fit.”

This seemed a sound strategy so I nodded.

Then I informed him, “The men in your employ walk into the dancers’ dressing room without knocking.”

He stared at me only a second before he shook his head and murmured, “Little shits.”

“I’m uncertain from Paulette’s recounting of this that she really cares. However, she does feel it’s sweet you show that respect.”

“I’ll have a word with the boys”—he paused— “again. But it’ll be a stronger word this time.”

I leaned into him and repeated, “I daresay she doesn’t care, Jake. But—”

Jake interrupted me. “They got a job, they do it. Onstage. That doesn’t make them free-for-alls. Back there is their space. They feel safe in it. They decide who they show themselves to, not my boys. She might not give a shit but I do. If my boys who work with them can’t show respect, how do I communicate the customers should?”

“An excellent point,” I stated.

Jake grinned.

I inquired, “Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask me anything, Slick.”

I nodded again.

Then I wondered if I should do what I was going to do.

I looked into Jake’s eyes that were looking right into mine and thought of all he’d shared with me in a very short period of time. He didn’t hold back. He didn’t hide. He didn’t prevaricate. He wanted me to know him and he set about doing that from the start.

Thus I felt safe in feeling there was nothing between us except what we hadn’t yet gotten around to sharing.

And I was relatively certain (relatively) that he wanted nothing between us.

That said, in making it so nothing was between us, I would have to “handle” it.

And do it wisely.

“Okay, then, as a hypothetical,” I started carefully, held his eyes but licked my lips for a different reason this time, then went on. “Say something happened that I knew you would not like. If that should occur, is it better not to tell you, since I know you wouldn’t like it? Or should I tell you because you’re quite candid and wish for that to be returned?”

When I finished speaking, his bearing had not changed but it had.

Tremendously.

And not in a good way.

Apparently, I wasn’t doing very well in “handling” this.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice terse.

“I’m talking hypothetical,” I reminded him and I was.

I also wasn’t.

“What happened?” he repeated.

“Jake—” I started but got nothing more out.

His fingers disappeared from my waistband and wrapped around my hand. Then I was off the barstool and being dragged though the club.

The door to his office was at the side of the club and he took me directly there. There was a keypad that unlocked the door and when we arrived, without delay, he lifted his finger so he could jab in the numbers.

The keypad screen went green and Jake pushed open the door.

We’d been in there earlier and I’d noted his office was rather roomy and also quite nice. There was a thick rug on the floor with an attractive pattern on it in blues, blacks and beiges but mostly reds. A plush black leather couch against one wall. Midnight blue leather chairs in front of his large but not too large wooden desk.

There weren’t a lot of accoutrements, it was clear he didn’t spend a great deal of time there, and when he did, it was for business only, and thus he didn’t bother with the décor. But he had still made it a nice space.

It was also four steps up so that the large one-way window that faced the club had an elevated view so it would not be obstructed by patrons.