Give Us a Chance (8 page)

He comes around and opens my door and walks me inside. The place is toasty warm and cozy, with soft, squishy chairs scattered about, angled all different ways like the customers just move them around wherever they want them. Classical music is playing softly in the background, along with the occasional squeal of the espresso machine. The patrons are all quietly reading books, mostly classic literature, judging by the quick sample I did as I glanced around the room. The place is a total contrast to Rodeo Freddy's.

We go up to order. I get a decaf latte and Jake gets a black coffee with a shot of espresso. He takes me over to a small orange couch with a table in front of it that's littered with magazines. He shoves them aside to make room for our cups, then sits down. It's more of a loveseat than a couch so when I take a seat, my body is just inches from Jake's. I turn toward him, putting some space between us, and sip my latte.

"You come here a lot?" I ask.

"I get coffee here in the mornings and sometimes stop here after work."

I point to his cup. "How can you sleep after drinking all that caffeine?"

"I'm not sleeping tonight." He takes a drink of the coffee.

He's not sleeping?
Why isn't he sleeping? Because he thinks we're having sex all night? My guard goes up and I scoot to the edge of the couch.

"And why aren't you sleeping?" I ask in a sharp tone.

"Because I got a shitload of work to do tonight." He rubs his hand over his jaw, which is covered in a sexy layer of stubble. "I've gotta read through some contracts, work on some bids that are due this week, put a schedule together for the house on Milton, and get ready for a meeting I have at ten tomorrow. This guy wants us to bid on turning an old warehouse downtown into offices and retail. It'd be a huge job if we got it. They're not accepting bids yet. I'm just getting information."

"Do you always work at night?"

"I try not to, but the past few months have been really busy and my dad can't handle it all himself."

"Doesn't Nash help with a lot of that stuff? The bids and schedules and stuff?"

"He used to, but he's been cutting back on his hours ever since Callie moved in with him. She needs him more than we do right now, so I'm picking up the slack." He pauses, then says, "You know Callie's family died, right?"

"No. When did it happen?"

"It'll be two years this May. She lost her parents and her little brother in a car accident. That's all the family she had. She really struggled after they died and is still working on getting past it. She's a lot better now than when I met her, but sometimes she can't deal with the memories and she needs Nash there to help get her through it, you know?"

"I had no idea she was going through that."

"Like I said, she's a lot better now. Anyway, that's why I've been working so much. That, and the fact that our success on the Victorian got us a lot more jobs."

"And the Victorian was all you. You did an awesome job on that, by the way."

"I had a lot of help." He reaches over and threads our hands together. "I had some very talented people working for me."

"Thanks. That means a lot." I look down at my cup. "It's nice to hear that someone likes my work."

He gives my hand a squeeze, making me look up. "Why do you say that? With your level of skill you must get told that all the time."

I let a humorless laugh. "Only by my dad and Liza. And you and Nash. Other than that, no. Most guys I work with, or for, would rather die before giving a complement to a female carpenter, at least in regards to my work. They're more than happy to compliment my ass or my breasts, but not my work."

He sits up straighter and sets his coffee down. "Okay, first of all, you're the most talented carpenter I've ever met, and I've worked with a lot of them. All ages. All skill levels. You're better than any of them and you've only been doing this a few years."

"Actually I've been doing it my whole life. My dad is a master carpenter and he started teaching me when I was five."

Jake's brows rise. "Really? Huh. We'll get back to that. But first I need to ask if you were serious when you said the guys were making comments about your body. Are you talking about
my
guys or past jobs you've worked on? Because if it's my guys, I'll fucking kick their asses for talking to you that way."

I shrug. "It's construction. It's part of the industry. I just try to ignore it."

"That doesn't make it right. That's harassment and they know it. They can say that shit all they want outside the workplace, but on site, they need to keep their thoughts to themselves."

"Really, Jake. It's not a big deal. I'm so used to it now I just tune it out."

"Well, you shouldn't. You need to tell Nash when that happens. Not only is saying that shit disrespectful to you, but it could also get us in trouble. That library project is paid for by public funds, which means there are strict rules that have to be followed. And a safe workplace free of harassment is one of them. If one of the city inspectors was there and heard the guys talking that way, the city could fine us or even shut us down."

"Oh. I didn't know that."

"When's the last time this happened?"

"Maybe a month ago?"

"Who did it?"

"Mark, but he's gone now so it's not a problem."

Jake shakes his head. "Fucking Mark. He's such an ass. Always had a shitty attitude. He's a good electrician but I'm never hiring him again. So no one else bothered you?"

"No," I say, but it's not true. A few of the other guys have made comments but not to my face. I've heard them talking about me when they don't know I'm listening. I don't think that counts as harassment. And even if it did, I wouldn't report it unless it was really bad. This is an industry where word spreads fast and if you're viewed as a troublemaker you won't get hired, no matter how good you are. And as wrong as that is, and as much as it pisses me off, speaking up when guys say shit about me is the fastest way to unemployment.

Jake's phone vibrates on the table. He ignores it, which he's done all night.

"Don't you need to answer that?" I ask.

"Not right now. Whoever it is, I'll call them back later."

"But what if it's about work?"

"It can wait until tomorrow. We're on a date. I'm not spending it on the phone with other people."

It's another thing that surprises me about him. I thought he'd be constantly checking his phone, texting back all the girls who want to sleep with him. I bet his phone is full of invitations, and yet he hasn't texted or called anyone all night.

"So tell me about yourself," Jake says, leaning back on the couch with that easygoing smile of his. "Tell me about your dad. You said he's a master carpenter?"

I tell Jake about some of the projects my dad's worked on over the years. Most guys wouldn't be interested in that, but Jake is all ears. Construction is his life, just like mine, so it's something we can both talk about and not get bored. I also tell him about my dad's accident and how he hasn't been able to work.

"You think he'll ever be able to work again?" Jake asks.

"Probably not. At first he was getting better, but lately he's been getting worse. He could try surgery, but the doctor said it may not do much for the pain."

"That sucks."

"Yeah, I know. He's only 48 so he has a lot of years left he could've worked."

"Is there anything else he could do that wouldn't involve physical labor?"

"Carpentry is all he knows. And he's really good at it. He taught me everything I know."

"And you said he specializes in finish work?"

"Yeah, like me. Although he can do any kind of carpentry."

Jake nods, but his mind seems elsewhere as he gazes behind me.

After a few moments I ask, "You still here?"

"Yeah." His gaze snaps back to me. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"I wondered if maybe your dad would be able to teach, just a few hours a day, or whatever he could do."

"Teach carpentry?"

"Yeah, like an apprenticeship for other carpenters who want to develop their skills in finish work. Those guys are hard to find, and when you find one, they're always booked."

"Which is how you ended up with me." I run my finger over the top of my coffee lid. "I was the only one unemployed." I laugh, but it's not funny. It angers me that I can't get jobs because I'm a woman.

"That's not why I hired you," he says. "I saw samples of your work and knew right away you were the best person for the job. I didn't know you were a woman until I got your name from one of my subs."

And here a part of me thought he hired me so he'd have a girl to look at when he got tired of being around guys all day. I shouldn't think that way, but after being repeatedly told a girl can't do the job, when you actually do get hired, you question the motivation behind it.

"Well, I'm glad you liked my work." I sip my coffee. "And I'll bring up your suggestion to my dad. It's a good idea. I don't know if he'd be able to do it or who would pay him for it, but I'll still tell him the idea."

"So what was the first thing you made with your dad?" Jake asks.

"A dollhouse."

He smiles. "You don't seem like someone who'd play with dolls."

"I did when I was a kid. My sister and I played with dolls all the time. She'd dress them and I'd make them furniture."

"The first thing I ever made was a ramp for my toy race cars. I'd use it to jump my cars over shit. It was freaking awesome. My brothers were so jealous. They wanted to make ramps too, so they did and we ended up with a shitload of them in all different sizes so our cars could jump from ramp to ramp. My dad helped us build them but my mom eventually made him stop because we'd turned the whole living room into a race track."

"Boys and their cars," I say, smiling.

"I know. My poor mom. Stuck raising four boys."

"I'm sure she loved it, despite the headaches you caused her."

"She did," he says quietly, gazing down. "She was a freaking saint for putting up with us. My dad lucked out when he married her."

I'd forgotten that Jake's mom died, until just now, when he used the past tense. I only know she died because she wasn't at the opening of the Victorian, and when I asked someone why, they said she passed away years ago. Just like my mom. So there's another thing we have in common.

This night has been full of surprises. Jake isn't the guy I thought he was. I know he sleeps around. That's something everyone knows. But what I didn't know is how dedicated he is to his family. I knew he got along with them, but I didn't know he was working this hard so that Nash could spend time with Callie. And I didn't know he was someone who opens doors and helps a girl out of the car and worries about her feet getting cold. I also didn't know he dressed like a cowboy and could do the two-step like a pro. And that when he takes you out, he gives you his full attention.

It's almost the end of the night and I need to go home. But before I do, Jake is going to ask me out again and I don't know how to answer. This was the best date I've ever been on, so I'd like to say yes but I'm afraid to. I don't want to get too close to this guy because I know how it's going to end. Jake Wheeler doesn't date. It's a fact, and every girl in Chicago knows it. He has sex with a girl, but nothing more. So if it gets to the point that he and I have sex, it'll be over between us. Once he gets what he wants, he'll dump me. Then again, there's a tiny chance he won't. After all, he did surprise me tonight.

But it's only our first date. He's proven he can be good on a date. But can he be more than that? Or is this going to lead to a dead end? I'm not sure I'm willing to find out.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jake

Tonight was one of the best times I've ever had with a girl, and that's saying a lot because I didn't even have sex with her. I don't want the night to end, but Ivy and I have been talking nonstop and now it's almost midnight and I need to get her home.

When we left the coffee shop, it seemed like Ivy didn't want the night to end either. And if she were any other girl, it wouldn't. I'd be inviting her back to my apartment like I always do. It'd be just another one-night stand. But I'm not doing that with Ivy, which is why I drove her back to Hoedowns to get her car.

As I walk her over to it, I say, "I'll follow you home."

"You don't have to."

"It's late, and I want to make sure you get home safe. If I don't, I'll worry all night."

"I'll call you when I get there."

"Would you just let me follow you home? You don't live in the safest neighborhood."

"How do you know where I live?"

"It was on your job application. And last year when you were sick, I dropped off your check at your apartment."

"That's right. I forgot about that."

Ivy had the flu and missed a week of work but she really needed her check so I brought it to her, slipping it under the door, along with a $25 gift card for the pharmacy down the street so she could buy whatever she needed. Given that she was my employee, I probably shouldn't have done that but at the time I didn't give a shit. She'd missed three days of work and I was worried about her. I wanted her to get better.

She agrees to let me follow her to her apartment, and since she has to park on the street, I insist on walking her to the door. It's freezing out so she lets me in the lobby. The place is empty and quiet, the lobby lights dimmed for the night.
 

"You didn't have to do this," she says. "I can drive home by myself. I've been doing it for years." She smiles a little. "But thanks. And thanks for taking me out. I had a good time."

"Does that mean there's going to be a second date?"

She looks down, then back up again. "Jake Wheeler doesn't date."

"Says who?"

She glances to the side. "Just about everyone."

"And yet I was on a date tonight. Maybe you should stop listening to whoever it is you're listening to. They obviously got their facts wrong."

"Jake, you said we weren't going to play games."

"I'm not. Why would you say that?"