Unveil Me (The Jaded Series Book 3) (5 page)

“We’ll see,” he murmurs, twisting the beer bottle in front of him. I can tell by his tone and the way his eyebrows are drawn down he has something on his mind. And whatever it is, it isn’t good. I wonder what it is.

In an attempt to wipe the look from his face and to get to know him better, I ask, “So, what did you do back home? I assume you’ll be looking for work soon.”

He lightly shakes his head, bringing himself back from wherever he was. “Cars. Rebuilding and repairs. Some custom work. I’m damn good at it. Jaxon took me out to Joe’s today. I start there tomorrow.”

“Good. Joe is good people. He’ll treat you right. And he needs help. He’s the only mechanic around and he’s getting too old to bring in more work. Some locals have to go to town for their repairs because he’s not able to take on as much as he used to.”

He nods in understanding. The old geezer is in his seventies and it’s about time he realizes he can’t keep up as much as he used to.

“So, why did you decide to come to Jaded Hollow?” I ask him. Of course, I know part of the story. Again, from Chris. His dickhead parents haven’t made it easy on him. It pisses me off every time I think about the shit Chris has told me about them.

He avoids my eyes when he answers. “Our parents were giving me a lot of shit, so I thought it was time for me to get away and come visit Chris. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen her.”

There’s more to the story than what he’s saying. I can tell by the stiffness in his shoulders and the way his eyes turn hard. It takes a lot of self-control, but I decide not to delve further into it. I’ll give him time to get used to me and see if he comes to me on his own.

We lapse into silence for a few minutes, Jase looking back down at his beer, me watching him. It’s so damn hard to take my eyes off him, so I decide not to. My eyes roam all over the parts I can see over the bar. Several loose strands of his hair have fallen out of his hair tie, and they tempt me to reach over and rub them between my fingers. I force my hands to stay on the bar. The white of his t-shirt is a stark contrast to the dark tan he sports, and brings out the vibrant color of his stunning tattoos. The muscles bulging on his arms bring mental images of him bracing against a wall as I stand behind him, guiding myself into his tight ass. The sight almost has me jumping over the bar to get to him.

Jesus Christ! I’ve got to stop this shit. It’s pure torture.

I’m forced to walk away from him for a few minutes when several customers come up with orders. Part of me is grateful for the distraction, but another part of me wants to kick every asshole out of here so Jase and I can be alone.

I walk back over when I see Chris and Bailey step up next to Jase, both giggling at God knows what. Chris drops down onto a stool and slides her beer bottle toward me, asking for another one. I grab one for her, pop the top, and hand it over. She raises her eyebrows in question and looks to Jase before looking back at me. I know what she’s asking. She wants to know my take on him. I just grin. She’ll know soon enough, everyone will, that I’m very interested. Of course, I already knew I would be, even before he got here.

“Nice shirt, Andrew,” Chris says, laughing.

I look down at the black t-shirt I’m wearing. In big, bold, white letters it reads, “I bet my dick is bigger than yours. Wanna compare?” I look back at her and shrug. Everyone loves my shirts. They go with my personality. I’m not ashamed of who I am, so I won’t hide it. Some people may find them extreme or vulgar, but those are the people I don’t care to associate with anyway. So it all works out.

I notice that Jase is smirking as he looks at my shirt. He looks up at me, and I give him a flirty smile and a wink, letting him know without words that if he wants to compare I’m ready when he is. He holds my look, and I get the feeling he’s not totally against the idea. My dick hardens and my blood heats up what feels like twenty degrees. I force my eyes away from his before I do something I’m not sure he’s ready for.

I turn to Bailey, who has her eyes on something across the room. Before I get a chance to look and see what it is, she suddenly turns to me and asks, “Hey, Andrew, what are you doing Sunday after next?”

“Well, I’m not sure yet, Bailey girl. I take it you’ve already got plans for me, huh?”

“Maybe,” she says, before turning to Chris. “When does your new job start at the school?”

“Umm… two weeks. The current guidance counselor extended her notice another week. Something to do with the sale of her house being delayed. Why? What’s up?”

Instead of answering her, she then turns to Jase. “Do you know if you have weekends off?”

“Joe said it was up to me. He doesn’t work the weekends, but said I could if I wanted to.”

“Two weeks from Sunday, don’t, please,” she says, and turns back to the bar.

“What’s going on, Bailey?” Chris asks, walking around Jase to stand by her.

“In a minute,” Bailey says, causing Chris, Jase, and me to look at each other with questions in our eyes. This is strange behavior for Bailey. She’s normally the quiet one, not openly making suggestions or giving opinions unless she feels it important enough. For her to be so cryptic is not like her.

She leans over the bar and hollers for Mia. After she makes her way over to us, Bailey asks her if she, Mac, and Trent, Mac’s son, have any plans.

“Not that I’m aware of.” Mia looks beyond Bailey and Chris to Mac and Jaxon, who are walking out from the hallway. Mia asks Mac if they have plans.

“No, I don’t think so. Why?” he says, once he makes it to us.

We all bring our eyes to Bailey, well past curious as to what she has planned. Jaxon steps up beside her and she puts her arm around his waist.

“Can we close the bar down a few hours early two weeks from Sunday?” she asks him.

He looks down at her with the same expression he always reserves for her. Love and worship.

“I could, I guess. Why? What’s going on?”

She gives us all a beaming smile and exclaims, “We’re going to the fair!”

We’re all silent for a minute, not expecting that to come out of her mouth. Not opposed to it, just not expecting it.

“Hell yeah, I’m game!” I’m the first to break the silence. I reach over and hold my palm up for Bailey to slap. She looks at it blankly for a second, then realized what I’m doing and slaps it. “I haven’t been to the fair in years.”

“Such a great idea, Bailey,” Chris says, clapping her hands in delight. Bailey gives her a big grin.

“We’re in,” pipes in Mac. “T will love it.”

“What about you, Jase? You good to go?” Chris asks.

“Sure, I’ll go,” he says with a shrug.

“Yeah!” Bailey jumps up and down, barely able to contain her excitement. “This is going to be so much fun!”

We all smile as we watch her. Jaxon picks her up and plants a solid kiss on her lips before setting her back down.

I have to agree with her. This is going to be fun. It’s not very often we’re all able to get together. It’s hard for Jaxon because he has the bar to run, not to mention me, Mac, or Chris are normally here. Every once in a while, he’ll close it down if plans are made for all of us. Obviously, he can’t do that very often, or he’ll piss off a lot of customers. They generally don’t mind if it doesn’t happen too often.

It’s been a while. We’re all due some downtime. This’ll definitely be interesting. When we all get together, we always have a blast, because that’s what friends do. With the added bonus of Jase being there, giving me another opportunity to be around him, I’m really looking forward to it. It can’t get here fast enough.

I feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of Ally and Becky at home while I’m out having a good time. Ally may not have many more opportunities to enjoy life. And if anything happens to her, I know it’ll be a long time before I will enjoy
anything.
I force the thought away. I refuse to believe God would be such a bastard and wipe the Earth of the beautiful little girl living a couple hours away. No fucking way would that happen.

Jase

I wipe the sweat from my face with my shirt as I enter the back door of Jaxon’s Pub that leads to the small apartment upstairs. My breathing is labored and my heart is racing, but fuck, it feels good to run. It’s a good way to keep my mind off shit back home. I think about that fucked-up mess entirely too much as it is. Any distractions are welcome. There’s nothing I can do now anyway. Eventually I’m going to have to come up with an idea to get me out of the mess I’m in. No way do I want to live looking over my shoulder every day for the rest of my life. I don’t regret what I did, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. The bastard deserved everything he got.

I push the thoughts away and my mind immediately turns to the other reason I run and need a distraction.

Andrew.

I grip the back of my shirt between my shoulder blades and rip it off in frustration. I walk to the fridge, grab a bottle of water, and down the whole thing. Throwing the empty bottle in the trash, I lean back against the counter and tip my head back.

Fuck!

That man gets to me. And that’s one thing I can’t afford right now. I don’t need the added stress of starting something with a guy. I’ve got too much going on to even contemplate that. But fuck if I don’t want to. I’ve been here a week and every single fucking day he’s been right in front of me in some form or fashion. And he’s made it very clear he wants me. With the heated looks he sends me or the blatant flirting, there’s no way I could mistake his interest for anything other than what it is.

He’s constantly making innuendoes and it’s getting harder and harder to not take him up on his offers. He flirts with everything that’s of legal age and has two legs, but it’s different when he does it with me. The look he gives the others is flirty and you can tell it’s in jest. When he looks at me, I see the tension in his body, his eyes dilate, and he grips whatever’s closest to him, like he has to physically hold himself back from getting to me.

There’s even been a couple times my eyes have, of their own accord, drifted down, and I’ve noticed a bulge. Those are the times I want to say fuck it and back him up against the nearest wall and fuck his mouth with my tongue, among other things.

I grip the counter and grit my teeth, not sure how much longer I can hold off. I know if it happens—and I’m bound and determined to not let it—it’ll be explosive beyond belief. No way would Andrew be the type to meekly sit there and let me do all the work. Fuck no, it’ll be a battle to see who ends up on top. Literally and figuratively.

I hear Chris’s bedroom door open, and a minute later she walks into the kitchen. She’s still in her sleep clothes and she’s walking with her head down. When she lifts it, I immediately know something’s wrong, and my thoughts of Andrew fly away in a flash. Her eyes look sad and are red rimmed. I can tell she’s been crying.

She notices me standing there and tries to wipe the look away. It doesn’t work. The grief-stricken look still lingers.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask, as I walk toward her.

She dips her head and mumbles, “Nothing.”

I put my hand under her chin and lift her head until I see her eyes again. I tell her gently, “Obviously, it’s not nothing. You’ve been crying. Why?”

She looks at me with such defeat in her eyes, then bursts into tears and throws herself in my arms. I put my arms around her and bring her closer. I hate to see her so upset. I’ve noticed that since I’ve been here something’s been on her mind. Every once in a while I’ll see her stare off into space with a somber look on her face. I figured that if she wanted to talk about it she would come to me. Evidently it’s more serious than I thought. And now I feel like shit because I haven’t asked her about it before now.

She mumbles something into my chest that I can’t make out. I pull back a little, but she doesn’t let me get far.

“What is it, Chris?” I ask her again quietly.

“Everything is just so messed up,” she murmurs tearfully, and it breaks my heart.

“What’s messed up, sweetie?”

“Everything,” she cries loudly. “Everything is messed up. I tr-try so hard to sh-show him how I feel, but h-he doesn’t care. I hate this. I ha-hate feeling like this. I know he-he’s hurting, but so am I. I want to help h-him, but I don’t know how.”

She becomes quiet, and I try to make sense of what she’s talking about. I have no idea what the fuck’s going on, but it clearly involves a guy. My fists ball up at her back. If some asshole has hurt her, I’ll tear him apart.

“Shhh… Chris, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Who are you trying to help? Who in the fuck hurt you?”

“You don’t understand,” she mumbles. “He doesn’t do it on purpose.” She looks up at me with tears falling down her face. I wipe at the trails on her cheeks.

“He hurts, too, Jase. Something happened a long time ago, and he’s still hurting. I just wish he would stop pushing me away and let me in.”

“Who, Chris?” I want to know who’s hurt her. I don’t care what the circumstances are, you don’t hurt my little sister and think you can get away with it.

I can see her closing down. She’s not going to tell me. Whoever it is, she’s protecting him. I have no idea why, but I’ll find out.

“No one,” she mutters, and looks down. “Just forget about it. Forget I said anything. I’ll just leave him alone from now on.”

I want to punch the wall at her defeated look. I don’t like seeing her this upset. I want to fix whatever her problems are, want to beat sense into whoever hurt her, but I can’t if she won’t let me.

She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. Taking a deep breath, she looks up at me and there’s determination written all over her face.

“Chris—” I begin, but she cuts me off and takes a step back.

“It’s okay, Jase. Really. I’m fine now. Just please forget it,” she pleads with me, and I hold whatever I was going to say. I’ll keep quiet for now.

She tries to give me a smile, but fails miserably, “Do you want breakfast?”

I watch her for a minute, gauging her expression. “No, honey, I’m good. I’m going to jump in the shower, if you’re okay?”

She nods and takes a deep breath before releasing it.

“Go. I’m fine here. You’re all sweaty and you stink, sooo…,” she says, with a slight smile.

I chuckle at her attempt at a joke. I can see her visibly trying to pull herself together. Chris has always been strong. I’ve always admired her for that. Our parents weren’t the best in the world; not the worst by a long shot, but they still could have taken parenting classes.

As she passes me to walk to the fridge I grab her arm, and she looks up at me.

“You can talk to me, Chris. I know I haven’t been around much, but I’m here now. Please, come to me if you need me. For anything.” My voice is quiet, but no less meaningful.

She gives me a bigger smile than the one before, and the anger I felt a few minutes before dissipates some. Whatever was bothering her, she’ll get over it. I can see the resolve, and I feel a sense of pride.

“Thank you, Jase. I’ve missed you so much. I’m really glad you’re here.

“I am, too.”

I lean down and kiss her forehead before releasing her arm. I turn to walk out the kitchen, but she stops me by calling my name. I turn to face her again.

“I may not be here when you get out of the shower. I’m meeting up with Bailey. We’re going shopping in the next town over.”

“Okay. You’re on shift at the bar tonight, right?” At her nod, I continue. “I’ll meet back up with you there. Have fun.”

After another smile, I turn on my heel and make my way to the bathroom.

My nerves are completely shot, and I want nothing more than to have hot water beating down on my shoulders. I strip down, pull the tie from my hair, and step into the shower, dipping my head under the spray. My wet hair falls forward and hangs around my head in a curtain. Taking a deep breath, I push back the images running through my head, not wanting to think of all the reasons I’m fucked. Now’s not the time to dwell on them.

I stay in the shower for a good thirty minutes, soaking up the warmth of the water and releasing some of the stress.

Just as I step out, I hear a banging on the door. Grabbing the towel off the back of the door, I wrap it around my hips before making my way to the living room. When I open the door, I see Andrew on the other side. My initial thought is to yank him forward, but I hold still. My second thought is that it was a mistake opening the door. I know this from the look in his eyes when he sees me standing there in nothing but a towel.

“Holy mother of all that’s hot,” he breathes, and takes a step forward. “I’ve died and gone to fucking Andrew heaven.”

I quirk a brow at his reaction, trying to hold back a laugh. He sure has a way with words that makes a guy feel damn good.

The possessive look in his eyes as he runs them up and down my near-naked body, and the way his breathing has become heavy, has me gritting my teeth. It looks like he’s about to pounce. My dick hardens at the thought.

I’m at my wit’s end when it comes to him. A man can only take so much from someone like him before he snaps. I’m almost at that point, but I can’t let it happen. At any other time I would take him up on his offer in a heartbeat. Hell, I’d already have him up against a wall, beneath me, behind me, any way I could get him. Denying him feels so wrong on every level, but in order to keep my head, I have to. I need to keep my head in the game. The game of survival. Maybe once all the shit back home is taken care of…

Andrew takes another step toward me, stalking me, looking at the hand that’s holding the towel around my hips. Every part of me wants to stand still until he reaches me, but I force my legs to move backward. I raise the hand not holding the towel in front of me in an attempt to stop him. If he gets too close, I seriously doubt I’ll be able to hold off.

“Hey, hey,” I say, and snap my fingers at him, trying to get his attention off my junk. His eyes meet mine. “This isn’t happening.” I gesture between the two of us.

“The fuck it’s not,” he growls, and comes closer. I nearly groan as a wave of his scent hits me. He’s too close. I need him to stop. I’m on the edge, and it’ll only take a slight push for me to go over.

“I’m telling you, Andrew, this shit can’t happen right now.”

“And I’m telling you, baby, that it is. There’s no way you can stand in front of me, wrapped only in a fucking towel, and expect me not to get a taste. I’m not leaving here until I do.”

I nearly become light-headed at his words. My blood heats and my dick goes from half-mast to hard as fucking titanium in a nanosecond. A shiver races down my spine, and I have to grip the towel tighter.

He’s only a few feet from me when he stops.

“Lose the towel,” he grits out, his voice going deeper and his eyes flaring.

My hand loosens on the towel, my resolve weakening.

Fuck, but I want him.

I know damn good and well that it’ll be good between us. It’ll be intense and sexy as fuck. There’s something about him that draws me in, making me want to forget about everything else. I felt it the first time I saw him.

A jingle sounds in the room and the look in his eyes switches from something carnal to frustration. He yanks his phone from his back pocket and scowls down at it. Once he sees who the caller is, the scowl immediately turns to concern. I wonder at the abrupt change. Shaking my head, I breathe a sigh of relief at the interruption.

Andrew turns away from me while he answers the call.

“Hey. Everything okay?” he asks the caller quietly.

He’s silent for a minute, then his body goes stiff. The hand at his side balls into a fist. All the air leaves the room as I watch Andrew drop his head, his shoulders going up and down as he takes in deep breaths. He looks defeated and it crushes something inside me. Whatever’s being said on the phone is not good news. I don’t like seeing Andrew like this. It’s so unlike his normal magnetic attitude.

His voice is quiet when he tells the person on the phone, “I’m on my way. Give me about an hour and a half. Take a deep breath and stay calm, okay? Everything is going to be fine.”

He listens to the caller for a second, then says, “I know, Becs. Just hold tight. I’ll be there soon.”

He disconnects the call and then tips his head back. His eyes are clenched shut. The phone is in a white-knuckled grip, and I don’t see how it’s still intact.