Straight Up Love (The Boys of Jackson Harbor Book 2)

Present day . . .

“Where the fuck is Jake Jackson?” The front door clangs against the wall as Colton storms into the house.

I push aside the stack of papers I’m grading to shake my head at my brother. His face is red, his eyes are blazing, and his hands are in fists at his sides. When he sees me on the couch, his shoulders drop a little from where they were bunched around his ears.

“Where is he?” He goes to my bedroom door and reaches for the handle.

“Have you checked his apartment?” I ask wryly. In her chair across the living room, Molly folds her legs under her as if she’s settling in to watch the show. Seriously, I don’t want Colton to beat up Jake, but Colton gets like this all the time. He’s a drama queen who’s riled up by the stupidest things. Jake probably said Levi was a better racer than Colt or something equally innocuous.

He spins on his heel and turns to the kitchen. “Don’t try to protect him. Where is that motherfucker?”

I look at my watch and shrug. He’s probably on his way to Brayden’s for brunch, but considering Colton has murder in his eyes, I’ll just keep that information to myself.

Molly clears her throat. “He hasn’t been here since he dropped me off last night.”

Colton freezes at the sound of her voice. Turning slowly, he blinks at her. “Molly.”

She smiles. “Hey, Colton. What’s up?”

He blows out a puff of air. “You were out with Jake last night? Who does this son of a bitch think he is, messing with you both?”

Molly laughs. “The only place Jake Jackson messed with me last night was in my dreams.” Colton and I both stare at her, and she shrugs. “He’s hot and sweet and gorgeous and smart and . . .” She turns up her palms. “I can’t be held responsible for the images my subconscious provides while I’m sleeping.”

Colton grumbles something under his breath, but I’m too busy processing completely irrational jealousy to make it out. He turns to me. “I want to punch him.”

“I noticed.” I take a sip of my coffee. “Is there a reason you’re ready to kill my best friend?”

He glares at me. “You know why.”

I shake my head. “Nope. I really don’t.”

“Jake talked you into sleeping with him instead of going to the sperm bank. I’m going to kill him.”

Oh, shit. “Who told you that?”

“I caught Levi and Ellie whispering about it and made them tell me.”

Anyone who’s known my brother longer than thirty seconds could guess this would be his reaction to the news, but I guess it was bound to come out eventually. I play it cool. “I thought you were on board with me having a baby?”

“I support you becoming a mom because that’s what you want. That motherfucker is taking advantage of you just so he can get you in bed.”

“It’s not like that,” I say.

Molly’s gaze ping-pongs between us, her eyebrows climbing higher with every exchange.

“This is exactly why I flipped out when I saw him in bed with you the other day,” Colton growls. “I knew you wanted a baby, and there he was, so conveniently.”

I roll my eyes. Molly looks half horrified and half fascinated. “He wasn’t in bed with me,” I explain. “He was sitting on the edge of my bed.”

“Not the most effective way to get a woman pregnant,” Molly mutters.

“I felt it in my gut when I saw him there,” Colton says. “I knew he was going to use your wish for a baby to get you in bed. You know he’s always wanted you, Ava.”

“That’s not true.” The pull of longing that thought brings with it makes me squeeze my eyes shut for a beat. I worked so hard to get my feelings for Jake in check. It hasn’t been an issue for years, but suddenly they’re flooding back like they never left. “Jake doesn’t want me. That’s not what this is about.”

For the first time since Colton walked in the door, Molly returns her gaze to the book she was reading.

“He’s just helping me,” I whisper. I don’t want to have this conversation in front of Molly. Hell, I don’t want to have it at all.

“Helping,” Colton says. “Meaning he screws you and then goes on about his business while you raise a baby alone?”

“He hasn’t screwed me at all, Colt,” I blurt, and for this I get another look from Molly. “He’s . . .” What? Taking it slow? What am I going to tell my brother? Don’t worry, bro. Jake is going to make sure I’m hot for him before he fucks me. I’m pretty sure this would only make Jake look worse in Colton’s eyes.

“But Ellie said—”

“Yeah, well, Ellie should have kept her mouth shut.” I take a breath. “Colton, relax. I’m not a little girl. Jake is helping me out. We’re giving this a shot before I spend my savings on fertility treatments.”

“Yeah, real selfless of him,” he mutters.

“You’re the one who told me I should go after what I want.”

He folds his arms. “I thought you were taking the more clinical approach. I don’t like this. It feels sleazy.”

I squeak in my exasperation. “If anything, I’m taking advantage of him.”

He threads his fingers through his hair. “Fuck.”

Convinced he’s no longer determined to bloody Jake’s face, I turn my attention to my stepsister. “Molly, please don’t say anything to Jill and Dad.”

“So you and Jake aren’t . . . together?”

I shake my head. “He really is just my friend.” My friend who sucked my fingers and whispered dirty words into my ear. My friend who put ideas so hot in my head that I was aching in my sheets last night.

“He’s going to get you pregnant,” she says slowly, measuring the words. “Like, as a favor?”

“It sounds stupid, but it’s not a big deal.”

“If he’s sleeping with you, it’s a big fucking deal,” Colton says.

“If you have a baby together, it’s a big deal,” Molly says, her words a little sharper than before.

“I don’t want to talk about this with you two.” My phone rings, clattering against the end table as it vibrates, and I’m so grateful for the interruption that I snatch it up. I recognize the Florida area code and swipe to accept the call. “Hello, this is Ava.”

“Ava! It’s Penelope. I’m sorry to bother you again. I wanted to let you know that I emailed over the paperwork with the job description and some details about the school. I hope you’ll look it over and let me know a good time for us to bring you down for an official interview.”

Molly and Colton are both looking at me, and I climb off the couch and wander into the kitchen so they can’t see my face while I talk. It’s not like my reactions are going to give away the contents of the conversation, but I know Colton would freak about the possibility of me moving. “Thanks, Penelope. I’ll look for it.”

“That’s great. Talk soon?”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Talk soon.” I end the call, and when I turn around, Colton’s in the kitchen with me, studying me.

“What was that phone call about?” Colton asks.

“Nothing.”

“Ava, since when do we keep things from each other?”

I grunt. “Since always?” I love Colton and I do tell him a lot, but I’d confide in Jake long before him.

“Was it the job in Florida?”

I gape at him. “How did you know about that?”

“Dad told me. He thought maybe I’d remember the area well enough to help you get settled.”

My father is so determined that he knows what’s best for me and my career that he’s already mentally moved me down to Florida. “Well, don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m trying to keep all my options open in case I get laid off this summer, but as of now I don’t have any plans to move.”

He folds his arms. “You, Ava Drama-Is-My-Life McKinley, don’t want to move to Florida to teach nothing but theater classes to a bunch of private school kids?”

Nothing but theater classes? No composition? No grammar and rhetoric? I look to my computer and wonder if that’s what I’ll find in Penelope’s email. “My life’s here, Colton.”

But it’s not much of a life, is it? It’s days working at a private school for a man who has so little respect for me that he’d put his hand up my dress. The nights working at Jake’s bar are fun, but they aren’t the way I imagined I’d be spending my time at this age. Then coming home to an empty house? That’s the hardest part.

“The way you tell it, the job sounds a little too good to be true,” I say. “I think Dad pulled some mob-level favors to get a school to woo me before I’ve even had an interview.”

He shrugs. “Maybe he did. You know Dad. Nobody wants to disappoint him.”

“Present company included?”

He releases a puff of air. “Fuck that. I live to disappoint that man.”

I wave a hand. “This conversation is so premature. First of all, I have a job here. Second, this lady is just going through the motions as a favor to Dad.”

“You think Dad’s worked magic, when the truth is he had Jill send your résumé. Any magic is yours. It’s who you are and what you’ve accomplished that they’re after. Not Dad’s approval.”

My heart swells. My little brother can be a self-centered jerk sometimes, but here he is noticing my accomplishments. “Thanks, Colt. That means a lot.”

He lowers his voice. “And if you do get pregnant? How do you think Dad’s going to handle that? Do you really want to be here for that fallout?”

He’s right. It would be nice to start my life fresh in a town away from my ex-husband, his beautiful new wife, and all the judgmental stares of everyone who knows I wasn’t good enough to keep him. But if I have a baby, I can’t imagine being anywhere but Jackson Harbor. Sure, I’d have Mom close in Florida, but one woman can hardly substitute for the support system I have from thirty years living in Jackson Harbor.

“I don’t know.” It’s the most honest answer I can give him.

“I hate the phrase failed marriage.” I turn away from my window and blink at Jake. I didn’t mean to say that out loud, but the twenty-minute drive to my ex-husband’s baby shower has had my mind twisting in knots as it travels down memory lane.

Jake takes his eyes off the road for a beat to flash me a sympathetic smile. “I never thought about it, but I guess it is kind of shitty.”

I shrug. “It might be fair—I failed to make it work—but I still hate it.” In truth, my marriage feels like nothing more than a series of failures. My failure to communicate effectively with my husband, my failure to be the kind of wife he always imagined having on his arm at business dinners. My failure to get pregnant . . .

When you’re planning a wedding, friends and family shower you with gifts to prepare you for your new life together. Champagne glasses for when you celebrate anniversaries. A stand mixer for Christmas cookies. Picture frames for your memories.

No one prepares you for the failures. “This is what you should do if your husband doesn’t want to sleep with you, and this is how you should handle it when he looks at you like he feels stuck and is disappointed.”

“Why do you say I?” Jake asks, shaking me from my thoughts. “Shouldn’t it be we failed to make it work? Doesn’t Harrison get to take his share of the responsibility here?”

“Well, yeah.” I wave a hand. “It takes two people to get married and two people to screw it up, right?”

Jake reaches across the console and puts his hand on my thigh. It’s not a sexual touch, but suddenly I wish it were. I want the Jake from last night who pinned me against the cooler and told me he knew he turned me on. I want the reminder, the reassurance that he meant it and that this is going to happen. I want the distraction.

Intellectually, I know this isn’t an either/or situation, and that Harrison having a child doesn’t mean I don’t get to have one, but on some selfish gut level, it feels that way. I’m angry that he gets this dream we had together while I’m still floundering so desperately in my attempts to grasp it that I’m going to cross lines with Jake that probably shouldn’t be crossed. I need the reassurance that this crazy plan isn’t going to send my life into a tailspin.

I put my hand on top of his, willing him to sense what I need. The panic is growing in my chest, and I want him to pull over and drag me into his lap. I want him to kiss me until this heavy fear dissolves completely, until my brain is so cloudy with lust that I can’t examine what we’re doing too closely. I don’t want to admit that our plan is reckless and probably a terrible idea, that it might be smarter to accept that being a mom isn’t in the cards for me.

Jake cuts his eyes to me and frowns; maybe telepathy isn’t failing me this morning, because he pulls the car over and throws it into park. “Hey,” he says softly. He takes my chin in his big hand and turns me to face him. “Breathe, Ava.”

“I’m fine.”

He shakes his head slowly, searching my eyes. “Do you forget that I know you?” he asks, and the tenderness in his expression threatens to break something inside me. “You’re not fine, and you don’t have to pretend with me.”

He dips his head, but I don’t get the passionate kiss I wished for. Instead, I get the soft brush of Jake’s lips across my forehead.

I close my eyes, and I breathe.