The Will (Magdalene #1)(15)
I fought rolling my eyes or curling my lip and edged away from him in my seat.
“Actually, Jake knows I’m quite capable of seeing to getting what I want on my own.”
“Jake?”
“Jake Spear.”
This was another mistake and I knew it even before he sat back in his own chair and his eyes got wide right before his lips curved into a sneer.
I knew it because we might be one town over from Magdalene but Magdalene was tiny and anyone would need to go further afield for a variety of things. Therefore, anyone who had lived in that area for very long could be known further afield.
However, I’d had an unusual day that wasn’t entirely pleasant. This encounter was most definitely not pleasant. The day before was the most unpleasant of my life, save the day two days before that when I’d learned Gran had passed away. I wasn’t my normal self.
But his reaction was strange.
“You’re seeing Jake Spear?” he asked.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I took that opportunity to mentally kick myself for being foolish.
“You?” he pressed.
I continued to be silent.
He stared at me before he asked, “Did you used to dance for him?”
What an odd thing to ask.
Odd and disturbing.
Also offensive.
Therefore, I snapped, “Of course not.”
He continued to stare at me as he crassly remarked, “Class piece, Jake’s finally learned to trade up.”
That wasn’t odd even if it was disturbing and highly offensive.
Therefore, when I spoke, it was again in a snap. “I beg your pardon?”
“Sweetheart, you’re aiming to be the fourth Mrs. Jake Spear, let me just tell you, he might make a fortune from that strip club so that’ll keep you in lobster bisque for a while. But in case no one else has warned you, I will. He goes through women like water and you’ll be out before it’s time for him to trade up his truck, something he does every other year.”
The fourth Mrs. Jake Spear?
Good God.
And strip club?
My goodness!
Regardless of how shocking I found this information, this man was loathsome and therefore I retorted, “You seem to know a good deal about Jake.”
“Lived in this county all my life and doing that, it’s hard not to know pretty much everything about the truck.”
He said his last two very confusing words with not a small amount of derision then he stood.
“Do me a favor and don’t let Jake know I tried to buy you a drink. Seeing as you’re how you are, he might actually like you and want to keep you and I don’t want to know how the truck would react if he knew I’d offered.”
Yes.
Most loathsome.
“Please, then, before you leave, share your name so we can see,” I returned.
He continued to stare at me for a moment before he shook his head and sauntered back into the restaurant.
I watched him go, not pleased in the slightest that that encounter made me feel even more uneasy.
However, just in case he remained at the restaurant to hit on another woman, instead of doing what I wished to do, get up and go straight to Lavender House, in order to communicate how little I thought of our disagreeable encounter, I simply looked back to the view and sipped my Chambord like it didn’t happen.
Unfortunately, it did happen.
Therefore, my eyes were to the view and my lips often tasted the deep headiness of the liqueur.
But my mind was on three previous Mrs. Jake Spears, a strip club and wondering what on earth was “the truck.”
* * * * *
I became aware of the sunlight hitting my eyelids moments before I opened them and rolled in the big iron bed with its high comfortable mattresses, flowery sheets, vast array of downy pillows and fluffy duvet.
My eyes went to the view of sparkling sea and bright sky out the big diamond-paned window across the room.
Then they went to the alarm clock by the bed.
Seven thirty.
Early for me but then again, I was still on LA time.
As ever, no matter what time it was when I woke up, I needed coffee.
I threw back the covers and then threw my legs over the side of the bed, gaining my feet.
When I did, my dusty pink nightie fell over my bottom.
The nightie had a hem that covered my lower h*ps and upper thighs that was a four-inch swathe of dusty pink pleats edged top and bottom in a trim of cream lace. The straps were thin and the bodice ran straight, exposing very little cle**age, but it had another one-inch wide section of trimmed pleats.
It was girlie, but alluring, and not obvious, thus not vulgar, and this was the reason I bought it.
It was also quite comfortable.
A plus.
I walked to the overstuffed chintz chair in the corner and grabbed my cream satin robe. I didn’t bother cinching the belt. I was alone in the house so there was no need. However, even alone, it was unseemly to wander around wearing nothing but a thin, short nightie.
I grabbed a ponytail holder before I padded out of the room and secured my hair in a messy knot at the back of my head as I moved down the hall and two flights of stairs.
I did this not taking anything in.
Usually, when I was at Lavender House, I consumed every inch, recommitting every vision, every smell, even the feel to memory to hold close until I returned.