How to Fail at Flirting(60)

“He started it. Anyway, can you tell Jacob to call me if you happen to—” She stopped, her gaze flicking up. “Oh, well here he is now.” Her tone changed, an iciness forming below the sweet surface.

Jake stopped short before sitting. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, hello to you, too. Eric and Tyson were protecting you from me, apparently.”

Jake wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and she seemed to notice me for the first time, a spark of shrewd assessment spreading across her face, and her eyes flicked to his hand on my shoulder.

Did he do that for my benefit or hers? I wasn’t sure if I should feel like a stage prop or a support structure.

Her pretty blue eyes narrowed slightly, and she seemed to be working through a problem in her head.

Somewhere deep in my body, the urge to rise and strike pulsed, to fight for what was mine. I shoved it down when Jake spoke again, his voice even.

“Do you need something, Gretchen?”

“You’ve been avoiding my calls. I want to meet. Some night this week?” She glanced at me again but said nothing. “But I’m sure you’ve been busy. I’ll have our secretaries set up dinner.”

“I think the lawyers can handle everything.”

“If I told you once, I told you a thousand times,” she began, brushing a strand of blond hair back off her neck in the most delicate way imaginable, “if people could just talk to one another, Eric and I wouldn’t make so much money. You never listen to me.”

Jake’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. I wondered if that was frustration at her saying it or guilt at it being true.

She shifted her catlike gaze again. “You should know he never listens, but I’m being so rude.” She stretched her hand in my direction. “I’m Gretchen Vanderkin-Shaw. I was the woman at this table once upon a time.” She laughed, a breathy, humorless sound. “It’s been a while now, I guess.” Something flashed across her face, breaking through the mask of quick-witted confidence. She looked sad, and I had a moment of sympathy for her. I’d only heard Jake’s side of their story, after all, and it was probably painful to see him with someone else. Her veneer reappeared quickly, though, the flash of sadness replaced with cool skepticism. “Anyway, who are you?”

“Naya,” I said quickly, trying to infuse confidence into my voice. “I’m visiting from Chicago.”

Jake’s posture was casual, but his entire body tensed. “My girlfriend, Gretch.”

Her brows lifted, surprise curling her expression. “You’re the woman from the hotel, aren’t you?”

I stammered inside my head, trying to think of how to answer. Why, yes. I’m the one you heard screaming through the walls while your soon-to-be-ex-husband repeatedly went to town on me.

“I see. How nice. Well, then, I’ll leave you to your . . .” She paused, her gaze slipping back to Jake’s hand on my shoulder, which tightened. “Breakfast.”

She spoke again before I could think of something to interject. “We’ll have dinner soon, Jacob. See you at the office, Eric.” She waved and turned on her heel. “It was nice to meet you, Nora.”

What the hell just happened?

The table was silent as Gretchen walked away. Tyson’s expression darkened, Eric rolled his eyes, and Jake took a long sip from his water glass muttering something incoherent under his breath.

“Well,” Eric said with a heavy exhale in my direction. “Now you’ve met Gretchen.”

“She seems . . .” I tried to think of the right words, glancing up at Jake, whose expression gave nothing away. Turns out I didn’t have to.

“Like a self-important nightmare,” Tyson finished.

I cracked a small smile. Yeah. As much as I avoided demeaning other women, that fit.

“Change of subject,” Eric demanded, then asked, “What do you do, Naya? Jake said something about teaching?”

Tyson’s gaze moved back to me, not interrogating, but I still felt he was cautiously gathering information, like a protective older brother. No wonder, if that woman was Jake’s ex.

“I’m a professor; I specialize in math education, particularly how technology can enhance math education for students whose first language isn’t English. What about you?”

Tyson’s face instantly softened, and his eyes brightened. “I’m a teacher—”

Eric cut him off. “His fourth graders love him.”

Jake looked down at me. “Your big research project is with fourth graders, isn’t it?” It almost felt like Jake was bragging about my work, and it warmed me through and through. “You’d be into the project, Tys. Tell them about it, Naya.” He and Eric listened intently as Tyson and I talked about teaching and learning math, and I felt more at home at this table by the minute.

“How long are you in town? Has it been very hard living so far apart?” Eric asked, plucking a piece of fruit from his plate, his sensible egg white omelet already decimated.

My order of chicken and waffles was less sensible, but delicious. I was stuffed.

“I’m leaving early on Monday morning. Quick trip,” I responded, ignoring his question about long-distance relationships.

“We’re going to the office so I can give her the grand tour,” Jake added.