Rules of Protection(47)

I didn’t want him to know how foolish I felt. “No, I was mad.”

“No, Emily, you got hurt and that is what made you mad. There’s a difference. You don’t lie down and die when you get hurt like most people. You come out swinging.” He smiled and his eyes glittered in the darkness. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I care about—”

My head snapped toward him. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

He reached for my hand and pulled it into his. “Damn it, Emily, I do care. As much as I don’t want to, I do.” He gazed deeply into my eyes. “You infuriate me more than anyone ever has, but for some strange reason, I keep coming back for more.”

I shook my head. “Jake, do you expect me to believe that? You left me in the pond to get eaten by Charlie.”

“He wasn’t going to eat you. I wouldn’t have let it happen. If I thought for one second you were in any danger, I would’ve gotten you out.”

Jake sounded sincere, but I still had to wonder. “You also said it didn’t bother you that Cowboy hit on me.”

“It doesn’t.” Jake chuckled at my puzzled expression. “Look, it’s the way he is. I’m used to it. He’s a womanizer, but he’s one of my best friends. I trust him. Even if I didn’t, he doesn’t want to get into a pissing match with me because he knows he’d lose. Besides, I trust you. Though we haven’t labeled this thing between us, I think our intentions are clear.”

“And Bobbie Jo?”

Now it was his turn to look puzzled. “What about her?”

“Cowboy said you two dated in high school.”

“That was a long time ago. We’re just friends now.”

“But you took her virginity.”

His head snapped back to me, surprised I knew as much. “Yes. And she took mine. So what?”

I shrugged. “I’m not a virgin, Jake.”

He lifted his eyebrows at me. “Good thing, because I’m not either.”

“Very funny. I’m being serious here. She gave you something…well, I can’t give you that. I’m sure it still means something.”

Jake coiled his fingers around mine and squeezed. “Look, two virgins having sex—when neither knew what they were doing—was awkward and clumsy, not romantic. Trust me, it’s an experience I’d love to forget, not repeat.”

“I think some people have a different view on those things,” I said. “Women, especially. They don’t forget their first time.”

“So should I worry about the guy who took your virginity?”

“Oh God, no,” I said with disgust. “Don’t be silly.”

He ruffled my hair on top of my head, like I was a child. “We’ll talk more later. We need to get back to the house. Floss is saving dinner for us.”

Jake let go of my hand and shifted the car into drive. I rested my hand in my lap, but he reached for it again. He held it as he drove us home.

“I’m going to go to bed earlier from now on,” Jake said, grinning. “Fighting with you is exhausting.”





Chapter Ten

After dinner, Hank and Floss invited us to sit with them downstairs around the fire. I thought they had more trash to burn, but was pleasantly surprised when Hank lit a fire using actual logs from a dead tree Jake had cut down earlier in the day.

“So, Emily,” Hank began, “What’d you think of dinner?”

I smiled. “It was…interesting. When Jake said we were having pie for dinner, I thought I’d died and went to heaven.”

“I didn’t say pie, I said Frito pie. You have selective hearing,” Jake said.

The memory of Floss slicing down the side of a grab bag of corn chips, then adding canned chili, grated cheese, and diced onions was comical. Jake had handed me a spoon and the meal-in-a-bag and said, “Don’t make that face. Try it. You’ll see.” He’s lucky I’m adventurous, and I’m lucky it tasted better than it looked.

“I’ll never look at a bag of Fritos the same way,” I told them.

Floss reached into a paper bag she had brought with her from the house. “Ready for dessert?”

“Is it pie?” I asked, making them chuckle.

“Roasted marshmallows,” Floss said, turning her attention to her husband. “Hank, we need some utensils.”

“I’m on it,” he responded.

Hank walked around, his eyes searching the ground, until he found four long, thin branches. He returned to his chair, flipped open his pocketknife, and scraped the bark off the end of each stick. Then he passed them out.

Jake put a large marshmallow on the end of my stick for me. “You know how to do it?”

“Is there a trick to it?”

“Depends on how you want it. Slightly warm or scorching hot?”

I leaned toward him and whispered, “Are we still talking about marshmallows?”

He grinned as he turned his marshmallow in the flame, caught it on fire, then brought it to his lips to blow it out. “With you? Somehow I doubt it.”

A while later, Hank and Floss retreated upstairs, leaving Jake and I to finish off the bag of marshmallows.

I held my stick out over the fire and watched the flames lick the underside until a hot flash caught hold and wilted my marshmallow into a black, boiling blob. Quickly, I vanquished the flame with my breath, but continued to blow on it to cool it down. Jake watched as I pulled the blackened marshmallow off the end of my stick, held it between two fingers, and took a bite. It was hot and gooey on the inside and melted onto my fingers. I licked the white ooze from my sticky lips.