The Will (The Magdalene Series) (Volume 1)(62)

And in order to fully communicate my point, I leaned in on my “very” and added putting my hand to his chest in entreaty.

When I was done speaking, I saw his eyes had warmed and I sensed I was going to get my way so I felt a variety of places warm on me, including my heart.

He proved me right when he murmured, “We’ll watch your show, baby.”

I smiled big.

Jake’s eyes dropped to my mouth.

Ethan exclaimed in outrage, “Dad!”

Jake looked to his son. “It’s an hour, Eath. You’ll live.”

“It’s an hour and a half,” Amber contradicted.

“Jesus,” Jake muttered, the dread in that one word unmasked and I curiously found this most amusing.

Thus, I smiled at him again.

His eyes dropped to my mouth again, another area of my body warmed and it wasn’t my heart.

“Right on!” Amber cried. I forced my eyes from Jake and looked to her. “So,” she pressed. “Do you know Zac or Heidi?”

“Alas, no,” I replied and her face fell. “Henry has, of course, taken photos of Heidi so I have spoken to her people but he did the shoot while I was at another location, preparing for him to film a video. Though, I was once at a party with Nina Garcia. But I got a headache and had to leave before I was able to meet her.”

“Bummer,” Amber mumbled.

It was. I’d quite looked forward to meeting Ms. Garcia.

I let Amber’s mumble go and settled in, turning my gaze to the TV, ordering, “Let’s begin, Amber.”

“Cool,” she said and hit the button on the remote.

I was watching carefully as they were showing scenes from the episode before since I wanted to catch up as best I could. That said, it was far from lost on me that Jake’s arm went along the couch behind me and directly curled around my shoulders so he could pull me into his side.

He was warm, the position was comfortable and in order to make it warmer and more comfortable, I leaned into him and lifted my legs to the couch at my side to curl even closer.

At this point, Conner joined us and when he did, he murmured, “What the hell? Seriously? Project Runway?”

“Shush!” Amber hissed (before I could).

I lifted my eyes to Conner to see he was not looking at the TV in disgust but at his father and I curled on the couch together and he was again doing this with speculation. His eyes moved to Amber but I was missing the show so I moved my gaze back to the TV.

Jake slouched into the couch, lifting his booted feet to the coffee table and pulling me closer.

I settled in, placing my cheek to his chest with a sigh.

And I watched Project Runway with Jake’s family, liberally conversing with Amber through it, doing this to share our opinions and commentary and surprisingly (and gratifyingly) always agreeing.

In the end, when the designer we wanted to win won, and the one who (alas) produced an unusual outfit that didn’t quite hit the mark that Amber and I both agreed should be dismissed was dismissed, she and I shared a harmonious smile.

And that warmed me too.

* * * * *

“Give us a second,” Jake ordered, grabbing my hand and moving us away from the car salesman.

It was afternoon the next day and I’d decided on a car.

A car, I could tell as I studied his profile while he was moving us away from the salesman, that Jake didn’t agree on.

He stopped us out of hearing distance and kept hold of my hand as he turned his body to face me.

“Babe, you’re not buyin’ that car.”

I blinked up at him. “But Jake, it’s a nice color.”

He stared down at me and if I was reading him correctly, it was with disbelief.

“And it’s inexpensive,” I continued, even though the cost was not really a concern.

This I’d shared with Jake earlier, which meant we’d already been to the Porsche, Lexus and Cadillac dealerships before we stopped by this used dealership on my whim. That whim being me seeing the car we just test drove in the lot and crying out, “Let’s stop here!”

Jake, being Jake, had swung into the lot.

“It’s cheap because it’s a year old and has sixty thousand miles on it,” he stated.

“Is that a lot?”

He stared at me another moment before he shook his head, looked at his boots then looked back at me. “Yeah. It’s a lot,” he told me. “That kind of mileage means its first owner drove the f*ck outta it. Which, before you ask, is not good.”

“Oh,” I murmured.

“Since you can afford it, you’re gettin’ the Cayenne,” he declared.

I had to admit, the Cayenne was very luxurious and the ride was exceptionally smooth.

Even so, I noted, “It’s my understanding that purchasing a new car means that when you drive it off the lot, it loses a good deal of value.”

“You wanna sell it in a month or a year, that’s a problem,” he replied. “You buy a Porsche, though, it’s a high-performance vehicle, any problem you have will be down the road and I mean way down the road and it’ll likely be about wear and tear and nothin’ else. It’ll be solid. It won’t cause you any headaches. And you can probably own it for twenty years and not have to deal with shit except regular maintenance.”