I was now caught in the middle of being both a safety net and the winner of a bet.
“Hey, babe,” I finally called out, my voice strong, though it took everything out of me to use that term of endearment. It felt unfamiliar and strange coming from my mouth, and I knew Jake would never let me live it down.
To her credit, Samantha stiffened slightly and turned to look at me. I kept my eyes on Jake, who also turned toward me, a slightly feral look lighting his gaze.
“Yeah? Babe?”
My mind went completely blank as we stared at each other until his eyebrows lifted, clearly waiting for me to save him.
“Do you think you could show me again? After Samantha? Watching you show her now, I don’t know if I’ve been doing it right either.” It pained me to say those words. Literal pain, especially after I had just out-fished him.
“Oh. Sure thing, baby cakes.” Jake’s grin broadened, probably because he now had something on me that he could use as ammo for the rest of the summer. Samantha stepped forward, shooting panicked looks at her cousins. I almost felt bad misleading her like this, but I also couldn’t forget how uncomfortable Jake looked at her advances.
“I am so sorry,” Samantha stated, her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t know you were... I mean, I wondered…but it didn’t seem like…” she trailed off.
Jake threw an arm around my shoulder as he moved to stand next to me. “We try to keep it under wraps at work, but sometimes she just can’t help herself.”
I leaned into his chest, feigning a smile, while he pulled me away from the trio of cousins.
“Baby cakes?” I questioned Jake when we were far enough away that we could be seen but not heard.
“It was a toss-up between that and sweet cheeks on such short notice.”
“Ew.”
“Didn’t take you for a ‘babe’ kind of girl.”
“I’m not,” I lied, immediately trying to forget how, for one second, it felt kind of sweet. Now wasn’t the time to unwrap that.
“You owe me,” I said as we stopped, and Jake’s arms went around me from behind, both of us conscious of our audience sending furtive glances our way.
“I’m paying up now,” he said, holding his pole out in front of me. “Now pay attention. This right here is a fishing pole.”
I stepped backward on his foot, satisfied at hearing his soft grunt. Stepping backward also had my back pressing against his stomach. I began to move away, not wanting to be anything like Samantha, but Jake pulled me gently against him once more.
“Come here, Tuck. They’re watching.”
I slowly relaxed against him. He smelled like the outdoors—like pine trees and a hot summer day. His body against mine didn’t feel as intrusive as it had yesterday. It felt more like a hug as he had his arms out in front of me, pretending to show me how to cast the line. It was that feeling ofhomeagain, and it came on so strong and so sudden that my eyes began to flood with unbridled emotion. Panicked, I blinked back the tears before Jake took notice.
That wasn’t what we were here for, and it terrified me that my mind kept taking me to that place with Jake.
Jake wasn’t an option. He hadneverbeen an option. These thoughts would be the death of me. I had just promised him that I would be a safety net for him, and watching his face as Samantha came onto him made it clear he needed that. He didn’t need one more girl with a tragic crush on him. Whatever he’d faced with Miranda had cut him deeply.
He needed a friend right now.
And that was me.
After a quick sandwichand a hot bath, I spent most of my evening curled up on the couch, a movie on in the background, editing the day’s pictures. I’d been more careful with my settings. More intentional. There were a couple of images I liked enough to spend more time examining more closely. I picked apart each one, running through the frame, the pose, and thesettings, and talking myself through what I could have done to make each a stronger image. But to my surprise, there were some that were more than halfway decent.
Ironically, the picture I loved most was one I had snuck of Jake fishing. He was downriver from me, all by himself. He took up only a small part of the frame, but his stance and his lazy confidence as he tossed his line constantly drew my eye.
There was a knock at the door. I opened it and found Jake, highlighted by the warm yellow glow of my porch light, wearing his standard cowboy boots, shorts, and a t-shirt that fit him like a glove.
He was holding a clipboard and a pen, and in a very official voice, he said, “I’m here to revise that bull crap contract you claim you still have.”
I scoffed. “It’s not bull crap. Maybe if you’d paid me back in a timely manner, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Lucky for you, I didn’t,” he said, leaning against my door frame.