Hearts of Winter (Bleeding Angels MC Book 2) (11 page)

We laugh and joke as I help Crystal gather up all her clothes and the various make-up bags she had arrived in.  The alarm clock reads 7.00 on the dot, but I know Jake is going to be late.  So I’m more than a little shocked when there’s a knock at the door.  Jake has never been on time. Not in all the years I’ve known him.  It’s just not in his genes.  So this is a big deal.  I still half-expect it to be someone else, but who else would come here?

“Who is it?” Crystal calls out, before I have a chance to say anything.

“It’s Jake,” the deep voice replies from the other side of the door, sounding a little confused. 

Before I can stop her, Crystal is tottering over to the other side of the room and opening the door with a flourish. “Make sure you have her back by 11, and no funny business, young man,” she says, playing the part of the overprotective dad, and then hoots with laughter at her own joke.

“Oh, hi Crystal,” Jake says, his tone indicating he’s completely confused.  “I didn’t realize Aimee had company.”

“Not company, just me,” Crystal smiles and I know that I’m not imagining the dreamy expression she gets in her eyes as she looks at Jake.  Jake seems to have noticed it as well.  He clears her throat and she snaps out of her reverie, beckoning me over.  From Jake’s vantage point just outside the door he hasn’t been able to see me yet.  “Come over here, Aimee, and let your delicious date here see you,” she encourages me.

I feel a little like a dog on show but, at the same time, I’m excited to see Jake’s reaction when he catches sight of me.  I walk over to the door, slowly—not because I’m trying to make a dramatic entrance, but more because the pinching shoes won’t allow me to make any sudden movements without massacring my feet.

As I come into Jake’s field of vision, I’m rewarded by the best expression possible on his face.  His jaw literally drops and I feel like doing a little victory dance, but instead I play it cool.  “You’re on time for once,” I say, teasing him and enjoying the way that he’s looking me up and down like he can’t get enough.

“Aimee,” he breathes out, “You look...stunning.” His eyes are wide and his gaze as penetrating as ever.

“Thanks,” I say, unable to stop the blush from creeping up on me.  “You don’t look so bad yourself.” He’s in a pair of jeans that fit him like they were made for him, hanging off his hips in just the right way, and a checked shirt that he’s rolled the sleeves up on, exposing his tanned, muscular forearms.  He looks good enough to eat.

We stand there staring at each other for a little while longer until Crystal interrupts by clearing her throat. “Alright kids, well you run along and have a good time,” she says, coming up behind me and almost pushing me out of the door and into Jake.

“Are you going to be alright with all your things?” I ask her as she forcibly removes me from the room.

“I’ll be fine; I’m stronger than I look,” she tells me, winking.

“I’m getting to realize that,” I reply, wondering how I had made such a wrong assessment of her.  I give Crystal a quick hug before I walk out.  “Thank you,” I say under my breath, giving her a tight squeeze before releasing her.

When I step back I can see that her eyes look a little moist.  I wonder if people have been underestimating Crystal her entire life, and I figure that must be a pretty hard way to live.  I know that I was one of those people, but now I know differently. Now that I see her for what she really is, I wonder how I had been so blind to it before.

“Now get out of here, you two, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Crystal says playfully, shooing us down the stairs and closing the door behind us abruptly. 

Jake and I are silent as we walk down the stairs and out towards his car.  I go towards the passenger door, but he stops me in my tracks.

“Hold on there, Miss Winters,” he says, running ahead of me and opening the door with a flourish. 

“Why thank you, Mr. Summers,” I reply in my best southern accent, settling myself in the seat and wondering how such a simple gesture can make you feel like a million bucks.

Before Jake closes the door, he leans against it, staring at me.  “You really do look amazing, Aimee,” he tells me.  “Not that you don’t usually,” he hastens to add, worried that he’s said the wrong thing.  “I just mean… wow.”

“Thanks Jake,” I reply, more than pleased that he likes what he sees.  The date had been his idea, after all, and I want to make sure that I didn’t disappoint. 
So far so good
, I think to myself.

He nods, closing the door and walking around to slide into the driver’s seat.  “So, where are we going?” I ask, excited at the possible prospects for our first date.

“Well, I was thinking about the whole dinner and a movie thing, and I thought: why sit through a movie not talking to each other?” he asks.  “It’s something I’d never really thought of before when I was dating in high school.” I try to control that little worm of jealousy from burrowing through my body.  “But I guess that’s because I’d never been with anyone that I liked talking to as much as I do with you,” he says simply.  “I don’t want to waste any time we have together, looking anywhere but straight at you.”

The little worm of jealousy pipes down at his words and I reach over to grab his hand that’s sitting on the stick shift.  “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has said to me,” I tell him, tracing a pattern on the soft skin on the back of his hand.  “So, where are we going?” I ask, curious now as to what he has up his sleeve.

“It’s a surprise,” he tells me. 

“Surprise?” I ask.  “I know this is only our first date, but there’s something you should know about me, and it’s that I hate surprises.”

“Oh, really?” Jake replies, a twinkle in his eye.  “Well, I’m pretty sure you’re going to like this one.” He turns the engine over and starts to pull out onto the road.

“You’re really not going to tell me, Summers?” I ask, trying to turn my “control freak” setting off and failing.

“Nope.” He shakes his head, sounding serious, but I can see the smile playing along his lips.  “I know it’s hard for you,” he says gently, “But just let go a little, just for tonight.  For me?” He is appealing to the one thing that he knows I can’t say no to.

“Alright,” I sigh, “for you.” Just let go, he said, and, as I look out of the window at the town of Painted Rock whizzing past us, I try to do just that.

It’s only a few minutes until we get to our destination and, as we arrive, I recognize exactly where we are.

“What are we doing here?” I ask uncertainly. Considering the ground rules of not talking about the Angels or anything linked to them, this seems a little odd.

Jake has pulled up on the other side of the road to where my old house used to stand.  Now there is just a broken pile of charred timber and a scattering of sad, blackened possessions that look like something out of a horror movie.  Coming to this place makes me feel emotional—not because of the things that we lost, but because of the significance that the Angels did this to us.  They try to destroy everything that they can’t control, and our home was just a casualty of war.

“Why?” is all I can ask Jake as I focus on the charred remains of what used to be my life.

“Because I don’t want the fire to be your only memory of the place,” he says eventually, and then jumps out of the car without any further explanation.  He walks over to my side and opens my door again, gallantly.

“Jake, I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” I tell him, feeling all the emotions come bubbling up from my chest and creating a knot in my throat.

“Just trust me,” he insists, kissing me softly as I step out of the car.  It’s amazing how a simple kiss can make me feel more secure.  I nod reluctantly—I’ll give it a chance..  “Great,” he says, still sounding surprisingly confident.  “Now, this is the part where I need your help.” Then disappears towards the boot of the Jeep.

I hear him rummaging around and eventually he pulls out an enormous hamper and a folded blanket.  He hands over the blanket and without another word he takes my hand and leads me towards the fields at the back of what used to be my house.  These are the fields that Jake, Suzie, and I used to play in when we were kids.  We would even camp out there some nights, pretending that we were on safari.  I remember my dad would prowl around our tent imitating animal sounds and roaring like a lion to scare us.  I smile at the memory—it’s something that I haven’t thought about in years.

“That’s what I was hoping to see.” I look up to see Jake’s tender gaze trained on my face.  “You’re so beautiful when you smile, Aimee.  I wish you did it more often,” he says, squeezing the hand that he’s holding.

We walk for a few minutes until we’re quite a way out in the field, and that’s when Jake comes to a halt and holds out his hand, wordlessly asking me to hand over the blanket.  He spreads it out with a practiced flick of his wrists and motions for me to sit down.

“Why do I feel like this is something you’ve done before?” I ask, fixing him with a direct stare.

Jake has the decency to look a little embarrassed.  “Yes, I have,” he admits, “But only with my mom.” I know I’m not imagining how red his face becomes.

“With your mom?” I ask, too shocked to say anything else.

“It was something we would do when dad was working late at the shop and Jonah wasn’t around yet.  She’d pack up a hamper with some goodies from the store and we’d go out into the back garden and have a picnic. It was our time, just for the two of us,” he explains with a fondness in his tone as he opens the hamper and pulls out a mini cooler holding a few beers.  “She would ask me about school, about what I wanted to do after school. About you,” he says, stealing a glance at me.

“About me?” I ask, surprised.  “What about me?”

“I think mom knew how I felt before I even did,” Jake admits, opening two of the beers and handing me one before settling himself back on the blanket.  “She would always ask these little leading questions.  I didn’t think much of it at the time—it was only when I got a bit older that I realized what she was doing,” he admits, ruefully.

“How come I never knew any of this?” I ask him. 

“I guess I was a little embarrassed. Not many thirteen-year-old boys like to advertise the fact that they have picnics with their mom in their back yard,” he points out, taking a swig of beer.

“You know I never cared about that stuff,” I remind him.  I’m silently cursing myself for having decided on a skirt for tonight’s date.  How do you sit down on the ground without showing your date more than he bargained for?

“I know.” Jake shrugs. “I guess I just didn’t want to look like a big dork,” he admits, laughing.

“But Jake,” I say gently, “I’ve always known you’re a big dork!”

“Thanks, Winters,” he replies, shaking his head.  “I’m so glad I decided to confide my deepest darkest secret to you.” After a moment he looks at me and adds, “You don’t look very comfortable, why don’t you take your shoes off?” he asks, nodding at the high heels that are still firmly planted on my feet.

“Honestly?” I ask, cringing at myself.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asks.  “I know you hate them, but it’s not like I haven’t seen those claws you call feet before,” he notes, and ducks when I swipe at him.

“That’s comforting, thanks,” I say, sticking my tongue out at him.

“So…?” he asks, looking pointedly at my feet. 

“Fine, if you really must know, then I’m afraid that if I take them off I’m never going to get them back on,” I say, looking up at the night sky just so that I don’t have to look at Jake’s face, which I know is cracking into a smile right about now.

“What?  Are they glued onto your feet?” he asks, totally deadpan.

“No, but they’re too small and I don’t think I’ll be able to cram my giant feet back into these little dainty shoes again if I take them off,” I tell him, giving him a fake scowl.

I’m expecting Jake to laugh again, but he just looks confused.  “But why are you wearing shoes that are too small for you?” he asks, scratching his head.

“Because they’re so pretty and I didn’t have anything else that was date-appropriate,” I burst out, and then cover my face with my hands because I’m aware at how ridiculous I sound.

“What’s the matter?” Jake asks, pulling my hands away from my face.  “Why are you hiding?”

“Because I’m being such a girly girl,” I say, feeling my embarrassment levels start to rise even further.

“Aimee,” Jake sighs.  “Take your shoes off before you do yourself some permanent damage.” When I don’t make any move to do as instructed, he shrugs and, quick as a flash, reaches over and pulls both heels off, releasing my poor feet from captivity.

“Oh my God,” I say, stretching out my toes, embarrassment completely forgotten.  “That feels so good,” I groan, flexing my feet and getting the blood pumping around them again.

“If you keep making those sounds, this date is going to end pretty quickly,” Jake notes, and I see that he’s getting that lustful look in his eyes.

I can’t help but giggle at his reaction. 
Giggle
. I wonder if there has been a time that I’ve ever behaved
more
like a girly girl. 

“So what else is in the hamper?” I ask, nodding towards the basket.

“Why?  You hungry?” he asks, giving me a naughty smile.

“A little.” I nod, opening my legs almost imperceptibly and licking my lips.  I don’t know when I became so brazen, but all I know is that dressed like this and being here with Jake, I feel more confident and in control than I thought possible.  Jake’s expression tells me he hasn’t missed the way I’m sitting and the signals I’m sending him.  “Jake,” I say after a few seconds of him just staring. “The hamper?”

“Hamper, right,” he breathes out, and I wonder if I’m imagining the bulge in his pants.  “Let’s see,” he says as he regroups and focuses his mind on the task at hand.  He starts pulling out various foodstuffs.  “We’ve got… Vienna sausages, packed with nutrition,” he notes sarcastically as he pulls out the can.  “Cheese and cucumber sandwiches on white bread, crusts cut off. Oreos, the cookies of champions… a couple of oranges… and last but not least, tabasco,” he ends with a flourish of chili sauce.

I’m struck dumb by just how sweet and thoughtful Jake has been, and I feel a little like I might cry.  How many people have been moved to tears by Vienna sausages, I wonder?   “You’ve packed all my favorite foods,” I breathe out eventually, still not quite believing what I’m seeing.

Jake just nods and looks at me nervously, like he’s wondering what my reaction is going to be.

“How...?” I start and then have to try again.  “How did you know?” I ask, looking between Jake and the food strewn out over the blanket.

“How did I
know?
” he asks, like it’s a crazy question.  “I know you, Aimee. I know that you used to sneak cans of these little guys—” He shakes the sausages at me, “—when you thought your mom wasn’t looking.  I know that you would refuse to eat your cheese and cucumber sandwiches, despite it being your favorite filling, if the crusts weren’t cut off.  I know that oranges are your favorite fruit because the smell reminds you of Christmas.  I know that you’ve never been able to walk past a shelf of Oreos at the market without grabbing some and eating at least one before you’ve reached the cashier.  And I know that you add tabasco to pretty much anything that you can put in your mouth,” he finishes, shrugging.  “That’s why I wanted to bring you here. Because I know how important this place is to you, and I don’t want your memory of it to be like
this
.” He gestures at the charred remains behind us.  “I want you to remember all the great times you and all of us had here.  I just want to see you smile, Aimee,” he adds softly.