“Come,” he ordered, lifting the plate of burgers from the counter. “The best view is from the back porch.”
I swallowed another drink of wine, following him aimlessly through the kitchen and to the sliding door. Some fresh air might help defuse the obvious tension that crackled between us.
I’d seen pictures from his deck on social media, but they didn’t do it justice.
The mountains had been beautiful as we drove, but here, with the lake in the background, they were breathtaking. They were gentle giants surrounding his home, the snowcaps onto the rugged rocks, yet the bases held greens for miles. The sun was low, casting an orange tint across the lake. It was spectacular, and I wondered how Jake ever focused on a computer screen long enough to get a manuscript written with the beautiful distraction surrounding him.
“Jake, it’s gorgeous out here,” I mumbled, afraid to blink and miss a moment of the view.
He grinned, opening his grill and lighting it, setting the plate of burgers next to it. “It helps get me in the mood.”
“What?” I croaked, my thighs tingling.
He laughed. “The mood to write? Gosh, you’re such a romance writer.”
I blushed, my eyes finding my wine. “Who said that’s what I was thinking?”
He smirked, taking a step toward me. Lifting his hand, he ran his thumb across my cheek. “The bright red streaks that stained your cheeks the moment I said it.”
My lips quirked upward into a smile as I met his eyes. He gave me a toothless grin, continuing to stroke my skin. “You caught me.”
Dropping his hand, his grin was still in a place. “And they say men have dirty minds.” He made his way back to the grill, opening the lid and putting the patties over the flames.
“Men are way more naughty than us. Women want romance. That’s not the dirty part of sex.” I asked, finding a seat on one of the lounge chairs.
Jake laughed under his breath. “I think we may need to agree to disagree on that one.”
“How so?”
“Well,” he began, throwing the last burger on the grill. “I personally believe both men and women like a take on romance and dirty when it comes to sex.”
I rolled my eyes. Dirty sex wasn’t fun. That’s all Martin ever wanted.
“You’re right, we should agree to disagree,” I mumbled between sips.
Jake plopped down in the chair next to me, taking a swig of his beer.
“So, think you’ll be able to get a manuscript started with this view?” He waved his hand to the epic scenery.
“I don’t know, I might get distracted. It’s so beautiful, much more appealing than the cornfields and suburbs I’m used to in Illinois.”
Jake scrunched his nose. “Sounds crowded and dull. No wonder you’re a sex writer. That’s probably all there is to do.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You just might be right, although, the sex wasn’t done by me.”
“Can’t blame you when you had a twat of a husband.”
I raised my glass to him. “Well said.”
He clinked his bottle with mine.
“What about you?” I asked curiously. “You’ve mentioned having past girlfriends. Was there anyone serious?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “No, my life isn’t really cut out for a relationship.”
I raised a brow. “Being a writer in the middle of the mountains? Yeah, you’re right, that’s just an outlandish idea.”
He smirked. “Always so full of sarcasm.”
“Takes one to know one,” I accused. He rolled his eyes but nodded. He knew he was more of a smart ass than I was.
“Seriously, though. Why haven’t you settled down?” I pried. He was sexy as hell, had a personality to die for, and how he hadn’t been snagged up by a woman was throwing me for a loop.
He stared at the top of his beer as he thought. “I’ve had a crush on a girl for a very long time.”
I was intrigued now, even a touch jealous. “Oh.”
He glanced at me then looked at the mountain pass. “I’ve recently had high hopes for her to maybe give me a shot, though.”
My heart ached at his words. It was a ridiculous feeling. I had been scolding myself the past week that I needed to think of him only as a friend and nothing else.
“I bet she will,” I smiled, pushing away my disappointment.
His hope-filled eyes shot to me in an instant, but the heat in them faded. He must have lost faith in the girl he had his eyes set on. The thought made my heart pound a bit faster.
He stood from his seat, heading back to the grill. “Time will tell.” He cleared his throat, taking another swig from his beer. “How do you want your burger cooked?”
The distance seemed to spread between us, and not just because he’d stepped ten feet away. Did I say something upsetting?
“Medium is fine.”
He tipped back his beer bottle again, only the sizzle of the beef sounding mixed with the gentle wind against the trees was between us. The awkward silence wasn’t comforting in the slightest.
“I’m going to go check on the potatoes in the oven and grab the veggies to grill.”
“Okay.” I curled into my seat, holding my wine securely to my chest. The girl must have been a sore subject, and I’d need to refrain from bringing her up if I didn’t want him to shut down. The fact that we had never talked about her was odd. We spoke about my relationship on more than one occasion, especially in the midst of my divorce. Guilt filled me when I realized I never asked him about a significant other when he was such a wonderful person to vent to about my thick-head of an ex-husband.
When Jake came back through the screened porch, his playful smile was back, and it helped me to relax again. “So, tell me about your current work in progress. Do you have the plot set?”
“Not sure, but it has to have a lot of romance in it, according to Sandra,” I sighed.
“Do you write anything else?” He teased. “What kind of romance?”
I ticked my jaw. “I’m thinking a mystery type deal. Kind of like the movie “You’ve Got Mail.”
Jake opened the grill top and tossed a foil packet over the flames. “You should throw in some suspense. Maybe a crazy stalker?”
“The guy she talks to online could be the stalker, but she doesn’t know it.”
He shot me a grin. “Of course, he uses a fake photo.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Nah, he won’t even use a photo. Maybe the stalker could be an ex-boyfriend.”
He tapped his chin. “How about, her mom’s ex-boyfriend?”
“How about her mom’s step-brother?” I deadpanned.
“Now that’s just pushing the limits,” he chided, throwing me a wink.
I sighed, kicking my feet out from underneath me. “Okay, all jokes aside, I need a million dollar idea, otherwise my publisher is going to drop me.”
“Alright, alright,” he closed the grill and sat across from me, resting his elbows on his knees and giving me his undivided attention. “I think, the first week here, you shouldn’t worry about your manuscript.”
My eyes bugged out. “Are you insane? Did you miss the part where I need to write thirty thousand words in a month? Not just any words, but kickass ones that will suck a reader into the story. You of all people know that takes time.”
His lip twitched upward. Pushing his hat higher on his forehead, I could see the dark brown locks that hid beneath it. I always wondered how much hair he really had. Scooting from his seat to the ottoman, he sat directly across from me, setting both his hands on my knees and stared me straight in the eyes.
The contact caused me to hold my breath. His hands were warm to the touch, and the tingles that rushed around them were distracting me from his charm.
“All you’ve done the past three months is worry, stress, and be paranoid about life. You need to clear your head and relax.” His thumbs stroked the outsides of my knees. “The tension you’ve been carrying is obvious. It’s time to chill out some, Love. Take in the scenery-- breathe a bit.”
I exhaled the breath I’d been holding, taking a long blink as if it would help me gain my senses. Between his touch and the way he called me Love, I was having trouble processing a thought.
When I opened them, he was grinning at me, his eyes filled with mirth. “Now you’re getting it.” His thumbs continued to rub, moving to the insides of my knees, and my thighs trembled.
He glanced down then removed his hands, standing from the ottoman and returning back to the grill. He cleared his throat. “Put your feet up and enjoy the New Zealand scenery.”
Did he feel the intensity brewing between us? I might be crazy, but the way he stroked the bare insides of my knees came across as intimate.
Maybe snuggling at night with him would ease my nerves and clear my head, even if it lead to other activities. I wasn’t married anymore, and a little bit of passion might help with the lack of writing flow. How could someone write about romance if they hadn’t received any of it over a long period of time?
I took a sip of my wine, watching Jake work the grill. Seeing that his front was as sexy as I knew his back was, keeping my inappropriate thoughts at bay was going to be a challenge, one I might forgo and give in to.