I snort. “You just had to go and ruin the moment, didn’t you?”

“Probably should get used to that too.”

Chapter Four

Finn

 

* * *

 

“So?” Jake gives me an expectant look.

I have to hand it to him, he waited a whole two minutes before pouncing, the nosy bastard.

“So what?” I maneuver my pickup around a plodding bus.

Jake snorts, because he knows as well as I do that I’m stalling. “You tap that, Manny?”

“She’s not a keg, Ryder.”

“Okay, fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Did you hook up with Ms. Chess?”

“Nope.”

“Bummer.”

“I told you I wasn’t trying to get in her pants.” I feel his stare boring into me and glance over. “What?”

“You’re attracted to her. Anyone with eyes can see that.”

I give him a lazy shrug as we stop at a red light. “Not denying it.”

“So you want me to believe that you’re fine with striking out?” He says it with incredulity, as if the possibility of not having sex with a woman is sacrilege.

“I didn’t strike out. I didn’t even try. She made it clear she wasn’t interested.”

“I’m pretty sure you could have persuaded her to change her mind.”

We pull up in front of a squat cinderblock building on St. Charles. “I don’t want to persuade a woman into bed. Jesus.”

Jake nods. “You’re right. It’s not like either of us has to go searching for it.” He looks me over in clear confusion. “So you just walked her home and that’s it?”

“You’re awfully curious about my business.”

“I know, right?” He grins happily. “I’m like a kitten over here.”

“I think I’m going to need an antacid. Where’s my bag?” I reach behind me to grab it, and earn a flick on the ear. My head rears back. “You did not just…”

Jake flips me the bird. “Bring it, Manny pants.”

Things devolve from there as we give each other smacks on the head.

“Okay, fuck, I give!” Jake yells when I get him in a headlock. An older woman walking by peers into the cab of my SUV with suspicion. I give her an innocent smile and let Jake go. He pushes off me, adjusting his shirt with a mutter. “Touchy priss.”

Grabbing my bag, I get out of the car and he follows, grabbing his own gear.

“When’s the last time you hung out with a woman,” I ask. “One that wasn’t trying to take a selfie with you or rifle through your stuff when your back was turned?”

Jake’s expression scrunches up as we head for the building’s entrance. “Uh, freshman year.” He laughs. “Of high school.”

“Exactly.” I pull open the door, and we enter the freezing haven of air-conditioning. “Chess is just Chess. I don’t need to fuck her. I just want to be and not have to explain it.”

“Frankly,” he says, as we jog up the stairs. “I’m more surprised she even talks to you. I could have sworn she hated you.”

“I grow on people.”

“Like fungus.”

My reply is lost to the ringtone blaring from my phone. Since I’ve assigned all the people closest to me a tone, I know who it is right away, and my insides clench as Bohemian Rhapsody plays.

It’s an easy thing to hit “ignore.” But it doesn’t halt the guilt.

Jake frowns. “You ignoring your mother now?”

Yes, I am now the son who sends his mother straight to voicemail. “This from someone who ignores his mom all the time?”

“My mom usually calls to complain about my sisters, and I end up getting stuck in the middle of one of their heinous fights. Have you ever had to deal with five pissed off women? It’s not a pretty sight. Your mom, on the other hand, feeds me and tells me how cute I am. She’s like Martha Stewart and Betty White rolled into one adorable package.”

I try to visualize that, but decide it’s best not to for the sake of my sanity. “All this because she sends you care packages after you made up some sob story about being a starving bachelor.”

“It’s the truth. I am a starving bachelor.” He pulls open the door of the studio we’re going to spend the next hour in. “Her snickerdoodles are prize worthy. Besides, can I help it that she loves me? At this point, I’m fairly certain she wants to adopt me.”

His words send a bolt of pain straight into me. It squeezes my chest with hard hands, and I suck in a breath. Immediately Jake pales. “Oh, shit, man. I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” I cut in, lifting a hand. I don’t want to talk about that.

Lips pinched, he nods shortly.

“She wants me to come home for Thanksmas.” There are seasons when I’m stuck playing a game on Thanksgiving or Christmas. My mother came up with the idea of celebrating both during one of my bye-weeks and calling it Thanksmas. It’s a ridiculous name, but one that usually makes me smile.

Now, I dread it. My mother always means well with her meddling ways, but she has all the subtly of a bulldozer. “She married Glenn off, so now I’m her pet project. And I do not have the energy to deal with it.”

“You want me to come with you?” Jake offers. “I’m an excellent distraction. I can moan about not getting enough to eat and how I’m wasting away.” He runs a hand over his chest where he’s put on about ten pounds of lean muscle during the off-season. Not that my mother will care; she’ll feed him regardless.

“Thanks,” I say, toeing off my shoes. “But that will only give her two of us to fixate on.”

Jake stows his gear in a cubby and stretches his arms overhead as three women walk in. Barely dressed, their bodies lithe and graceful, they eye us with familiar, playful interest. Jakes tracks their movement through the room. “Best fucking day of the week,” he says with a feral grin.

“I actually enjoy coming here, Ryder. So don’t fuck it up by dipping your wick in this particular wax.”

Jake snorts. “Too late.”

“Jesus. Who?”

“Rachel.”

Which would explain why the little blond keeps sending covert glances our way.