The Wager tb-2 Read online

  Char felt her cheeks flame as she took a long sip of wine. “Sure, you were talking about work.” It wasn’t as if that would be anything new. Beth’s job as a chemist for one of the medical labs always produced dry stories.

  “And?”

  Char set her wine down and used her fork to spread some of her dinner salad across her plate. “And, tell me more?”

  Beth sighed. “Really? I just listed the periodic table of elements and you want to hear more?”

  Snorting, Char leaned forward. “No wonder I blacked out.”

  “Where are you tonight? It’s girls’ night! Remember? Food? Drinks? Fun?”

  Oh you know. Exactly where every other girl’s brain would be. Kissing Jake, touching his muscular chest, running her tongue along his plump bottom lip and—

  “Did someone say girls’ night?” A familiar voice shot through the restaurant. Char turned and came face to face with Grandma. Well, Grandma and a blinding gold jacket with leopard fur around the collar. Her skinny jeans were accentuated that much more by matching leopard heels.

  “How did you—”

  “Oh.” Grandma waved off Char and took a seat at the table. “There’s an app for everything. Did you know that?”

  “Yes but—”

  “Anyways.” Grandma waved over a waiter and ordered three shots of tequila. The woman better be drinking those alone; no way was Char going to take shots with Jake’s grandmother! “There’s this handy little app called find a friend!”

  Char grabbed her phone. “I didn’t even know I had that on my phone or that you were—”

  Grandma shrugged as if she was keeping a big giant secret. “It’s how I keep track of Jake’s whores.”

  Beth spit out her drink all over the table and began coughing.

  Grandma yawned and examined her nails, totally unaffected by Beth’s outburst. Char gave her sister a glare and turned back to Grandma.

  “I’m pretty sure they created that app so people wouldn’t worry about their friends and family. You know, not stalk people.”

  “Oh well, to each his own.” Grandma set her phone down and clicked on the screen with one finger, and then clicked again, and again.

  Beth mouthed something to Char; she couldn’t make it out.

  The waiter dropped off the shots just as Grandma jerked back and clapped. “I knew it!”

  Beth seemed to be in a trance as she watched Grandma clap her hands and thrust her phone into the air. “He’ll be here soon.”

  “Who are you again?” Beth asked.

  “I’m Grandma.” This was stated so normally, so factually, that Char had to hand it to Grandma. I mean, was there any other way to describe the woman? Saying “I’m Grandma” must have covered a multitude of sins. “Cheers.” Grandma reached for a shot and lifted it into the air then eyed both Char and Beth.

  Taking a big gulp of water, Char reached for the shot and lifted it into the air with Grandma.

  “A toast,” Grandma said. “To singing at my grandson’s wedding!”

  “Sure.” Beth clinked her glass with Grandma’s. “I’ll drink to that.”

  Char shrugged and took the shot. Just as Jake walked into the restaurant and made a beeline for their table.

  Char was no stranger to shots—not at all. But for some reason the way Jake’s distressed jeans hugged his muscular thighs did something to her. The tequila burned all the way down and then threatened to come back up, especially when he winked in her direction and leaned down to kiss his grandmother on the cheek.

  Char coughed.

  Beth sighed.

  Char kicked her sister underneath the table.

  And Grandma ordered more shots.

  “Um.” Char laughed nervously. “Are we celebrating anything?”

  “Ladies’ night!” Grandma announced, shaking her chest back and forth in glee.

  Jake looked away and blushed.

  Strange that a man who had no morals actually knew how to blush?

  “But Jake’s here.” Char pointed to the sinfully wonderful-smelling man and prayed he’d lean in just a bit closer so she could feel the heat radiating off his body without looking like a lunatic in heat.

  Grandma looked her grandson up and down. “He doesn’t count.”

  “Thanks, Grandma.” Jake said tightly.

  “Hi. I’m Beth.” Char’s sister reached across the table to shake Jake’s hand. “I would have said hi to you on the plane but you were all swollen.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “Any time.” She winked. “Welcome to girls’ night.”

  “Famous last words, I’m sure.” Jake took her hand in his and shook it, then turned to his grandmother. “Okay, so by the looks of your outfit, you didn’t get run over by a truck, nor are you suffering from a concussion or scarlet fever—that was a new one, by the way. “Jake directed the last part to Char. “Usually she saves the rare diseases for someone more gullible, like my brother.” He turned back to Grandma. “What gives?”

  Grandma held up her finger and then began digging in her giant purse.

  Jake swore. “I’m sure there are lost children in that purse. Can you just tell us so we don’t have to wait?”

  Grandma shushed him.

  Jake took two shots off the table and downed them.

  Char patted him on the back, poor guy. She did truly have half a mind to feel sorry for him. Grandma would drive anyone to drink excessively.

  “Here it is!” Grandma pulled out a slip of paper and with a shaky hand began reading it. “You both still need to complete a few of the things on the list I gave you earlier, by the way.” She dropped the list onto the table. “Where is it?”

  She dug around her purse again and pulled out a pair of diamond-encrusted reading glasses.

  “Your mind?” Jake asked. “Maybe it’s in your purse.”

  Beth cleared her throat to hide her laugh.

  “No, you ass,” Grandma seethed.

  Char ordered more drinks. Cursing. Not good.

  “The list I gave you and Char this morning! It had all those tasks on it for you to complete for the wedding. Where is it?”

  “In the car,” Jake said, just as Char said, “We lost it.”

  They glared at one another.

  “I’ll just be—” Beth rose from the table.

  “Sit!” Char yelled.

  Beth sat.

  “Jake has it.” Char pointed to Jake and gave him a sweet smile.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw as he leaned on the table and took a few deep breaths. “Right, it’s… safe.”

  “Safe.” Grandma snorted. “Fine, just be sure to finish the last few tasks.”

  “Why can’t you do it?” Jake asked. “You’re retired; can’t you just… run around in one of my cars and get the errands done?”

  Grandma paused, taking great care in her breathing. Then she turned her head ever so slightly in Jake’s direction. A frozen smile appeared on her face before she carefully picked up the list and stuffed it in her purse. “If you weren’t such an ass you would know. I have bridge with the girls.”

  “Every day?” Jake asked.

  “Every day. At least…” Grandma chuckled, seeming to remember her good humor. “In the mornings.”

  “Great. So you can finish the tasks in the evenings.”

  “Oh, Jake.” She patted his arm. “You innocent little thing.”

  It was Char’s turn to choke on her drink.

  “The evening is for different… activities.”

  “Good Lord, at least try to hide the fact that you’re out… doing things.”

  “What things?” Beth asked suddenly, leaning across the table.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Jake glared at Beth and shook his head.

  Grandma tittered. “You know, things.” She took great care pronouncing “things”, as if there was some very important underlying meaning to the word, and then began to chuckle to herself all over again. “I do love the evenings, yes I do.
” Her eyes took on a glassy appearance.

  “We’re going to need more alcohol,” Char whispered under her breath to Jake.

  “And a roofie,” Jake added. “I don’t want to remember this conversation. Ever.”

  “Tomorrow.” Grandma pushed away from the table and stood. “Jake, take me home. I’m tired. But tomorrow you will meet Char, say… for lunch, at the house? And finish up the rest of the list before we board the plane Thursday.”

  “Thursday?” Both Jake and Char yelled.

  Grandma squinted. “But of course! You have to be early for the wedding by a week at least! Whatever is wrong with young people these days!” She pulled a fifty from her purse and slammed it onto the table. “You have fun, girls. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Great, Grandma.” Jake swore. “May as well just give them permission to get arrested.”

  “That was one time!” Grandma argued.

  “You were in a Mexican prison. We’re lucky you’re alive.”

  “Oh, Pablo, he was something.” Grandma tugged at her necklace and began caressing the pearls.

  Beth’s mouth dropped open.

  Char had to kick her under the table again to get her to close it.

  “Well, ta ta!” Grandma waved and then pulled Jake by the shirt until they were out the door.

  The table fell silent.

  Tequila shots were everywhere.

  Beth looked at Char.

  Char looked at the table.

  “So.” Beth sucked on part of a lime. “That was fun.”

  Char groaned and then banged her head against the table. “How am I going to make it through the next few weeks with those two?”

  Beth laughed. “Easy.”

  “Huh?”

  “Xanax.”

  “Very funny.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jake paced in front of the door. Char had texted and said she’d stop by around noon. It was officially five minutes past. Where was she? He needed to find a way to get back his job and his manhood, preferably in reverse order.

  The morning had started off normally enough, with Grandma doing her damn yoga and then demanding he drop her off at her Bridge group. But even when Grandma asked for one thing, it was never just one thing. No, she’d demand you do something else, fail to give an explanation, and then look at you like you were an idiot if you asked why.

  He felt like a kid again, like he had the time Grandma caught him stealing M&Ms from the convenience store and then bought him a five-pound bag and demanded he sit and eat the entire bag in front of her.

  Her reasoning was that it would keep him from stealing again. Because if she ever caught him with sticky fingers, he’d either have to consume said object or wear it around the house.

  In high school it had happened again with beer. She’d given him a six pack and told him to chug until he got sick. It took him three before he was puking. Naturally, Grandma had finished the rest of the pack.

  Suffice it to say, it was always wiser to agree with the woman than to tempt fate. So he drove her around town, played the nice grandson, and then prayed to God she would finally hire him back so he could stop playing chauffeur and wedding planner.

  Good God, he was going to turn into a woman waiting for that damn irritating girl.

  The doorbell rang.

  He ran to it. Then stopped and took a few deep breaths. Yup, definitely turning into a woman. He was acting like this was a first date or something! It was Char! Char! He had to repeat her name several times out loud before he was able to finally pull the door open.

  Her smile lit up his dark mood and suddenly he remembered all over again why he stayed away from girls like her.

  They were trouble.

  They promised you pleasure and in the end wanted commitment, something any guy would run from—especially a guy like him. He didn’t deserve anything like it—he wasn’t that much of an ass to not know that a girl like Char, well, she deserved one of the good ones.

  Not him. Definitely, not him.

  Her eyes lit up when he smiled.

  Shit. He was going to have to stop flirting with her. She was going to get the wrong idea, and he was going to lose his mind if he had to partner up with her for the entire wedding week, wondering if she was just waiting for the right time to pull a knife on him.

  “Come in.” He opened the door wider and fought hard not to stare at her backside as she walked past him and her heels clicked against the marble floors. Clearly she’d been at work. She was wearing a tight pencil skirt, white blouse, and red heels.

  Poor choice.

  Because now he was thinking about Grandma and her stupid airport story and…

  “Jake?” Char’s soft voice brought him back to the present. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  “No.” He laughed awkwardly. “I was, um, just admiring your shoes.”

  “My shoes?” Her eyebrows arched in amusement. “You have a thing for heels?”

  “On you?” He nodded. “I think I just might.”

  Shit, there he went again. What was wrong with him? It was like second nature with Char, as if he couldn’t help but be drawn to her. His body involuntarily moved toward her. Was it her eyes? Her hair? A little voice, one he hadn’t listened to in a long time, told him no. It wasn’t physical; it was something completely different, something foreign. Something he really didn’t want to think about or dwell on too much, because then he’d have to admit to actually having a heart, which only meant one thing… Eventually it would break, only this time he wouldn’t have anything to fall back on, just air and nothingness.

  He swallowed and looked away. “So, lunch?”

  She took his arm and looked around the house. “Sounds good.” Her eyes narrowed.

  “What?” He stopped in his tracks. “What’s wrong?”

  “A girl forgets.” She chuckled slightly.

  “Forgets?”

  “How totally and ridiculously rich you are.”

  Jake snorted. “Jobless at the moment, but thanks.”

  “Oh please.” Char pulled her arm away and walked ahead of him as she stepped into the giant kitchen. “All of this? This is what people dream of living in their entire lives. I mean, I would kill for your kitchen. You have two ovens! My one oven barely works.”

  Amused, Jake leaned against the counter. “You like to cook?”

  “I love it.” She sighed. “I don’t have as much time as I used to, and my kitchen kind of sucks, just like you…” She smiled sweetly. “If I had a place like this I wouldn’t be feeling sorry for myself like you are.”

  “Gee, thanks.” He mumbled, feeling scolded. “And I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”

  “Yeah, you kind of are.” Char drummed her fingers against the granite counter top. “So, where’s lunch?”

  “In the fridge.”

  Char walked over and opened the fridge. “You have more food than most small countries.”

  “Grandma likes her food.” Jake shrugged. “I’ll grab the croissant sandwiches and veggies. You want to eat outside on the porch so we can sit by the water?”

  “Um, sure.” Char looked around the kitchen. “Anything else we need?”

  “Grab a bottle of wine from the fridge, too… maybe a white wine? Your choice.” He winked and walked toward the sliding glass door that led to the veranda that overlooked Lake Washington.

  Now, all they needed to do was eat, play nice, and get done with Grandma’s damn list and he could be free to move on with life. His plan was still the same. Survive WW3, also known as the invasion of Grandma, and then go back to his lifestyle.

  Though, as he took a minute to sit and enjoy the view, he realized it had felt like years since he’d actually relaxed or been sober enough to enjoy it.

  Char’s footsteps echoed across the deck. “Here you go.” She handed him a glass of wine and set the bottle on the table. “It’s pretty out here.”

  “I guess it is.” He squinted against the
sun and shrugged, forgoing the glass of wine and taking a sip of water instead. “Guess I don’t really notice it much.”

  Char snorted and shook her head. “So, this list. Let’s get it over with.”

  Abrupt subject change, but fine. Jake pulled out a new piece of paper. “Okay, we have to be careful with this one. The last one was lost in a tragic paper shredder accident. I had to steal Grandma’s backup while she was sleeping last night.”

  “Wow, you’re a regular 007.”

  “The woman sleeps like the dead.”

  “So it was easy?”

  “She has a gun under her pillow and has never taken a shooting lesson in her life—easy?” Jake shuddered. “Not if you want to keep all your parts.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Jake cleared his throat. “It looks like we just have to worry about the cake topper and Kacey and Travis’s wedding gift. Grandma says it will be delivered later this afternoon so I guess we’ll just take it on the plane with us?”

  “Sure.”

  They fell into an awkward silence. Jake wasn’t really sure why things felt so stilted. Like all the fight had been taken out of Char and suddenly she was just ready to do anyone’s bidding and be done.

  But that was exactly what he was doing.

  Except, he wanted her to want to be with him. He liked her fiery. Shit, he was happier when they were fighting than when she was quiet.

  “Rough day?” he asked after a few more awkward moments of silence.

  Char shrugged.

  “Whoa, I got the shrug.” He poured her another glass of wine. “You want to talk about it?”

  Sighing, Char tilted her head and faced him. “Not really.”

  “No pressure.” He lifted his hands. “But maybe I can help.”

  “Ah, the millionaire’s offering his help. How thoughtful.”

  Jake winced. “What the hell is your problem?”

  “My problem?” Char repeated. Then in a flurry she stood, nearly knocking over her wine, and threw her napkin on the chair. “My problem is everything is so damn easy for you! It always has been! You have this perfect life, perfect grandmother—and don’t you dare say a word against her. She may be crazy but at least you have a family that cares, not parents who forgot, again, about your birthday.”