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I blamed Jake.

With school in full force, I was out of the house in the morning before seven. I’d get home sometime midafternoon and launch right into cakes, my studies, and whatever else needed to be done. I didn’t stop going until after nine most nights.

Thankfully, I loved what I did or this would’ve been amajorpain in the ass.

Jake was even busier at work. His nights often went later than mine, but they always ended with us in bed together.

I popped in to see him when I could, and he broke away to have dinner with me most nights. While it wasn’t much, we were making it work. That didn’t mean I wasn’t looking forward to a weekend together.

Every year, Hyde participated in a growing charity auction. Loads of businesses, politicians, and even some local celebrities came to downtown Boston to attend.

I’d heard of it, but I hadn’t known many of the details, including the fact that Jake had started and organized the event. It was only recently that his and the shop’s involvement was becoming common knowledge.

When I’d tried to find out more, Jake dodged most of my incessant questions. The gist, from what little I could get out of him, was that Hyde had started out donating to groups for at risk kids around the holidays. It had snowballed from there.

Since he hadn’t been able to give me much notice, Jake insisted that I take his credit card to have lunch with Ray and shop for a dress. My days had been so busy that I hadn’t even thought about what to wear, much less about shopping.

If the Girl Card was a real thing, mine was in danger of being revoked.

While a day with Ray sounded awesome, Jake paying did not, and I told him so.

I told him again when I found his credit card in my purse.

And again when he left it on my desk at home.

When he slipped the card into my back pocket while we were kissing in the break room, I told him there was absolutely no way I was using his card.

Then he told me why he was paying, and most of that was done nonverbally.

In the end, when my brain was mush, I somehow agreed to it.

My head eventually cleared enough to realize how he’d played me and I decided to use his tactic against him.

Grabbing his hand, I pulled him into his office. I nudged him towards his chair as I locked the door. Walking over to him, I watched as he sat, his eyes never leaving me.

When I stopped in front of him, Jake slid down in his seat, bent his knees, and looked up at me. It was a move he’d made countless times before so I could straddle him.

This time, though, I didn’t.

He was rough. Scary. Powerful.

His faded and worn jeans were stained from the day’s work. His dirty t-shirt stretched across his broad chest as he weaved his hands behind his head. The defined muscles of his arms, covered in tanned skin and colorful ink, added to both the beauty and the edge of him.

He looked dangerous, intimidating, and every bit the badass he was.

And then he smiled.

It wasn’t cocky because he knew he was gonna get some.

It wasn’t gloating because I’d given in.

It was just happiness. It was the smile of someone that was exactly where they wanted to be with who they wanted to be with.

I recognized it because I wore a similar one.

To everyone else Jake might be gruff, but to me he was sweet.

Bossy as fuck, definitely, but sweet, nonetheless.