Page 102 of Rock Bottom Girl

“Here,” Jake said, shoving the fall bouquet at me. “Appreciate these before we get back on the bike. Good at what?”

“Dating,” I said. “A motorcycle ride, a taco truck, and now flowers? A-plus.”

“It’s not as hard as I thought it would be,” he admitted, taking my hand. The sun had dipped behind the buildings, and the streetlights were flickering to life. “I just did what you told me. Thought about what you’d like to do and then did it.”

God, he was so…everything. He walked down the sidewalk with a sexy swagger like he owned the city. He looked like a model out for a casual, sexy bad boy photoshoot. Don’t think I didn’t notice every double take from every woman and several of the men we passed.

And now he was being thoughtful and sweet?

I came to a halt on the sidewalk outside of a yarn store when the realization hit me. I was grooming Jake to be the perfect man. For someone else.

I’d go back to frantically polishing my resume, landing jobs that weren’t quite the right fit, dating guys who also weren’t the right fit. Meanwhile, Jake would meet a nice girl, fall in love with her, and spend the rest of his life making her very happy.

I wanted to throw up my tacos.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Nope,” I lied. “Everything’s great.”

“We should probably head back. Bonfire’ll be starting soon,” he said. “You done appreciating those?” He nodded at the flowers.

I took one more sniff. “Done.”

He plucked them from me.

“Excuse me,” he said, dragging me up to a woman in her fifties chattering away on her phone. She was wearing sweatpants and clutching a grocery bag in her free hand.

She stopped mid-sentence, her jaw working as she took in the gloriousness of Jake Weston.

“Yes?” she breathed.

“These are for you,” he said with that damn devastating grin.

“Oh, my! Oh, thank you!” she gushed.

“Have a nice night, gorgeous,” he said, shooting her a wink.

We left her there on the sidewalk staring openmouthed after us. I had a feeling she was feeling what I was. Unbelievably lucky and unreasonably jealous at the same time.

44

Jake

Back in Culpepper, we traded my bike for my SUV and headed south out of town toward Dunkleburger’s farm. Chaz Dunkleburger, who graduated two years ahead of us, took over his parents’ farm when they moved to Boca and, being a nostalgic Barn Owl, preserved an acre or two of the back pasture for good old-fashioned bonfires.

Of course these were no half-assed teenage bonfires.

No, we had seating and kegs and snacks. Good snacks. There was still the usual small-town drama to be had when large groups got together and started reminiscing. Overall, a bonfire on a Saturday night in Culpepper was the place to be.

Marley was quiet, and I found myself wondering what was going on in that pretty head of hers. Where some women would blab your ears off about how they were feeling about every damn thing, Marley Cicero was quieter, more mysterious.

It made me want to pry her open like an oyster.

“You sure you’re up for this?” I asked, easing through the gap in the fence.

“Sure,” she said.

She was definitely lying.