Page 26 of Score to Settle (Oakwood Ranch #1)

SEVENTEEN

HARPER

HARPER: Help!!

MIA: Tell me everything.

HARPER: Long story. I’m sharing a hotel room with Jake.

MIA: OMG! Fuck his brains out.

HARPER: Mia!! You’re not helping!

MIA: OK, fine. Stare longingly into his eyes and wish you were fucking his brains out. Better?

HARPER: No!!!!!

Notes for feature: Beneath the cocky charm, there’s an old-fashioned quality to Jake. It’s in the little things he does, like pulling a chair out for me or checking on me from across the room with a single look. But just how much of a gentleman is he?

I’m drowning in what-the-fuck-am-I-doing anxiety as I hide in the bathroom of the tiniest hotel room in existence, questioning if I’m seriously going to spend the night sharing a bed with Jake. The man I’m supposed to be professional around…

The check-in clerk’s words race through my thoughts. We’re looking into whether this was done by the booker themselves or if our computer system may have malfunctioned.

This is exactly the kind of thing Callie would do.

And the exact reason I didn’t ask her to book my hotel and flights in the first place.

What the hell was she thinking leaving me stranded in a city with no hotel rooms in a twenty-block radius?

I know the answer—she was thinking how much she wants my job. Fuck!

I unzip my suitcase and stare at my favorite nightwear set—a cute ivory silk camisole and matching shorts.

What was I thinking packing this? I know the answer.

After sleeping on Mia’s couch for months and then staying at the ranch with Jake, Mama, and Dylan, I’ve taken to wearing gym shorts and baggy tees to bed, and I was thinking a night alone in a hotel room seemed like the perfect time to wear something that made me feel a little sexier.

Now, as I slip on the set, all I see in the mirror above the sink is how much my nipples push at the fabric and how indecent these shorts are with the amount of ass they leave on show.

I glance back to my suitcase, hoping to find a set of sweats or something equally undesirable, but I packed light and my only other clothes are the ones I’ve been wearing and what I need for tomorrow.

There’s nothing for it but to brazen this out. I run a hand through my hair and lift my chin at my reflection. I’m a professional. I’m here to do a job. I will not think about having sex with Jake Sullivan.

Who am I kidding? I’m horny just thinking of getting into that bed beside him tonight.

But I’m certain that’s just my body’s reaction to how attractive Jake is.

The truth is, I don’t know how I really feel about Jake right now.

I’ve kept my distance this week, placing myself on the other side of whatever room we’ve found ourselves in, trying to regain my composure after we almost kissed last weekend.

Something we’re both pretending didn’t happen.

Something that can’t happen again if I have any chance of keeping my job when this is over.

When Jake is cocky and joking, all I see is the pro football player, the boy from high school… But the more I see the other side of him—the one where he’s thoughtful and says things about his past or his future that melt something in me—the more I find myself drawn to him.

Shit.

I’ll wear the clothes I had on this evening. Sleeping in tight jeans isn’t ideal but anything has to be better than this. I’m reaching for my bra when there’s a knock at the door.

“Stop hiding, Cassidy. I’ve ordered us room service.”

“I’m not hiding,” I call back even though it’s exactly what I’ve been doing.

Fine. Have it his way. I take a deep breath and open the bathroom door.

Jake has changed into shorts and a tee and is stretched out on the bed.

He looks at me and I watch his eyes flare wide, a slow smile starting to form on his lips; he must catch himself because it’s gone in a second, hidden behind a mask of indifference.

“I thought you seemed like a burger type,” he says.

“Thanks.” There’s no way I can eat right now, but my stomach has other ideas and gives a rumble that makes Jake chuckle.

“They said it won’t be long. Can you survive?” He grins, rolling off the bed and pulling two beers from the mini bar. He pops the lids before handing a bottle to me. I try not to notice the electric charge that shoots through my body at our touch.

“The hotel room in LA wasn’t this small,” I say, perching on the edge of the bed and crossing my legs.

He huffs. “I know. Believe me, I’m going to be having words with the support staff when I get back.”

“Maybe it’s the Irish dance convention. Those girls looked like they take it pretty seriously.”

“Not as serious as the parents. Did you hear that woman in the lobby yelling at her husband for buying the wrong brand of hairspray?”

I laugh, about to tell Jake the importance of hairspray brands when my phone rings. I think it’ll be Mia with some filth to share, but I’m surprised to see it’s Dad calling.

“Sorry,” I say to Jake. “I need to take this.” I stand, answering with a breezy, “Hi, Dad, are you back in Denver?” Because that’s the only time he calls.

“Harper.” Dad’s voice is deep and serious, pulling me back to a childhood of awkward dinners spent with my father.

“You’re coming on Tuesday to the awards dinner?

” he demands, without any preamble. After an entire life of his abrupt style, I know I should be used to it, but would a “how are you?” have killed him?

I groan inwardly. I’ve been doing a good job of ignoring the fact that Dad’s lifetime achievement award is now this Tuesday. Dread floods my body. “Yes, Dad,” I reply. “I’ll be there.”

“Seven sharp at the Arquette Media building.”

I wonder if he’s forgotten I work in that very building. Probably. I know he only wants me there for appearances.

“I’ll be there,” I say again.

“Are you still working at that magazine?” he asks.

The hurt is instant. “It’s Sports Magazine , not a school paper.” The retort surprises me as much as I imagine it does him. The second I hear his sigh of disappointment in my ear, I wish I hadn’t bothered. “I’m working on a feature now, actually. I should go. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

I end the call before he can say more and dip my head, allowing a lifetime of hurt out of the box for just a second, feeling small and stupid.

Feeling the hollowness of not being good enough.

Of a life without a mom. It’s been a long time since I’ve let Dad’s remarks cut so deep, but knowing Jake heard every word makes it worse somehow.

The moment passes and I squash the hurt back into its hiding place.

“Hey.” Jake moves from the bed so he’s standing beside me.

He’s so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body. I must still be feeling vulnerable because I have the urge to lean in.

“I’m not gonna pretend I know a thing about your relationship with your dad, but no one should make you feel less than the unstoppable, fierce woman you are.”

I lift my gaze, expecting a playful smirk, but he looks serious, intense.

I’m suddenly reminded of how skimpy my camisole is and the way the silk is brushing against my nipples.

I open my mouth, searching for a reply. A joke—a way to make this moment less heated.

But my mind blanks. Once again, I’m knocked sideways by this man.

Is this how Jake sees me? Unstoppable and fierce?

I want to tell him how wrong he is, how scared I am every day that someone is going to figure out that I’m a terrible journalist, that I’ll be laughed at and ridiculed for spending my free time writing a vampire love story with characters who have more of a social life than I do.

I want to tell him he’s wrong. Except more than that, I want to be the fierce, unstoppable woman he sees in me.

To be more like Jake and not care what people think or the repercussions of doing what I want.

I stare into Jake’s dark, soulful eyes and allow myself to get lost for a moment in how hot this man is.

The sharp angle of his jaw is dusted with dark stubble that I long to feel rasping against my skin.

His full lips are parted slightly, drawing my eyes down to his mouth.

I imagine how those lips would feel pressed against my own.

My eyes drift lower, appreciating the strong column of his neck and the way his broad shoulders fill out his simple white tee.

The thin cotton clings to his sculpted chest and abs, outlining every ripple of hard muscle.

Time slows. The room, the world, everything fades away until it’s just me and Jake, alone in this moment. My breath catches in my throat as Jake gently brushes a stray lock of hair back from my face. His fingertips graze my cheek, igniting flames everywhere he touches.

His eyes flick down to my parted lips then back up again, a question in his eyes. I’m frozen, mesmerized, unwilling to break this spell weaving around us. My heart pounds so loudly I’m sure he must hear it. Slowly, giving me time to pull away, Jake leans in closer.

His hand moves into my hair and around the back of my neck, drawing me toward him. My insides burn. I stop thinking and move the last few inches until our bodies are pressed against each other. His lips brush against mine and it’s electric and so fucking hot I feel it between my thighs.

And then his tongue slides into my mouth, stroking against my own.

Every moment shoots another dart of need through my body.

My nipples tingle against the silk of my top as I press against him.

I can feel his rock-hard erection through the fabric of his shorts.

I wrap my arms around his neck, pushing myself against him as our kiss deepens, wanting him. Wanting more. Wanting everything.

But then Jake pulls away a fraction and the spell is broken.

“Harper,” he whispers, voice husky. “We shouldn’t…”