Page 21

21

Jake

We’re heading back to the table when Dad and Annie appear. Annie’s giggling, complaining that Dad nearly stomped her toes. Dad claps my shoulder with a grin, claiming he taught me everything, and I can’t resist a little quip about how at least one Ice man can dance. So I spin Annie around for a quick pass, earning whistles from onlookers.

Dad edges closer to Piper while I’m dancing. I can see him talking, laughing, probably dropping some half-teasing remark about me. Once I finish with Annie, I spot a shy older woman standing by the edge. I spontaneously pull her into a quick step, too—it only takes a moment, but she’s positively glowing when I let her go.

By the time I return to Piper, she’s staring at me with this silly grin. She tries to cover it by saying, “Enjoy the show?”

I raise a brow. “Was it something?”

She flails for words. I catch myself enjoying her flustered expression a little too much. Then a loud laugh breaks the moment. I turn to see Evelyn barreling toward us, phone in hand, scowl on her face.

“Well, well,” she drawls, “if it isn’t my nephew, Jacob, the hero.”

I stiffen. “Evelyn. Didn’t know you were around.”

She tosses her hair. “I’m sure Sadie mentioned I’d be visiting.” The name Sadie curls my gut. Dad tries to intervene, but Evelyn won’t have it. “We’ll talk later,” she says, flicking her gaze over Piper. “So this is your flavor of the month, huh?”

Anger pricks at me. Piper’s cheeks go red, but before I can respond, Evelyn storms off, heading for the bar. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Sorry,” I mutter to Piper. “Family drama.”

She watches Evelyn retreat, curiosity evident in her eyes. "That's your aunt, right? The one with the hyphenated last name?"

"My dad's older sister," I confirm, guiding Piper away from prying ears. "Evelyn Ice-Grant. She insisted on keeping the Ice name when she married Gregory Grant—claimed our family legacy was too important to 'dilute,' as she put it."

"And passed that hyphen on to her kids," Piper observes, her tone suggesting she's already formed opinions about the Ice-Grants.

I arch an eyebrow. "You've met Sadie."

"We've crossed paths." Something flickers across Piper's face—a wariness I can't quite place.

"Sadie's the youngest. Takes after her mother in all the wrong ways." I lower my voice. "After my grandparents died, Evelyn was twelve years older than Dad, so she basically appointed herself his guardian. Even after he was grown, married my mom, started the ranch—she never stopped seeing herself as the one who should be calling the shots."

Piper glances toward where Evelyn is now chatting with Sadie, their heads bent together like conspirators. "Let me guess—she didn't approve of your mom?"

My jaw tightens. "Mom was everything Evelyn isn't—genuine, hardworking, kind. Evelyn made her life hell, always suggesting Dad had married beneath him." The memory still burns. "When Mom died, Evelyn swooped in, claiming she wanted to 'help' Dad raise us. What she really wanted was access to the ranch, to Dad's finances."

"She sounds like a real piece of work."

"She even tried to contest Mom's will, claiming Dad was 'unfit' to manage the estate with five kids to raise." I shake my head. "Dad's too soft-hearted to cut her off completely—she is his sister, after all—but the rest of us know better."

"And now she's back... why?"

"Good question. Three failed marriages and a string of rehab stints later, she still acts entitled to our family's success." I watch as Sadie whispers something to her mother, both of them glancing our way. "Her kids are a mixed bag. Sawyer's decent—he and Emma are close. Rand's the troublemaker. And Sadie..."

"Is Sadie," Piper finishes, a knowing edge to her voice.

"Yeah. All designer clothes and attitude, playing queen bee on campus from what Emma tells me." I shake my head. "The apple doesn't fall far from that particular tree. Whenever Evelyn shows up, drama follows. And with everything going on with the ranch right now, her timing couldn't be worse."

Piper studies me for a moment. "You really care about your family, don't you?"

The question catches me off guard with its sincerity. "They're everything to me," I admit. "Violet, my brothers, Emma, Dad... I'd do anything for them."

She nods, her eyes flicking toward Evelyn and— great —Sadie, chatting in the corner. My phone buzzes in my pocket, followed by another text. When I glance down, I feel my jaw tighten. Something’s happened. Something I need to handle.

“Everything okay?” Piper asks, noticing my face.

I slip my phone away. “We need to go. Now.” I start leading her out, not waiting for her questions. “I’ll drop you off.”

We pass Layla and Ethan, both looking concerned. Piper shrugs at them helplessly, but I can’t deal with more tonight. Outside, the air is cooler, the music softer. I keep hold of Piper’s hand until we’re far enough from the crowd. She’s quiet, probably wondering why I’ve gone tense.

As we walk the back road to the borrowed truck, headlights flash by. I shift to the outside, making sure she stays clear of any traffic. I can tell she’s watching me, that curiosity burning in her eyes. But for once, she doesn’t push it.

At the truck, I open the passenger door. She climbs in, and I hesitate, wanting to say something—apologize? reassure her?—but nothing comes out. Finally, I just shut the door.

We drive in silence, and I sense her glancing at me. This whole fake dating thing was supposed to be simple. I agreed to it partly because I wanted to see what she was up to, partly because I figured it would be easy to keep my distance while giving the appearance of closeness.

I was wrong.

The line between pretending and feeling is blurring faster than I expected. That kiss wasn't part of any plan—it was pure instinct, a need I didn't anticipate. And that's dangerous territory for both of us. My mind’s already on the text messages, on whatever situation needs my attention. But as I pull onto the main road, a pang of regret threads through me. The night had been… almost good, and now I’m cutting it short.

I park by the ranch and kill the engine. For a second, neither of us moves. Then I get out, circle to her side, and open her door again. She hops down, searching my face. I almost say Piper— but it dies in my throat. “Goodnight,” I mutter softly.

She nods, voice subdued. “Night.”

Her hand lingers on my arm, not letting go just yet.

“Jake…” she says softly, like there’s something she wants to ask. Something she won’t.

I step closer, just an inch. “Yeah?”

She shakes her head, but I can see it—she’s thinking about that kiss, too.

I climb back into the truck, start it up, and pull away, watching her fade in the rearview mirror. My phone chimes again, but I don’t need to check it—I already know who it’s from—Sean and Aubrey again. Sean said Violet was running a fever. I’m already heading to their place. No point in replying when I’ll be there in five.

I’m still replaying that dance-floor kiss, the way she molded against me, the look in her eyes afterward. This arrangement was supposed to be all show, but tonight it felt far too real.

My palms still remember the feel of her waist. My mouth still burns from that kiss. Her taste is still on my tongue—sweet, sharp, like challenge and danger and everything I shouldn’t want.

"Don't get attached," I remind myself, fingers tightening on the wheel. But images of her flush-faced and breathless refuse to fade. But it’s already too late. I didn’t just kiss her—I opened something I don’t know how to close. If I’m not careful, I’ll get pulled under—drag her with me—and then we’ll both be in trouble.

Tonight was supposed to be an act, a strategic move in whatever game we're playing. Instead, I found myself forgetting it was fake at all.

I glance at my phone. The messages from Violet's babysitter need my attention—real life, real responsibilities calling me back. This thing with Piper? It's a distraction I can't afford, a complication that could hurt more than just me if I let it go too far.

And yet, driving away from her feels wrong in a way I'm not ready to examine.

Keep it simple, Jake. Except nothing about Piper Reed has ever been simple, and I'm starting to think that's exactly why I can't stay away.