Pierce My Heart (Women of Willowbrook Book 1) (37 page)

I open my mouth to respond but my words die on my tongue as I take in my surroundings.

It’s
beautiful
.

I’ve seen some warehouses on a couple of the remodeling shows I watch, but never anything like her place.

It’s three stories of gleaming wood, aged brick, and harsh steel. The mix of all three is something that should’ve looked hard and masculine, but she’d decorated the space to look homey, feminine, and way,
way
cool.

The top looked to be a loft—from where I stand there isn’t much I can see, but what I can see is enough. The second floor is a huge open space where you can see from one corner to the next with no obstacles in your way. The only door, besides the front, leads into a decent sized bricked area that I assume is the bathroom.

Her kitchen can’t be described as anything less than a chef’s (or baker’s) wet dream. Full of modern appliances, a wide and long island that holds a farmhouse sink big enough that Juliet could bathe in it, an enormous three-door fridge, and a huge industrialized double range that sports two ovens
and
a hibachi grill. Her cabinets are a bright white—some with glass covering the front to show the different things they hold and some solid wood—the counter tops an almost gun-metal, gray granite with small shoots of white and silver running through, but it’s the color of her appliances that draw you in.

Yellow
.

Yellow range, yellow mixer, yellow microwave, yellow toaster, yellow blender, even a yellow microwave. The only appliance not yellow is the fridge.

If anyone told me I would’ve been envious of a yellow kitchen, I would’ve told them that they were out of their flipping mind.

But, here I am.

Envious of a yellow kitchen.

An eating area is set up in the corner closest to the kitchen with a round glass table, that’s close to ridiculous proportion in size, a stout silver vase that sits dead center holding an arrangement of white and yellow tulips, and ten high-backed comfy looking chairs surrounding it. The cushions of each chair a matching yellow that helps tie the two ‘rooms’ together.

The living room has, what looks like, a sixty-inch flat screen mounted to one wall with a bevy of seating (in all different colors) surrounding it. The couch is a light moss green color—closer to smushed peas, but not quite as unappetizing. The two red leather club chairs sit across from the couch, managing to not make the two colors look tacky (or Christmas-y), and a love seat sits smack dab in the middle—a warm tan suede that’s covered in yellow and white toss pillows.

The colors should make my head spin, but they complement each other and the multitude of rugs she has dotting the floors in random, but strategic, places.  

If it hadn’t been for the large, winding metal staircase that led up to the loft, I’m sure that space would’ve been filled with even more brightly colored bits of furniture that I never would have the guts to throw together.

But the one thing that drew attention more than the smorgasbord of colors, were the walls; walls that are nearly identical to SoVin. Covered in posters, artwork, and an abundance of photographs of the people who mean something to Gail.  

“This place is
awesome
,” I whisper in awe.

Jake’s deep chuckle has me snapping out of it and looking around at the others.  

“Thank you, Anna. It took me time, but I’ve got everything exactly how I want it and I love this place,” Gail says with a small smile as her eyes roam the area.

“If you all are done, maybe we can dig in before my stomach starts eatin’ itself.”

“
Ma
,” I hear groaned in response.

My head turns in the direction to see Jo perched at a stool near the counter, Grace across from her, and a girl seated next to Jo whose back is to me.

I can only guess it’s Jo’s daughter.

Jake must’ve taken that as a cue because he starts to move us that direction, Gail falling in step with us.

“Good to see you ‘gain, doll face,” Jo calls out with a wink and a smile.

“You too, D.J.,” I say with a wink of my own.

And, just like before, she throws her head back and lets loose a belly laugh that’s much prettier than it should be.

When she finishes, she slips her arm around the waist of the girl and turns her towards us. “This here’s my girl, Jem.”

Jem rolls her eyes before giving me a small wave and a smile. “Name’s Jolene. Jolene Eliza Murphy.”

Ah.

Jem.

“That’s right. She’s my precious Jem,” Jo says, her eyes and voice full of the love she has for her daughter.

“Nice to meet you, Jolene. I’m Anna.”

Her smile gets bigger as her eyes flick to Jake then back real quick. “Oh, I know.”

And her voice is
full
of knowing.

Great.

I feel a small blush tinge my cheeks as I look at Jolene.

Her eyes are a gray green color that stands out against her dark lashes and the tan color of her skin. Where her mother’s hair is a coppery red, Jolene’s is a thick sheet of burgundy, the tips an almost platinum blonde color. Pair all that with the curves she has in abundance on her leaner body, and she’s a knock-out.

One that leaves me with a small pang of insecurity at being in her presence.

There’s nothing malicious in her smile or her eyes. The only thing I can read is a small amount of amusement and a whole lot of happy.

Peeking under my lashes at Jake, I’m a little afraid of what I might find. Instead of him gazing at her and all her beauty, his eyes are on me. The
look
I’d so love for him to put a name to, is front and center, and the smile he aims my way is one of happiness.

I feel my own face get soft as warmth shoots through me.

I jump when Gail claps and calls out, “Time for pie!”

His eyes fill with laughter as he leans down to kiss me.

“Time for pie.”

I feel myself smile against his lips.

We all grab a slice of pie and move towards the table, barely filling half the seats.

Since Jolene is on my left, and Jake is in a discussion with Gail on my right, I decide to get to know her better.

“So, Jolene, are you still in school?”

Her eyes flicked my way just as she shoves a bite into her mouth.

“Crap, sorry,” I mutter.

She shakes her head and holds up a finger before chewing quick and swallowing.

“It’s cool, no worries. Yeah, I’m taking classes at the JC right now,” she answers.

My brows shoot up in surprise.

She lets out a small laugh and grins. “Look young, huh?” she asks, referring to my look.

I nod.

She nods in return. “I get that a lot. I’m nineteen.”

“Oh. What are you studying?”

“Business, mainly, but I’m taking a few culinary arts courses. Mostly geared toward baking.”

“That pie you’re eating is one of hers,” Jo throws in proudly.

Jolene’s cheeks redden.

“Ma,” she groans.

“Seriously?” I ask.

She looks back at me and nods, her eyes wary but her face blank.

“Don’t ever meet my brother,” I warn her.

She jerks back and scrunches her face. “Why?” she asks hesitantly.

“Because he loves sweets, and if he even got a whiff of this, let alone tasted it, he’d lock you in some kitchen and demand you make him stuff all day,” I say by way of compliment, and it is one.

Nate
was
crazy about his sweets.

And if he ever met Jolene, I don’t think that’d be the only thing he’d be crazy about.

*              *              *

One week later

I woke up with a jolt and was immediately hauled back.

I’m trying to figure out what’s going on when a low chuckle has me blinking away the sleep.

It’s dark so I can’t see much, but thanks to the light in the truck I can see Jake standing in the open passenger door with a grin tugging at his lips while he watches me. His eyes are soft and filled with amusement.

“I could use some help,” I huff out, annoyed I embarrassed myself just by waking up.

I guess all the wine I had at dinner knocked me out as Jake drove us home from the restaurant.

His grin widens as he reaches in and unbuckles my belt. One arm slides around my back, the other under my knees as he pulls me free of the truck and I can’t help the small squeak that leaves my lips when I suddenly find myself airborne. The sleep that’d been hanging on and trying to pull me back under vanishes as my arms curl around his neck, holding on tight.

I expect him to immediately put me down, but that doesn’t happen. I lean back slightly to look up at him when all the air in my lungs leaves with a whoosh.

The grin is gone and amusement is nowhere to be found.

In its place is a look I’ve seen hundreds of times before, but never directed at me. At least not this clearly.

His face is soft and tender, but there’s an edge that holds not a small amount of possessiveness. It’s his eyes that leave me breathless, though.

Eyes I knew from the first time I saw them that I could get lost in them.

They’re full of
that
emotion I could never fully decipher.

That
emotion that left me feeling warm, excited, and scared all at the same time.

That
emotion that I could only ever hope was what I thought it would be.

Except right now,
that
emotion is the
only
emotion in his eyes and I know exactly what it is.

I’ve seen that look on my dad every time he’s looked at my mom.

When Robby married Maddy, his eyes had never shown more of it.

Even when Gramps was taking flak from Gran, his eyes always hold it.

Love.

My arms tighten and my heart starts to race.

I watch with excitement and hooded eyes as his head starts to descend only to pause a breath away from my mouth. I don’t have a clue what look I’m giving him, what emotions I’m giving away, but I can’t bring myself to care. Not when he’s so close and I can
finally
put a name to that emotion.

Just as I plan to close the gap, Jake’s phone starts ringing.

Disappointment fills me, but I find myself too caught up in watching everything pass over his face before he squeezes his eyes shut and sets me down with a sigh, slipping his phone from his back pocket, to pay too much attention to it.

“What?” he barks and I have to drop my head to hide my grin at the obvious annoyance.

Once I’d gotten myself under control, I look back up. And for the second time tonight all the air leaves my lungs.

Jake’s face is granite as he listens to whoever is on the other end talk.

“Jesus Christ, stupid. So fucking stupid,” he hurls back, his voice well past anything I’ve ever heard from him before.

His body unlocks as he takes one, then two steps back before turning away from me and heading towards the garage.

I stood there for a moment, trying to catch up with the one-eighty, until I heard the garage door leading in slam shut and I’m jolted back into the now. Reaching in, I grab my bag and the leftovers from the floor, hit the lock button on the door before shutting it, and follow after Jake.

When I hit the inside, I’m met with silence; an eerie silence that makes my skin crawl and my stomach start rolling with nerves. Making a pit stop in the kitchen to stow the food, I head for the stairs only to pause when I hear angry whispers coming from the office down the hallway.

Knowing I shouldn’t, but not being able to help myself, I tiptoe towards the door. The sound of glass shattering has my feet moving faster, all sleuthing forgotten as I push the door open and rock to a standstill.  

Jake is standing in the middle of his office head down, chest heaving, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists with a pile of glass at his feet. It isn’t until I see the blood dripping onto the hardwood floor that I move. Rushing over, my hands immediately reach for his only to find myself coming to a halt at his voice.

“Don’t,” he bites out.

“Baby, you’re hurt. Let me help you,” I plead.

He shakes his head once, sharply. “Just go upstairs, Anna.”

“Jay—”

“
Go
,” he thunders.

My face blanches as I take two steps back, memories of refusing to leave flashing before my eyes.

Jake is not him.

He’s
not
.

It isn’t the same, but still, I find myself afraid.

Afraid of what’ll happen if I don’t listen this time.