Page 71 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

All too easily, I could imagine how often someone had skinned Jake alive for simply being a kid, doing what kids do. Which was to make bad decisions and get into trouble.

Many times. That’s how many. Many, many times, Jake had taken the brunt of someone’s anger and frustration. Even if he didn’t deserve it. But instead of becoming bitter, he’d turned it around and used what he’d experienced to do the right thing with other people. To do right by Xander.

“He reminds you of yourself, doesn’t he,” I said. It wasn’t a question. I could already see in his face that it was true.

I could see right into his eyes just then. Beyond the cut-glass sharpness. Beyond the blue-and-green colors. Beyond the—I wouldn’t call it a facade. More like a mask. A protective shield to keep others at bay. Even me.

“You’re him,” I said. “Jesus Christ.”

I thought about Xander’s bruises. His silence. His watchfulness. And I thought about Jake at that age, going from home to home because, somehow, he was too wild to tame.

But Jake hadn’t needed taming. No, he needed what he’d so seldom, if ever, gotten in his early years: someone to protect him. From the blows. The bruises. The neglect. The system had given him a category, probably like Xander’s father had given his son.Too wild to deal with.

This was too much. I didn’t want to think about all that abuse. To picture Jake standing on a sidewalk, his hands gripping a backpack that didn’t really have anything in it, waiting for rescue. For someone to pick him up, when he had no other option but to accept what the system was giving him, because he wasn’t of age.

He was of age now, and he hadn’t flinched from the difficult situation that Xander had created for himself. No, he’d walked right into it with eyes wide open.

His encounter with Xander must have brought it all back and then some. I didn’t want to nag him about it anymore, not when he needed a safe place. Peace and quiet. And a reminder, a good one, that he never had to go back to that life.

“Hey.” I moved into the shadows to be near him. Reached to clasp his forearm. Bent my head to his shoulder for a second before looking up at him. “Let’s call over to the garage in a little bit to make sure everything is okay.”

He nodded, never taking his eyes off me.

“But for now, how about we have a cool shower?” I suggested. “Then, after, we can mosey up to the dining hall for something to eat.”

“Did you just use the word mosey?” He raised his eyebrows.

He was making a joke, but I couldn’t let on that I knew it. I needed to answer in kind so the joke would land.

“The word is appropriate to the situation,” I said in the tone of a much-bothered spinster. “Though if we shilly-shally in the shower too long, dinner might be over, and we’ll have to drive into town. Whereupon we can check on Daybreak and get a burger or something.”

“The saloon has triple cheeseburgers.” Jake reached out to push hair from my forehead. “And I owe you that drink.”

“You do,” I said. “Maybe two drinks.” By this time I could have downed a gallon of gin and tonic and not felt it.

“Be glad to.” He kissed me on the tip of my nose. “Very glad to.”

Chapter 22

Dalton

The shower became something more than that in very short order. As we stepped into the stall, we were sheened with cool water, gasping under the chilly spray, because I had failed to check the temperature first.

Sputtering, I reached to turn up the heat, but Jake’s hand was on mine, and his mouth was on mine, and all of a sudden, the temperature was just right.

He tipped me back like a princess in a fairy tale, planting kisses along my chest, my exposed neck. Like he was inhaling me. Like he couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t ever get enough.

Then water went up my nose. Coughing, I struggled to stand up straight and pulled him to me. Our mouths met beneath that spray, and my eyes closed to absorb the moment. All I wanted was to be with him.

Sometimes a shower can make life pretty clear. Straightforward.

I tucked this thought away as I grabbed for a washcloth and the simple soap he used. Totally unscented. I lathered up the cloth and then watched his face as I scrubbed the back of his neck. A back-and-forth motion that made his eyes heavy-lidded, his focus on me. His body absorbing the sensation of care. In hislife there must have been an absence of kind human touch, so he deserved every bit I could give to him and more.

I shampooed his hair and pulled him under the spray to rinse out the bubbles. His hands were on my waist, and he was biddable. I washed him all over while he stood still as an oak tree, head bowed as though receiving absolution.

But I was no priest. And he no penitent. The things I wanted to do to him, that I wanted with him, were beyond boundaries and rules. I felt it all through me. He should have only the best. And as I bent to wash his hips, his long thighs, I knew in my heart I wanted to give it to him.

I knelt down in that spray and took him into my mouth in one motion. He gasped, the sound layered with water, like a pause in a poem.