Kristen Ashley - The Will

“Mr. Sto…erm, Boston, I mean no offense, but at this time, I’m not looking for romantic entanglements.”

“That’s understandable,” he said gently, his smooth voice going suave. “However, I’ll take this opportunity to remind you that at times like these, any entanglements are more enjoyable than those likely occupying your mind.”

This was true.

Even so, I didn’t want to be entangled with him.

But before I could utter a word, he unfortunately continued.

“And you’re an exceptionally beautiful woman. So much so that it’s prompted me to act outside good manners to take my opportunity to make certain you understand I’d like to get to know you.”

“That’s very flattering, um…Boston. But—”

He interrupted me again with, “A drink.”

I wasn’t following.

“I’m sorry?”

“Not dinner. A drink. I’d offer to collect you but I feel you’d be more comfortable meeting me so we’ll do that. At the Club. I’ll give them your name at the gatehouse. Monday night. Seven o’clock.”

I sighed.

The Club was the Magdalene Club, an exclusive club that had once simply been a gathering place for the haves of Magdalene where they could go and commune with other haves while not having to mingle with the have-nots. Over the decades, they’d added a dining room to their bar and I’d never been there but Gran (and others) had told me it was quite excellent fare and had a lovely view of the sea.

I also had a lovely view of the sea from a variety of windows in my own home but I had the feeling that Boston Stone was not to be put off. Not Magdalene’s most eligible bachelor.

Unless I put him off face to face.

Which I would do over a drink.

“Fine. Monday. Seven o’clock.”

There was a smile in his voice when he replied, “I’ll look forward to that, Josephine.”

I didn’t share this sentiment so I made no reply.

“See you then,” he said.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“Try to have a good rest of your day.”

“I will, Boston. You too.”

“I will. Good-bye, Josephine.”

I gave my farewell, disconnected and decided not to answer the phone again that day.

I also decided not to think of a drink with Boston Stone, going to have it solely for the purpose of telling him I was not interested, as this would irritate me and I wasn’t in the mood to be irritated.

But I did this remembering why I didn’t get tangled up with men. They could be extremely irksome.

I turned my mind from that to my chair and my tea and in sipping it, my mind turned to something Henry said.

And in doing so, my body moved out of the chair and I set the tea aside again.

Slowly, I moved through the house to the den and entered Gran’s room.

I had not remade the bed. This was because I had a mind to returning that room to its rightful state as a den and, being in it, that was what I decided to do as soon as humanly possible.

I didn’t want a reminder that Gran got to the point she couldn’t enjoy all of Lavender House to its fullest, something she did even being there for decades all on her own.

But more, I didn’t need a reminder that was where she ended her days.

I then moved to the wardrobe she’d had put in there.

I opened the doors and saw her clothes.

I took one look, closed the doors and exited the room. My throat had closed. My eyes got blurry. My mind had blanked. And in this state, I made my way back to my chair in the family room.

And my phone.

Without even thinking, I picked it up, found the number and dialed.

I got five rings before I heard, “Spear. Leave a message.”

“Jake?” I said after the beep. “Josephine. I…would you, well…when you have a moment, could you call?”

I didn’t say good-bye before I disconnected.

Then I stared at the phone wondering why I connected in the first place.

Not having the answer to that, or perhaps not wanting an answer to it, I moved to the kitchen to refresh my tea.

By the time I was moving back to my chair, trying to think of what else to do that day, anything to keep my mind off a variety of things that I didn’t want to think about, coming up with nothing but sitting in that chair and staring at the bleak landscape thinking about those variety of things, my mobile rang.

I snatched it up immediately and hit the screen to connect.

I did this thoughtlessly and inexplicably.

But I did it because the screen declared Jake was calling.

“Jake?”

“Josie, you okay?”

“I…” God! What was I doing? “I…Gran’s clothes,” I stated stupidly and said no more.

“What, honey?”

“I went into the den,” I explained. “Gran’s clothes. I…there’s no reason to keep them. Someone can use them. And I-I-I need the den to be a den again. I can’t think of her…I don’t want to remember what happened…” I swallowed and concluded, “I wish it to be a den again.”

Not even a second passed before he replied, “Don’t think about the clothes. Don’t even look at the clothes. I’ll deal with the clothes. And I’ll talk to some guys. Get them over there. We’ll deal with the den.”

At his words, warmth swept through me so immense I had to sit down in the chair.

“Thank you,” I whispered into the phone.

“Not a problem, baby.”

I closed my eyes as more warmth swept through me at his deep, sweet, soft voice.

“I…uh, I won’t keep you,” I said.

“You’re good. Anytime you need to call, do it.”

And more warmth.

“All right.”

“You okay now?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I gotta work but you need me to swing around tonight? Have a beer? Talk?”

It was then I knew.

I knew.

This was what Gran wanted for me and this was what Gran gave to me in giving me to Jake Spear.

I just couldn’t understand why she kept it from me before.

“I’m fine, Jake. That’s very kind but really, I’m okay. I just had”—I hesitated then admitted—“A moment”

“You have any more of those I’m a phone call away.”

Yes.

This was what Gran wanted for me.

“Thank you, Jake,” I whispered.

“Any time, honey,” he whispered back. “You okay for me to let you go?”

“Yes.”

“Right. See you tomorrow.”

“See you then.”

“Later, Slick.”

That nickname sent a jolt through me, taking me out of the moment. I opened my mouth to say something about it but got out not a sound.

He’d disconnected.

Thirty seconds after Jake rang the bell to Lavender House, Josie opened the door.

And when she did, Jake froze.

“Hello, Jake,” she said. “I’ll just get my coat.”

Jake didn’t move.

This was because the vision of her was burning itself on his brain and he was enjoying the feeling.

Then she turned and he got her back.

And Jake didn’t move again.

This was because the vision of her back was making his cock get hard and he was fighting the feeling.

She was in a dress that was an unusual shade of yellowish-green satin, like the color of an apple. Thin straps, a diagonal neckline that had a flap of material falling down her front. The top fit her snug, accentuating every line and curve. The skirt caught at her hips, somehow turning into panels that ended in a spiked hemline, the spikes brushing her knees.

But the back…

Fuck.

There was no back.

It bared her from shoulders to the top of her ass.

Jesus.

Her hair was up again, this time in curls arranged in a bun at the side of her neck. All Josie, it was elegant. But, unlike Josie, it also was almost playful.

And fucking hot.

Even as much as he liked her hair, he’d prefer to see it as it was in that picture he had of her.

Down.

But not blowing in the breeze.

Spread on his pillow.

And he liked that dress a fuckuva lot but he’d like it more on the floor by his bed.

From top to toe, she was the shit. Maybe especially her toes seeing as their nails were painted fuck-me red and they were exposed in shoes that were a mess of very thin, dark silver straps. So many straps, the fuckers had to be zipped up the back.

And the heel was tall and lethal.

He had no fucking clue how she could walk on those things.

But she did, gracefully this time, no tripping. He watched her do it and he watched her grab her coat from a chair in the hall. This finally spurred him to move.

Which he did, right to her, taking the coat from her.

“Got this, Slick,” he muttered, shaking it out and rounding her to hold it up for her to put on.

Her face appeared startled when she looked over her bared shoulder at him but he looked away from her face, and her bare shoulder, then he couldn’t find anywhere to look because all of it was too good.

Finally, she stuck her arm through the hole, he got her other one in and he settled the shiny silver coat on her shoulders, covering her.

Thank fuck.

He had no idea how he was going to have dinner with her wearing that dress without dragging her to his truck then taking her back to Lavender House and probably fucking her on the floor of the foyer.

Then again, when she’d walked on her classy high-heeled boots, wearing her classy shades, that scarf blowing in the wind yesterday, he’d thought the same thing and he’d managed it.

He’d do it again.

Somehow.

She grabbed her purse and turned to him.

“Ready,” she said softly, her sweet voice as it always was, from the very beginning, cultured but melodic.

“Right,” he muttered and grabbed her hand, moving them to the door. “House locked down?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Great.” He was still muttering as he moved her out the door.

He stopped her, released her hand, dug in his pocket for the keys and used his own to lock the door behind them.

Then he grabbed her hand again and walked her to the truck.

“You look nice,” she noted.

“Thanks,” he replied, distracted, thinking about her ass in his truck. More to the point, thinking about reclining his seat and dragging her ass over to his side and what he’d do with it when he got her there.

On this thought, a thought that wasn’t helping him keep his cock from getting hard, he opened her door for her as she asked, “Where are we going?”

“The Eaves,” he answered, pulling gently at her to maneuver her in his truck.

But she’d stopped dead so he looked at her.

“That’s very expensive, Jake,” she whispered.

“Babe, you’re you,” he replied. “And you’re you in that dress. Where the fuck else would I take you?”

He saw her draw in a soft breath, and that was sexy as fuck too, making him wonder how he could make her do that with his hands, or his mouth, before she luckily took him from this train of thought and pointed out, “You took me to The Shack yesterday morning.”

“And gave you the best omelet in the county.”

“This is probably correct,” she murmured as if to herself, her doing this reminding him she could be cute, which finally made him grin.

“It’s definitely correct. Now get your ass in the truck.”

She looked into the truck and hesitated a second before she put her fucking fantastic shoe on the running board and he put his hands to her waist to heft her up.

He got her ass in the seat and she looked at him. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure I could get up on my own.”

“Well, you’re there, Slick,” he noted.

She opened her mouth to say something but he stepped out of the door, ordering, “Buckle up,” before he slammed it.

He moved around the hood, hauled his ass in at the other side, buckled in and started her up.

He sent them down the lane and did it deciding to get the tough stuff done first.

“I’ll be over tomorrow, first just me to box up Lydie’s stuff, and then some guys are comin’ over. I’ll be around about ten. They’ll be around at eleven. You gotta know what you want done with the den by then, babe. I’ve got a place to store Lydie’s furniture. You want it sold, I’ll get Con on putting it on Craig’s List. You got a use for it and decide you want it back, just let me know.”

“All right, Jake,” she whispered.

“That’s done,” he replied. “But just sayin’, the boys are over hauling furniture around, you’re gonna have to feed them. You don’t have to go whole hog. Pizza is good.”