Kristen Ashley - The Will

“I have to admit, sweetheart, having a second to think on it, this isn’t a surprise to me,” Gagnon told her before he looked to Jake. “Don’t get comfortable. I know she’s good but she rarely goes back for seconds.”

Jake felt his muscles expand, his gut twist and his neck get tight as he heard Josie gasp.

He knew she was good?

“Henry!” she snapped and he looked back to her.

“You can’t think in twenty-three years, Josephine, that the men you’ve fucked haven’t talked. Half of them thought I’d already had you. Then again, if that was the case, they wondered why I didn’t keep you.”

She’d taken another step back, her face pale, and Jake saw that even in profile her eyes were wide.

“Why are you speaking to me this way?”

Suddenly, Gagnon leaned toward her and it was then Jake took a step forward. But he only leaned in and Jake stayed alert but stopped.

“Because, Josephine, I’m fucking sick to death of this bullshit, watching you make your selections and waiting for you to be done with that shit so I can get my turn.”

Another gasp came from Josie but Gagnon wasn’t done.

“And now you’re fucking a man who owns a fucking strip club?”

Her back shot straight and her hands dropped but she was stuck at something he said earlier, “Get your turn?”

“Josephine, for fuck’s sake, I’ve been in love with you since you walked in to interview with me two fucking decades ago.”

Josie went still. Jake went still. The air went still.

Fuck, decades. He’d had her decades.

Jake had her for just weeks, he’d had her only twice, and now this asshole was finally letting this shit hang out?

“You’ve been in love with me?” she whispered.

“Since the beginning,” he returned.

“I…I…how can that be?”

“How couldn’t it be?” he shot back. “You’re everywhere with me. You’re almost always at my side. I’ve taken more pictures of you than anyone else and the only photo I carry with me in a goddamned frame and set up in every fucking hotel room I enter is one of you and me.”

“I’m your assistant,” she reminded him.

“You know a lot of your colleagues. Any of their employers have a picture of them together in a silver frame that goes everywhere with them?”

She shook her head. “You…you had other women.”

“You had other men,” he clipped.

Her voice was rising when she fired back, “You’ve found lovers right in front of me.”

“And it’s clear you didn’t give a fuck, you don’t give a fuck and you’ll never give a fuck.”

“That makes no sense,” she told him.

But he didn’t hear her, he kept on target.

“And now I don’t give a fuck.”

After Gagnon got that out, he moved to pick up his bag and went to the door.

Hand on the handle, he turned to Jake.

“Advice. Be careful. Her thing is give them enough to make them need it but leave them wanting. She gets off on that. Lays devastation in her wake and she doesn’t feel it, just keeps sipping her tea and her Chambord and looking for the next fool to leave gagging for it.”

Before Jake could say a word or Josie could do it, Gagnon was out the door, slamming the heavy wood behind him.

Jake didn’t move. His eyes trained to Josie who had her head turned away from him to stare at the door, he stayed completely still. Tense and still.

He knew she’d been in love with her boss for years. Lydie told him. The same that Gagnon had been in love with her. Lydie told him that too. So Jake had no idea which way this would go.

Seeing as Gagnon was everything she wanted in a man and she’d wanted him for decades, if he was to guess, she’d pull open that door and go running after him, leaving Jake behind.

So that was why he stayed still. Tense and still. Waiting for her to gut him.

Therefore he was shocked as shit when she didn’t throw open the door. He watched as her head slowly turned to him and her dazed eyes in her pained face moved over his body before they caught his.

Her voice was also pained and dazed when she asked, “Why are you all the way over there?”

He wasn’t all the way over anywhere. He was four feet away.

But he got what she was saying, he fucking liked what she was saying, he felt his neck relax, his gut stopped twisting, and he dropped his arms to go to her.

She beat him to it. Turning and rushing him, she slammed into him full force, wrapping her arms around him and bursting into tears.

No.

Fuck no.

If he would have guessed, this was not the way he thought it would go.

But he wasn’t Henry Gagnon. No way he was going to waste the opportunity of what she was giving him.

So he bent and picked her up in his arms. When he had her there she shoved her face in his neck, wrapped her arms tight around his shoulders and he felt her body shudder repeatedly with her sobs.

He carried her to the family room, sat on the couch, putting her in his lap. He twisted them and took them down so they were stretched out and he had her trapped against the back, his body mostly on hers.

He knew she didn’t feel trapped. She wanted more. And he knew this because she burrowed into him and held on tight.

Jake stroked her hair as he whispered, “Shh, baby.”

Her body bucked and she hiccupped, pressing deeper.

“Shh, Josie. Get a handle on it. Man who talks that way to you is not worth this.”

She pulled her face out of his neck, trained her wet eyes on him and cried, “But he’s my friend!”

He shook his head. “He’s a shit for brains dick who didn’t have the balls to work for what he wanted but does have the balls to be pissed at you for not giving it to him. He’s not your friend. He’s an asshole.”

She didn’t agree or disagree. She was in her own head and probably not listening to a thing he said. He knew this when she went on and did it loudly.

“It’s ridiculous for him to say he loved me. He hit on women right in front of me.” She paused before she said, nearly in a shout. “Successfully! At least I was discreet!”

He did not want to discuss her being discreet. He actually didn’t want to be doing this at all.

But she was lying on her couch pressed to him and not running after that asshole.

And she needed him.

So he was going to do it.

Jake slid a hand to her jaw and dipped his face close. “You seriously didn’t know he was into you?” he asked gently.

“Absolutely not,” she snapped.

“Lydie did.”

She stopped crying abruptly as well as nearly shouting and blinked. “She did?”

“Didn’t want him for you.”

Her eyes got wide. “She didn’t?”

“No, baby. A man whose play for over twenty years was to try to make you jealous enough to make your own play?” He shook his head. “Fuck no. Lydie liked him as a person, as your boss, but she did not want him for you. She knew the guy who got in there with you had to give a shit enough to do the work because she knew you’re worth the effort.”

Her lips had parted, her eyes got big again and she stared.

Then, thank fuck, it dawned.

He saw it on her face and he knew it when she repeated quietly, “Give a shit enough to do the work.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, wrapping both arms around her and sliding under her so she was mostly on top. “’Cause you’re worth it,” he finished.

She stared down at him for a long time before he felt her body relax, saw her eyes warm and her face get soft.

Then she declared, “I need a Kleenex.”

He grinned up at her, giving her that move, allowing her to change the subject because he knew she needed it. Then he asked, “Where are they?”

She looked to the side, murmuring, “Coffee table.”

He looked that way, spotting the box. Then he knifed up, taking her with him, arranging her on his lap. He leaned forward and reached out an arm. He pulled more than one out, leaned back and handed them to her.

Delicately, like she was wiping her face and blowing her nose in front of the Queen of England, she took care of business. When she was done, she looked around self-consciously, obviously not sure what to do with her used tissues, this reminding him that pretty much all the time she was totally fucking cute.

He took them from her and she bit her lip as she watched him throw them on the coffee table.

She stopped biting her lip when he lifted both hands to frame her face and her eyes came to his.

“You good?” he asked.

“That was unpleasant,” she said by way of answer.

“It was, Slick. But you good?”

“I’ve no idea what my future will bring, primarily employment, and it will be quite devastating to lose Henry, which after that scene it seems I will. But regardless, he means something to me,” she stated.

After that bullshit in the foyer, Jake didn’t agree. Then again, maybe if given time, she’d see it for the bullshit it was and come around to his way of thinking.

“So you’re saying you’re not good,” he guessed.

“No, Jake, I’m not good,” she confirmed then took a deep breath before going on. “What I am is in dire need of coffee and I’ve found a toothbrush still in its packaging. I’m not looking forward to football but I am looking forward to seeing your home and spending the day with you and your children so I’ll think about Henry tomorrow.”

He smiled at her, sliding his hands from her head so he can wrap his arms around her. “Good plan.”

“Since I’m down here, I’ll make coffee,” she offered.

“I’ll accept that,” he replied and tightened his arms around her, bringing her closer, his eyes dropping to her mouth. “After you kiss me.”

He saw her lips part before he watched them coming his way. He felt her hands glide up his arms and around his neck as he dropped his head to give her better access.

She took it, her mouth opening under his and she gave him her tongue.

The second he got it, he sucked it deeper.

When he did, she pressed closer.

Feeling that, he took over.

To do that best, he dropped her back to the couch and covered her.

This meant coffee was further delayed seeing as he liked her mouth, he’d waited a while to have it and he was in the mood to take his fill.

Josie was in a similar mood.

So they made out on her couch in her house, the couch that used to be Lydie’s in the house that Lydie had given her granddaughter.

It was a long time after they were done, when they’d had coffee, he’d made her eggs and toast and he was waiting not very patiently in the kitchen for Josie to get ready to take on the day, when he thought that Lydie would like that.

All of it.

And she’d like it a fuckuva lot.

I stood in Jake’s kitchen, my hips to the counter, Jake standing very close in front of me, his eyes holding mine, his hand wrapped around the side of my neck, my hand wrapped around my mobile which he’d slapped into my palm five seconds earlier and said one word, “Mick.”

I did realize that I had to call Mickey, of course. I hadn’t forgotten.

However, Jake behaved very patiently and his usual kind and wonderful after that horrible debacle with Henry (about which I refused to think for my first reaction might have been tears but after he said the crass things he’d said and the way he spoke to me, so far my second, third, fourth and fifth reactions were wanting to throw something—my sixth was wanting to throw something at Henry).

Jake had then been more of his usual kind and wonderful, acting like we had all day to embrace (in other words snog, and very pleasantly) on the couch and after, making me a delicious breakfast of poached eggs on toast.

Jake’s patience clearly ran out after that and I knew this when I was swiping mascara on my eyelashes upstairs and I heard him bellow from downstairs, “How much longer, Slick?”

Yes.

Bellow.

Up the stairs!

It wasn’t like he was a stranger to my bedroom. He’d been in there even before we were lovers.

At his bellow, I took my mascara wand and tube with me and walked all the way to the landing, which was half a flight down.

There, I saw him at the bottom of the stairs.

“You ready?” he asked the instant he saw me.

“If you’d like to ask me a question, Jake, you are more than welcome to come to my room and ask it rather than shouting it up the stairs.”