"Do you like seafood?" he asks? "I thought we'd go to a restaurant on the river."
"Yes, I love seafood. Sounds nice," I smile.
We drive in companionable silence for a few minutes before my wheels start turning. I decide I need to know exactly what Jake Madsen's intentions are when it comes to me.
I already feel like Jake holds all the power here and I already know he's way out of my league, and despite knowing that, I am sitting in his car letting him take me out to dinner. I'm not a girl who is willing to take a lot of chances in life. That is who I am, who I have to be. And this man already has me all off balance and I've only known him a week.
I realize that Jake Madsen is the type of man that women want to call their own. I'm not immune. But I'm not stupid, either.
"So, Jake," I say, biting my lip. "Do you date a lot?"
"No," then he pauses, thinking, and goes on, "There have been a lot of women, Evie, but no, I didn't date many of them." He glances at me, gauging my reaction to that snippet of information, and then turns back to the road. "I'm not proud of that, but it's the truth. Does that bother you?" He seems troubled.
I’m not completely sure why Jake shared this with me, but I have an idea and it’s not good. I remain as expressionless as possible when I say, "Jake, I can't be your fuck buddy."
He doesn't look at me when he says, "I don't want that with you, Evie."
My stomach plummets to my feet. Oh, shit! I'm an idiot!
"Oh. I just thought…I mean, I… Because…" I stutter. Oh God, Can I please die now?
"Evie," he says quietly, finally looking at me, "What I mean is, when I fuck you, you're going to be mine. Is that clear enough for you?"
Oh!
I stare straight ahead, not knowing what to say. His words, unbelievably arrogant as they are, are shooting electricity straight between my legs. I clench my thighs together.
"Evie, look at me. You feel this too, don't you?"
And Jake is right because I know exactly what he means. The sparks between us are practically tangible. I have never felt this kind of physical heat and longing for another person. Not ever.
I nod at Jake, "Yes," I whisper, feeling like I've just agreed to something, but I'm not sure exactly what.
He smiles over at me as he pulls into a parking spot in front of a restaurant called, "The Chart House."
He shuts off the car and turns to me. His beautiful face is serious as he says, "Can I ask how many men you've dated, Evie?" He seems to be holding his breath.
I'm caught off guard and I feel my cheeks flame. I look forward and say flippantly, "So many men, Jake, but I doubt you'd say I actually dated many of them."
His nostrils flare and anger fills his eyes for a brief moment before he schools his expression and looks at me silently for a minute. "You're fucking with me," he finally says softly.
"It's ok for you but not for me?" I ask.
"Yes, because you're a better person than I am," he says simply, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"Jake, - " I start. But I'm not sure what to say. He might think he knows what kind of girl I am. I'm sure my inexperience oozes off of me. But what he doesn't know is that I've never been enough for anyone. No one who I've needed has ever wanted to keep me.
"I just want an honest answer. I just want to know how many men have been in your life." His jaw is hard. And what the hell?
I sigh, "I've dated a couple guys. Mostly set-ups by my friend Nicole. No one seriously and no one more than three times. The last guy I went out on a date with was a year ago. We went out for dinner once, he asked if he could take me out again, I declined. Is that specific enough for you?" I feel embarrassed and irritated that he insisted on this information because spelling it out makes me realize how pathetic my social life is.
He takes my hand in his. "And in high school?" he asks.
"High school?" I shake my head slightly and laugh a hollow sounding laugh, "No, I didn't date in high school."
He gazes at me for a moment and then he leans over and turns my head towards him with one finger on my jaw and kisses me sweetly on the lips.
"Time for me to feed you. And talk about lighter stuff. I want to see you smile and hear you laugh. I want to know who Nicole is, I want to know what your favorite movie is, why you love to run so early in the morning and what music is on your iPod. Wait there."
He comes over to my side of the car, opens the door for me and lets me out. He takes my hand and we head into the restaurant.
**********
The restaurant is beautiful, with a lovely view of the river, the food delicious and we laugh and talk through dinner. I tell him about Nicole and Mike and Kaylee. I talk about what running means to me, about how I grew up feeling powerless and how running makes me feel strong and accomplished, a feeling I revel in. He nods like he understands this.
He seems to be interested in everything I’m saying and nods and smiles, encouraging me to continue. He makes me feel comfortable and interesting.
"You've done really well, Evie," Jake tells me.
I frown slightly. What is he talking about? "I'm a hotel maid, Jake," I say, as if he doesn't already know this.
"Don’t ever be ashamed of the honest work you do to pay the rent. It's damn rare that someone who comes from the background you do, doesn't go on to repeat the cycle... drugs, early pregnancy, domestic abuse. Be proud of yourself. You deserve all the respect in the world. I think you’re incredible," he says, looking at me with that beautiful warmth in his brown eyes.
No one has ever told me that they were proud of me. Not one single person. And so this hits me deep and I feel wetness in my eyes. I look down, embarrassed, and take a sip of my wine.
"Thank you," I whisper.