"So," I say, to make things less awkward than they've suddenly become. "What does your father's company do?"
"We make a product utilized by the Homeland Security division of the government. Essentially it's an x-ray technology that's used by airports around the world. There are several smaller applications, but that's our main focus."
I nod and he continues, "My father started his company 30 years ago and has a division here and in San Diego, but in recent years, the division here was struggling. I started working with him a couple years ago and I moved here to get the Cincinnati branch back on solid ground. It was really just a matter of restructuring and replacing some top people who were more interested in lining their own pockets than in the strength of the company."
I nod again as we turn the corner onto the block where the grocery store is. "Your father must trust you a lot to give you responsibility for such a big task so quickly," I say.
He stiffens slightly beside me. "I never gave him much reason to trust me. But, he actually passed away almost a year ago, six months before I moved here."
He's frowning again and I don't know what he did to need redemption in his father's eyes, but for some unknown reason, all I want to do is make him smile.
So I grab his hand and hold it between us again as I grin up at him, "I'm just glad you had something to fall back on after the crash and burn of your short-lived creepster career." I bat my eyelashes.
He bursts out laughing again, his brown eyes warming, and there's that damned pull. Good grief, my stupid hormones need to relax already.
Things seem to have gotten mighty friendly between Jake and I pretty quickly and a part of me feels just fine and dandy about this. After all, he's gorgeous and he seems like a nice guy, but another part of me is a little worried. I really don't know anything about Jake other than the few things he's told me, and his connection to Leo is sending all sorts of confusing messages to my heart, messages I decide not to investigate too much further, at least not now.
I see a beautiful girl with long red hair walking out of the store as we're walking in. She does a double take as she catches sight of Jake, but he doesn't seem to notice her at all, which makes me smile to myself.
I decide to pick up a few more things than just ice cream since I'm here and my cart is holding several items when we make it to the ice cream aisle.
"What flavor do you like," Jake asks, opening the freezer door.
"Butter pecan," I say, opening a freezer door a couple down from where he's standing.
He pulls out a carton of butter pecan at the same time I pull out the same flavor of another brand.
"Why that one?" he asks. "This one is twice the price. It's gotta be the best."
I shake my head, "It's not about price, Jake. This one is the World's Greatest Ice Cream. Look, it says so right on the carton." I'm completely serious.
He looks between the two. "Evie," he starts, as if he's explaining something to a five year old, "You do know that they can say whatever they want to on the package, right? It doesn't mean it's true."
"Well, see," I counter, "You're right. But you're also wrong. I think that 95 percent of knowing you're the greatest is all about confidence. You might suspect you're the greatest, you might hope you're the greatest, but if you don't have the balls to proclaim yourself the greatest in bold packaging, and let your critics test you if they dare, then you probably aren't the greatest. Who can resist the guy who really, truly believes in himself?"
He's staring at me in that intense way again, but I just drop the ice cream in my cart and walk away down the aisle towards the checkout lane, my point made.
When we're finished checking out, Jake pulls out his wallet and tries to pay for my groceries, but I shove his money away and give my own to the clerk, glaring at him until he shakes his head and puts his cash away. Maybe I don't run what sounds like a multi million dollar company, but I can pay for my own damn groceries.
We make our way back to my apartment, walking in companionable silence, holding two plastic grocery bags each.
"So, can I ask what you meant when you said you didn't give your father much reason to trust you?" I ask, going for casual but hoping he'll clue me in a little bit more about the comments he made earlier. If he's an untrustworthy person, I'd like to know that right up front.
He sighs. "I was a screw up of a kid. I was selfish and messed up and I did everything my father hoped I wouldn't do. If it was self-destructive, I was first in line. Not exactly any parent's dream."
I give him what I hope is an understanding look, and he glances back at me, sadness in his eyes. It doesn't seem like he expects a response, and so we continue on in silence.
When we get to the front door of my building, I nudge the door open with my foot and pass through.
"There's no lock on the outside door?" Jake asks, and when I look back at him, his face is tight and there is a muscle ticking in his jaw. He looks pissed.
"Ah, no. I've called the landlord several times, but clearly, it's not his first priority. It's ok. This is a pretty safe neighborhood. No one's gonna step up and call it World's Greatest, but it's decent." I joke, trying to lighten Jake's suddenly tense mood.
Jake follows me and we walk to my apartment door.
I stop just outside as he sets the bags on the floor and looks at me expectantly. "Um, so, thanks, Jake," I say, no intention of inviting him into my tiny apartment. "It was a way more enjoyable trip than I expected it to be." I smile and continue looking at him, not moving a muscle.