“No, he didn’t,” I brush her off. “And he hasn’t now.”
I don’t mention the fact that Jake inadvertently knocked me back in London when I invited him in my flat for coffee that time.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart. But I know what I see, and I see that boy wants you. Men like Jake can be very hard to say no to. I married your father, remember,” she smiles, winking at me. “You love Will, yes?”
“Very much.”
“So promise me you’ll be careful with Jake. You have a gentle heart my darling, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Okay mama, I promise,” I sigh picking my drink up and taking a sip.
Jake returns back to our table a few minutes later, but I feel on edge around him now after what my mum just said.
I don’t think she is right about Jake wanting me, but all she has done is remind me of my own growing feelings for him. Or as I should say reignited ones.
We don’t stay too late at the club, and leave at midnight, my mum and dad being tired after their plane journey and long day.
Dave takes us back to the hotel, and Jake decides to come too, leaving the rest of them at the club.
I kiss my mum and dad goodnight at their door, agreeing to meet at nine am for breakfast.
Jake walks me to my suite.
“Do you wanna come in and have a drink?” I ask him, getting my key card out of my bag.
“Sure,” he says. “Actually come to mine, we can sit out on the balcony. Stuart will be in bed by now.”
Jake’s suite is the only one with a terraced balcony.
Agreeing, I follow Jake to his suite.
He pauses outside his door. Turning to face me, he tucks a few strays strands of hair behind my ear.
“I had a great day today, but an even better night with you. This whole tour has been amazing so far … having you here, Tru. It’s … just like old times.”
My heart starts to beat rapidly in my chest, and my face heats under his unwavering gaze.
Forcing a clumsy smile onto my lips, I say, “It has. I’m really enjoying it.”
He stares at me for a moment longer. Trembles erupt deep in my belly. And for a stupid moment, I actually wonder if he’s going to kiss me.
“Let’s get that drink.” He breaks our gaze, and pushes his key card into the slot, opening the door.
All the lights are still on inside, and we find Stuart watching TV in the living room.
“You’re still up,” Jake says to Stuart. His tone is surprisingly frosty.
Stuart’s eyes flicker between Jake and I, and I read clearly in them what he thinks I’m here for.
“I didn’t think you’d be back until later.” Stuart switches the TV off and gets to his feet. “I was heading to bed in a minute any way.”
“I just came back for a drink,” I pipe up. God that sounds even worse now I’ve said it. Like I’m covering something up, which blatantly wasn’t going to happen. “Stay, have a drink with us.”
Stuart’s eyes flicker to Jake then back to me. “No, I’m fine. I’m just gonna hit the sack.” He steps back.
“Come on…” I coax, smiling.
He looks at Jake again, then says, “Okay. Just one drink.”
I ignore Jake’s obvious sigh from beside me.
What’s his problem all of a sudden? He gets on really well with Stuart, so why doesn’t he want him here for a drink?
‘Because mama was right,’ says a little voice in my head.
No, of course she wasn’t. I brush the thought to the back of my mind.
Jake’s just being a snarky bastard for whatever reason.
Stuarts grabs a handful of the mini spirit out of the little fridge. I love these tiny bottles. Helping, I get some cans of mixers, and three glasses.
Jake is already out on the terrace having a smoke when we get out there.
Stuart and I put our little drink collection down on to the table.
I opt for a vodka and soda. Stuart has the same as me, and I pour out Jake a neat whiskey.
Jake takes the seat on my left. His knee bumps with mine under the table, but he doesn’t say anything.
He seems a little irked to be honest, and I can’t figure out what happened to make him change from the sweet Jake just outside the door of the suite, to grumpy Jake now.
He picks his whiskey up and takes a drink, then puts it down and taps his fingers on the metal table.
The atmosphere feels a little uncomfortable.
I’m racking my brain trying to think of something to talk about, but coming up dry, so I almost heave out a sigh of relief when Stuart asks me, “So where is that beautiful mother of yours originally from, Tru?”
“Puerto Rico,” I answer.
“So can you speak Spanish?” Stuart inquires.
“I can,” I nod.
“So you know Spanish swear words.” An impish grin crosses Stuart’s lovely face.
“I do,” I smile.
“Ooh, teach me some,” he leans close to me, eager.
“How old are you?” Jake snips.
“Old enough to kick your ass, you miserable bastard.” Stuart winks at me. “Go on Tru, say, ‘asshole’ in Spanish.”
“Gilipollas,” I grin.
“Gilipollas,” Stuart tries to imitate.