The Best Man's Baby(48)

“Jake?” she called out as she reached his side.

He held out the helmet for her, his posture stiff, rigid. He didn’t make eye contact with her. She took the helmet in her hand, its smooth surface cool to the touch.

“Hi,” she said softly, almost sounding like she was asking him a question.

He put his helmet on and she did the same.

“You look surprised to see me here,” he said gruffly.

Claire opened her mouth, but couldn’t find the right words.

“I told you I’d never leave you.”

Claire drew a long, shaky breath as she stared into his eyes. He had left his family at the table, but he hadn’t left her. He looked down, breaking her gaze.

“I’m glad,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist as she climbed onto his bike, feeling the rigidity in his body, the tension in his strong frame.

He didn’t answer as he pulled out of the driveway. She half expected him to speed off, but he drove carefully, and she knew it was because of her. He had a way of making her feel warm and safe. She had no idea where they were going when he turned right instead of taking the main road back toward town. Instead, they drove down some small, winding side roads as the wind picked up and the spring air became increasingly heavy with the threat of rain. She felt that he needed the drive to cool off, to gain some mental distance from what had happened.

“You cold?” Jake called out over his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” she said, curious as the bike slowed and he pulled into a long, gravel-filled driveway that led to an old red-brick Victorian home that had been abandoned for as long as Claire could remember. She had always admired the house with its large windows and wraparound veranda. She had absolutely no idea what Jake was doing here, though. He helped her off the bike and they both removed their helmets.

“What’s this?”

“Come see,” he said, taking her hand in his. His hand was warm and secure, and caused ripples of pleasure to waft through her. She shivered as a gust of cool wind whipped around them. The clouds were gray with the dampness of the impending rain that had threatened all day. She walked beside him, the crunch of their shoes on the gravel the only sound on the vast property.

“I want to show you the view from the back,” Jake said, looking down at her as he led her around the side of the house. The yard was sprawling, and even though Claire had driven by a few times she had no idea what was behind the home. Her breath caught and they both stopped walking when the lot began to slope downward. There was a low, gradual hill, and then the river. The river view was unobstructed and spectacular. After today’s rainfall it was rushing, roaring, majestic.

“This is gorgeous,” she said, admiring the wild beauty.

“Come on, I’ll show you the inside,” he said, tugging her hand as they made their way back to the front. Her intuition was picking up on the fact that this whole scenario was much more than Jake showing her some house he liked. She felt a few raindrops on her head as they walked up the steps on the porch to the covered veranda.

He let go of her hand to fish for something in his pocket, and then he put a key into the lock on the door.

“You have keys to this house?” she asked, standing beside him, studying his profile.

“Yup.” He opened the door for her, waiting for her to walk in before him. She looked around the grand foyer. A large, dark-wood staircase was the first thing Claire noticed, along with the fact that it looked as though the old home had recently been cleaned. It smelled like lemons and wood. She turned to Jake, who was watching her closely.

“What is this place?”

He grinned, one of those rarely seen, vulnerable, almost boyish grins that made her heart swell and her mouth smile automatically.

“It’s ours,” he said with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

Claire felt the blood drain from her face. “What?”

“Do you like it?” he asked, and then not waiting for her answer walked into a living room. The arched doorway had wide trim and a large, ornate fireplace that immediately drew her in. He was kneeling in front of the fireplace and fiddling with the logs inside.

“Jake, I’m not following.” The sound of the match lighting was the only thing that could be heard. She waited as he took his time lighting the fire. What was he thinking?

He finally brushed off his hands and walked over to her. “I bought us this house. To live in.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little premature?” She stared at him. What was she supposed to say? Should she reveal that a part of her was overjoyed, completely ecstatic he had bought them this gorgeous home and that he wanted to be a real family? Or should she tell him he was delusional? Yeah, this past week they’d spent together had been a dream come true, but not once since she’d opened up about her eating disorder had he even attempted to tell her anything about his own past, and he evidently had quite a past.