The Wager - Dyken Rachel Van - Страница 3

“Well, well.” Char leaned on the seat and whispered. “Looks like you’re going for every type of woman these days, eh, Jake?”

“Oh, he truly does,” the lady piped up. “Did you know that he had the balls to take a whore to his brother’s engagement party?”

Holy crap, please let the elderly lady be talking about someone else and not referring to herself.

“I, uh…” Char took a moment to compose herself. “Actually, I believe it.”

“And you know what else?” The woman released Jake’s hand and leaned forward over his seat. He rolled his eyes but otherwise kept silent.

“What?” Whoever this crazy lady was, Char liked her. A lot. Pity that Jake was going to break her heart. No judgment, but was he really the type of guy to go for women twice his age?

“His high school sweetheart is marrying his brother. He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him. But a grandma knows these things.” She patted Jake’s hand.

Ah… grandma. Wait? Was this the infamous Grandma Nadine Kacey was always talking about? Even though Char had grown up relatively near the Titus family, she’d never actually met the old woman before… until now.

“So…” Grandma leaned back. “I’m going to fix him.”

Jake groaned.

“You mean you’re going to neuter him?”

“Oh, honey.” Grandma choked on her laughter. “There would be nothing better for the boy than getting neutered. Did you know I even looked into a male chastity belt?”

Jake groaned again. “Dear Lord, save me from the female sex.”

“Sex,” Char snorted. “Kind of what got you in this predicament in the first place, wouldn’t you say?”

The flight attendant chose that exact moment to walk up. “Where’s the young man who wet his pants?” There was a nice pair of Depends in her hand.

Both Grandma and Char pointed to Jake. 

Chapter Three

Karma. Oh, how he loathed it. That’s what was happening to him. After all, a guy can only whore himself around the world so many times before God starts smiting or killing, or in Jake’s case, plaguing him with emotional women.

“I did not—” Jake cleared his throat and whispered, “Have an accident. This woman here”—he pointed to Char—“accosted me.”

The flight attendant looked between the two of them. “With what, sir?”

“Water,” Grandma answered for him. “She threw water on him.”

“Um…” The flight attendant shifted nervously on her feet. “Sir, did you, um… that is to say… did you want to report her?”

“To whom?” Char laughed. “The air marshal? What’s he going to do? Taser me for throwing water on this one’s favorite anatomical part?” She thrust her finger in Jake’s face and laughed. “Seriously! It’s not like I said ‘bomb’.”

“Oh, hell.” Jake pinched the bridge of his nose as the word “bomb” was repeated and then murmured back through several seats behind him, until like a literal bomb the plane was in an uproar.

“Ma’am!” The flight attendant raised her hands in front of Char’s face. “Calm down. I need you to calm down. Do you have a bomb?”

“What?” Char’s face fell. “Why the heck would I have a bomb?”

Good. At least she had enough sense to stop talking when—

“If I had a bomb, it’s not like I would be stupid enough to announce it anyway!”

Just kidding. No sense, no logic. How could he forget? It was Char they were talking about. She adopted blind dogs and cried during the stupid Sarah McLaughlin animal rescue commercials. Clearly, common sense wasn’t one of her strong suits.

“Ma’am! I need you to stop raising your voice.” The flight attendant motioned to someone behind her. Within seconds a man in jeans and a white t-shirt appeared. Well, it wouldn’t be fair to call him just a man since he probably ate small children for breakfast. Even Jake shifted uncomfortably and avoided eye contact with him.

“Are you the one talking about bombing the plane?” The man asked.

“What?” Char looked to Jake for help. And honestly, helping her probably would have been the right thing to do, all things considered.

But, she had thrown water on his pants and then accused him of having an accident.

And there was also that one time in high school when she’d told everyone that the reason he didn’t play sports was because he was afraid everyone would see his girl parts in the locker room.

So, yeah. Perhaps he wasn’t feeling very Samaritan-like.

“Jake!” Char smacked him on the shoulder. “Help me out here!”

With an evil grin, he opened his mouth to talk, but his grandma slammed her hand across it before any words could come out.

“Both of them. They both have bombs.” Then Grandma Nadine promptly burst into tears.

Real honest-to-God tears.

The next thing Jake knew, he was getting zip-tied and then force-fed peanuts by a man who had hands larger than Jake’s face, because the minute he was escorted to his seat he nearly passed out. Swell, a nervous breakdown. Just another thing to add to what had to have been the worst few months of his life.

Next thing he knew, Char was spouting out nonsense about how Jake needed protein. For some reason—perhaps it was the fact that the room was spinning—he couldn’t respond fast enough to say that he hated peanuts.

He was still trying to decide what was most horrifying: the fact that a man was actually trying to force-feed him something that rhymed with “penis”, or that the man’s fingers were softer than anything he’d ever felt against his lips. Which really begged the question, why were his fingers even touching Jake’s lips? And why did it feel so…

Holy shit. He gripped the armrests and cringed. Was he switching playing fields?

“No more penis—I mean peanuts.” Damn.

Char peered around the man and gawked. “Did you just say no more pe—”

“No!” Jake forced a laugh and tried to move as far away as possible from the man sitting between them. “I said ‘peanuts’.”

“No you didn’t.” Char grinned.

“I did.”

“You didn’t.”

“Can we please take these things off?” Jake said as he jerked against the arm rests. The zip ties wouldn’t budge and were making permanent marks on his skin. “It’s not like we really have bombs! My grandma’s insane, like, literally insane! You have no idea what she’s capable of.”

“That apple didn’t fall far from the tree,” Char huffed.

“Do you mind?” Jake peered around the air marshal. “I’m trying to get us out of a difficult situation. The least you could do is help or apologize!”

“Apologize?” Char’s eyes widened. “Apologize?” Her nostrils flared she leaned as far as the zip ties would allow and glared at Jake. “I’m surprised you even know the meaning of the word.”

Jake snorted. “I know what it means, but I’m not the guilty party.”

“Holy crap, I want to slap you across the face so hard—”

“Slap me ‘across the face so hard’? Who the hell talks like that? Same old Char, all bark and no bite. Besides, your hands are literally tied. I can say whatever the hell I want and you have to sit there and listen. In fact…”

He paused and turned the full effect of his megawatt movie-star smile onto Char. His perfectly straight white teeth clenched together as he slowly licked his bottom lip and leaned in expectantly. An errant wave of dark hair fell over his eye. Damn, the man was so sexually attractive it was offensive.

“Don’t you do it, Jake Titus. Don’t you dare do it! I’ll, I’ll—”

Jake yawned. “I’m waiting.”

“I’ll—”

“So it happened like this.” Jake turned to the air marshal and cleared his throat, but for some reason it wouldn’t clear. His mouth suddenly felt like he was swallowing cotton. “Thar…” His tongue felt huge. “Thar, I—”

“Holy crap!” Char yelled and kicked in her seat. “Um, Jake, um, Mister Air Marshal guy—”

“Randall. The name is Randall.” The guy held out his hand, then realizing Char was still zip-tied, chuckled. Jake was completely blocked from his view. Weird; it was almost like he was having trouble breathing? Maybe it was the altitude? He tried swallowing again. Shit. It was getting harder to breathe. What the hell?