Trouble's Brewing (Stirring Up Trouble Trilogy 2)

“Really.”

Jake opened the door as Mom and I pulled to the curb in front of his house. Indiana came bounding out and ran straight for me. Since I hadn’t opened the car door, he jumped up, placed his paws on the door, and stuck his face against the window.

Mom flinched so dramatically that it was almost audible. She hated scratches or even paw prints on her car.

“Don’t open it,” she said. “You’ll make it worse.”

Suddenly, Indiana flew back a few feet, and I saw that Jake had him by the collar.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, and pushed the door open.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Miller,” Jake called out.

“It’s—”

I slammed the door before we could hear the response. I wasn’t sure my mother could say it convincingly.

“Hi, Indy,” I said, shifting my books to one arm, and bending to scratch him behind the ears.

“Aren’t you going to say hi to me?” Jake asked.

“Not until we get inside,” I said. I turned and waved to my mother and she pulled away.

Jake leaned in as if to kiss me, and I stopped him. “She can still see us. She’s already halfway to freaking out over us being alone.”

“We’ve been alone before.”

“Yeah, but she’s ignoring that.”

“We aren’t alone as much as I’d like us to be.”

“Don’t get greedy,” I said, shoving at his arm. “Let’s go inside.”

I opened the door, waited for Indiana to rush ahead of us, and stepped inside.

Jake moved inside, shut the door, and took my books. He set them on the foyer table, and then he pulled me close and kissed me.

The boy could kiss.

We could spend the next five hours doing this, I realized as a giddy joy spread through me.

No one home to interrupt us. No one to catch us and give us condemning looks. No one to draw us out of the moment.

Indiana barked.

We ignored him. Jake held me even more tightly and my heart raced in response to the intimate dance of our tongues. His hair was damp from the shower, and he smelled fresh and clean with a hint of spice.

Jake groaned.

Indiana barked.

Then he barked louder.

Jake pulled away, turned toward the dog, and yelled, “Sit.”

Indiana was already sitting. At least, I thought he was. My head had gotten a bit fuzzy from the kisses.

Indiana whined, but I didn’t care because Jake’s lips were back on mine.

Oh, yeah. Five hours of alone time with Jake.

Bark. Bark. Bark. Bark bark bark. Bark bark bark.

At Indiana’s insistence, we stopped.

Bark bark bark.

“Seriously?!” Jake yelled at the dog.

“Is he going to do that every time?”

“No.” Jake stared down Indiana. “Because he’ll be going outside if he does.”

“I’m so glad you got that fence.”

Jake grinned. “Me too.”

They’d gotten it because Indiana had been hit by a car. Luckily, his injuries healed almost “magically.”

“We should get our homework done,” I said as reason slowly returned to my hazy mind. “Then we won’t have to rush.”

“True,” Jake said. He picked up my stack of books. “Where should we study?”

“Ummm,” I said looking around.

“The kitchen table or the coffee table in the den.”

“Sitting on hard chairs or cuddling on the sofa while studying. Hmmm,” I said. “Let me think.”

Jake slung his arm around my shoulders and steered me to the den. “Good choice.”

He placed my books on the table. “I’ll grab mine and be right back.”

I sat down and Indiana jumped up beside me. “Hi, baby,” I said, petting him. “That’s a good boy.”

Jake appeared, backpack over his shoulder, and he walked around the large, square coffee table to sit next to me. “That’s my spot, Indie,” he said. “Off.”

Indiana jumped down, walked around the couch, and jumped up to sit on the other side of me.

“She’s mine, Indy,” Jake said.

Indiana pawed at my leg. “There’s enough of me to go around.”

“Save the kisses for me.”

“We’ll see,” I said reaching for my biology book. “Let’s get this done.”

Jake didn’t need much help. He was a good student too. He just thought he wasn’t good at science.

We finished in forty-five minutes.

“Now for some cuddle time,” Jake said as he tucked his notebook paper into the book and set it on the table.

“Almost,” I said. “I have some math left, and I know you do too.”

“I do not.”

I leaned in and looked him straight in the eye. “You’re lying.”

He gave me a peck on the lips. “Fine. I am lying.”

“Do your homework, mister.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

There was no way I could concentrate on my math. Jake and I sat side by side, each of us with a book in our lap, a pencil, and some paper. He pressed his leg against mine and sent heat through my jeans.

Then he started taking a lot longer on each problem, studying it before he started working it out. And while he was “thinking,” he would take my hand in his and rub little circles against my palm with his thumb. I don’t know if he was doing any homework at this point, but I sure wasn’t. I was going to have to fix all these problems when I got home.

“You’re not fooling anybody,” I whispered.

“Just doing my homework,” he said without looking up from his book.

“Whatever,” I said. I was going through the motions now. Writing random x’s and y’s and not even trying to understand much less solve the problem.

“If you want to stop, we can finish this later.”

“No,” I said, keeping my eyes pasted on page 236. “Not until I finish.”

“I thought you might be distracted.”

“No,” I said, determined not to cave before he did.

I wanted to hum or whistle or something to show him how unaffected I was, but I knew I couldn’t pull it off.

“Zoe, you’re killing me here!” Jake tossed his book onto the coffee table and then sent my book flying after it.

“Jake,” I squeaked as he grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing my girlfriend,” he said.

“Oh,” I said. “I guess your girlfriend is good with that.”

“She’s good all right.”

And then there wasn’t any talking for a long, long time.

Dad drove me home when they got back from Asheville. I yelled, “Mom! I’m back.”

“In the kitchen,” she called. “Come and join us.”

Us? I couldn’t fathom who “us” would be. Mom never had people over. Maybe she’d made a new friend. Surely if it was a guy, I would have heard about it.

When I got to the kitchen, I fully expected to see some nice woman in her forties who would possibly become Mom’s new BFF, best friend forever.

My mother stood at the stove, stirring something in a saucepan. She had her hair up, not in the ratty pony tail she preferred for cooking, but in a flattering twist. She wasn’t exactly overdressed for a Sunday dinner at home, but she had changed out of the sweats and T-shirt from this morning.

“Hey, hon,” she said as she stirred. “Finn and I were just preparing a mushroom alfredo—”

Finn?

Standing at the kitchen island, the nineteen-year-old, drop-dead gorgeous Finn held a garlic press over a glass bowl. “Hello, Zoe.”