Hello friends thank you so very much for coming back for another chapter! Sorry for the delay but it was unavoidable.

Special Thanks to Irritable_Grizzzly for her super amazing happy fun time beta services and her red pen of love.

Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, we own TPR.


I didn't know what had me more upset: that I was clearly failing at my assignment or the way Edward spoke to me. Who did he think he was? I mean, really! "You're not as covert as you think you are. If you wanted some attention you could have just asked." ARRRRRGGGGHHH! I gripped the steering wheel in frustration. He was so cocky! And he winked at me! WINKED! I felt the embarrassment wash over me again as I used all of my weight to push down the gas pedal, making my behemoth of a truck go as fast as it could down the freeway toward home.

His crooked smile was painted on the backs of my eyelids, mocking me every time I blinked. How I wished I could have thrown a witty retort at him. Instead all I could do was scurry off in hopes of preventing more of my usual ramblings. I would never be like those smart, clever women in the movies. Someone like "Kathy" in Singing in the Rain when confronted with the arrogant Don Lockwood. If only I could have told him he was just a bunch of "dumb show." Because that's all he was, with his designer clothes and flashy car. I guess he really was what he appeared to be.

As far as my failure to remain incognito during my assignment, well, I didn't quite know what I would do about that. I had tried so hard, always hanging back in the shadows, parking just far enough away that I could still watch him, always wearing my black clothes. I'd even donned my red beret at the farmer's market one day, watching from behind a newspaper just as I had envisioned. How could he have recognized me? I just didn't understand. I was trying so hard to excel, to show how valuable of an asset I was to Masen Publications, and I was totally messing up the whole thing. How was it that my efforts to achieve perfection always ended up collapsing in on themselves? I just wanted to succeed, to make something of myself.

I would have to continue my efforts if I was going to prove my worth to Mr. Masen. What else could I do? I had a plan for my future and I wouldn't be deterred. I couldn't invest in high-tech spy equipment, and asking Mr. Masen to provide me with the funds for such would indicate I couldn't get it done by my wits alone, and he'd know I was a failure.

If I parked too far away during my stakeouts, I'd never catch up when Edward drove off in his fancy SUV. I sighed to myself in defeat. I had to keep watching him. Even though Edward knew (I mean, he'd obviously known, but now I knew he knew) I couldn't completely give up my assignment. Mr. Masen would still expect my reports every day. Hopefully he'd never find out how badly I messed up.

At least I no longer needed to be "covert," as jerk-face Edward called it, and I could just park right in front of his house now, with no need for a ten-second lead time, and no need to hide in the back of the gym. I was pretty confident he wouldn't call the cops on me; he didn't seem to believe I was a stalker what with all his crude attempts at flirtation. Regardless, I could simply explain, if any law enforcement officer were to inquire about my activities, that I was on a work assignment, which was clearly NOT stalking. At all. Completely different, I'd say.

...

I twisted the little handle of my egg timer, setting it for eleven minutes. I was baking peanut butter cookies for Charlie. They were his favorite and I liked to surprise him from time to time with a dozen or two. The Saturday afternoon sunlight filtered through the window and in the strongest beam I could see the little bits of dust and such floating as if they were in slow motion. It reminded me of pixie dust. Suddenly Lady Gaga's digitized voice singing "my, my, my telephone" reverberated off of the kitchen walls. I didn't recognize the number, but I answered it anyway. It was probably a wrong number.

"Hello?"I asked cautiously.

"Hi, is this Bella? It's Jake from the W last night?" I almost laughed when I heard his voice, so timid and questioning, as if I wouldn't remember him. Like I had guys calling me all the time. Ha. The only man who calls me is my father.

"Yeah, hi Jake! Sorry I had to leave so abruptly last night. I'm glad you called."

"What was with that guy, anyway? He looked like he was gonna hurt somebody," he said, and I couldn't tell if he was concerned or angry. Maybe both.

"Oh, Edward; he's a long story. So, did you have fun last night?" Oh. My. Gosh. I sounded like I was asking if he went home with someone. "Um, I mean at the club. I didn't mean to imply anything. I'm sure you're a respectable guy." Crap. I chastised myself to just be quiet and stop embarrassing myself in front of the first guy who'd asked for my number since college.

I heard a deep chuckle and I felt my stomach turn. He was totally going to find a polite reason to end the call after that outburst. Or maybe even not-so-polite. It wouldn't be the first time.

"You and that great sense of humor again. So look, I was wondering if you might wanna go out some time. Nothing too formal, just hanging out. Maybe we can see a movie or just chill?"

It almost sounded like he was asking me out! "That sounds great Jake!" I hoped I didn't sound too desperate, but I hadn't been on a date since Peter and I broke up right after graduation. He was going to Dartmouth to get his PhD in paleontology and I was moving down to LA to be closer to Charlie. We decided it was for the best.

"Okay, so how's tomorrow night? If you give me your address I can pick you up at six and we can choose a movie together." I could hear the smile in his voice and it made me smile too.

"Perfect." I gave him directions and felt a little giddy. I, Isabella Swan, had a date. I squealed to myself and went back to my cookies.

...

A few minutes after six, I was checking my lip gloss when there was a solid knock at the door. I told myself to be calm and cool, and not rush to the door like someone had locked me away from social interaction for three years. I opened the door and there was that huge white grin again. Jake emanated warmth and happiness. I figured the night ahead had great potential. I invited him in and we used the laptop to check what movies were playing locally. He wanted to see some sci-fi movie based on a cartoon and I wanted to see a supernatural thriller. We compromised on a light romantic comedy.

After the movie we decided we were too stuffed from all of the movie nachos and candy to go to dinner. Neither one of us were interested in a noisy bar, so we settled on a little local coffee house where we could hang out for a while and be able to carry on a conversation.

Talking with Jake was easy, comfortable. Everything about him was comfortable. He was open and friendly with a rugged side. We talked about our siblings, or lack thereof for me. Then we flitted over our family history and talked at length about our college experiences. We laughed a lot and didn't have a lull in conversation once. On the way back to his car we held hands and it was nice.

We arrived at my house, and like a perfect gentleman, he walked me to my door. As we stood on the porch under the glare of the spiral energy-saver bulb, we bid each other goodnight.

"Bella, I had a really good time tonight. Would it be OK if I called you again?"

"Absolutely Jake, I had a great time."

With his signature gleaming smile he tilted his head down to whisper to me, "Is it too soon to ask for a goodnight kiss?"

I tilted my head up shyly to show my assent. This was it; the moment where I would feel the spark of love and the greatest romance ever known would begin. All of the fairy-tales would come to life!

He leaned closer and closer, and I could feel his heart speed up and his breath quicken. Then our lips touched and instead of hearing angels sing and feeling a tingle in my toes all I could think was, Ew, ew, ew. Damn.

...

I sat in my truck in front of Edward's spoiled rich-boy beach house grumbling to myself. Not one house up, but right in front. He knew I was here, so what was the point of parking at the house next door? No signs of life had come from the bungalow. It was far too early for Edward to make an appearance, so I sat and reflected on my date. Why was that kiss so bad? Everything about Jake was great. He was good-looking, fun, nice and easy to talk to; what else could I ask for? But kissing him was a disaster. It was like kissing my brother. I had to use all of my self-restraint not to wipe my mouth off afterward. Instead I smiled and said I looked forward to seeing him again, which was true. I could totally see myself spending more time with him but after that kiss, there was no way it could be of a romantic nature. If he tried to kiss me again, I'd wind up hurting his feelings.

As I worked to drown my sorrows in chocolate-covered granola bars "Good Love is On the Way" came through the tinny old speakers in the truck. I closed my eyes and listened to the wise words of Douche-bag aka John Mayer. How was it that a man could write such beautiful love songs and treat women like that? From what I read on the gossip sites, he was the worst boyfriend of all time, constantly spilling the beans about past relationships.

Speaking of gossip sites, might as well pass the time…

When I ran out of my chocolate-disguised-as-breakfast-food and celebrity rumors to gasp and sigh over, I checked the time. It was noon and I still hadn't seen hide nor hair of Edward. I was perplexed, but maybe he had continued his partying beyond Friday night and was nursing a hangover or something. As if he knew what I was thinking, he walked right out of his front door, put his hand over his eyes to shield them from the bright midday sun, and looked right at me sitting in front of his driveway. I just shrugged and went back to my iPhone.

While I pretended not to see him, he sauntered up to my open window, leaning on it with one arm and extending a bottle of water to me with his other. I glared at him from the corner of my eye and then tried to ignore him again.

"I wasn't sure what you brought with you when you sat out here, so I, uh, thought you might want some water." He motioned a little with the bottle while he talked, seeming awkward, almost uncomfortable. So unlike the cocky asshole I'd encountered Friday.

I responded with an icy stare and then recoiled as if the bottle contained poison. I focused all my anger and distain for him into that bottle. If I could have lit it on fire with my eyes, I would have. I'm serious; I would have watched that plastic melt down right over his fingers and give him third degree burns, and not even spit on his hand for relief.

But he was right; all of those granola bars had made me really thirsty and I'd finished off the water from my stainless steel travel bottle an hour ago, so my glare probably changed to a look of longing. With a resigned sigh I took the water from him gingerly with two fingers and then gave it a quick inspection for good measure.

He sighed and said, "The bottle is still sealed. I'm not trying to poison you or anything, see?" He reached over and made a twisting motion to emphasize his point.

"So, it's pretty hot out here today." He looked around squinting at the hot summer sun again. "I was thinking, maybe you might want to come and sit on the deck with me. The ocean breeze is really nice out there and it's gotta be a lot cooler than the inside of this prehistoric beast of a truck."

I crossed my arms and glared at him again. Who did he think he was? I certainly wasn't interested in sitting in his home and being made fun of some more! Although it was very thoughtful of him to bring me water. And he hadn't winked at me once so far. I wasn't sure how to mesh the version of Edward from Friday night with this one.

"Look, I'm not gonna beg. You wanna sit in the hot sun in your old-ass truck, it's fine by me. Your call."

Oh, there it was; the cocky jerk was back. Words failed me again and I let out a frustrated half-squeal. What was with this guy? He talked to me like he was God's gift to womankind. I'm sorry, but that spot was taken long ago by Johnny Depp. If Edward thought it was open again just because Johnny was over forty now, he was sorely mistaken. People Magazine even had him as the Sexiest Man Alive last year. They clearly know their stuff.

He turned his back and headed toward the house, but there was hesitation in his step. Like he was waiting for something, or expecting something.

I spent a moment pondering. Being inside of his home could give me a distinct advantage as far as my notes for Mr. Masen were concerned. I was sure there would be some insight I could gain from watching him in his own environment, not to mention it was getting really hot in the cab of the truck. I had vowed to up the ante and show Mr. Masen I took this job seriously. Infiltrating the enemy, so to speak, would be a great strategy. "Wait, I'm coming." I stated firmly.

He turned back to me, initially with a smug look, but I watched it dissolve when I looked him directly in the eye. I wanted him to understand he had met his equal. "No bad innuendoes or crass remarks, got it?"

"I'm just trying to be a nice guy." He muttered softly, never breaking our gaze.

We'd see about that.

...

An hour later I was sipping iced tea from a pint glass while Edward drank a beer straight from the bottle. We reclined on plush cushioned lounge chairs that pointed toward the sea. His deck sat out over the dusty gray sand, spotted with rocks and driftwood as far as I could see. The private beaches were at least cleaner than the public sun bathing and surfing hot spots; no Doritos bags floating by, or broken glass where the surf met the sand. It was a beautiful day. So often summertime in Malibu meant "June Gloom" that didn't always burn off, but today the sun was strong and fierce. My hair even felt hot to the touch.

Our chatting had been awkward at first. I was uncomfortable and Edward was jittery, his knee bouncing up and down frantically. But eventually we eased into a flow of conversation that was neither overly-casual, nor cumbersome. I laughed when he made a joke about his friend Emmett, and he smirked when I talked about how much I loved working at Masen Publishing.

"You have red in your hair," Edward said, abruptly downing the last of his beer.

"Uh, yeah, only when the sun hits it," I said taken aback by the oddly-placed statement.

"So, I'm gonna head out for some lunch." He stood up, walked over to the railing of the deck, and leaned against it, the picture of calm and casual, with a touch of conceit. There was something off, though. He kept twisting the empty bottle in his hands, spinning it around and around. When he spoke again he didn't look at me, but instead stared at his hands while he methodically peeled the label off of the bottle in tiny little strip.

"I was thinking, I dunno, that maybe you would wanna come with me."

"Well, we both know I'm just going to follow you there anyway." The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. I squeezed my lips together, upset by my own bluntness.

"I meant, come with me, like, in my car." His eyes flitted to me and then back to his beer bottle.

I contemplated what he was asking. I mean, it would certainly save wear and tear on the truck. He hadn't made a single rude remark the entire time we were chatting and as long as we went somewhere I could afford, it would be a lot more enjoyable than sitting in my truck watching and waiting. Also, my notes for Mr. Masen would be stellar. I could report every little detail right down to whether or not Edward had any food in his teeth, ruining his sexy, crooked smile.

I reached for my glass on the short patio table next to my chair, hoping to busy my mouth by drinking and thus prevent my signature word vomit. Instead, I was so flustered that I knocked the glass clear off the table, sending it skidding across the rough wood below and bumping against Edward's shoe.

I jumped down, grabbed the glass, and scrambled back over to the table where the tea slowed to a languid drip over its edge. "Oh my gosh! I am so sorry! Crickey, this is so embarrassing. I'll just, um, I'm gonna go find a towel. I hope the tea won't ruin your deck." I looked around at the weather-beaten wood and realized how ridiculous I sounded and hung my head in shame, still on my hands and knees.

Edward crouched next to me with a faded beach towel. I looked up into his blazing green eyes and froze, hoping the next thing he said wasn't something to further my humiliation. What I saw was the antithesis of cocky jerk-face Edward from the club. His expression was gentle, self-conscious, and somewhat guarded.

As he wiped it up he said simply and sweetly, "I just thought it might save you some gas. Besides, the conversation was kinda nice."


A/N: We would like to share some recommendations with you as well as a little self pimp-age.

I, TwireaderAbi, have written a o/s about Jake and Nessie. Now before you go all mental on me about "why would someone write a story without Edward?", just give it a chance. It's a dark tale that has been likened to a twisted Little Red Riding Hood. I'd truly appreciate it if you gave it a chance!

www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6491691/1/Save_Me

ImwithPatz has some great recs for you to, I have quoted her opinions below:

Where the Sidewalk Ends

www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6069010/1/Where_the_Sidewalk_Ends

"Amazing story of Edward falsely accused of murder and serving time in Alcatraz. Very original plot which I love!"

Source of Serendipity

www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6105684/1/Source_of_Serendipity

"Isabella is a Medical student with a huge secret. Edward is just an angry man. Lots of UST and a great plot!"

Work of Art

www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/5882420/1/Work_of_Art

"Beautiful story of a temperamental artist and Isabella who is writing a book about him. Gorgeous scenarios and set in Malibu."