by Linda Seed
Chapter Three
“I can’t believe I called her an idiot.” Later that night, Jackson sat at the bar at Ted’s with Daniel Reed, a local glass artist who had been his friend since Jackson had moved to Cambria three years earlier. Ted’s, a somewhat rundown saloon that offered pool, darts, and occasional live music on the weekends, was well off of Main Street, so its clientele was mostly locals rather than the tourists who took over the town every summer. Jackson found tourists to be a necessary annoyance. They paid the bills, but that didn’t mean he had to hang out with them during his down time.
Now, Jackson took a deep drink from his beer bottle and ran a hand through his hair. “ ‘Idiot.’ That’s what I said. I’m the idiot. Obviously.”
Daniel nodded his head. “Can’t argue with that. At the very least, your skills with women could use some improvement.”
Jackson groaned. “Look. It’s not like I’m pining for her or anything.”
“Right. You’re not pining.”
“Of course not.”
“And since you’re not pining, I’m sure she’s got nothing to do with the fact that you haven’t dated anyone seriously in three years.”
He looked up at Daniel, surprised. “That’s not … I’ve dated. I’ve dated a lot.”
“Sure, but it’s been quantity, not quality.” Daniel looked at Jackson with amusement in his hazel eyes. “You haven’t been serious about anyone in three years. Hmm. That’s about when you met her, isn’t it?”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying.”
“And I’m just saying you should shut your pie hole.”
Daniel raised his beer bottle to Jackson in mock salute. “Those people skills, right there, are the ones that are going to win you that woman’s heart, mark my words.”
Jackson groaned again, and put his head on the bar. “I’m screwed, aren’t I?”
“Yep. And not in a good way.”
They sat in companionable silence for a while, Daniel drinking, Jackson wallowing in misery.
“What I don’t get,” Daniel said finally, “is why you haven’t made your move yet. You’re single. She’s single. You’ve had plenty of opportunity. Looks-wise, you’re not completely repellent to women, probably. You’re gainfully employed. What’s the holdup?”
Jackson lifted his head from the bar and took a drink from his Widmer Hefeweizen, which was almost gone. “She wasn’t single when I met her. She was married. And then she was going through a divorce, and I’m not stupid enough to get in the middle of that. And then …”
“And then you were so used to adoring her from afar that you didn’t know how to change the dynamic.”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
“And then there’s the other thing,” Daniel said.
“What other thing?”
“The thing where you’re an ill-tempered pain in the ass, and when women figure that out, they tend to run away like their hair’s on fire.”
“They don’t always run away.”
“The smart ones do. The ones whose daddies treated them right, taught them to expect better.”
Daniel’s assessment was so on-target it took Jackson’s breath away. It also made him feel more hopeless than ever.
“Well, if I’m such an asshole, maybe I’d be doing her a favor to just forget the whole thing.” Suddenly, he really needed another beer. He signaled for one from the bartender.
“Or, there’s another alternative,” Daniel offered.
“What’s that?”
“Just stop being an asshole.”
Jackson sighed deeply. “Yeah. Like that’s gonna happen.”
“There’s another wrinkle.” Daniel waited expectantly for Jackson to ask.
“Yeah? And what might that be?” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the music being played over the sound system and the loud, drunken chatter of the two guys at the pool table.
“I was over at the gallery yesterday and I heard Gen on the phone talking to Lacy over at Jitters. Seems Kate has decided she’s ready to dip a toe back into the dating pool. The girls—Lacy, Gen, and Rose—have been trying to set her up with some guy staying over at the B&B on Washington Street. She had coffee with him.” Daniel’s eyebrows went up and down.
Jackson glared at him. “From your face, I’d guess ‘having coffee’ is a euphemism. Please tell me it was real coffee and not … you know. Metaphorical coffee.”
Daniel barked out a laugh. “It was real coffee. The good news is, I don’t think it went all that well. The bad news is, this guy’s apparently some kind of Greek god or Speedo model or something.”
Jackson should have been comforted that it hadn’t gone well, but he was unaccountably irritable, as though he had a layer of sand under his skin that no amount of scratching would relieve.
“Well, why the hell are they trying to fix her up with him? If the guy’s at the B&B, he’s not local, so it’s not going to go anywhere.”
Daniel shrugged. “I think that’s part of the appeal.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well …” He gestured with his beer bottle. “It makes sense when you think about it. Maybe she’s ready for something, but she’s not ready for a relationship. So she goes out with the guy, has some fun, he moves on, and now she’s back in the game.”
“Well, shit.” He didn’t want to think about her being back in the game, unless he was one of the players.
“Yep.” Daniel picked up his beer bottle and clinked it against Jackson’s, which sat, ignored, on the bar. “Seems to me she’s not going to be the spinster book lady for much longer. Whatever you’re gonna do, I’d say you’d better go ahead and do it.”
Two days after the Jitters incident, one day after Jackson and Daniel deconstructed said incident at Ted’s, Zach—the gorgeous hunk of man with the helpless longing for his ex-wife—came into Kate’s bookstore. It was midafternoon, Althea had gone home for the day, and Kate had her head bent over a stack of invoices and an Excel spreadsheet when the bell on the front door started jingling merrily. At first, she didn’t look up.
“Welcome to Swept Away,” she said automatically, her eyes still on her calculations. “Romance is half off. Please let me know if there’s anything I can help you find.”
His voice was deep and sensuous when he answered. “Hi, Kate. I like your place.”
Kate looked up in surprise. “Oh! Zach! It’s nice to see you again. How’s your vacation so far?”
“Well, a little lonely, to be honest. I was wondering if you could help me with that.”
Was it her imagination, or was there something suggestive in his words? He meant books, surely. He wanted her to liven up his vacation by helping him to find some good reading.
“Um … What kind of genre were you looking for?”
“Genre?” He looked confused. Not a good sign.
“Action, suspense? Crime? Historical fiction? I’ve got some really great new releases.” She came out from behind the counter and started to lead him to the New Fiction section. “What do you usually like to read?”
“Well.” He rubbed a hand over the ridiculously sexy stubble on his chin. “I’m not much of a reader, actually. I’m more of an active guy. Hiking. Skiing. That sort of thing.”
“Oh.” Kate felt a kind of punch in the gut whenever someone told her they didn’t read. How was it possible that someone didn’t enjoy reading? That was like saying I don’t enjoy breathing. It just didn’t make sense.
“Actually, I …” He chuckled. “I’m trying to get up my courage, here. I came to see you.”
“Me?”
“I was wondering if I could take you to dinner. They say Neptune’s good. But I’m sure you’ve been there hundreds of times, since you live here and all.”
Kate stood there with a book in her hand, looking at Zach, trying to hide her surprise. After their disastrous meeting at Jitters, she’d assumed he’d go back to wherever he lived and she’d never see him again. He
was tall and muscular, with dark, thick hair and eyes like she’d seen on the does that grazed in her backyard. He was wearing a pair of faded Levi’s that fit like they’d been made for him, and a muscle-hugging black T-shirt that showed just how devoted he must have been to his gym routine. His obvious heartbreak over his divorce notwithstanding, she should have been excited at the prospect of an evening out with a man who was as physically magnificent as Zach. But all she could think was that she needed to apprise her friends of this latest development as quickly as possible. She thought it would probably be poor manners to whip out her cell phone and spread the news right in front of him.
“Well, this is unexpected,” she said, stalling for time. “And you’ve heard right; Neptune is excellent. The head chef is a friend of mine. Well … friend might be too strong a word.”
“So, what do you say?” he asked.
She hesitated. “I’d have thought …”
“Thought what?”
She might as well just say it. “I’d have thought that you wouldn’t be looking to date anyone, since you’re still in love with your ex.”
He nodded his head and avoided her gaze. Then he stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and looked at his shoes. “Yeah. I just … I just thought it would be nice. I liked talking to you at the coffee place. It was good having someone to listen. I thought maybe we could talk some more, over dinner.”
She didn’t know what to do, what to say. More than thirty years of female programming had conditioned her never to refuse a date with someone who looked like this. But instinct—informed by the memory of him getting misty-eyed over the photo of his ex—told her to flee like a bunny from a cheetah.
“Let me check my schedule over the next few days and give you a call. Would that be all right?”
“Sure.” He pulled a business card from his wallet—Zach Lockwood, Realtor—and handed it over. “It’s got my cell and my email. Let me know.” Then he smiled at her. The smile, all white teeth and sincerity, definitely worked in his favor.
The minute he was out the door, Kate rushed into the back room to get her cell phone out of her purse. On red alert overload, she didn’t know who to call first. She decided it should be Lacy, since she’d orchestrated their meeting at Jitters in the first place.
“Red alert! Red alert!” Kate announced into the phone as soon as Lacy picked up.
“Oh my God! Where?”
“Here! In the store!”
“Right now?”
“No! A few minutes ago! Well, since he’s gone now, I guess it’s not a red alert anymore. More pink.”
“Well, what’s the point of a red alert if he’s not there anymore? The whole red alert system …”
“He asked me out,” Kate interrupted.
Lacy’s end of the line was silent.
“Lacy?”
“What did you tell him?”
“I said I’d check my schedule and get back to him.”
“Hmm.”
“ ‘Hmm’ what? What’s the ‘hmm’?”
“We need a meeting.”
“I can’t have a meeting right now. Althea’s not here. I’m alone in the store.”
“Hmm.”
“Again with the ‘hmm.’ ”
Lacy ignored that. “I’ll call the girls and set up a plan. Call you back.”
Lacy called Gen, and Gen called Rose, and both of them called Kate, and when everyone had hashed out their work schedules and evening plans, they all agreed to meet at Kate’s house at seven p.m. Lacy would bring the Chinese food. Rose, of course, would bring the wine.
Kate reflected briefly on the sorry state of her love life that it required committee meetings. Did Gwyneth Paltrow need a committee to decide whether she should “consciously uncouple” with Chris Martin? Probably not. But then, she was Gwyneth. Kate was just Kate. And any excuse was a good one to get together with her friends.
