by Claire Cain
And that was the other problem. There was a slim chance I’d make it all the way until next week without seeing him again. Very slim. But I hated the idea of seeing him casually on his patio or as we both walked to our cars—I’d inevitably say something awkward, or betray my curiosity about what happened, or generally be awkward as I tried not to be awkward or mention what happened.
So, Jake… that thing when you touched my lip and I nearly liquefied just standing there. ’Member that? Yeah, me too…
If we could move forward without acknowledging what happened, maybe have another normal conversation, that’d work fine. So, it needed to be next week, and it needed to be in my office, and not any time before then.
I’d miraculously managed to avoid Jake, but that wasn’t luck. I’d been busy. I ended up working through the weekend on a secondary grant proposal, hoping it would be a useful addition to the funding package I’d already applied for through Operation Achieve. This funding felt critical at this point, and even though I wasn’t expecting to hear anything until the end of May, I started getting worried. I’d gotten a little niggling sense of doubt at some point, probably for no good reason, and now I was scrambling to look for backup funding just in case. But then, I wasn’t great at just in case without worrying, so I was simultaneously working my butt off and trying not to think about anything at the same time.
This worked not at all.
The best news, though, was that after approximately twenty-seven Thanks but no thanks responses, someone had liked my book. Best—it was my top choice for an agent based on the authors she already represented. She’d apparently liked the book and had already given me feedback on the full manuscript only a week after she requested it. She indicated she was eager to read it after I reviewed her suggested changes to see how well our ideas worked together and that when she reviewed the changes I made, she’d contact me. I was bouncing off the walls at this news, and when I called Alex, she promised she’d take me out for a celebratory toast on Saturday. She had about eight million other things going on during that day for her work and couldn’t stay with me past six o’clock that night because she had to go to a formal event with Luke, but she insisted on meeting me in downtown Clarksville for a drink.
Even though I loved staying in and cozying up on weekends, I was incredibly excited to be going out to celebrate. I took some time on myself. Finally getting to the end of the official documentation for this other grant proposal and needing to give it a rest until Monday anyway, I stopped working around three that afternoon. I showered, curled my long brown hair into waves, and even did my makeup. I wore a fitted black cap sleeve dress that flared out around my waist and ended a few inches above the knee, and some peep-toe high heels. Seriously, this was not my average outing, but I knew Alex would be gussied up for the event with Luke, and I felt like being fancy.
I wasn’t someone who reveled in makeup and making an effort, but I couldn’t deny the power of the process. I wasn’t usually particularly attentive to my appearance, but I enjoyed the results when I did pay attention. As I walked into the Black Buck Brewery, I was completely overdressed, and I didn’t give a damn. Alex was already there, waiting for me at a high-top bistro table in the bar area, thankfully also wearing a too-fancy navy cocktail dress, with two glasses of beer in front of her.
“Here she comes, my fancy author friend!” She hopped down from the bar stool and hugged me.
“Thank you, thank you. So happy to be here,” I said with a congenial wave to my non-existent audience.
We sat down at the high table and I shimmied in my seat, too full of pent-up energy to sit still.
“Ok, so dimmi. All the details. Go,” she said, beaming at me. I took a moment to enjoy her delight—what a rare and lovely person who is so good at being happy for others. I said a silent prayer of thanks for this dear friend and then began telling her all of the details. I told her about the process of sending out the book, how many people I’d contacted with query letters and then all about the email I’d gotten days ago expressing interest after the agent had read the full copy of the novel she’d requested a week before.
“So, I already made the changes she suggested and sent it back today. I know it’s not locked in, but she sounded so positive and excited. Her suggestions were mostly brilliant, too. I’m just… I’m amazed. I don’t think I could have asked for it to go better than this. This is the agent I’ve had my eye on since I figured out how the process works, and I can’t believe she wants to take me on—or is even considering it. And you know I don’t care about money. It’d be amazing to make money at this so I don’t have to do anything else, but with the TESS project going well, and hopefully funding for the expansion, that buys me time to keep writing and working and just…” I trailed off, feeling overwhelmed by the hope and excitement I felt.
“I love this. I just love it!” Alex raised her glass. “To you, amazing Ellie. May you continue your streak of awesomeness, and may you know how very loved you are, with or without it.” She clinked her glass to mine and took a sip as I took a drink of my beer, swallowing down the lump of emotion that snuck up on me during her toast.
“Thank you, my friend. Thanks for cheering me on all this time.”
“You know, I’m going to have to get you another coffee mug in celebration. I’ve been looking but haven’t found the right one yet.”
“Oh, can’t wait.” I smiled at her, loving the feeling of being known so well. Alex understood me—my drive, the struggle I’d been on to even allow myself the time and space to write fiction, much less turn my world upside-down and do it half-way seriously, and now the elation that came with someone else thinking my writing wasn’t half bad. She also understood my devoted love of punny coffee mugs.
“Well, hello there, Jake,” Alex said, looking behind me, her eyes wide and smile full of delight. At that name, I felt a swirl of excitement and nerves course through me.
I swiveled in the chair to see him. Sure enough, there was Jake Harrison, looking like some kind of dreamy slow-motion fantasy out of context. He wore a black t-shirt with a logo I didn’t recognize and jeans that had been washed a few hundred times. He looked incredibly attractive, but not like he was trying. This man was meticulous, but not about his looks. My eyes swept over him, up over his clean-shaven face, and met his eyes. I noticed he had that little glint in them, the one that told me he was smiling at me but wouldn’t let me see.
Stingy.
“Alex. Elizabeth. Good to see you.” His voice was smooth and familiar—I’d missed hearing it. I hadn’t seen Jake since he told me to go home that afternoon in the rain. I’d managed to avoid him for nearly two weeks. Well, no, two weeks exactly. We’d emailed the week before and were supposed to meet to review the TESS information, but he’d had to cancel our meeting that was scheduled for the previous Wednesday due to a pop-up mandatory sexual harassment training for the whole division. I’d missed seeing him but was also thankful for the space. I still felt unsure about what to expect from him.
“What are you up to, Jake? I thought you were a homebody hermit-type?” Alex asked.
Jake stepped around my chair and stood next to me, then set his beer on the table next to mine. “Yes ma’am, I am that. But I got talked into coming out for a drink with some guys, so here I am,” he answered her, then looked at me.
And then he kept looking at me. I looked right back at him and then took a drink of my beer because I could feel myself working up to some kind of awkward declaration. What I’d declare, I didn’t know, but I could feel it welling up and needed something to wash it back down.
“This amazing woman is celebrating. You should toast her,” Alex said, and I gave her a wide-eyed look that said, What are you doing?
“What are you celebrating, Elizabeth?” He shifted so his body was facing me, his full attention on me, and I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. He leaned closer—was he too close now? Was that a normal talking distance people used?
“Um, w
ell, I got some good news,” I said quietly, suddenly self-conscious and feeling mildly ridiculous. It wasn’t like I’d been offered a contract with the agent. Statistically, it was unlikely to work out.
“She’s going to be published, and it’s a big deal,” Alex said, her voice demanding.
“Really? Is it the book you’ve been editing the last little while?” Jake asked.
“I don’t have a publisher yet, but I do maybe have an agent. An agent who’s interested, I should say. And yes. Yeah, that’s the one,” I said. If nothing else, I’d heard from an interested party. Even if nothing came of it, I could be proud of carrying the book through to that point.
“Congratulations. Cheers to you for having the guts to write a book and then the follow through to edit it and even attempt to publish it. That’s awesome,” he said and raised his glass to me. I picked mine up and tipped it so it knocked against his and then smiled at him. A trill of excitement raced through me at the reality yet again and at having him there to know about it
“Why don’t you join us, Jake?” Alex said and gestured to a table behind her that had an extra seat. “Pull up a chair.”
“Sure,” he said.
“Aren’t you meeting people?” I asked, suddenly very aware of him and how incapable of conversation I felt.
“They’ll understand if I sit here and talk with you for a few minutes.” He held my attention without moving for a moment, waiting to see if I’d wave him away, then slid the other chair to our table.
Jake sat with me and Alex, and since Alex knew I was feeling tongue-tied, she regaled us with the tale of woe she’d experienced earlier in the day—a small event she organized for her event planning job in Nashville had gone awry in just about every possible way.
I made an effort to focus on her, and not on how Jake’s knee pressed against mine under the small table, or how close our hands were where they rested on the table next to our drinks.
After about fifteen minutes, and a full twenty minutes earlier than she’d originally told me she’d have to leave to meet Luke, Alex stood up and grabbed her purse from the back of her chair.
“You can take care of my girl, right Jake? I’ve got to head out.” She smiled at Jake expectantly and ignored my death-glare. What was she doing? Why was she leaving? Why did I feel only part murderous rage?
“Oh, no, that’s fine—” I started, but Jake answered her before I could finish.
“Yes ma’am. I’d be happy to.” He nodded and then looked at me. “That ok?”
I looked back at him, his brown eyes and perfect eyebrows and the brown hair he might have even styled a bit. I looked at his angular jaw and somehow didn’t let my eyes linger on his very nice-looking lips. “Sure.”
What else could I say? No, I’m not sure what to say to you wouldn’t be very engaging. You look too handsome and I am going to embarrass myself was more accurate, but also not something I could or would actually verbalize.
Alex moved around to give me a hug and I hugged her back, a little dazed, and heard her whisper in my ear. “Call me later,” she said, and when she pulled back I could see the devious look on her face. She raised her eyebrows meaningfully and I shook my head at her. She thought she was so cute.
Jake moved to Alex’s chair across from me. Now his knees rested on either side of my own, the inside of his knees touching the outside of mine.
I let my eyes flit around the restaurant, watching an endless stream of people entering, waiting for seats, looking for friends.
“So, who are you meeting?” I asked him.
“Some guys from work, but they’ll be fine. It was a whole group. They won’t miss me,” he said, his focus full on me. This man could focus like no one’s business. He made me feel like an ant under a magnifying glass with even his most casual looks.
“I feel bad. I don’t want to ruin your Saturday night,” I said, feeling an intense wave of embarrassment heat my cheeks. I swallowed down the last of my beer, getting ready to leave when he said the word.
He laughed lightly, then said, “I wouldn’t say you’re ruining it.” He finished his own beer, and then asked, “What are you having? Do you want to get an appetizer?”
I watched as he flipped through a small menu on the table, his brow furrowing as he read the options. Was he staying with me because Alex had asked him? He was hard enough to read, and I was feeling like a charity case, and a little like a school girl.
I took a breath and rested both hands on the table, willing him to understand. “Listen, really. I finished my beer, and I knew Alex couldn’t stay long. I don’t want you to miss your time with your friends.”
He looked at me for a beat, and then closed the menu. “I understand, Elizabeth. I won’t be missing them if I’m sitting here with you, trust me.” He cocked an eyebrow up, waiting for me to show I understood. I nodded in response to his silent question and refused to let myself blush and smile and maybe even fist-pump like I did in my imagination at that moment.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapped out a message, and tucked it back in his pocket. “Now they know. So, nachos or buffalo wings?”
I smiled at him, feeling myself ease a little bit at the idea he was not feeling obligated, or at the very least, he was making the best of it. “Definitely nachos.”
Chapter Nine
Would it be stupid to say I was surprised at how much I enjoyed talking with Jake? Because I did. We sipped another beer and destroyed the large plate of nachos. We talked more about my book, about how crazy his work had been lately, and then about trivial things. I couldn’t get over how funny and interesting he was, and more so, how fun he was to be around.
I knew he was attractive and had a lot of depth to him, but I wasn’t prepared for how much I liked chatting with him. It felt different to be sitting in a restaurant, eating food and talking—almost like a date. It was public, obviously, but lighter, somehow. I was able to step away from some of the nerves I tended to have when I was alone with him, and so far my mind was obeying my command not to think of our moment in the rain.
“What was your favorite subject in school when you were growing up?” he asked.
“Definitely reading. Then writing. I was always good at math, but I lived for my writing classes in middle school and high school.”
“That isn’t a big surprise. And now here you are, about to publish your first novel.” He gave me a warm smile and I felt that smile heat me.
“What about you?” I asked him.
“Definitely science when I was younger. I remember all of that stuff so well and nothing else. Learning about frogs and spiders and doing those papier-mâché volcanoes with baking soda and vinegar.”
“Oh yes, that was fun.”
“Yeah. My favorite. And then in eighth grade I took The Physics of Toys. It was taught by this teacher I thought was cool and it blew my mind. We played with toys and learned the physics behind how they worked—gyroscopes and kaleidoscopes and yoyos and even bowling. It was such a great way to learn, and it stuck with me.” He was smiling again, or still, and I sucked in a breath as I looked at him, watched him take his last bite of nachos, watched the muscles in his jaw work as he chewed.
He was painfully good looking, sitting there across from me, oblivious to exactly how much his proximity was affecting me. I’d forgotten that for a while as we talked, but now the awareness was back in full force.
“We should probably pay and let someone else have our table, huh?” I said, realizing we were now surrounded by people waiting in the bar area and the line to get into the place ran out the door and wrapped around the side of the building. We’d been there over an hour already.
He nodded while he finished chewing and grabbed his wallet to pay. I unzipped my purse at the same time, and he narrowed his eyes at the hand fishing for my wallet, and then at me. “Not a chance,” he said.
“This is clearly a situation in which I buy your beer and nachos since you were coerced into ditching your frien
ds,” I said and slapped my debit card down on the table.
“This is clearly a situation in which I buy your beer and nachos because you’re celebrating.” As he said this, he slid cash onto the little tray that held the bill and grabbed my card. He gave me a playful look, and then walked away, out the door, and out onto the street.
I hopped down and followed him out, weaving through the crowd and out the front door to find him a few yards away, looking at the sky in the opposite direction. I walked up next to him and put my hand high on his arm to let him know I was there. As soon as I touched him he turned, looking at my hand, and then at me. I took my hand away quickly, although I admit reluctantly, since I very much enjoyed the feeling of his shoulder, the curve and dip of the upper part of his triceps.
“Thank you,” I said. He nodded in reply and handed me the card he’d swiped inside.
“Do you need a ride home?” he asked, and I swear I saw a little hope in his eyes. But that was crazy.
“No, thank you. Alex and I drove separately since she had to go to the thing with Luke. Thanks though,” I said and wished I hadn’t driven so I would have an excuse to stay with him.
Stop that nonsense, woman!
My mind had been betraying me all night with thoughts of how handsome and fun and funny and generally delightful this man was, but I couldn’t ignore that I knew him—I knew he wasn’t interested in anything with me, at least not anything like what I wanted.
I turned and slowly walked up the street to the lot where I’d parked, and he followed me. I started to speak, but before I could, I felt his hand slide over my hair from the back of my neck to where it ended mid-back, and then his hand come to rest on me there.
