Once my booth is sanitized, I sidle up next to Penny. It surprises me when she tells me my Saturday night is free. Saturday is generally a busy day at the shop. Although not everyone works Monday to Friday, nine to five, majority of our clientele comes in on Friday and Saturday nights. So it blows my mind when she says my Saturday is bare.
When I question it, she winks conspiratorially and tells me all my other days are jam-packed. I narrow my eyes, but don’t push the topic. Penny has been dying for me to get out in the world for years. She accepts why I haven’t, but reminds me to live my life. “How can you ever be happy if you never live outside the same four walls?” Her words from over the years float through my thoughts.
Penny and I get home an hour later. Iliana is stretched out on the couch, asleep. Gilmore Girls plays quietly on the television. When there is nothing new to watch, we watch Gilmore Girls. Might be up to our seventh visit to Stars Hollow now. Never gets old.
I pick up the remote and press mute before sitting down next to her. Laying a hand on her forearm, I gently jostle her. “Ili. Wake up,” I mumble.
She groans and squints. “What time is it?”
“Little after ten. Everything go okay tonight?” I ask.
“An angel, as always.” Iliana scoots herself upright. “You guys finish up early?”
“Yeah. Rez still had someone in his chair, but said he’d be cool if we headed out.”
Penny comes up behind me and rests her chin on my shoulder. “Auti has a date.”
Iliana’s jaw drops. “I’m sorry, but did you just say she has a date?”
Dear, god. Will I ever hear the end of their mockery? In short, no. No, I won’t. My two closest friends will surely poke fun at me for quite some time. But I don’t care. Wouldn’t want them any other way.
“Well, more like the promise of a date. The actual day hasn’t been determined yet. Although” —I turn and face Penny for a second— “my Saturday schedule is magically vacant.”
“People must be out holiday shopping,” Penny tosses out. “Can’t help where people go to spend their money.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes, then refocus on Iliana. “I have to reach out to him and let him know what days I don’t work.”
Iliana leans forward, wraps her arms around me, and surprises me with a hug. “So happy for you,” she whispers in my ear. Before I can squeeze her back, she releases me and rises from the couch. “I’m gonna head out.”
“You’re welcome to crash on the couch if you’re still tired.”
She smiles. “Thanks, but I’ll make it home okay. Rather sleep in my bed, no offense.”
After we exchange hugs and goodbyes, Iliana heads home. A second after the lock clicks in place, Penny hauls me to the couch and plops us down. She stares at me, expressionless, until I squirm under her scrutiny.
Why is she looking at me like that? Like a stern mother. Or a perturbed friend. She almost looks… bored. God, she confuses the hell out of me.
“What?”
“Auti,” she says, more earnest than ever. “This is very serious.”
My brows bunch together and I try to decode what the hell she is talking about. “What is, Pen?”
“Him. Jonas.”
I nod. “Yeah,” I whisper.
“I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am for you.” She glances at the hallway, down toward our bedrooms. “But this is big. Not just for you.”
“Why do you think I haven’t dated in years? Not like I’ve never wanted to. Believe me, I miss it. But, over the years, I made the right choice.”
She nods. “You did.”
Solemnity settles between us for a few minutes as we sit quietly on the couch. It isn’t just the fact I haven’t sat across from a good-looking man and shared a meal in several years that weighs heavy. But also the emotions and expectations which usually come with said scenarios. Emotions and expectations I have no idea if I am ready to handle.
The occasional blip on my radar isn’t love. Love takes time. Is substantial and messy. Swallows you whole and never lets you leave.
Thirst is what currently consumes me. Thirst and hunger. My years without companionship have left me starved. Practically emaciated. But my attraction to Jonas isn’t some attempt to fatten the ravenous fiend living inside me. My attraction to him is pure and mystical. Makes the organ beneath my breastbone swell and gallop wildly. Has my lungs burning for breath and my stomach topsy-turvy.
Never have I experienced the sensations Jonas induces. Emotions and energy and a gravity that hauls me into his atmosphere.
“Enough with the heavy,” Penny announces quietly. “We have more important things to discuss.”
“We do?”
She nods. “Like what you’ll wear. How you’ll fix your hair. What color you plan to paint your nails. The important stuff.”
Eyes meeting hers, I pucker my lips and wiggle them side to side. “Oh my god, Pen,” I whisper-scream. “Oh. My. God. I have a date.”
“What about…?” Penny glances down the hall.
I peek over my shoulder and follow her gaze. “Can you? Please?”
A smile kicks up the corners of her mouth. “I got you covered.”
“Thanks, Pen.”
Penny and I gossip and giggle on the couch for another half hour before she heads to bed. She mothers me and suggests which top I should pair with which bottoms. What shoes I should wear. How to pin up my hair. I cut her off when she tells me to paint my nails a different color besides my typical cherry red. Polish and lip colors don’t get messed with. Ever.
When I hear her bedroom door click shut, I dig my phone out of my purse. Opening up the text history between Jonas and I—where I texted myself from his phone—my fingers hover over the keyboard. Where to begin?
I check the time on the top of the screen and realize how late it is. Almost midnight. He is probably in bed already. No doubt the garage opens early.
I will send a quick message. If he doesn’t answer, we can talk tomorrow. If he does answer, well… we shall see where it leads.
Autumn: Hey. You still up?
My finger hovers over the arrow to the right of my message. Press send, Autumn. Just. Press. Send.
I drop my finger and slump into the couch when the blue bubble populates the screen and it says delivered beneath. To my surprise, a small bubble hovers on the lower left side of the screen. Three tiny dots dancing as he types a response. My stomach dances alongside the dots.
Jonas: Still up. Too wired to sleep.
Is he ramped up from the adrenaline of getting new ink? Most people find it difficult to sleep shortly after getting a new tattoo. The adrenaline keeps them buzzed for hours afterward. Or is he riled up because I agreed to go on a date with him?
Hopefully it’s the latter.
Autumn: Me too.
Jonas: You just finish work?
I smile. Why does him asking about work make me smile?
Autumn: No. You were my last victim. Pen and I got home an hour ago.
Jonas: You guys live together? Must be interesting.
This makes me laugh, and I slap a hand over my mouth. He barely knows Penny, yet has already deemed her a fascinating creature. Which is more than true. Penny is a sassy diamond in the rough.
Autumn: She keeps life interesting.
Jonas: I bet. You get to check your schedule?
Eager. I love it. More than I thought possible.
Autumn: I did. Somehow, the gods have shined down on me and I have Saturday free.
Jonas: Perfect. Would it be okay if I pick you up?
Autumn: Yes.
My cheeks sting from the broad, permanent smile plastered on my face. Why can I not stop smiling?
Jonas: Six?
Autumn: Can’t wait.
Although he could dig it up from my paperwork at the garage, Jonas asks for my address. I give it without hesitation. He bids me good night with the promise of picking me up at six on Saturday. Less than two days from
now.
I hug my phone to my chest like a preteen. After I swim in the sea of serenity a moment, I rise from the couch, flick off the light, and head down the hall.
Slipping into my bedroom, I quietly change into a tank top and boy shorts. I peel back the covers and ease into bed. Head on the pillow, I follow the moonlight as it dances on the wall and ceiling through the blinds.
I fall asleep with a smile on my face and gentle, sweet snores beside me.
Ten
Jonas
I change my shirt for the seventh time.
Somehow, going on a date with Autumn has turned me prepubescent again. I have never cared so much about my clothes or hair a day in my life. Never lifted my arms so many times to check if I put on deodorant. In the last thirty minutes, I have probably sniffed my pits more times than in the last three months.
Someone send help.
I decide on a long-sleeve, black Henley, jeans, and my leather boots. Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I brush my hair left, then back again. Regardless of my efforts, the few inches of hair atop my head stays a mess. So I give up, comb my fingers through it, and abandon my reflection.
Spartan barks and zooms around the kitchen island like a bewildered maniac.
“Come on, nut. Let’s get you dinner before I leave.”
He barks in approval and drops on his haunches in front of his bowl. I scoop a cup of food into his bowl and make him wait with a hand signal. For a spaz, he obeys every command I give without hesitancy. Thank you obedience classes for all you do.
While Spartan vacuums down his dinner, I fetch my keys, wallet, phone, a couple blankets and my leather jacket.
Done with his dinner, Spartan runs up to me and barks. I shuffle my hand back and forth over his head, roughing up his fur. “Good boy. Let’s go outside really quick. Then Dad has to go.”
I open up the door to the back yard and let him loose. He runs the perimeter, finds several patches of grass he hasn’t marked as his, then runs back into the house. I secure him in his kennel, turn on the radio, and head out the front door.
After stowing the blankets in the back, I crank the Jeep’s engine and set the heat to low. Yesterday’s cold front finally brought cooler temps to our part of the state. The air isn’t frigid, but for us natives, it is on the cooler side. Especially once the sun goes down.
A second after I park the Wrangler in front of Autumn’s apartment, her front door opens and she steps out. I swallow and all but choke on my own saliva.
How the hell am I supposed to focus all night?
Autumn stands in front of her door in a dress hugging every curve beneath her bust to her knees. The dress bolsters a snug but loose red top and a slim-fit black skirt. The sweetheart neckline accentuated with a small black bow. Her dark, rich locks frame her face in soft waves.
I swallow again and remind myself to breathe. Remind myself to not be an idiot or say the wrong thing.
Cutting the headlights, I step out of the Jeep and we meet in the middle. A jacket drapes over one of her arms while a small black purse hangs on the other.
“Hi,” I rasp. “You look… wow.”
She giggles. “Hi. And thank you.” Reaching forward, she traces her fingers over my bicep. “You look great too.”
The corner of my mouth kicks up. “No one will give me the time of day with you in the room.” She peeks up at me from beneath her lashes. “Shall we?” I gesture toward the Jeep and resist the urge to lay my hand on her lower back.
Not yet. Soon, but not yet.
Both of us buckled in, I flip the headlights back on and drive. We sit in the dark cab with only the low volume of my rock playlist floating around us. The air weighted with thrill and anxiety as neither of us speak. And for once, the silence kills me.
“Are you warm enough?” I ask to break the constant quiet.
Out of the corner of my eye, she swivels to face me slightly. “Yes, thank you. Where are we going?”
“Well…” I glance at her a second before returning my eyes to the road. Damn, she robs my every thought. “Wasn’t quite sure what you liked to eat, so I aimed for variety. Hope that’s okay.”
“For future reference, I eat just about everything. Well, at least everything I’ve tried.”
I don’t miss the start of her words. “For future reference.” Three simple words have me soaring high as a kite on a summer day.
“Good to know.” I tuck away the new information for safekeeping. “Hope you’re hungry. You’ll want one of everything. Guaranteed.”
“Now I’m intrigued.” I hear the smile in her voice and wish I could take my eyes off the road.
Minutes later, I park and help Autumn out. This time I don’t resist the urge to rest my hand on her lower back as I steer us to the front door of the restaurant. We may be at the start, but the simple touch feels more than natural. Right. The second we step inside; it feels as if we stepped back in time. Back to the 1950s.
Black-and-white tiles checker the floor. Pops of red and chrome accent backless stools and the lengthy diner counter. Fountains line the counter like keg taps in a bar. The back wall loaded with vintage metal signs for cola and floats and items more popular during a different era. Shelves packed with glassware for milkshakes and sundaes and banana splits. Red and black vinyl booths line the windowed walls, while small two-seater tables sit nestled between the booths and fountain counter. Each booth has its own jukebox. A handful rest on the counter for patrons who sit near the fountains.
A young woman seats us at a booth, hands us menus, prattles off the evening specials and reminds us breakfast is served all day.
“How did I not know this place existed?” Autumn asks and I shrug. Her eyes float around the room. Awe and delight twinkle in her eyes as she takes it all in. “I think I’m in love.”
When her eyes circle back and land on me, she tucks her lips in that cute way she does. A flush paints her cheeks. And I bite back the urge to say what is on my mind.
Me too.
“Wait until you taste the food. This is nothing,” I say as I wave around the bustling mom-and-pop diner.
Silence falls over us as we study the menu. After a beat, the server returns to take our order. Autumn orders first and I bite the inside of my cheek at the amount of food she orders. She is either really hungry or had difficulty deciding. Either way, the notion is adorable.
Once both of us order and the server leaves, I laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Eyes trained on my face, her brows lift incrementally.
“Hungry?”
My new favorite shade of red tints her cheeks. “There were a hundred different things on the menu I wanted. You’re lucky I only ordered what I did.”
“Autumn, if you wanted to order the whole menu, I wouldn’t care.”
And I didn’t. As long as I get to sit with her, talk with her, have her in my presence, consider me a happy man. I believe in the simple things. That life doesn’t need to be full of miracles, money, and endless stuff to discover true happiness. Moments matter more than material possessions. Moments can’t be taken away.
“Well, damn. I should’ve ordered more.” She laughs and I join in. “So, Jonas…”
“So, Autumn…”
“Tell me all there is to know about you.” She leans forward, sets her elbows on the table, and rests her chin in her palms.
Damn, she is lovable. I mentally shake my head. Shake off the ease at which I fall so easily for a woman I barely know. Am I fortunate or cursed? Fate has yet to decide.
“All of it?” I tease.
“Don’t leave anything out.”
If possible, I would share my entire life with her in a split second. But light speeds aren’t possible when it comes to relationships. The good ones built over time—marinate. Any great relationship starts with friendship. And friendships start with details and trust.
“Alright. Let’s see how much I can spew before our food arrives.” Just as the words leave my li
ps, the server drops off my cherry cola—a newfound favorite—and Autumn’s vanilla milkshake. She plucks the cherry off the whipped cream and pops it in her mouth. “Uh, where to start…”
Her lips wrap around the cherry as she pops the stem off. Liquid cognac and red lips swirl my vision. The bright lights, bopping music, and bustle of the restaurant fade in the background as I stare at her mouth. How the hell am I supposed to speak basic vocabulary when she inadvertently teases me.
As if unaware of her influence, she suggests, “Tell me about your family. I already met your dad.”
Family. A safe place to start, I suppose. I sip my soda to wet my throat and start somewhere near the beginning.
“Dad and I are a lot alike. I don’t know if it’s because I inherited more from him than Mom. Or if it’s because I’m the only male child.”
Autumn sits up straighter and sips on her milkshake. “So you have sisters?”
I nod. “Yep. Two. Jasmine and Jillian.” She giggles and the sound spreads warmth in my chest. “What?”
“Do your parents have a thing for the letter J?”
“Never asked, but often wondered myself. Maybe it’s because of Grandpa and Uncle John on Mom’s side. Not sure.”
She leans forward and resumes her position with her chin on her hands. “Continue, please.”
“Jasmine and I are two years apart—she’s older. But Jillian is seven years younger than me. And because Jasmine and I had more years together before Jillian was born, we’re closer. We’re all close, though. Mom made sure of it. Hence our weekly family dinners.”
Across from me, Autumn sits back against the booth and sighs. Her bright spirit from seconds ago fades as she speaks. “Wish my family mirrored yours. I’d give anything for a close-knit, kind family.”
Fine Line (Inked Duet #1) Page 8
