by Tawna Fenske
“I love German apple pancakes,” she said, then wanted to kick herself. Hadn’t she sat here precisely to avoid conversation? But here she was, blathering like an idiot. “And the bacon smells incredible. I thought nothing could top yesterday’s crêpes suzette, but everything looks amazing.”
Swine Guy glanced up, then followed her gaze to where the octogenarians were debating cemented versus uncemented hip-joint replacements as they passed around a white platter loaded with thick slices of ham. He nodded and bit into his bacon, chewing for such a long time that Kate thought he might not respond at all.
“I’m not much of a sweets-for-breakfast fan, so I asked for a bunch of extra bacon,” he said. “I’d offer you a piece, but that seems creepy.”
“Offering bacon to strangers, you mean?”
“Right. Or offering any food to strangers, really.” He gave her a one-shouldered shrug and the faintest hint of a smile.
Kate stuck out her hand, and Swine Guy wiped his fingers on a napkin before grasping hers in a firm handshake. His palm was big and warm and enveloped hers almost completely.
“Kate Geary,” she said.
The moss-green eyes flickered with mild interest as he let go of her hand. “Jonah Porter.”
Kate grinned. “Now we’re not strangers. May I have a piece of bacon?”
He laughed and shoved the plate toward her. “Nicely played. For the record, I wasn’t hoarding it. I just figured you’d want your own.”
“I do, but I’m starving. I’ll share mine when it comes.” Kate chose the smallest piece of bacon and bit into it. “Oh my God. You weren’t kidding.”
“I never kid about bacon.” Swine Guy—er, Jonah—picked up another piece and chewed quietly as he set down his book atop a pile of others.
“Would you like coffee, ma’am?”
Kate turned to see one of the servers holding a silver urn. Kate nodded and flipped over the bright-green mug beside her place mat.
“Thank you.” She watched as the server filled her mug, then set the plate in front of her with a flourish, presenting her with her very own German apple pancake and four crisp slices of bacon.
“This looks fabulous,” Kate said as she got to work doctoring up her breakfast. A little syrup, some powdered sugar, a squeeze of lemon . . .
Jonah picked up another piece of bacon, and Kate let her gaze drift to his left hand. No ring. Single? It looked that way, but she’d learned not to judge too quickly.
“Jumping to conclusions is a lousy form of exercise!”
It was a quote from one of Kate’s favorite books, and she smiled to herself as she thought of it.
She forked up a bite of pancake and glanced at Jonah again. He’d set the pig book on top of a larger pile of children’s books, which seemed interesting. Was he the father of a young child, or a guy with unambitious reading habits?
Jonah caught her staring and nodded. “I own a bookstore,” he said, resting his hand on the stack of books. “Customers have been trying to talk me into expanding the children’s section, so I’m checking out some new releases.”
“Ah.” Kate smiled and chewed a bite of pancake, oddly charmed by his profession. There was something cultured and intelligent about a guy who owned a bookstore. The fact that he was here in artsy little Ashland said something, too. This time of year, nearly everyone in town was here for the city’s renowned theater productions at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.
“Before you assume, try asking.” There went Kate’s brain again, reciting words from Dr. Vivienne Brandt’s most famous tome on relationships and positive communication. “You learn much more asking questions than you do by painting the walls inside your own mind.”
Kate picked up her coffee and took a sip. “Which plays are you seeing?”
“Oh, I’m not here for a play,” Jonah said. “I just came for the bacon.”
She must’ve looked startled, because he laughed and shook his head. “Sorry, I’m kidding. I saw Julius Caesar last night, and I’m seeing Off the Rails tomorrow night. I was hoping to see the matinee of Shakespeare in Love today, but it’s sold out. How about you?”
“Oh, I wanted to see Shakespeare in Love, but I couldn’t get tickets either,” Kate said. “I saw Hannah and the Dread Gazebo instead, which was amazing. How did you like Off the Rails?”
“It was terrific. Sort of a Blazing Saddles meets Shakespeare kinda thing.”
“Isn’t it OSF’s first play by a Native American writer?”
He nodded and gave a small smile. “Yeah. It’s sort of a comedic musical about Indian boarding schools. Cedric Lamar gave an amazing performance. Really powerful.” He picked up his coffee mug. “Are you seeing anything else?”
For a breathless instant, she thought he’d asked if she was seeing anyone, and she started to blurt out her availability. Luckily, her brain worked quicker than her mouth did. “I’ll probably go lurk around the theater this afternoon to see if anyone’s selling any last-minute tickets,” she said. “I have to leave early tomorrow morning.”
“Sounds like you’re quite the theater buff.”
Kate shrugged and took another bite of pancake. The lemon she’d squeezed over it lent the perfect zingy contrast to the warm maple syrup. “I guess so. I actually studied acting in college, but wised up by the time I hit grad school and learned to be on the other side of the camera instead.”
“You’re a filmmaker or something?”
“Close. I work for a production company in LA, but I got my start making documentaries.”
“Is that what you’re doing now?”
Kate shook her head, not sure why she hesitated a little before answering. “I’m actually in unscripted television.”
“Unscripted television?” He gave her a curious look. “Is that a fancy way of saying reality TV?”
“Bingo.” Kate took a bite of bacon. “Don’t judge.”
“I’m not.” He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t watch much TV myself, but my sister is crazy about The Bachelor and Survivor and a bunch of other shows like that.”
His expression shifted to a sort of fond admiration, though there was something else, too. A flicker of melancholy, maybe, though Kate was probably reading it wrong. She wanted to press for details about the sister’s favorite shows, but decided this wasn’t the time for market research.
“Where’s your bookstore?” she asked instead.
“Seattle,” he said. “One of the few indie bookstores that’s still thriving in the age of the e-book.”
“What’s your secret? Free bacon with every book?”
He laughed and picked up another slice. “I put in a full-service bar and started bringing in live music a few times a week. There’s also a room where guests can interact with adoptable cats. My sister runs an animal shelter, so it’s been a great way to socialize them and help them find new homes.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“Thanks. Travel + Leisure featured it in a piece about America’s best bookstores.”
“Nice!” Kate wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. “Maybe I’ll check it out when I’m there next month for work.”
Jonah studied her a moment, looking thoughtful. “Why did you say that earlier about acting? About wising up and moving to the other side of the camera?”
Kate’s fingers tightened around the mug as her gut pinged with surprise at which detail he’d latched onto. Normally, everyone pumped her for details on filmmaking or television, eager to hear if she knew famous people or if they’d seen anything she’d worked on.
But that’s not what Jonah wanted to know. He was curious about the path not chosen. She took a sip of coffee and considered how much to share. “It didn’t seem practical,” she said. “Building a career in acting takes so much time and luck.”
“You miss it, though? Acting, I mean?”
Kate shrugged. “Sometimes. But it’s just not a good career choice for someone who wants stability, a family—things like that.”
As her brain caught up to the words tumbling out of her, she fought the urge to wince again.
Jesus, Kate. Why don’t you stand on the table and announce you’re a thirty-four-year-old single woman whose most exciting risk in the last decade was returning a library book two days late?
But if Jonah thought any of that, his face didn’t show it. He opened his mouth to say something just as two older ladies stepped onto the patio with matching cotton-ball perms and colorful cardigans Kate recognized from the window display in one of the expensive, artsy shops on Main Street.
“Honestly,” the taller woman was saying. “Far be it from me to criticize a passionate performance, but do they not realize how thin the walls are in this place? I could hear every creak of the bedsprings.”
Jonah gave a soft snort while Kate stifled a giggle behind her napkin as the pair drew closer to the table.
“Their headboard must be right up against our bathroom wall,” the other woman was saying. “Maybe we can speak with the manager about leaving a note or something. I don’t want to embarrass them, but maybe they just don’t realize how noisy they are.”
“All that banging. And the moaning and the groaning—”
The two were mere steps away, and Kate realized the only two vacant seats were at her table. She started to scoot right to make the newcomers welcome when a hand brushed hers.
She looked up to see Jonah with a straight face and an unreadable glint in his eyes. “You said you missed acting,” he murmured. “Want to take a shot at it?”
Kate stared at him for a second, mystified by what he might be suggesting.
Which seemed like the perfect reason to agree.
The fact that Kate nodded in agreement before Jonah had told her a damn thing about what he had in mind said a lot about her personality.
She was naturally trusting. Curious. She either took risks or wanted to look like someone who did.
A decade of serving as a counterintelligence expert in the US Marines had left him trained to interrogate subjects, and analyze visual and auditory clues. Military training aside, he had a knack for reading people.
Not that the skill had kept him from making some pretty stupid choices in relationships, but it was still a handy ability to have.
Kate was looking at him with a curious expression, somewhere between intrigue and anxiousness. Hell, he wasn’t normally the kind of guy to suggest a spontaneous game of make-believe, but bringing up his sister had reminded him of the game they’d played as kids. Still played, actually.
“You pretend you’re a Turkish oil wrestler with a head injury, and I’m your translator,” Jossy would whisper as they walked into a grocery store together, giggling as she got into character.
Not that Kate was anything like his sister. And he definitely wasn’t feeling brotherly toward her. There was something about Kate that filled him with an odd mix of boldness and giddy energy. It was a far cry from how he’d felt in his marriage, content to let his wife be the creative free spirit while Jonah remained the fuzzy background noise.
The old ladies drew closer. As they seated themselves at the table, Jonah covered Kate’s hand with his. The women were still chattering about the noisily amorous couple in the room next door, and Jonah cleared his throat.
“Ma’am.” Both women looked up, and Jonah flashed an apologetic smile. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. About the couple staying next door to your room?”
The two women blinked, frozen in the act of placing their napkins on their laps. The shorter one in the blue sweater spoke first. “Yes?” They exchanged a glance, then looked back at Jonah.
“Right,” he said. “I just wanted to apologize for that.” He smiled at Kate, his best attempt at nervous fondness. While he’d never studied acting the way she had, he knew damn well what a chagrined lover might act like. He watched as Kate’s brown eyes widened, but she gave nothing away.
Across the table, the shorter woman tilted her head to one side. “I beg your pardon?”
“My wife and I are on our honeymoon.” Jonah slung his arm around the back of Kate’s chair, relieved when Kate leaned into him. But not quite as relieved when she kicked him under the table.
He wasn’t sure if it was a reprimand or an agreement to play along, but he had his answer soon enough.
“Of course, we’re very sorry.” Kate’s voice quivered a little, and Jonah wondered if it was nerves or part of the act. Either way, it fit the situation. She brushed a shock of straight, dark hair from her eyes and smiled at him. “My husband gets a little carried away by passion sometimes. I tried shoving a sock in his mouth, but you know how it is.”
Jonah stifled a laugh as the two women stared. They didn’t look embarrassed or angry, which was a good sign. This was Oregon, after all, and a liberal artsy town at that. People probably had sex on street corners and called it performance art.
“Well.” The taller woman glanced at the shorter one, and the pair seemed to come to some sort of unspoken agreement. She looked back at Jonah and offered a cautious smile. “Congratulations to both of you. Where are you from?”
“Eugene,” Kate offered, and Jonah wondered if that was true or part of her character. “My husband owns a store that sells novelty socks, and I’m a painter.”
“A sock store?” Both women eyed Jonah with confusion before glancing back at Kate. “What do you paint, dear? Watercolors or oils or—”
“Houses,” Jonah interrupted, earning himself another shin kick. His arm was still around the back of her chair, and she felt damn good there. Warm and soft and her hair smelled like vanilla. “And commercial buildings. Especially skyscrapers,” he added. “You should see her up there on that crane with a paint sprayer in her hand and a hard hat on her head.”
“Isn’t that something!” The shorter woman extended her hand as the server bustled over and began pouring coffee. “I’m Carol, by the way, and this is Marilee.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Kate said.
They all shook hands while the server arranged a large tray of bacon and ham at the center of the table and set a German apple pancake in front of each of the new arrivals. Jonah watched as Kate took another bite of hers, and he tried not to fixate on the lovely bow of her mouth. Her features were unique. Not beautiful, but striking. She had sharp cheekbones and chin-length hair that might’ve looked black without the glint of late-August sunlight lending it slashes of mahogany.
She met his eye then, catching him in the act of staring, but not seeming to mind all that much.
“So,” she said, turning her attention back to Carol and Marilee. “What plays are you seeing?”
“We saw The Merry Wives of Windsor last night and plan to see UniSon tomorrow at one thirty,” Carol said. “How about you two?”
“Off the Rails was terrific,” Kate replied, glancing at Jonah. “There’s this really captivating story line about Indian boarding schools in the American West. Cedric Lamar gave an amazing performance.”
“I saw that earlier in the season!” Carol said. “What did you think of Barret O’Brien’s performance?”
Jonah expected to see a flicker of panic in Kate’s eyes, maybe an uncertainty over whether the actor in question was male or female. He readied himself to answer. But her expression didn’t waver a bit, and her reply was cool and even.
“I thought Barret’s performance was surprisingly understated, but still delightfully irreverent,” Kate said. “How about you?”
“I agree.” Carol’s gaze swung to Jonah, and he held off biting into the slice of bacon he’d just lifted. He could sense another question coming. “So tell me about your wedding. Where was it?”
Marilee’s face lit up. “I want to hear about the flowers and the music.”
“We just adore weddings!”
A tiny snap of anger zinged through Jonah’s chest, and it took him a few beats to remember this wasn’t a real question. Not about his real marriage, anyway. The one that hadn’t
ended well.
Luckily, Kate was quicker on her feet than he was.
“It was beautiful,” she gushed. “We had it out at Brasada Ranch resort in Central Oregon. Do you know it?”
Carol tilted her head to one side. “That’s in the desert part of the state, right?”
“It’s the high desert, yes,” Kate replied. “But there are so many trees and glorious mountain views. We got married right at sunset on the big grassy lawn with these little wild rabbits hopping around everywhere and tall vases of gladiolas in all different colors. You could hear coyotes yipping and smell the sagebrush on the breeze. It was magical.”
Jonah looked at her, struck by the image she’d just painted. Was this something she’d envisioned for herself, or just an act? Something she’d experienced at some point?
She turned to look at him, and he couldn’t help feeling moved by their imaginary ceremony. “She walked down the aisle to Pachelbel’s Canon, and the recessional was the throne room song from Star Wars.”
Kate laughed, which was the opposite of what his ex-wife had done when he’d suggested it for their wedding.
“You know I love your whimsy, darling,” she’d said, placing her hand on his arm the way she used to. “But maybe we could find something with more meaning for the two of us together?”
“It was awesome,” Kate said, jarring Jonah back to the present. “And afterward, we served cupcakes instead of regular cake.”
“Great combinations,” Jonah added. “Flavors like salted caramel and rhubarb pineapple and grilled peach with lavender.”
“And the dance,” Kate continued, sounding a little breathless now. “Our first dance was ‘Happy’ by Pharrell Williams. Everyone was jumping all over the place, especially little kids. I’ve never seen so much joy in one place.”
“Lovely!” Marilee clasped her hands on the table and glanced at Carol with a wistful look in her eye. “Weddings are so much fun!”
Carol gave a coy smile and dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin as she leaned in close across the table. “Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes we like to crash them.”
