A kiss on her bare shoulder. The sun in her face.
“Hey.” Jeremy’s rough morning voice was a thing of manly, growly beauty. “I’m making coffee.”
Tayla blinked her eyes open. “You are a god among men.”
“So last night didn’t give me the ‘god among men’ designation, but coffee does?”
The sun was too bright; she decided to hide her eyes in the pillow. “I spoke too soon, because it’ll actually depend on how strong you make it.”
He chuckled and kissed her shoulder again. “I make it pretty strong. Cream or sugar?”
“No cream but a lot of sugar.”
Jeremy reached down and pinched her bottom. “So… strong, black, and sweet?”
She couldn’t stop the smile. “I didn’t say it.”
“You like your coffee like you like your men? Strong, black, and sweet?”
“You made that joke, not me.” She couldn’t stop laughing. “And I don’t really have a type of man, okay?”
“No?”
“Over the course of my dating life? No. Currently, I’d say my type is a man who makes me coffee in the morning and doesn’t harass me.”
“But it’s such a nice ass to harass.” He ran his hand over her bottom. “I like having you in my bed, Miss McKinnon.”
She tried not to squirm. “It’s a very comfortable bed.”
“You snore a little, but you don’t kick. You’re welcome anytime.”
“I do not snore!” She rolled over, prepared to hit him with a pillow, but he’d already slid out of bed. He stood in the doorway, grinning at her, shirtless and wearing a pair of baggy sweatpants low on his hips.
Wrong. You have a type. It is him. Him is your type and every other man pales in comparison and you are thinking with your ovaries because what are you doing, Tayla?
“Just a little.” He held his fingers a fraction of an inch apart. “I set a clean T-shirt out for you if you want to borrow it.”
“Thanks.” She glanced at her phone when he left the room. There was a text message from Emmie. Since your phone is at Jeremy’s house, I’m assuming you are too.
She typed back. I knew letting you use the Find My Phone app would avoid awkward conversations.
Tayla got up and used the attached bathroom, washing her face and grimacing when she saw her reflection.
This. This was why she didn’t stay over. There was no reason that Jeremy needed to see her in this condition. Her mascara was flaking, her foundation was probably rubbed into his pillow. No highlighter. No eyeliner. She looked like she’d stayed all night at a goth Halloween party.
Disaster.
Her carefully prepared public face was completely gone. Now she had to walk home with blotchy skin. She didn’t even have her purse with her, which would have had an emergency makeup kit with the basics. Skin balancing cream, a tube of highlighter, brow gel, and mascara.
Jeremy had a good array of products on the counter. Coconut oil, shea butter, an oil that looked like it was for beards, and a fragrance-free moisturizer. She found a tissue and used the coconut oil to remove her scary eye makeup. She used a bit of the moisturizer and sniffed the oil.
That was the scent she’d assumed was cologne. It was perfect for him. She dabbed a tiny bit on her wrist before she put it back.
When she walked out, her phone was lit up with a new text message. She sat on the edge of his bed to read it. She could hear Jeremy whistling downstairs.
Did you tell him yet?
No.
You better.
She hated putting dirty clothes on, but she didn’t really have a choice. She got dressed and put on the T-shirt Jeremy had laid out for her. She only had a couple of blocks to walk home. She could do this. Why hadn’t she thought about all this last night?
Oh right. Rendered stupid by sex with Jeremy.
Damn it.
She walked downstairs and immediately smelled coffee, which made life so much better. Even more, she saw two mugs sitting out on the counter, a regular mug and a travel mug.
Oh, you wonderful man.
“Hey.” He looked up from the toaster and smiled. “Nice shirt. I’m sure it’s driving you crazy to be in dirty clothes and without a toothbrush, so if you want to grab your coffee and run, it won’t hurt my feelings. You are also welcome to stay and hang out. I can make you breakfast.”
Stay!
Eat breakfast!
Have more sex!
“Uh, thanks. I appreciate it.” She looked down at herself. “If you really don’t mind, I think I’ll take the coffee to go. Honestly, it’s the dirty socks that are bugging me the most, but yes, it all feels kind of gross.”
He laughed. “Completely get it.” He poured black coffee into the travel mug. “Next time you should bring a change of clothes and a toothbrush. That way we can sleep in.”
Okay! Let me go get that now, I only live a couple of blocks away!
Tayla walked to the counter and added sugar from the blue-and-white speckled enamel bowl on the counter.
Jeremy put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “You know, you still look gorgeous even without all the makeup.”
“I like makeup.”
“And you look great with it. I’m just saying you still look sexy as hell in my shirt and not much else. You sure you don’t want to—”
“SOKA called me back yesterday,” she blurted out. “They want me back for another interview on Thursday.”
His silence was like a gut punch.
Tayla blinked back unexpected tears. “Jeremy?”
He backed away and leaned against the counter opposite the coffee maker. “Did you come over to tell me that last night?”
“I don’t know why I came over last night. I wasn’t thinking—”
“But you could have told me last night.” His face was carefully blank. “And instead you flirted with me and had sex with me and stayed over and you didn’t tell me that you got called back for another interview at a company two hundred miles away.”
“I’m sorry.” Regret sat like lead in her stomach. “I told you from the beginning—”
“I know.” His voice was bitter. “Trust me. I know.”
She didn’t know why she asked the question, but she had to. “Do you regret last night?”
Jeremy didn’t speak. He walked over, poured a cup of coffee, and picked it up. “I don’t know how I feel.” He started toward the stairs. “I need to take a shower. Just shut the door on your way out. I’ll see you, Tayla.”
He walked upstairs, and he didn’t look back. Tayla sipped the coffee he’d poured for her.
Black, strong, and sweet. Exactly like she wanted.
The bitterness in her mouth was all her own doing.
Jeremy drove out to Cary’s farm after the shop closed that night. He was supposed to do orders, but he couldn’t think straight. He didn’t get a dozen flirty or funny texts from Tayla. He hadn’t texted her. She hadn’t texted him.
He was organizing his climbing gear when he realized he had a set of cams and a rope from Cary’s stuff.
“You drove all the way out here to give me three cams and a rope?” Cary frowned when Jeremy handed his stuff through the truck window.
“Yeah.”
“Bullshit.”
Jeremy put his truck in park and turned off the engine, listening to the wind sweep over the orange groves. The scent of blossoms was heavy in the air. It smelled like one of Tayla’s perfumes.
“I’m all fucked up, Cary.”
“Yeah, I figured.” Cary stepped back. “Come on. My mom will feed you, and then we can talk.”
“I don’t want to inter—”
“She made beef stroganoff.”
Jeremy hopped out of the truck. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
An hour later with his belly full and his heart a little patched up by Mrs. Nakamura’s beef stroganoff and noodles, Jeremy felt a little better. He knew his mom and dad loved living in the mountains—it w
as their dream—but sometimes Jeremy missed having his mom close by.
He and Cary took two bottles of beer out to the porch and sat on the rocking chairs Cary’s dad had made.
“What’s up?” Cary asked.
“They called Tayla back for another interview in San Francisco.”
“Okay.” He sipped his beer. “That wasn’t exactly a surprise, right?”
“She told me this morning after she stayed at my house all night.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “I’m guessing you weren’t playing Scrabble.”
“No.”
“And she could have told you the night before, but she didn’t, and you feel like she sprang it on you this morning while you were thinking you’d dazzled her with your sexual prowess, won her heart, and everything was going to fall into place.”
“One, I never want to hear the phrase ‘dazzled with sexual prowess’ from you ever again.”
“Hey, Emmie convinced me to read romance. You should too—you might learn something.”
“And two…” Jeremy shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Kinda.”
“Dude, this isn’t a Hallmark movie.”
“Okay, I know that but—”
“No. You can’t be a dick about this. She told you everything up front. You told her you were going to… I don’t know exactly what you said or anything. We’re not girls.”
“I told her I wanted to be with her.” The memory put a sour taste in his mouth. “That I didn’t want to think about the future.”
“Okay then.” Cary gave him a decisive nod.
“Okay what?”
“You told her you were all about the moment. Own it or let her go now. Don’t be a dick.”
“You know, you used to be my teacher. I’m not sure you’re supposed to be calling me a dick.”
“I’m not calling you a dick.” Cary pointed his beer bottle at Jeremy. “If you get pissed at Tayla for taking you at your word, then I’ll call you a dick. And it doesn’t matter that I used to be your teacher. I’m not looking for a reference.”
Jeremy swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m in love with this girl, Cary.”
Cary sighed. “I wish I could just be happy for you, J. I really do. I’m not counting you out yet though. They haven’t offered her that job, and she hasn’t said yes. You’re a good guy. She’s not gonna find better anywhere. Be her reason to stay.”
Jeremy nodded, but he couldn’t find anything to say.
Cary was right. He couldn’t be a dick about Tayla moving, even if he wished she’d had better timing about telling him about the second interview.
“You know, maybe the fact that she didn’t want to tell you about it means she’s more invested than you think, okay?” Cary finished his beer. “I don’t want to give you false hope or anything, but I’ve seen you guys together. She’s not playing you. There’s not a lying bone in that girl’s body.”
“No, sometimes she’s painfully honest.”
“The only danger I can see with Tayla is… she might have a hard time being honest with herself,” Cary said. “So my advice is to be a safe place for her to be herself. Listen to what she’s saying and what she’s not saying. And don’t be a dick.”
“Yeah, I think I got that part. Thanks.”
He drove back to town and went immediately to the bookshop. He parked in front and texted her. U home?
A few minutes later, he saw a light turn on. She walked to the door and opened it. Her eyes were wary, and he hated that he’d been the one to cause that.
“Hey,” she said.
Jeremy spread his arms out. “I was a dick.”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “I should have told you before we—”
“I don’t regret last night. Not a single minute of it. Not a second. If I made you think that, I’m sorry. That was shitty of me to do.”
“Okay.” Her eyes softened.
“But also, I wish you’d felt like you could tell me about the second interview, because yeah, it surprised me. And I didn’t react well.”
She leaned against the door. Her hair was up in a messy bun, she was wearing leggings and a sweatshirt, and as always, she looked gorgeous. “Truth time? I don’t know what I’m doing here,” she said quietly. “I don’t date, Jeremy. Not like this. You are like the complete opposite of the kind of guys I usually hang out with.”
Damn right I am. “Good.”
“And don’t pretend I’m like the girls you’ve dated either. We are so different.”
“I like that about us,” he said. “You keep me sharp.”
She stuck her hands in her pockets. “I’m breaking all these rules for you, and I don’t know why I’m doing it. It’s probably a really bad idea. For both of us. So if you want to stop seeing me—”
“I don’t.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Why don’t we talk about that over dinner tomorrow night? At my house. I’ll cook. And you bring a bag.”
She let out a breath and gave him a reluctant smile. “See? This is another rule. I don’t stay over at guys’ houses. Ever.”
“You’re not staying over at some guy’s house.” Not ever again, if I have anything to say about it. “You’re staying over at my house. You know I make good coffee, and my chilaquiles are even better.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s really good. Trust me.”
“I do.” Her smile was tentative. “That’s kind of the problem.”
Oh Miss McKinnon, I see you now. He stepped toward her. “Come over tomorrow.”
She whispered, “Okay.”
“Stay the night.”
She nodded.
Jeremy bent down and kissed her softly.
Stay the night.
Stay in Metlin.
Stay with me.
Chapter Eighteen
Thursday morning, Tayla was sitting with her parents in the morning room, eating a silent breakfast and wondering why she was there. She should have just gotten a hotel room. Her father was reading the financial section, and her mother was tuned to a small television on the buffet. Tayla was staring out the sunny window, watching the boats sail across a crystal-blue bay.
The color of your beautiful eyes. She remembered her father saying that to her when she was a girl. When had his interest in her waned? When she’d started developing a personality? They asked her nothing about her life in Metlin. Probably they assumed it was a phase like pink hair or the peasant shirts and Birkenstocks she’d worn for a solid year in college.
It was an experimental year.
She took a drink of the weak coffee their cook had brewed that morning. “So, I’m seeing someone in Metlin. It’s kind of a regular thing. His name is Jeremy, he climbs mountains, he’s really fun, and also he’s black.”
Her mother looked up and blinked. “Are we supposed to be shocked? This isn’t 1980, Tayla. And your father and I don’t see color.”
So much to unpack there, but she didn’t have the time that morning. “Just wanted you to have the correct mental picture because sometimes people assume everyone in small-town California is white, and that’s really not the case.”
Her father didn’t look up from his paper. “What does he do?”
“He has a degree in finance from UCLA.”
Her father raised one eyebrow.
“But he hated LA and hated working in finance, so he runs a comic book shop in Metlin and takes care of his grandfather.”
Her father’s eyebrow went down and the newspaper went up.
“I thought you said he was a mountain climber,” her mother said.
“He only does that on the weekends.”
She looked confused. “But you hate camping. We tried to send you to a summer camp in Lake Tahoe one year, and you called a cab and stayed at the Ritz-Carlton for a week.”
Ah yes, summer camp. Tayla had dozens of fond childhood memories of the lakefront view and the roo
m service. “I still hate camping, but I like Jeremy. So… I might try it. If he really, really wants me to.”
Her father put the paper down. “You have a second interview with the international fashion company this afternoon, correct?”
“Yes.”
“So is this young man interested in moving to the city with you and running his comic book shop here if you get the job?”
Tayla felt the color drain from her face. “I doubt it.”
“So why did you bother telling us about him?”
Because he’s important to me. Because I want you to know I have a life outside your tiny orbit. Because I want you to care.
Tayla didn’t say any of those things. It wasn’t worth the effort. She’d tried in the past to start fights with her parents to see if they cared.
They didn’t.
Her mother just drank more and her father would go to his office.
Tayla stood. “I’m going to get more coffee.”
“We have staff for that.” Her father rang the crystal bell in the middle of the table.
“He sounds very nice,” her mother said. “Would you like to bring him up to the city for a visit?”
In my nightmares. Tayla walked out just as their cook, Gloria, was walking in.
“What can I get for you, Mr. McKinnon?”
“Tayla,” her mother said, “don’t leave. We can have more coffee here.”
“It’s fine.” She walked to the kitchen and set her cup on the counter before she started up the stairs.
Why did she bother? Why did she even try?
Tayla was sitting with Kabisa and Azim in the garden of the SOKA office. It was a lush green space that spread along the side of the building, cut off from the alley by a fence covered in greenery. There was a grill and an outdoor dining table, but Tayla was in the sunny sitting area with a gas firepit in the center.
She’d created an idea board for her second interview, detailing some of the outdoor-living ideas she’d collected from her own research, along with a few of the social influencers she thought they could target.
“…so a lot of whom we’d be going for are not the big-name interior design people, but the garden niche, environmental, and travel crowd. Look at this chair, for example. The wood is reclaimed from Vietnamese fishing boats. And the company that makes them is a collective of former boat builders who are making furniture now instead. It’s a fair trade company using recycled materials that are, honestly, stunning.”
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