A Sweet Possibility (Archer Cove Series Book 2)

by Natalie Charles

  "I did a fifteen-miler today," Max announced. "Lost another toenail."

  "Oh, really?" Jessie lifted her drink to her lips.

  She'd opted for a sangria mocktail, thinking she'd save enough calories that she'd be able to indulge in the bread basket. This, she quickly realized, had been a big mistake. She made a note to herself: where a blind date is involved, choose alcohol over bread.

  "It doesn't actually hurt," Max explained, obviously mistaking the wrinkle in her nose for concern rather than repulsion. "It just turns black and falls off. I've thought of having mine surgically removed. You know, for when I go racing."

  "Racing?"

  Jessie pressed her lips back together, but it was too late. The question was out, and Max was eager to answer.

  "I'm what you'd call an extreme athlete," he explained. "I've completed a few double triathlons. That's a 4.8 mile swim, a 224-mile bike ride, and a 52.4-mile run. I usually place in my age group."

  Was it her imagination, or had he flexed his biceps while telling her about that? Jessie reached for a bread roll and cursed the poor choices she'd made. "That sounds time-consuming," she said.

  This was not the right response. Max lifted his chin and issued something that sounded like a snort. "Time-consuming? Let me put it this way: we all get only so many hours on this planet, and instead of rotting in front of the television, I choose to spend my time taking care of the only body I'm going to get."

  "Mmmhmm." Jessie broke off a piece of bread and buttered it. "I didn't mean anything by it. But I'm actually one of those who likes television. I even like commercials."

  Nate leaned forward, his forearms on the table. "Animal shelter commercials make her cry."

  "They do," she said. "Also, I like home shopping. I watched this one segment with a set of knives that could slice up a turkey in less than two minutes. Literally. They had the timer going at the bottom of the screen and everything." She was getting excited just thinking about it. "Anyway, I was broke at the time. Well, I'm always broke. But I was especially broke then, and so I didn't order the knives."

  Emily, who had been listening politely, said, "So what happened?"

  "That's it." Jessie shrugged. "I didn't order the knives, but now I watch that channel all the time and hope they'll come back on. I would carve turkeys every day of the week. Every day would be Thanksgiving. Em, wouldn't that be great? I was thinking I'd get a set for Hedda's."

  "That's a great idea, actually," she said.

  "I'm going to make a note to research those knives." Jessie reached for her mocktail and took another sip.

  Max had grown uncomfortably silent. Also, he was staring at her in a way that made her check her shirt for stains. Nope, all clean there. "You watch home shopping," he said flatly.

  "Totally. But if I have my choice, I prefer cooking shows. I like food," she explained to Max. "It's sort of my life, and I just enjoy it." Then she stuffed another bite of bread in her mouth to illustrate.

  "She grew up in the bakery," Nate explained, trying not to smile at the look on Max's face as he watched Jessie devour her roll.

  "The one you work at?" Max said.

  "Well, I usually tell people that I came of age there," she explained. "I grew up in Colorado with my parents, and then they moved to Germany and left me to live with my uncle and cousin in the bakery. It's kind of a long story. But I spent some formative years there, yes."

  Max reached for his ice water and took a long sip. Then he set it down carefully and nodded at Emily. "How about you? Don't you work at the bakery, too?"

  "Yes." She smiled. "But I also like to run. Did you really run fifteen miles today?"

  "Almost sixteen," Max said.

  "Wow. I don't think I could ever run that far. I completed a half marathon once, and I nearly collapsed at the end."

  "Look, it's real easy," Max said. "You've got to get 'I can't do it' out of your head and go for it. You want to push to the brink of death, but no further."

  Nate and Jessie exchanged a glance over the flicker of the candlelight. Jessie choked on a laugh and covered her mouth with her napkin. Nate looked away and to the floor, biting his lower lip. Fortunately, the soup course came, and they were able to focus on that while Max gave Emily advice that he promised would change her life.

  By the time dessert came, it was clear that Jessie and Max were not a love connection. For one thing, he ordered black coffee, and she ordered the caramel turtle cheesecake. For another, he and Emily seemed to really be hitting it off. All's well that ends well, she thought, and fished in her wallet for a few bills to cover her part of the tab. "I'm going to run to the ladies' room," she said.

  Emily stood. "I'll come with you."

  The bathrooms were tiny, with two black stalls and white-and-gray spotted granite counters. When they got there, Emily sighed and leaned back against the dark purple wall. "I'm so confused. I need your advice."

  "Mine? Really?" Jessie was kind of honored. Flummoxed, but honored.

  "I just..." Emily tilted her head to the side. "I don't think Nate had a good time. He didn't talk very much."

  Jessie checked her makeup in the mirror. No raccoon eyes. Victory. "I wouldn't take that personally. He gets that way when he's hungry."

  Emily chewed her lower lip and folded her arms across her chest. "Do you think he'd be upset if we didn't go out again? I know you two are friends, and I don't want it to be weird. He's super nice," she added.

  Jessie hoped Emily couldn't read the relief on her face. "Nate would definitely understand. He gets rejected all the time."

  Emily blinked. "Oh. Okay." She nodded. "That's good, then. Max seems nice, doesn't he?"

  She reached out and touched Emily's wrist. "Max is a great guy. And I think he likes you."

  "Really?" Emily's eyes lit. "I think he's hot."

  "Totally," Jessie said, and tried not to think about his feet. "Maybe you two will see each other again. Now, if you'll excuse me, my bladder's about to burst."

  When she emerged from the stall, Jessie was a little surprised to see that Emily hadn't waited for her. She was also surprised that Nate was outside of the restroom, standing in the entrance to the rooftop. He watched her as she approached. "We've been rejected," he said.

  A strand of Nate's hair fell against his eyebrow. He'd undone another button of his shirt, and his jeans skimmed his muscular legs in all the right ways. He was tall and strong and sexy as all hell. Jessie took him in and wondered how she could have ever missed it.

  "How tragic," she breathed.

  "I'm all broken up inside. Max and Emily are grabbing drinks," he smiled. "I'll take you home."

  Jessie dropped her keys into his hand. "You walked?"

  "Yeah. I'm not going to lie: I planned to be completely unattractive to Emily so I'd get to drive Old Cobalt again."

  "You should've told me your plan."

  "Why, so you could be unattractive to Max?" He shrugged. "I figured that part would come naturally."

  "Hey!" She punched him playfully in the side. "That's mean."

  "I'm kidding! You know that. I wanted to spend time with you, that's all."

  She laughed, but it was subdued. Her throat was too tight, her thoughts elsewhere. "Thanks," she whispered.

  At least the car started, and they pulled up to the cottage after a short, silent ride. Nate cut the engine. The full moon illuminated the interior of the vehicle, leaving few shadows. It even seemed to capture the unspoken words between them. Jessie wondered if Nate could hear the thrumming of her heart. Finally, he pulled the keys out of the ignition and said, "It's late. We don't have to run tomorrow morning if you don't want to."

  "Tomorrow's my day to sleep in. I don't have to be at Hedda's until eight."

  He shook his head. "The hours you keep. I don't know how you do it."

  He clenched the keys in his fist once, twice. Then he handed them over to her and whispered, "I'm glad you're not Max's type."

  He looked at her, and the breath caugh
t in her throat. She wanted him like she'd never wanted anyone — or anything — in her life. "I'm sorry Emily isn't interested in you. She's always had a thing for guys with missing toenails."

  But he didn't laugh. Instead he leaned across the console and cupped her chin carefully in his hands. "I could never date her." He stroked the pads of his thumbs across her cheeks. "I've gone on lots of dates and they've never amounted to anything, and it's because the entire time I'm with those women, I'm thinking about you."

  His breath, sweet and minty, fell against her face with each word. She swallowed. "That's the best thing anyone's ever said to me."

  He brought his thumbs down to the corners of her lips. Then he kissed her — softly at first, and then urgently, running his fingers across her bare shoulders and down her back. Jessie gripped his shirt and pulled at him. She wanted to be closer. She needed all of him. "Don't say anything," she said breathlessly when their kiss finally broke. "Come inside."

  He did as she asked. No words, no lights other than the moonlight. No thoughts of how the morning would be. The first time, he took her slowly, almost reverently. The second time, with a frenzied need. The third time, well.

  That was the time Jessie proved to him that she was the kind of girl who knew how and where to use her teeth. She brought him to his knees.

  When she opened her eyes the next morning and realized the curtains were still open, Jessie's first thought was that they'd had sex in front of an open window. Her second was that she didn't care.

  I had sex with Nate. The thought sent electricity coursing through her veins. He was still in bed beside her, naked and sleeping softly on her pillow. Her heart surged.

  It shouldn't have been perfect. It should have been strange, and awkward, and uncomfortable. But instead of all of those things, it felt like a foregone conclusion. A little bit like destiny.

  She crept out of bed and found a bathrobe. She wanted to make him breakfast — had she remembered to go grocery shopping that week? Jessie opened the refrigerator and was relieved to see a carton of eggs. She set them on the counter before grabbing the cream and butter. When a person rocks your world, there should be a decent breakfast afterward.

  She melted the butter in a skillet, then cracked some eggs into a bowl, added some cream, salt, and pepper, and scrambled the mixture. She thought she'd seen some herbs in the vegetable drawer, but those would be a bonus. While she waited for the eggs to cook, she made a strong pot of coffee. Then she leaned against the counter, chewed on her thumbnail, and considered the fact that Nate was in her bed, very asleep, and very naked.

  Holy crap.

  She could tell Wren, but what should she say? What was going on, exactly? Maybe he'd wake up and tell her that they were better as friends. Hand to heaven, she would throw the eggs at him if he dared pull that. She was not a casual sex kind of girl. Not as a rule, anyway.

  Jessie sat on her couch and drew her legs up. She was thinking too much, and she could try losing herself in home shopping or a cooking show of some sort. Then she heard a rustle in the bedroom, and her heart seized. She selected a channel and rose to her feet just in time to see Nate stumble into the kitchen. His hair was messy, and he was wearing only his jeans. And his boxer shorts, because she could see the black waistband sticking out. His abs. They belonged on a billboard.

  Wow. Did she have good taste or what?

  "Good morning," she said.

  "'Morning." He smiled lazily and stretched. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a few bills, and set them on the counter. "That's from last night."

  Breakfast smelled great. Scrambled eggs and coffee. Nate had woken up with his stomach growling. "Can I help you with anything?"

  He scratched at his bare ribs and waited for a response. When he was hit with silence, he turned his head. "Jess?"

  She was still there, all right. And she was glaring at him. "What's that for?" she growled, and pointed to the money. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

  He rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry. I paid your part of the tab last night. That's the money you put down at Sam's. I'm just giving it back." He forced a laugh. "Things can only go uphill from here, right?"

  Jessie's shoulders relaxed, and her eyes softened. "Oh. Sorry. That was about to be very disappointing for me."

  She tucked her blonde hair behind her ears and folded her arms. Her curls had turned to waves, and she had smudges of eye makeup on her lower lids. She looked a little tired, but neither of them had slept very well. He could watch her all day.

  "What?" She looked down and away from him, then wiped at her cheeks. "Do I have something on my face?"

  "No."

  "Then why are you smiling at me?"

  "I'm thinking that you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

  She smiled but looked down again, too embarrassed to respond. Then she crossed the kitchen toward the stove. "You can go sit on the couch if you want. I have the fireplace channel on."

  A video of a crackling fire played on the television screen. "That's a nice touch," he said.

  "I should've had that idea first, to play a fire on a television channel all day. That's a million-dollar idea, I bet."

  "It's gotta be close."

  He couldn't help but smile. He loved that her idea of romance included a pre-recorded fire.

  Instead of sitting in front of the video fire, he pulled out a stool at the breakfast bar and waited while Jessie scooped eggs onto two plates and poured two cups of coffee. She smiled sweetly as she handed him his breakfast, then she walked around the counter to sit beside him. "I like having you here," she said. "It's better than talking to Travis."

  "High praise." He leaned over and kissed her on the temple. "I like being here. I'm sorry I made you feel like a prostitute just then."

  "Not even a high-class one," she murmured as her gaze fell on the bills. "For future reference, I'm worth more than that."

  "Amen," he said, and reached for his fork.

  Chapter 13

  I n all of the months he'd been training Claire, he'd never been late — until that day. When he pulled up in the driveway, she was on the front steps, tapping her watch. "Ten minutes late," she called as he stepped out of the car. "Don't think I'll forget it."

  That morning, Claire was in a red tank and matching spandex shorts. The outfit left virtually nothing to the imagination. "I'm only eight minutes late," Nate said calmly. Claire was giving him a hard time. He knew her schedule was her own, and she didn't care.

  "I have a knot in my shoulders," she said as she approached, rubbing at the base of her neck. "I was wondering whether you have any suggestions for a good massage therapist."

  See? She was already on to a different topic. "I know a few good ones in the area. I'll give you their names."

  "Bless you," she sighed, and took a sip of her tea. "Oh, and that reminds me: why are you so hard to get an appointment with these days? Should I take it personally?"

  He winced. He'd been meaning to talk to Claire about a few things, and he'd been sort of avoiding her calls so that he could address her in person. "I'm making some changes. I've been teaching yoga at the Archer Cove Country Club, and the classes have been full. It's going well."

  She stared at him blankly. "You. Teaching yoga. At a country club." Statements, not questions. "What the hell possessed you to do that?"

  Okay, that wasn't exactly the supportive response he'd been anticipating. Wasn't Claire one of his biggest fans? "My buddy is the recreation director there, and one of his teachers broke an ankle a few days before the class started, so I filled in."

  Nate realized that he could continue talking, but no amount of words was going to change that dismayed look on Claire's face. "Nate. Nate. Wait a sec, I'm trying to process this." She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them again and set a hand on his forearm. "You're telling me that I can't get extra appointments with you because you're doing head stands at the country club?"

  "Head stands are an ad
vanced move. This is more of an introductory —"

  "Oh, this is bull." Claire turned around to talk to no one behind her. Then she spun around again, her arms spread wide. "If you needed extra money, you should've come to me. You didn't need to take some terrible job at a country club. For God's sake. Do you like yoga, is that what it is? Because if you do, I can get you hired on private yachts. Would you like to do that, to go vacationing with people as their private — what are they called? Yogurts?"

  "Yogis."

  "Yes. Quick trip. You go somewhere nice, make a lot of money, do some yoga on the beach, and then come back and help me to get rid of my muffin top. Would you like something like that? "

  That actually sounded terrible. "No, but thank you. I kind of like working there. At the country club. And it looks like they have an opening for the recreation director position."

  The blood drained from her face. "Don't say it." She covered her ears: one with her hand, one with her thermos. "Don't. I can't stand the thought of you selling your soul to a golf course."

  "I'm thinking about applying," he said. "Come on. It's nine to five. Good benefits, decent salary."

  She stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open. "I can't even —" She waved a hand at him and turned to walk away. "Do you think this is funny, Nathan? I've lost five percent body fat in the past six months, and now you're telling me that you're going to give all of this up to plan racquetball tournaments? Why don't you just shove a chocolate croissant in my face while you're at it?"

  Okay, this was new. Claire was legitimately worked up about his possible gig. This move was supposed to be about making him respectable and stable. It was supposed to be about advancement options — weren't those good things? He waved his hand at his SUV. "What am I doing now, Claire? I drive around and teach people how to make their push-ups more challenging, or how to do a squat without blowing out their knees. Where do I go from here? I can't advance, and I'm too young to be okay with doing this for the rest of my life."

  She came back to center and took a breath, considering the statement. "I'm sorry," she said after a few moments had passed. "Of course. It's not just about me and my muffin top."