“What?”
“Oh my God,” Sam broke in, looking amused and annoyed at the same time. “Janey, you said something, but we didn’t hear it. Caleb asked what you’d said. Then we got Abbott and Costello.” She paused. “So what did you say?”
“Nothing important,” Jane said, grabbing one of the big plastic menus and fixing her eyes on it. There was no way she was going to shout I love you at her sister in a crowded hipster burger joint.
“This is why I hate it here,” Caleb said, his eyes still hidden under the brim of his hat. “It’s not too late to go somewhere else, you know. Or we could order takeout and eat at home.”
She actually agreed with him. And that was so annoying she grabbed the hat from his head and put it on her lap. “You shouldn’t wear this thing at dinner.”
Caleb made a swipe for it, but Jane tossed it to Sam, who put it on the seat next to her.
“Little sis is right. Just pretend you’re civilized for an hour, C.B. It won’t kill you.”
With the hat gone, Jane could see Caleb’s expression clearly, and he looked as irritated as she felt. He sat up a little straighter and turned his hazel eyes on her.
“So. How’d it go with Horn-Rims today?”
She might have known he’d ask. God forbid she could just pretend the last hour hadn’t happened.
And of course, Sam perked right up. “Horn-Rims? Who’s Horn-Rims?”
Jane looked back down at the menu. “A guy.”
She could feel Sam’s interest and excitement from across the table. Her sister was always telling her to “put herself out there” more.
“A guy you like?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s awesome! Does he know you’re interested? Does he like you?”
Jane looked up finally, meeting her sister’s happy gaze. What would it be like to be that uncomplicated? For sisterly love and affection to be unmarred by jealousy or insecurity?
She took a deep breath, and then she said words she’d said before. Often, in fact. At fourteen, and seventeen, and twenty, and twenty-three.
“No, he doesn’t like me. He likes you.”
Chapter Six
Of all the things Caleb had expected Jane to say, that hadn’t even been on the list. When the hell had that asshole even seen Sam?
Sam looked confused. “I don’t understand. Who—”
Jane shrugged, which was what she did when she was feeling more than she was saying. “He was the customer I was with when you stopped by. You shook his hand.”
Sam’s forehead scrunched up a little as she thought back. “I remember him. Sure. He was wearing horn-rims, wasn’t he? But we hardly talked at all. How could he possibly—”
“I guess it was love at first sight.”
Jane’s voice was flat, but Caleb could hear the bitterness behind it.
She sounded sad, too. Forlorn.
A sudden wave of anger swept through him. If Horn-Rims were here right now, he’d punch him in the face.
“It wasn’t love at first sight,” he said gruffly. “It was lust.”
Jane jerked her head around to look at him.
“Of course it was lust,” she snapped. “That’s the point.”
At least when she was pissed she didn’t look sad.
“What’s the point?”
“Men don’t lust after me.”
His jaw tightened.
Yes, they do.
For one sickening moment he thought he’d said the words out loud. But Jane had turned back to Sam, who was looking confused and guilty at the same time.
“I told him I’d help him out,” Jane was saying. “I said you and I would have lunch at the deli tomorrow, and that he could stop by.”
“No way! I mean, of course I’d love to have lunch with you, but I don’t want to spend time with this guy. Even if he was my type, which he isn’t, you know I’d never go after someone you were interested in.”
“I know.”
“Little sis, I’m so sorry. I didn’t do anything. Honestly, I barely noticed him.”
Jane smiled a little. “I know. Believe me, I know.”
She shrugged again, and this time the movement meant she was ready to change the subject.
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. Let’s eat. I’m starved.”
Sam looked doubtful, but the waiter came over in time to provide a distraction.
For once Caleb didn’t mind the detailed discussion of the day’s specials, which included all the ways the restaurant had found to ruin a perfectly good hamburger and the ways they’d found to ruin perfectly good alcohol. It gave him time to study Jane to see if she really was okay.
She seemed to be. She was listening to the waiter as if descriptions of weird condiments were the most fascinating thing she’d ever heard and choosing between them was the only thing on her mind right now.
Sam was definitely okay. Her emotions were big and transparent, and her relief now was as obvious as her worry a minute ago had been. She’d taken Jane at her word and was happy to move on.
Jane was harder to read. She always had been.
Once the waiter left with their orders Sam started to ask about Horn-Rims, but Jane deflected her.
“Tell me about your trip. The pictures you sent were gorgeous, but it’s better when you guys describe it.”
“You know what would be even more fun? If you actually came with us sometime,” Caleb pointed out. “In fact—”
Jane, who knew where he was going with that, smacked him on the arm so hard it actually hurt.
“Not going to happen,” she said, glaring at him.
“But—”
“No.”
She kept up the glare, and he grinned back at her. When they were arguing, she didn’t look sad or wistful.
“She’ll never come on one of our expeditions,” Sam said. “But at least we can tell her about them.” She leaned forward. “Okay, so, the craziest night was near the end of the trip. There was a big thunderstorm, and I mean big. It felt like the lightning was right overhead, and some of the people in the group were scared to death. The rain was coming down so hard—”
The waiter brought their drinks while Sam was talking, and Caleb took a long swig of his beer. He listened to Sam and watched Jane, looking for signs that she really was all right. It was so damn hard to tell with her. She was listening to her sister with her chin propped on her hand, taking an occasional sip of her iced tea. In the light of the lamp above their table, her brown braid shone like satin, the loose curls around her ear casting a faint shadow on her cheek.
He remembered the selfie she’d sent last night and the way her hair had looked tumbled around her shoulders. She’d been wearing those Harry Potter pj’s, dark blue, and now he wondered what the rich soft brown of her hair would look like against bare skin. If she unbuttoned her pajama top slowly and—
“Did you really do that?”
Both sisters were looking at him, but it was Jane who’d asked the question. For one awful moment he wondered if they knew what he’d been thinking.
Of course that was nuts. Still, his heart was pounding like he’d been caught doing something criminal.
He took a gulp of beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Do what?”
Jane frowned at him. “Have you even been listening? Sam said a twelve-year-old boy broke his leg and you carried him three miles to a place where a medevac helicopter could pick him up.”
“Oh. That.”
“Yes, that.”
She was still frowning at him, and he frowned back. “Why do you look like you’re mad at me?”
“It’s just . . . that was very heroic of you.”
“Which pisses you off for some reason?”
“Of course not. But you could have mentioned it, you know. Now I feel bad for smacking you before and giving you a hard time last night and—”
“I gave you a hard time, too. And what was I supposed to say? Don�
�t yank my chain, I helped a kid with a broken leg?”
Jane’s mouth tipped up, and he felt ridiculously glad to see her smile.
“Seriously, though,” she said. “I hate thinking about you and Sam in thunderstorms and other dangerous situations. I’m afraid you’ll—”
Sam started to laugh, and Jane glared at her. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s not funny that you care about us,” Sam said quickly. “I was just remembering when that movie came out—127 Hours?—and you started worrying that one of us was going to get an arm or leg trapped by a boulder and we’d have to self-amputate to save ourselves.”
Jane sighed. “I actually hadn’t thought about that for a while, but now the images are back in my head. Thanks a lot.”
“Anytime, little sis.”
The waiter brought their food—bacon cheeseburger for him, burgers with arugula and truffle oil and avocado and seared foie gras and God knew what other weird crap for them—and for a few minutes conversation took a back seat to eating.
The rest of the meal was okay. His burger was actually good—and he’d grown up with cattle ranchers in Colorado, so he knew beef—and the conversation drifted from topic to topic without touching on anything awkward or uncomfortable.
“Heard from Mom lately?” Sam asked while they were waiting for their check.
Jane shook her head. “I think she’s still on that meditation retreat. You know she doesn’t bring her phone to those.”
“And Dad?”
“He called the other night. He’s working on some big celebrity case he can’t even talk about.”
Sam and Jane’s parents were definitely an odd couple. Harvey Finch was a high-profile lawyer in Los Angeles, and Nina Finch was a practicing Buddhist and a professor of Japanese studies at UCLA. How they stayed married—and happily so, to all appearances—was a mystery to him.
“Are they coming out for my birthday?”
“Dad can’t, but he said he’ll make it up to you at Christmas. Mom will be here, though.”
Sam grinned. “Dad can’t come, huh? That means serious parental guilt for me to leverage. I think it’s time to ask for new skis for Christmas. I’ll call him tonight and start laying the groundwork.” She looked at Caleb. “Is there any chance you’ll actually spend Christmas with us for once? You know Mom and Dad would love to have you.”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
Jane elbowed him in the ribs. “Any chance you’ll finally tell us where you do spend Christmas?”
“Nope.”
The Finches were the kind of family who had holiday traditions. Even if they didn’t follow them every year, there was a structure there—built not just out of habit but on mutual trust and affection. He was glad Sam and Jane could take that for granted, glad they looked forward to Christmas every year.
He didn’t, but he didn’t waste time crying about it—or talking about it.
That didn’t stop Sam and Jane from trying, of course. It had become a new part of the Finch holiday tradition. Every year they tried to get Caleb to join them for Christmas dinner or a New Year’s Eve party, and every year he declined with thanks.
Nobody, not even his brother, knew where he spent the week between Christmas and New Year’s. Caleb had no intention of ever sharing that information with anyone or changing his own holiday tradition.
But even though he made a show of being annoyed when Sam and Jane asked, the truth was, he was touched every single time they did. The fact that the Finches were so willing to include him in the intimacy of their family Christmas meant more to him than he would ever admit, and the fact that he would never take them up on their offer didn’t change that.
The waiter arrived with their check. “It’s on me,” he said, handing over his card.
“No!” Jane said, fishing in her purse—but the waiter was already gone.
He grinned at her, and she glowered back.
“Why can’t I ever treat?”
“Because you’re too slow.”
“That’s not true. The last time the three of us got together, I had my card out and ready and you wouldn’t let the waiter take it.”
“I guess I just want it a little more than you do, pipsqueak.” He reached over the table and grabbed his hat from the seat next to Sam. “It’s a man’s job to pay for the burgers,” he intoned in his best cowboy voice, tipping his hat to Jane.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know how you stand him,” she said to Sam.
“He’s useful in a crisis. Like if you’re leading a hiking expedition and a twelve-year-old boy breaks his leg.”
“That’s not the only thing I’m good for,” Caleb commented. “I can also rub two sticks together to make a fire.”
“You should try it with your two IQ points sometime,” Jane said.
“Good one,” Sam said approvingly, as Caleb signed the check and stuck his card back in his wallet.
“If you ladies are done impugning my intelligence and character, we can get out of here.”
Once they were out on the sidewalk, Sam flagged down a taxi.
He felt disappointed. “We’re calling it a night? I thought we could get dessert somewhere, or maybe see a movie.”
“Not me,” Sam said. “I’m meeting Hannah and Michelle for drinks uptown. I told you at dinner, remember?”
“I guess I missed that.” He glanced at Jane. “Are you going with them?”
She shook her head. “Things get pretty rowdy when Sam hangs with her college roommates. I’m just going to head home.”
Sam climbed into the cab and waved at them through the window. “Talk to you soon, guys!”
Jane stood looking after the taxi until it rounded a corner.
“Love at first sight,” she muttered.
Caleb felt a stab of pity, but he was careful not to show it.
He bumped her shoulder with his. “Thought you said it didn’t matter.”
Pedestrian traffic was flowing past them, and now Jane slid her hands into the pockets of her cardigan and stepped into the stream.
“I lied.”
Caleb walked beside her, resisting the urge to put his arm around her shoulders. “Well, you did a pretty good job of hiding it. Kudos.”
She shrugged. “If I let Sam see how much it bothered me, she’d offer to do something stupid, like bully Dan into asking me out. That’s what she did when I was seventeen and my prom date fell in love with her.”
Every time he heard that story, he winced.
“She means well,” he said.
“I know. But that only makes it worse.”
“How come?”
“Because I can’t hate her. Or I shouldn’t, anyway. It’s not her fault she was born beautiful and athletic.”
That hint of bitterness was back, along with that sad, wistful, almost resigned tone.
He grabbed Jane by the arm and pulled her away from the bustling crowd, over to a shop sheltered by an awning. It was a women’s clothing boutique, closed for the night, with a light shining on a blue silk dress in the window.
Jane stared up at him. “What are you doing?”
Good question.
“It pisses me off when you talk about how beautiful Sam is.”
“Why would that piss you off? It’s true.”
“Yeah, but . . . that’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
The point is that you’re beautiful, too. In a different way. Your own way.
But if he said that, it might come out sounding like an insult instead of a compliment. Or worse: it might sound like he was making a move on her.
And that was so far out-of-bounds it was over the horizon.
He leaned against the window, took off his hat, and dragged a hand through his hair.
Jane folded her arms and started to say something, but then her gaze shifted to the shop window behind him. Whatever she saw made her smile, and he looked over his shoulder.
“What are you looking at?�
�� he asked.
“This dress. I saw it the morning I met Handsome Dan.”
He swiveled his head around again. “Handsome Dan? You don’t seriously call him that.”
“Why not? He is handsome.”
“That’s the name of a dog.”
She blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“The Yale mascot. Handsome Dan. The bulldog?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, you’re right. That’s why it sounded familiar.” She frowned at him. “But how do you know that? You didn’t go to Yale.”
He and Sam had gone to the University of Colorado, which was where they’d met. “No, but you did.”
“The only time you visited was for my graduation. How do you remember the name of their mascot? I didn’t even remember that.”
He felt defensive. “I happened to remember that detail because it’s a sports thing. You forgot it for the same reason.”
“I guess.” She sighed. “A bulldog. Wow. Okay, I have to stop calling him Handsome Dan.”
“Are you kidding? You should call him that all the time.”
Jane was looking at the dress again. “The man of my dreams,” she murmured.
He frowned. “What?”
She pointed, and he followed the line of her gaze to the sign that hung above the mannequin.
WEAR THIS AND YOU’LL FIND HIM:
THE MAN OF YOUR DREAMS.
“Talk about a hard sell,” he muttered, and she laughed.
“That’s what I thought, too. But it is a beautiful dress.”
It seemed pretty ordinary to him—just another Manhattan status symbol, too fancy for real life. There was only one thing about it that seemed exceptional.
“It’s the color of your eyes.”
He could feel Jane staring at him, and he turned back to face her.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. I just . . . didn’t know you knew the color of my eyes.”
He felt defensive again. “You obviously don’t think I notice much.” He nodded toward the dress. “Sam’s eyes are that color, too.”
Jane looked down. “Right,” she said after a moment. “Cobalt blue.”
“I guess.” He paused. “What would you say to walking home?”
She looked confused. “You’re walking to Washington Heights? From here?”
Tell Me Page 5
