Chapter 11 #2
When we got to the giant trolleys, I grabbed one and glanced up at him in question, as if asking if the plan was to go our separate ways or shop together. He nodded and followed along, as if that somehow gave me a clear answer.
“Tell me about the band,” he said after we showed our membership cards to the greeter. “I gotta say, I’m surprised you drove all the way up here to listen to music. Why not offer to have the band play at Timber instead?”
“Uh, because bands like to be paid for their work?” I said with a small laugh. “And since I’m still paying back my startup and renovation loans, there’s not a lot of extra money for fancy shit like live music.”
He looked surprised. “Oh, I thought… well, it doesn’t matter what I thought.”
It did to me. It mattered a whole lot what he thought. “You can’t just leave that hanging there. Tell me.”
Judd threaded fingers through his hair. It was unusual to see him less than confident. “Sorry. I just heard you came from money. It wasn’t fair of me to make assumptions.”
I felt the familiar mix of embarrassment and self-consciousness creep up, and I struggled to shut them down. “You aren’t wrong. But I didn’t accept my family’s help when opening Timber. It was a source of many fights, actually. My parents weren’t happy about it.”
That was an understatement. When my uncle Jude tried to release my trust fund early, I refused that, too.
“Why didn’t you accept their help?”
It seemed a personal conversation to be having next to the Tupperware sets and mini Keurigs, but I decided to go ahead since the chances of anyone around us knowing who I was were slim.
“Lots of reasons. First, I guess because I wanted to prove to myself and to them that I could succeed on my own. A lot of restaurants fail in the first few years, and I knew that pressure would light a fire under my ass.” I shot him a sideways glance. “Not literally.”
He snorted.
“And then also because… my dads own a vineyard, and they wanted me to take over. So when I left Napa to do something different, something for me, I felt guilty. I didn’t want to ask them to help finance my abandonment, so to speak.”
Kincaid stopped and turned to face me with an odd expression. “Really? I had a friend in a similar situation. How did your parents take it?”
“They tried to be supportive—and don’t get me wrong, they have been—but I could see my dads’ disappointment.
The vineyard’s been in our family for a long time, and neither of my sisters is interested in running it either.
There’s a cousin who’s working there now who might end up getting the bug, but I don’t know. ”
“You still feel guilty.” Kincaid’s hands looked huge, grabbing bags of apples and palming whole melons.
I shrugged as I reached for a large container of grapes. “My feelings on the topic are… complicated. Oh, hey, look, fire extinguishers! My local fire chief probably wants me to buy five hundred of these. Zip-tie them to every available surface just in case.”
“He sounds like someone who cares about the safety of the people around him,” he said with a firm nod.
“He sounds like a stickler for the rules.”
“Rules save lives, Marian. Don’t forget that.”
We moved from the produce to the milk as Kincaid continued loading up the cart. “I didn’t mean to pry about your family,” he said after a few minutes of silence.
“It’s not that. I just… don’t know what to say. I do feel guilty. They don’t want me to feel guilty. But you can’t just tell yourself how to feel or not feel. And I’m learning I don’t let things go very easily,” I confessed.
I felt his stare on the side of my face as I leaned in to get a giant block of American cheese slices I didn’t need.
“What else can’t you let go of?” His voice was deep and steady, like the man he seemed to be. Judd Kincaid carried a kind of commanding authority I couldn’t deny. It made me want to do exactly as he said. No matter what he said.
“You,” I said, laying it out there. “I can’t stop trying to figure you out. One minute, you seem interested, and the next, you’re not. I wish I didn’t give a shit, but there it is.”
Kincaid was silent for a long moment. Then he blew out a breath and said, “My feelings on the topic are… complicated.”
The way he threw my own words back at me almost made me smile. But I wasn’t interested in complicated. And I sure as shit wasn’t up for another rejection after last night.
“No problem! I’m not looking for complicated, so don’t worry about it.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “What are you looking for, exactly?”
“Someone to kiss,” I said like a school marm with a secret stash of Harlequin romances under her twin bed.
The edge of his lip quirked up, and his eyes brightened with curiosity and amusement. “To kiss?”
I nodded. “And believe it or not, that’s hard to find in this town. Everyone just wanted me to suck…” I glanced around guiltily. “Stuff,” I finished lamely.
His smile disappeared. “I thought you hadn’t done that before.”
“I haven’t. Which is why I wasn’t interested. But the guy I actually want to kiss blew me off. And not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Who?”
I rolled my eyes and reached for a big box of dog biscuits. My cousin Tommy’s boyfriend had the most amazing hound dog. Chickie would probably love me forever if I brought her ten pounds of excess calories.
“If you’re asking me that question, Chief, you definitely haven’t been paying attention.”
“Wait. What did you mean when you asked if I was doing a Costco run? Is that code for something?”
I flapped a hand in the air. “You’re too old to get it. Don’t worry about it.”
He grunted.
“I’m thinking of letting Ella set me up with a guy she knows from work. She was going to set me up with Monroe, but I guess you beat me to the punch there.”
“Hey. I didn’t do anything with Monroe. Remember? I drove you home that night, not him.”
“Yes, Chief,” I murmured. “I remember.” In fact, I had his fleece in my car. Thank god he hadn’t caught me in it.
He threw a giant vat of olive oil into the cart before reaching for the spaghetti sauce. “It’s complicated because I’m older than you are.”
“Ah, yes. You’re in your fifties, yes?”
“Shut the hell up. You know I’m forty.”
“I only know it because you were trying to tell me how not-old you were,” I reminded him.
“And you’re part of a current permit suspension,” he continued.
I nodded. “Practically a hardened criminal. Bad for your reputation. I get it.” I pointed to the cart. “You probably want the spaghetti noodles to go with all that sauce.”
He grunted again and grabbed for the noodle boxes. “And I…” He closed his mouth, clenched his jaw, and admitted, “I still have feelings for my ex.”
This was news to me. “You have an ex?” What was I saying? Of course he had an ex. The man was forty years old. “Who? Why’d you break up? What happened?”
He didn’t answer the questions I peppered at him. Instead, he said, “So maybe that explains a few things, okay?”
Not okay. I wanted all of the details. “Was it Kaidee?”
“No. I already told you we’re just friends.”
“Was it a woman?”
His eyes were stormy, not with annoyance but sadness, his jaw still clenched so tight I felt a moment of genuine concern for his molars. “I’m not talking about it with you.”
I reached for his arm and stopped his forward motion. He blew out a breath of frustration like he was expecting me to ask more questions. Instead, I simply said, “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. Anyway, now you know why the mixed signals.”
We started walking together again down the next aisle. “Have you hooked up since your breakup? You said you tried to pick up my cousin. Was that before or after? Before, right?”
He shook his head.
“After?” I asked in surprise. “Your breakup was a long time ago.”
“Yes, I’ve been with other people since. But only for sex.”
I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation in Costco, next to an industrial-sized box of granola bars. “Then why… why can’t we…” I couldn’t get the question out because it would put me right in the crosshairs for another rejection.
“You’re looking for more than that. You’ve been saving yourself for someone special, and I’m not him.” Kincaid’s long legs stalked down the aisle, pushing the cart so hard it nearly took out a display of early bird Halloween candy before he yanked it back on track.
This was so fucking frustrating.
I rushed to catch up with him. “It’s not like that. I was a late bloomer, okay? And then I was busy getting multiple degrees while also working full-time. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to screw around; I just didn’t have the time. And then…”
Kincaid lifted an eyebrow without slowing down. “And then?”
I blew out a breath and dodged around some clearance patio furniture. “And then I was into someone. Someone I did wait for. But he… disappeared, so.”
I deliberately avoided telling him the man had died since the snack foods aisle didn’t pair well with awkward and morbid declarations.
“So here you are?”
“Here I am. Ready. Beyond ready. I just…” I glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “I didn’t exactly want to give it up to a random guy in a bar bathroom, you know?”
He slowed, finally, as we reached the toiletry aisle. “I’m glad you didn’t. That shit can be dangerous.”
“You should take me on,” I blurted. “Show me the ropes. Like a teacher.”
As I spoke, Kincaid’s eyebrows shot up. “Like a teacher?” he asked in disbelief. “A… sex teacher?”
I thought about the best way to play this. “Well, not everyone’s cut out for teaching, and you did say you were kind of old…”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t reverse-psychology me.”
I shrugged. “Maybe it’s for the best. You seem very dom-toppy, and I’m more of a bottom. At least, I think. You probably wouldn’t be the best teacher in my case. I’ve read that bossy tops can be insensitive or oblivious. Not the most patient. And I don’t want to be rushed or pressured.”
“I would never rush or pressure you,” he ground out, in a voice low and fierce as if forcing himself to stay calm and not throw me across the toothpaste aisle.
I shrugged. “We’ll never know. I’ll have to find someone else. Would Monroe be patient, do you think?”
Instead of waiting for his response, I turned around to search for lube.