Chapter 11
11
There’s a knock on my door promptly at three o’clock. I answer it, plastering a fake smile on my face because I think Ethan and I both know how this date is going to go down.
“You look nice,” he says, visibly struggling to choke out the compliment. He hands me a bouquet of yellow daisies.
“Thanks. Let me just put these in water.” I gesture to the kitchen and move toward it without inviting him in. I return a second later, having unceremoniously stashed the flowers in a mug.
“Shall we?” Ethan holds out his arm.
It would be the height of rude not to take it, and I’m tempted, but I have a strong feeling Ethan doesn’t want to be here any more than I do, so we might as well try to get along for the afternoon. I slip my hand into the curve of his elbow. The brush of skin on skin stirs absolutely zero feelings, and when I lean closer to take a subtle whiff of him, I get nothing in return. The man smells like nothing. I think that pretty much immediately eliminates him as romance hero material.
The silence between us grows painful until I finally break it. “Where are we headed?”
“We’re going out to the strawberry fields to pick some berries and have a picnic. The Strawberry Festival starts tomorrow.”
My nose wrinkles before I can control it. I’ve never understood the fascination with picking berries or apples or whatever as some sort of activity. I can go to the market and buy a bushel for a fraction of the cost, without having to get sweaty and dirty. And what kind of town needs two fruit festivals and a carnival in less than two weeks?
Ethan’s eyes meet mine. “Somehow I don’t think this is going to be your kind of date.”
“Picnics are fun, I guess.” If you like bugs crawling all over the food and drowning in perfectly good glasses of wine.
We walk for a few more silent minutes before we reach a sign for the berry farm. It tells us to wait for the wagon to come pick us up. A wagon. This date is getting worse by the minute.
Neither of us even makes an attempt at conversation in the two minutes it takes the wagon to come rambling down the dirt road. Ethan offers me a hand to help me climb up into the back and I take it. Once again, there’s nary a hint of a spark.
Ethan settles on the bench seat next to me, leaving at least a foot of space between us.
The wagon lurches into motion, and I fall practically into Ethan’s lap, moving quickly to push myself upright before my hands come into contact with any particular places that they absolutely should not.
“Sorry.” I brush my hair out of my eyes and smooth down the skirt of my yellow sundress. Grandmother always told me blondes should never wear yellow because it washes us out, and I definitely factored that tidbit into my wardrobe decision for the afternoon.
“No problem,” Ethan mumbles.
“Look, Ethan, I can think of few things worse in life than trying to have any sort of meaningful conversation in the back of a fucking wagon, but in the interest of preserving both of our sanity, let me just make it clear that I have no intention of pursuing a relationship with you.”
The relief that washes over his face should be insulting.
It is a little insulting, if I’m being totally honest. So I don’t know why I rush to justify my declaration. “You seem like a really nice guy, and I’m sure there are lots of women out there who would love to date you.” I can think of one in particular, but I keep that to myself for now. “But you’re not the one for me, I’m afraid.”
Ethan scrubs his hands over his thighs, covered in jeans that accentuate his lanky frame. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m so glad you said that.”
“Gee, how could I take that the wrong way?” I slide a little farther away on the bench.
Ethan moves a couple of inches closer to me but keeps his hands where I can see them. “I just meant that there is someone else out there…for me, I mean…and I don’t think I could give you the full attention you deserve and I would really hate to hurt you. You do seem like a nice person.”
“Do I, though?”
“Well, Emma seems to like you, so you can’t be all bad.” Ethan hesitates for a second. “I know that it might not be appropriate to ask this, considering we’re supposed to be on a date…”
I raise one eyebrow, but don’t interrupt him.
“But there might be someone else who’s caught my attention. I’m just not sure if she’s interested in me.”
I smile because he really is adorable. “Interesting. I have a friend—a work associate who’s becoming a friend, really—who is going through a similar situation.”
For a second, a spark lights his eyes, but it fades as soon as it comes. “I’m sure whoever your friend is, she’s far more impressive than me. I’m sure anyone in town would be lucky to have her.”
“You’re right about that.” I steady myself after another jolting lurch of the wagon. “But she’s got her heart set on one person in particular.”
Ethan’s head falls. “I could never be worthy of her, can’t really provide her with the kind of life she deserves. I’m just a schoolteacher, and I’m not sure how it works where you’re from, but here in Heart Springs, there isn’t a lot of money in teaching.”
“I think that’s a universal truth, my friend.” I brush my hands, clearing away some straw and potential splinters. I’m very much over this whole Heart Springs 1950s notion of gender roles and vow to do what I can to quash it. “But Emma isn’t the kind of person to judge you based on your income. Besides, the bakery seems to be doing just fine, she doesn’t exactly need your money.”
Ethan’s eyes widen at my use of her name, but I’m spared his response as the wagon finally comes to a halting stop. I once again take his hand as he helps me down but drop it the second my feet hit solid ground.
“So, Ethan, now that we know we are not going to be riding off into the sunset together—literally or figuratively—can we skip the whole manual labor part of this date and go right to the eating and drinking part?” I wouldn’t want to pick strawberries with a man I wanted to bang, I sure as hell don’t plan on wasting my energy on this farce with Ethan.
He shrugs and leads me over to a table positioned under the shade of a huge tree. “I don’t see why not.”
I try—unsuccessfully—throughout the course of our picnic to convince Ethan that he needs to just ask Emma out already, but he continues to insist she needs a man who can “provide for her.” Our picnic comes to a screeching halt when I lose my patience and tell him he doesn’t deserve her if he isn’t going to grow a pair and ask her out.
When I get home from my “date,” Ben’s front porch is empty.
Which is fine. It’s not like I have a whole lot to report anyway. And I certainly haven’t gotten used to our daily hangouts. And he probably isn’t going to be too happy with me when he hears about what a disaster the date was.
So really, it’s better that I don’t have to see him.
I am very good at my job—my real-world one, that is—and can convince just about anyone of just about anything. But somehow I fail to convince myself that it doesn’t bother me that Ben isn’t waiting for me. I fail to convince myself that I don’t actually miss him.
—
Emma’s smile the morning after my nondate is slightly more strained than usual.
“Ethan is a very nice guy, but I have zero interest in him whatsoever,” I declare the moment I walk through the door. I know I already told her I wouldn’t be pursuing him, but clearly the message didn’t sink in the first time.
Hence her huge sigh of relief. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” she lies after she catches herself, still grinning widely.
“Emma, this is ridiculous. Ask the man out on a date.” I wash my hands and tie an apron around my waist.
“Cam, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, and I honestly mean that, but please just trust me when I say it’s not that easy. Things have always been done a certain way around here and I don’t want to be the one to rock the boat.” She buries her attention in the pantry, stacking ingredients on the long butcher-block counter.
I let out a sigh of my own. “Fine.” I grab the eggs from the fridge, already well-versed in Emma’s routine, even after just a few days working in the bakery.
We complete the rest of the morning setup, Emma doing most of the baking, me unloading trays and filling the display case, in near silence, but it’s not awkward and stilted like it was with Ethan. Aside from Ben, Emma is the only person in Heart Springs who really seems to get me—and who seems to have any interest in getting to know the real me. And since Ben ditched me last night, she might now be the only one who legitimately cares about me, so I won’t push her. I’ll just do my best to make her life easier. And maybe continue to subtly encourage her to pursue Ethan and smash the patriarchy and all that.
Mimi pushes through the door of the bakery right after the morning rush, not even trying to hide her scowl.
I hold up my hands. “I told you trying to make me fall in love was a terrible idea.”
“Ethan is a kind, successful, intelligent young man.” Her hands land on her hips and for a moment she almost reminds me of my grandmother.
I shudder. “I never would say otherwise. Ethan is all those things, he’s just not the man for me.”
“You will not get out of here if you don’t play by the rules, Cam.”
I check behind me, but Emma is safely tucked away in the back kitchen, oblivious to this conversation. “You don’t scare me, Meem.” She does scare me, a little bit, but I sure as hell am not giving her the satisfaction of knowing that. “I can take you.”
Ignoring my very weak threat, she crosses her arms over her chest and smiles, but it’s smug. “Lucky for you, I have two more men waiting in the wings.”
“Can’t fucking wait.” To hate them too is implied.
Mimi nods her head and the next thing I know, the door is swinging open again like she has telekinesis or just really good timing.
But my attention is quickly pulled away from my fairy torture mother. It lands squarely on the man who strides through the door, and it stays there.
Because holy hell.
He’s hotter than Chris Hemsworth and Sebastian Stan. Combined. Tall and broad with arms that could totally rip a tree trunk in half. Golden brown hair and bright green eyes and a smile that could quite literally drop panties. My frilly pink ones might have just burned right up.
Okay, Mimi. You win this round.
“This is Jason,” she says, her smirk growing even smirkier. “He’s bachelor number two.”
Jason sticks out his hand, and I daintily place mine in his huge paw. His fingers completely dwarf mine, and as he brings my hand to his lips, I don’t even roll my eyes at the ridiculous gesture.
“Pleasure to meet you,” I say in the sweetest voice I’ve managed since landing in this war zone.
“Same.” Jason’s voice is gravelly and rough and sexy as fuck.
Smiling coyly, I lean over the bakery counter, glad I chose a dress with a lower neckline this morning. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”
“Same.”
Okay, so the man doesn’t exactly have a way with words. The date I have in mind won’t really require anything more than one-word responses anyway. Words like “yes” and “more” and “fuck me harder.”
Mimi steps in front of Jason. “You’ll be accompanying Jason to the End of Summer concert in the park in two days.”
“End of Summer?” My brow furrows and I know I’m going to need extra Botox by the time I break free of this place. “Didn’t summer just start like a few days ago?”
“Eventually you’ll realize things work a little differently around here.” Mimi hooks her arm in Jason’s and drags him to the door.
“Nice meeting you!” I call to his retreating broad, broad back.
He waves in response, following along as Mimi tugs him down the sidewalk.
I bite my lip, holding back a grin.
Emma smiles, shooting me a knowing glance. I was so distracted by Jason’s pecs, I didn’t even see her approach. “Feeling better about this blind date?”
“I’m feeling better about something.” Like the way I’m totally going to get laid in just a couple days’ time.
Sex is something I’ve never invested a ton of time and energy in, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting—and needing and getting—it on the regular. Men in New York are easy and uncomplicated when all you want from them is one night—no sleepovers allowed. And Jason is just my type, big and tall and not too chatty. Maybe one night in his bed is exactly what I need to get my head on straight.
Ben’s face flashes in my mind, for a mere second, putting the slightest of dampers on my fantasies of Jason and what he can do with those biceps. But I’m not going to let Ben ruin my good time.
Emma laughs before nudging me out of my sex haze. “Back to work, hot stuff, lunch rush will be here before you know it.”
I nudge her right back, but then jump into helping prep a batch of savory pastries, for the first time in a long time looking forward to what’s to come.