Chapter 6
Jo
I’d been at Joe since it’d opened at seven this morning. I loved getting here before anyone else because most early morning customers on a Saturday were stop-ins or a few other dedicated people who hunkered down with their laptops and disappeared into their own worlds.
No one was swinging by to chat and see what I was up to. No one was asking about whether I’d found a job in Salt Lake. No one was interested in me at all here in my little corner, and that suited me just fine. The small thrill that hardly anyone knew Joe was partly mine added to the simple pleasure of sitting here.
My close friends knew I had a stake in this adorable shop, and my dad knew, but most everyone else didn’t. Ethan had suggested I do whatever I wanted and maybe because I’d already been keeping one secret, adding another came naturally. Granted, Elizabeth would probably love that news since her passion for international relations was just about the only thing burning hotter than her love of coffee.
“You must be in the zone,” a warm, deep voice said next to me.
I jolted and looked up to find a very handsome Adam Carter watching me with a soft smile.
“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. Clearly, I was,” I said, laughing lightly at the miraculous focus I’d had. Frankly, not noticing Adam the second he’d walked in was absolutely something to be proud of.
“I’m sorry for interrupting. Just wanted to say hi and I hope it’s going well.”
No mention of what it was, bless him.
“Thank you. It is.” My cheeks heated at the thought of the first kiss scene I’d just been working on for my heroine and her medic hero. Feeling his eyes still on me, I gestured to his paper bag and the small drink tray. “What are you up to so bright and early?”
“Dropping some breakfast off to a friend, and then I’m heading out for a hike.” He glanced out the shop window toward the mountains as though he could hear them calling to him.
“Lucky friend,” I said like an idiot. I was not jealous of whoever would receive the Saturday morning breakfast. I wasn’t at all.
Why would I be, when Adam was my friend and we weren’t… anything but friends? And why was I being so weird about this while he was still standing right here in front of me?
“Yeah, he used to be my trail buddy, but lately he’s not up for much other than a stop in.” Worry clouded his eyes when he glanced back at me.
“I’m glad you’re checking on him, then,” I said, wondering who this person was and how Adam had come to care for him so much. Without a doubt he did, though, because this was genuine anxiety I was seeing etched on his face. For a man who didn’t broadcast his feelings, this was loud and clear.
“Yeah, me, too. Maybe I can get him back out there this summer.”
“I hope so. And, you know, if you can’t, I’m happy to be a trail buddy. If you need a substitute for a while.”
Why did I say that?
“Yeah? You want to be my hiking buddy?” he asked, the little half smile on his face alluring enough, I could hardly stand the escalation of my heartbeat.
I reached for my drink, only to find I’d finished it and there was nothing left in the large cappuccino mug, so I rerouted to my water and took a sip before answering. “Yeah. I mean… not today. Like you said, I’m in the zone. But… sometime.”
Cue mental spiral—I’d just invited him on a hike. Or myself on a hike with him. A thing I knew he valued deeply and provided him sanity and joy and all kinds of things, and I’d just tried to weasel my way into his life by joining him.
Could I be any more desperate? I shuddered at the thought he might realize how much I wanted to be around him—that he could feel the drive to spend time with him wafting off me in freaking needy waves.
“Fair enough. Maybe next weekend?”
His response was casual and friendly and so of course, I agreed. If I backtracked now, it’d be even weirder than inviting myself along in the first place.
“Sounds good. Just let me know how much nature to expect and I’ll mentally prepare by then.” I fluttered my lashes, hoping he’d know I was joking even though part of me was definitely not joking. I liked to hike, but it took some gearing up.
He chuckled low, the sound rich and something I wanted to hear again in another context. “I’ll be sure to let you know. Have a good one, Jo.”
“You, too. Hi to your friend, if I know him.”
With that, he sent me the Saint guy nod and I gave him a parting grin, then glued my eyes to my laptop until the bell on the door jingled and I knew he’d be out of sight. Without an audience, I sighed and let my head slump to the table.
“Wow, that bad, huh?” Ethan set his messenger bag onto the seat at a two-top to the side and slid into the chair diagonal to me. Close enough to talk but not to invade my space.
“Bad?” I chuckled and clickety-clacked on my keyboard as though I was actually typing something and not still feeling the burn of embarrassment after inviting myself to hike with his brother.
“Talking with my brother was that bad?”
I straightened. “What? No. He’s fine.”
He chuckled. “I know he’s fine. I mean, you clearly like him.”
My mouth dropped open. “Um. What? Yeah. He’s definitely a nice guy.”
That sounded casual, right? No big deal, nothing to see here, no character-inspiring crushes to report.
Ethan pulled the brim of his hat lower on his head and leaned over so his elbow rested on the table. He had wavy hair that flipped up just over his ears and at the back of his head, and his face was almost never clean-shaven, though usually, he kept something just north of stubble instead of a true beard. It worked together to give him a boyish quality that was so appealing and nice.
He really was so handsome, and it made no sense that I didn’t feel all fluttery and mind-melty around him but I did for his older brother. His darker hair was longer at the sides, but it had the same carefree texture—I’d never wanted to run my hands through it like I did with Adam’s lighter locks. Same strong chin and cut jaw, but I felt no impulse to trail kisses along his trimmed beard until I reached his full mouth like I did with his brother.
Shockingly enough, same thicker lower lip, but I didn’t have to check the longing to brush my thumb across it, maybe nip it just a little just to see what he’d do, whenever I entered a room with Ethan in it.
When Ethan spoke, his words came out quiet enough no one else busily typing would hear, nor would Jeanine currently pulling espresso for the person at the counter.
“I think maybe you think he’s more than nice,” he said.
“You’re more than nice.”
He laughed. “Yeah. But that’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
I could admit it—I pouted back at him, not returning his smile and feeling all kinds of squiggly in my chair. “I don’t know anything.”
He leaned back and observed me as I hurriedly packed up my things, not interested in staying here under his scrutiny.
“I’ll just say that if you did think he was a little more than nice, maybe someone you’d like to spend more time with…”
Slinging my bag’s strap over one shoulder, I huffed as I pinned him with my glare. “What, you’ll warn me away? Tell me he’s out of my league or too old or isn’t interested in dating?”
His smile widened and something in his eyes flashed like I’d just told him a secret. “No, none of those things.”
I grabbed my basket and the cappuccino mug, which he took from my hands before pulling my attention back to his face.
“I’d tell you I don’t know of a better man, and that he’s worth the trouble.” Then he winked and turned, hollering a “Have a good one, Jo!” over his shoulder like he hadn’t just turned me completely upside-down.
I scuttled out of there and down the street, avoiding eye contact with the small number of wanderers, and slinked into my building without stopping by to see if my dad had come in early for his time at the shop today. I couldn’t see anyone else who was going to look me in the eye and read what I apparently broadcasted for all to see.
At least, for Ethan to see.
Yes, I thought Adam was more than nice. I… I liked him a lot. But I’d also been telling myself for coming up on a year now that he wasn’t for me and I didn’t like the idea of just ignoring my own hard-won wisdom. It was sound logic, and all the reasons I’d expected Ethan to warn me away from his brother were real items on the list of points against Adam, not the least of which I didn’t even mention—he’s not interested in me like that.
“I don’t know of a better man… he’s worth the trouble.”
I slumped down on my couch and shoved the heels of my hands into my eyes. I didn’t want any trouble. I wanted… simple. Straightforward. No obvious disinterest and stated anti-marriage stance. I didn’t want a hero I had to reform and shape—these never worked out in real life, anyway—plus that was more a trope for historicals and their roguish men.
But Ethan was telling me something, wasn’t he? He was a friend and I doubted many people knew Adam as well as he did. He wasn’t warning me away or telling me the feelings I apparently clearly broadcasted for all to see were foolish. He was telling me… well, he was essentially saying go for it, right?
Because Adam was worth fighting for. That was Ethan’s point. He wasn’t a reformed rake or a guy who’d never committed to anyone before. He was… what? He was a reluctant hero. He didn’t see himself as a main character in his own story—it was like he’d taken a supporting role to all his friends, his brother, and even me. He didn’t realize he could so easily become the hero in my story and his own just by being himself.
But even as I crushed my eyes closed against the foolishly hopeful thoughts, they emerged clear and bright as a single word on a new page.
I knew Adam was a good man already. He’d helped when Kiley had been taken last fall and again when Winnie had been kidnapped—and yes, technically, that was his job. But he’d also voluntarily helped me with my writing, and he clearly cared about his friends and his brother. He was already wonderful, and there was no need for him to become someone new in order to appeal to me, let alone be someone I wanted beyond the chemistry between us.
Ugh, and this other thought ringing out like truth came in hot, even though everything in me that hated the idea of foisting myself on someone who didn’t want me shriveled at the same time.
He’d be worth the trouble.