Chapter 12
twelve
BONNIE
There were times in my life when staying busy had kept me going.
After the separation, for example. I’d buried myself in work and end-of-the-year school activities. There’d also been the months—years—when Danny and I had been trying for a baby. I’d needed to keep myself occupied after all those negative pregnancy tests.
I was the sort of person who found it necessary to have reminders, reasons to put one foot in front of the other in order to maintain my sanity.
Those came in the shape of volunteering or extracurriculars, helping my mom or my aunt, baking, donating my time and energy, participating in farm events, those sorts of things.
And right now, it was sort of nice to be so busy and occupied.
I hadn’t really had time to freak out about Jack or my relationship with him.
In the last few weeks, there’d been little free time to question my sanity or my decision-making.
I was, truthfully, still riding the high of sex with Jack and showering with Jack and coffee with Jack, and getting knowing looks from Jack.
I’d left his apartment the previous Monday after a thorough tour of the shower. One that had my front pressed to the cold tiles while Jack pushed into me from behind. I’d left with wet hair and a big smile on my face.
Tuesday afternoon, I’d visited Diane and Eldridge again.
I’d brought my former mother-in-law her favorite fried chicken from Roosters in Asheville, hoping she’d be able to eat.
We’d had a good visit, and I was grateful they hadn’t mentioned my plans to Danny.
I knew they hadn’t because he’d been texting me, asking when I’d like to go back over to see his mom. Annoyed, I’d ignored the messages.
Wednesday brought bowling league play. I’d been able to enjoy my time with Mac and Candace and Joan while also sneaking in some texts to Jack.
Thursday night had Jack and I facing off on the softball field once again.
Only this time, I’d had fun with the flirty looks and the knowing smirks.
Afterward, I’d followed him to his apartment and stayed over.
We’d gotten up early for coffee and Pop-Tarts before I’d needed to be at school Friday morning.
I’d spent Saturday with Jack. Another long ride and a sunny day on the back of his bike. We’d gone east this time, through Miller Creek and beyond, stopping at a brewery to have lunch and listen to a band play. I’d stayed over again, liking the excitement and anticipation of being in his space.
This week had been just as busy. But between school, trivia night, and dinner with Mac and Brady, I’d found time to text Jack throughout the day and following his shifts at Magnolia.
Currently, it was Friday evening, and I was looking forward to my monthly book club night.
Becca typically hosted out at the homestead, but it was Chloe’s birthday, so we’d decided to celebrate a little.
I’d asked Kayla to reserve us an out-of-the-way booth at Magnolia, and arrived early so she could hide a cake for me in the walk-in refrigerator.
The upscale tourist bar wasn’t our usual hangout spot.
In fact, I could count on one hand how many times I'd been there over the years.
But I thought the change of scenery might be nice, though.
And if I was being honest, I wanted to see Jack in his element.
The man in question watched Kayla disappear into the back with a decorated Japanese cheesecake in hand before moseying over my way.
“This is a surprise,” he said casually as he wiped down the bar. His forearms flexed, the tattoos shifting on his skin as he moved. My mind got a little distracted remembering how those forearms had looked as he’d braced himself over me in bed.
Ignoring the heat flooding my cheeks, I smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to drink my weight in beer and cause trouble.”
Jack’s eyes sparkled.
“We’re having our book club meeting,” I offered. “And celebrating Chloe’s birthday.” I frowned, considering, then lowered my voice. “I’m sorry. Should I have cleared that with you? I didn’t mean to ambush you at work.”
He gave me a flat, irritated look.
“Right,” I backtracked. “I take back the apology.”
Satisfied, he replied, “Of course, you don’t need to clear things with me. You can come by whenever you want.”
“You’re sure?”
He stopped wiping and pinned me with another stare. “I’m sure, Clyde. You don’t owe me anything.”
My lips parted in confusion. I didn’t like the sound of that. But before I could argue or object, I heard the rowdy voices of my friends arriving.
Jack’s eyes shifted to the door behind me. “You ladies get settled. I’ll come over in a minute and get you some drinks.”
Then he walked farther down the bar, and I couldn’t pinpoint why I felt so disappointed.
With a final glance his way, I wrangled my group and led them toward our booth.
Chloe, the birthday girl, was accompanied by my sister, Mac, and our cousin Laramie—known as Larry to nearly everyone.
We’d grown up with Larry. She’d been a permanent fixture for sleepovers and family vacations, along with our other cousin, Will.
Mac and Larry were both outspoken and a little wild.
It was no surprise that they were best friends as well as cousins.
All of us were close in age and had grown up on the farm.
As adults, I was the lone exception, finding work outside the family business.
Chloe had been in the same grade as Will and was married to his best friend. She’d also started working at the farm a few years ago as a bakery assistant to my aunt Maggie. Chloe was a sweetheart, and we all loved her.
The small group was trailed by the rest of our book club attendees.
Becca and Candace were chatting about something, bright smiles on both their faces.
Candace’s older sister, Joan, brought up the rear as she eyed her surroundings with suspicion.
Probably wondering how many tourists she’d have to deal with as a result of our choice of locale.
“Hi, birthday girl,” I said, welcoming Chloe with a big hug.
She grinned, blue eyes alight. “Thank you, Bonnie. This is so great. I appreciate you setting things up. Making my day special.”
“Happy to,” I replied, meaning it.
“Classy, Bon,” Larry called, flashing a thumbs-up.
“Yeah,” Mac added. “I’m a little worried we’ll get kicked out of the fancy-schmancy leafer bar.”
“Then you’ll just have to be on your best behavior,” Becca teased as she scooted into the center of the booth. “It should be pretty easy without Brady around.”
That earned a few laughs.
Mac gave her a mischievous grin. “I make no promises.”
“He’ll probably be by later anyway,” Candace stated as she joined Becca in the circular corner booth. “He’s with Mark and Jordan and Will down at Mattie B’s. They’re our designated drivers. We are here to celebrate Chloe, possibly to excess.”
Good for them, but I would not be overindulging. Not after the last time I’d embarrassed myself here.
The six of us got settled in the booth with our bags and various gifts for Chloe, chatting and carrying on several conversations between us.
“Okay, I want to know what y’all thought of the book,” Larry announced, drawing our attention.
I wasn’t surprised that she wanted to get right to our discussion. The book had been her pick. A why-choose hockey romance with three heroes and one very sexually satisfied heroine.
Becca, Candace, and Mac started talking at once while I laughed and Joan covered her face.
Larry had just very loudly said, “I thought I was going to die when they started going at it in the locker room after winning the championship. And with their skates still on. That’s some athleticism right there,” when Jack walked up to grab our drink order.
“Hi, Jack!” Becca called brightly.
Mac tried to smother her laughter but wasn’t terribly successful. In fact, most of the women looked highly amused at the, frankly, fearful look on Jack’s face.
His gaze found mine in an expression that clearly telegraphed What the fuck? before he mumbled out, “I’ll give you ladies some more time.”
Then he turned and bolted back behind the bar.
Giggles erupted, including mine as Larry looked around in confusion. “What? Was it something I said?”
“Yes, you heathen,” Mac said, whacking Larry on the shoulder. “You scared him off. Bonnie, you’re on the end. Will you go to the bar and order some drinks, please?”
“Yep, I can do that.”
We decided on some champagne to toast Chloe.
Jack was busy when I arrived. So I slid onto a leather stool—my stool, if I remembered correctly—and waited.
He approached cautiously, and a laugh burst out of me.
“We’re really ruining the vibe of this place, aren’t we?” I finally managed through my giggles.
His gaze warmed as he watched me get a hold of my amusement. “Nah. You were actually very popular the last time you were here."
“I was?”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “A whole fan club and everything. You don’t remember them cheering for you?”
“What?” I sat up, alarmed. “No!”
Jack chuckled and then slung a towel over his shoulder. He leaned in close, those distracting forearms resting on the smooth bar top between us. “What do you remember from that night?”
My eyes searched the immediate area like I might find the answers—or my memories—floating around somewhere. But there were only liquor bottles lining the wall behind the bar and warm bulbs dangling from a modern light fixture above our heads.
“Not a whole lot, actually,” I admitted, attention focused on the wood grain in front of me. “A Long Island iced tea when I got here. Chatting with some people at the bar.”
I remembered not feeling well at one point. Then that vague craving for the Indian restaurant down the street. And then all the things I didn’t want to admit. The flashes of memory from Jack’s apartment. His quiet words. The brush of his fingers against my temple. My tears on his jeans.