Chapter 2
2
Juniper “Juni” Jacobs
It’s not the first time I’ve been called a stalker . . .
New York has changed. Apparently, I can’t walk in the same direction as somebody else without people assuming I’m following them home. Despite how sullen the guy at the park was, I’m not letting his mood taint mine.
As I look out the window, the Manhattan streets are busy below, but the sun is shining above. It’s a beautiful spring day, and I need to make the most of it.
After giving Rascal a bath, I blow-dried his hair before returning him to his owner, Mr. Clark. I turn up the music and finish getting ready, feeling good after my shower and hoping I’ve successfully gotten rid of the smell.
Walking around the apartment, I gather my stuff.
A book to pass the time if I have to wait.
Stationery and pen to take notes.
Snack. I scribble an S on the end. A single snack would be a flat-out lie.
Wallet.
Charger.
Phone.
Mints.
I’m traveling light, except for the nonfiction book I’m bringing with me. Sometimes, these meetings take ten minutes, and sometimes, I’m left waiting for two hours. I feel better prepared. I swing the straps of my bag over my shoulder and grab my bottle of water on the way out the door.
Sixteen flights down, I enter the lobby and am greeted with a warm grin. “Good afternoon, kiddo.”
“Hi, Gil. How are you today?”
Standing, he comes around from his desk to get the door. He once told me I’d put him out of business if I kept beating him to it. I glance at the camera hanging in the top left corner that’s filming our every move and slow my pace to let Gil catch up. He’s not as fast as he used to be. He replies, “It’s a beautiful day, and the Yankees are up.”
“What inning?”
“Fifth.”
Just outside the building, I slide my sunglasses over my eyes while still under the protection of the awning. “We’ll take it.”
“Darn right, we will. Where’re you off to?”
Turning, I walk backward a few steps. “I have a meeting with the agency.”
“Good luck, Juni.”
“Thanks.” Turning back, I wave over my head. “Have a great day!”
“You too.”
Down one block, I push into the coffee shop and stand in line. My morning should have been more easygoing, but I've lost some steam after that encounter in the park. Chasing a dog who loves to escape more than Houdini was the workout I didn’t see coming.
Looking at the daily specials, I decide I’m not in the mood for anything but my usual, finding comfort in the familiar. It’s not a phrase I live by, but I remember hearing my grandmother telling me that, her voice a faint memory these days. The tears had stung as they rolled over my skin, but the warmth of my mom’s favorite sweater and the comfort of my grandmother’s hug made it better. At least that night.
When it’s my turn, I step up to the counter to place my order. “Good morning, Barry.”
“Good to see you today,” he replies. I doubt this college kid has hair on his chest, but he’s managed to develop an ego to rival most men I’ve met in this city. I guess being cute is a curse he’s learned to abuse. “Your usual?”
“Yes. Thank you.” He’s normally flirty, but I’ll take the reprieve.
Moving off to the side, I mentally tick through my week’s to-dos. For a woman with few commitments, I have a mountain of things to tackle. Nana always warned me about burning the candle at both ends. I miss her.
I reach into my bag for my phone to schedule in some fun when I hear, “Got the time?”
The deep voice is familiar. He’s standing in a suit tailored to his fit build, the medium gray fabric set nicely against a crisp white shirt and black tie. I give a half-smile, unsure if I’m under friendly fire or the warm smile is real, considering how things ended earlier. “Depends on who’s asking.”
“Good point.” Chuckling, he seems less . . . angry than he was when he called me a stalker. He’s also drop-dead gorgeous. Everything about him is put together, even his hair, which tempts me to run my fingers through it just to muss it up like it was this morning. What am I thinking?
Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise an eyebrow at him. “Is this a coincidence, or are you stalking me?”
I don’t get the laugh I was going for. Instead, his smile disappears, and shame stiffens his shoulders. “About that. I owe you an apology. I don’t know why I said that. I’ve watched too many movies, or maybe it was that weird look in your eyes.”
Reaching up, I touch the corner of one eye. “What weird look?”
“That one that silently accused me of stalking you.”
I give him a full grin as amusement works its way through me. “Serves you right.” He laughs. There’s a formality to it, but it feels natural for Mr. Uptight. “You may have thought I was nuts, but I wasn’t the one lying in the park for no reason.”
Waffling his head, he says, “There was a reason.”
I’d been trying to keep my eyes off him, not to seem like the stalker he called me, but this brings me back to him. “Which was?”
“It was nine seventeen.”
“I suppose that makes sense . . . to a crazy person .”
He finally releases the tension that fills his shoulders along with a chuckle. “Touché.”
Barry, the barista, leans over the counter and shouts, “Andrew?”
Tall, dark, and too handsome for his own good standing next to me steps up to the counter, thanks Barry, and then turns back to me. I see the debate in his eyes when he glances toward the door. Does he need a reason to leave, or is he looking for a quick escape? I can’t worry about what comes next because I’m stuck on his name. “Andrew?”
“Yes?” Then it dawns on him, awareness awakening his expression. “Guess we haven’t gotten that far.”
“No, we haven’t.” I stare at him, still intrigued by the secrets he appears to hold in his dark brown eyes while trying to imagine him living life as an Andrew. “I wouldn’t have guessed Andrew.”
“Oh, really? What do I look like to you?”
“Mocha latte!” Barry calls out as if someone just offended him. My guess is the guy to my right based on how Barry’s glaring at him. I also note an impatient tap of the fingers before I glance back at Andrew. “That’s me.”
When I step up to the counter, Barry whispers, “I added a bonus half-shot of espresso and just a hint of peppermint syrup. Just how you like it when you have a rough day.”
“Thank you. You’re the best.”
His voice is still low, only for my ears when he asks, “You coming around tomorrow?” I swear he glares at Andrew.
“Depends on a job I might have.”
As if I just made his day, he replies, “I hope I see you tomorrow, June.”
Does that mean he’s rooting against me getting the placement? Sure sounded that way. Andrew is now the one staring at me when I walk away from the counter. “June?” he asks with the slightest tilt of his head.
“No. That’s not what I like to be called. He got it wrong the first time, and I felt bad correcting him.” I take a sip of coffee.
“Why would you feel bad?”
Shrugging, I say, “Because then he’ll feel bad every time he sees me. June is no big deal.”
“But that’s not your name. What is your?—?”
“Aren’t you late for work?” I look at him, remembering he was in such a hurry this morning. “Or wherever you’re going?”
“Figured it didn’t matter now, and I need a hit of caffeine.”
The midmorning rush for caffeine crowds the coffee shop, and I’m bumped from the side. “I’m going to get out of the way.” It’s not exactly an invitation, but I can’t help but think I wouldn’t mind him leaving with me. I start for the exit.
Andrew is swift enough to reach the door and open it. “After you.”
“Thanks.” On the sidewalk, I’m not sure what to do. Do I keep walking, never to look back, or do I stop and chitchat with Andrew? Andrew . . . I can see it fitting now that we’re back in the sunshine—the suit, the chivalry, the comfort he exudes in his own body. I decide to take a chance and toss an opener into the mix. “Well . . .”
“Yeah.” He glances around, making it really hard to read him, though I don’t think I was doing a stellar job of that previously anyway. When his eyes settle back on mine, he adds, “I’m sorry for accusing you of stalking. I don’t know why I said that.”
I don’t know why I like how he runs his hand over his hair, dipping his chin down and peeking at me, but I do. “Maybe you find women a foot shorter and a lot smaller than you intimidating, or maybe Rascal made you nervous. He can get pretty vicious if you try to take his food away.”
“Why would anyone take his food away?”
I laugh lightly, but he doesn’t. This guy is so serious. Intense. “Don’t worry. No one’s taking his food from him.” This time, I look around before catching him check his watch. “We don’t have to stand here awkwardly if you have someplace to be.”
“I do, but it’s not so awkward standing here with you.” He tucks his hand in his pocket and jiggles what sounds like keys.
The silver metal of his watch catches the light just above the gray fabric, and I say, “I see your watch works again.”
“It does.” Pulling his arm up in front of him, he studies it. “I’m not sure what caused it to stop. The?—”
“Universe?”
His smile reminds me of how he looked this morning before he got grumpy. “I was going to say that.”
“Jinx, you owe me a coffee.”
His smile wiggles wider. “I think we’re both supposed to say it for it to count as a jinx.”
“Work with me here.” He’s very nice looking, smiling and all. Fine, he’s hot when he’s uptight as well, so I seize the moment. “How about tomorrow? You heard Barry. He’ll have my order ready to go.”
His eyebrows knit together, but then they recover. “Are you asking me out?”
“No. I’m collecting a debt.” I twist my lips to the side, tightening the reins on my grin.
Andrew doesn’t bother with the same restraint. A smug smirk practically consumes his stupidly handsome face. “I never leave debts unpaid. Should I prepay Barry now, or do you like to collect your debts in person?”
“Always in person. Don’t want to be stiffed.”
“It’s not so bad being stiff.”
If I had pearls to clutch, I’d do it just for effect. “Oh my, Andrew. Did you just insert a sexual joke into our innocent conversation?”
“Were we not flirting?”
“I have a feeling you never misread a situation.”
He shrugs. The lax gesture doesn’t suit him as well as that designer one does. “I should probably get going.”
“You’re always going.”
“Yeah, duty calls. I should have been there hours ago.”
“What kept you?” Shaking my head, I look down briefly. “Sorry. I tend to ask too many questions.”
“That’s okay. I have one for you. What time do you want your coffee?”
He might be flirting with me this time, but I’m not going to embarrass him by calling him out. “I’m fairly open. What works best for you?”
“Seven thirty. Is that too early?”
“It’s not.” I start to walk away. “See you tomorrow, Andrew.”
He stands still, looking smug as ever, but then his lips part, and he reaches out. “Hey, I didn’t get your name. I want the one you like to be called.”
My cheeks heat. Twice in one day. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this giddy. It’s been longer— going on two years next month —since I’ve even dated. “Juni. I like to be called Juni.”
“See you tomorrow, Juni.”