Chapter 13
“So, spill .” Laurie’s eyes danced with amusement and expectation as she leaned over the kitchen counter, waiting for Jenna to confess to all manner of things. “What’s going on with you and Jack?”
Jenna leaned back against the counter as she took a sip of wine, mainly to stall for time.
It was three weeks since she’d asked Jack to be her unpaid consultant, he’d accepted, and they’d got to work.
Three weeks since all of Starr’s Fall had been buzzing with friendly gossip, having clocked—as Jenna had known they would—that she’d spent the night at Jack’s house on Bantam Lake.
Three weeks of everyone in the town wondering what was going on… including her.
“There’s nothing to spill,” she told Laurie with regrettable honesty. “He’s helping me renovate Miller’s Mercantile, which is wonderful, but that’s all.”
“That can’t be all,” Laurie protested, sounding both disbelieving and disappointed. “There are vibes between you two. And that date that lasted all night…”
“Laurie,” Jenna protested, part-scoldingly. “You know it wasn’t like that.”
“So you say,” Laurie replied teasingly as she turned to check on the casserole in the oven. Jenna had come over to Laurie’s for dinner, along with Joshua, Zach, and Maggie. She’d arrived early unknowingly—Laurie had invited her to come half an hour before everyone else so she could dish the dirt.
Sadly, there was no real dirt to dish.
In the three weeks since he’d started helping her, Jack had behaved like a perfect gentleman.
More to the point, like the perfect businessman .
Jenna had left his house practically floating on a cloud of deliciously nebulous possibilities, imagining cozy tête-à-têtes and long, lingering lunches while they chatted about everything other than the store.
They’d get to know each other. They’d bond. They’d even kiss , maybe.
Yes, she’d thought that way. Vaguely. Sometimes not all that vaguely.
Sometimes not vaguely at all. She’d had hopes , and she’d felt those start to unfurl, even as part of her still wanted to keep them completely closed up and guard her heart as she always did.
She’d still dreamed… of Jack. Of them flirting and then bonding over sanding floorboards or ripping out shelves or any of the number of things they’d been doing, helping to turn Miller’s Mercantile into a going proposition.
And the reality had been…? Not that. Definitely not that.
The very day she’d made the suggestion they’d headed straight over to her store, and he’d paced the floor, firing off suggestions about how to change its layout, initiatives to get the town more involved, creating a community hub in the space…
All of it had been invigorating and exciting, making Jenna see the store in a whole new way, not just as a building but as a community.
“You need to cater to every customer,” Jack had told her seriously.
“So you could look at creating a food pantry here—I don’t think there’s one in Starr’s Fall?
As well as stocking a few key luxury items for the more well-heeled customers.
And coupons are always a great way to bring people in, changing them every week, which keeps things fresh.
People get excited when they feel like they’ve gotten a deal. ”
She’d loved his suggestions, and even more excitingly, they’d sparked her own, so they’d riffed off each other, building on each other’s ideas, ending each other’s sentences.
The sense of camaraderie and mind-melding had been even more exciting, and yet…
all the while, Jack had acted every inch the corporate CEO.
Every time Jenna thought they might share some kind of moment, he’d turned away, pointing out another part of the store that needed work.
Jenna had managed to let go of her prickly self-defensiveness—mostly—when it came to Miller’s Mercantile, but his laser focus—when it wasn’t on her, but rather her struggling store—had felt dispiriting. Like he cared more about rehabilitating it than getting to know her, which maybe he did.
And yet, Jenna told herself, trying to rally her flagging spirits, she’d known she needed the help, and Jack was being incredibly generous with his time.
And so she’d gone along with it all happily enough…
even if she was half-hoping that at some point Jack would relax and they’d go back to that fun, flirty vibe they’d had at his house.
It hadn’t happened.
Jack had made a list of things she needed to do and a timeline for her to do them in, and he was strict as a schoolteacher about her meeting her targets.
She’d started feeling like he was her boss and not her boyfriend, not that she’d been thinking that way at all, and yet…
she sort of had. Stupidly, and against her own better judgment.
And yet could she really begrudge him his free time and advice?
She couldn’t, especially because Jenna recognized how valuable it was.
Jack had even gotten his hands dirty, ripping out shelves and sanding floorboards, shifting boxes and inventorying stock, pricing out a salad bar and a coffee kiosk.
Jenna had enjoyed their work-focused camaraderie, and especially how the store had felt like something they were doing together , but…
it hadn’t felt anything like the flirtatious possibility that had sprung up between them the night they’d had dinner.
Jack treated her like a cross between a colleague and employee, and even with the occasional banter, the quick smile that made his eyes sparkle…
she’d started to feel a little pathetic, always hoping for crumbs of flirtatiousness—a secretive look, a hint of innuendo, anything .
There had been nothing. Not one thing. Even when she’d felt like they were on the same page when it came to the store, they weren’t on the same page when it came to each other.
Which was fine , she told herself—again and again—because she wasn’t looking for a relationship, and especially not with a man like Jack Wexler. Yes, she’d liked the flirting, but she wasn’t sure she wanted it to go anywhere, so the fact that he clearly didn’t want it to was actually a relief .
Still, his seeming obliviousness to her person as he focused on the store had been… humbling.
“There really is nothing to tell,” Jenna told Laurie with a sigh, and then, in an embarrassing moment of weakness, admitted, “Unfortunately.”
“What?” Laurie stared at her, shocked as well as disappointed. “Are you telling me that for the last three weeks Jack Wexler has been coming over to your store pretty much every day and nothing’s been happening?”
“He hasn’t come every day,” Jenna felt compelled to correct, “and lots of things have been happening. You should see the store.” Except of course Laurie wouldn’t, not until mid-December anyway, because Jack had been adamant that there needed to be a grand opening.
So Jenna had closed the store for the last two weeks and the plan wasn’t to re-open it until the Winter Wonderland Weekend.
Five weeks of lost revenue wasn’t as much of a concern as it should be, Jenna knew, especially because she’d applied for a small business regeneration grant and received it, thanks, she suspected, to Jack’s influence.
Still, she was grateful. Grateful for his tireless work on the store, his expert advice, his steadfast commitment…
to the store. Sometimes she just wished he was a little more interested in her .
“I’m not talking about the store,” Laurie exclaimed. “I’m talking about you .”
Jenna let out a tired laugh. Once upon a time, she’d conflated the store with herself. No longer. Now that Jack was so very interested in the store—and not in her—she had been able to keep the two very separate in her mind. Funny, that.
Or not.
“I know you are,” Jenna told her friend. “And, as I’ve said, I’m afraid there’s nothing much to tell you on that front.”
“Nothing?” Laurie exclaimed, so clearly disappointed, before her eyes narrowed. “Wait, you’re afraid ?”
“In a manner of speaking?—”
“And before you said ‘unfortunately,’” Laurie recalled with laser-like focus, before trumpeting triumphantly, “You like him!”
“ Laurie .” Jenna looked around furtively, even though there was no one in Laurie’s apartment save for her and Laurie and her dog, Max, who was watching their conversation with a certain alertness, probably because he thought there might be food involved. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Laurie challenged, unfazed. “State the obvious?”
Jenna sighed and reached for her wine. “It doesn’t matter,” she told Laurie. “Jack and I are very much on a professional footing only. He’s been great with the store, giving me all kinds of advice and getting his hands dirty, but that’s it. Really.”
Laurie frowned. This was not, Jenna suspected, the fairy tale her friend wanted. It wasn’t the one she wanted, either. Not exactly, anyway. She might not be ready for a relationship, but the faint, buzzy possibility of one would have been welcome.
That lovely, even magical, evening at Jack’s house three weeks ago now…
well, technically nothing had happened, but it had felt like so much had .
She’d sensed and seen depths to him that she hadn’t realized before.
She’d acknowledged afresh just how attractive he was.
They’d flirted. Low key, yes, but still.
There had definitely been a spark there.