CHAPTER TWENTY
[MESSAGES]
Joel: Hey, want to grab that drink I mentioned?
Kate: Sure. How about this afternoon? My sister is taking Lisset to a pottery class for a couple of hours.
Joel: Sounds good. Shall I pick you up?
Kate: If it’s not too much trouble.
Joel: No trouble at all. I’ll see you later.
When Joel pulls up to my house later that afternoon, my mind is still replaying this morning’s interaction with Gideon. A smile tugs at my lips every time I remember his expression when I gave him his orange juice. He handled it with good grace though. And somehow managed to turn the situation around to wrangle a dinner invitation from me. That took some impressive maneuvering.
I lock up the house and meet Joel in the driveway. He’s wearing jeans and a collared shirt and looks his usual handsome self. “Am I going to have to fend off waitresses again?”
He opens the car door for me, embarrassment staining his cheeks. “That was one time.”
“I know, but it’s emblazoned in my memory. I mean, the waitress put a folded love note in your wrap. You could have choked.” I’m in a lighthearted mood and he’s the unfortunate recipient of my teasing. “For your protection, perhaps we should look at hiring a meeting room instead of meeting at a restaurant.”
He shakes his head at me. “You seem to be enjoying this way too much.”
“I am.”
I’m about to climb into his car when I notice Gideon exiting his house holding a gym bag. He straightens when he sees me. I give him a friendly wave and he raises his hand in greeting. He doesn’t stop staring at us as Joel gets into the car and drives away.
“Who’s that?” Joel asks.
“My new neighbor. He runs the Reading Dog Program at Lisset’s school, the one I was telling you about.”
Joel nods. “I remember.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I was imagining an elderly gentleman in charge of the program.”
“Gideon’s definitely not elderly.”
“No, he’s not,” he agrees, his tone thoughtful.
Joel has booked us a table at a local café. We order coffees and he brings me up to speed on a potential cookbook shoot. My pulse picks up with excitement when I learn it will be a seven-day shoot involving a large team of people, including art directors, prop stylists, chefs, and all the various assistants. The aim of the cookbook is to showcase a range of different recipes from different chefs in the region. With so many moving parts, the challenging nature of the project sounds right up my alley.
“You interested?” Joel asks as he drains his coffee.
“Are you kidding? Of course I’m interested.”
We order hamburgers and bounce ideas off one another while we wait for the food to arrive. The cookbook will feature mostly winter recipes so we’ll aim for a moody, slightly broody aesthetic. We discuss how the food can be plated and how we’ll manage the temperaments of all the different chefs. Then we’re asking for the check and I’m surprised at how quickly the time has passed.
As we make our way toward the car, Joel comments, “There’s something different about you.”
Taken aback, I glance over at him. “There is?”
“Yes.”
“ Good different? Or bad different?”
He stops in the middle of the parking lot and studies me. “You seem lighter, less troubled. Happier,” he adds.
I shrug awkwardly. “Oh. So, good different.”
“Yes.” He waits a beat. “Does this change have anything to do with your new neighbor?”
My face flames, his question hitting a little too close to home. “Gideon? Why would you think that?”
“Because for the first time since I’ve known you, you’re blushing,” he points out in a soft voice.
I wave away his words. “It was hot inside the restaurant, that’s all.”
Joel looks as though he’s on the verge of saying something more, but I’m relieved when he lets the subject go without further comment and drops me off at home. Tess arrives with Lisset soon after and I’m caught up admiring their pottery creations.
For the next couple of days, I don’t see much of Gideon. He doesn’t knock on my door asking if he can mow my lawn. He doesn’t sit outside on his porch so I have an excuse to wander over and share a glass of wine with him. After work, I spend a shameless amount of time in my front garden turning soil and searching for non-existent weeds, but he doesn’t stop by to sweet-talk a drink out of me. I don’t know when he’s scheduling his walks with Uno, but it appears to be at a time when I’m not around.
I know he’s not away, because his Jeep is still parked in the driveway.
By the time Friday arrives, I’m beginning to believe he’s avoiding me. For the life of me, I can’t think why, but I’m not having it.
Not when there’s a desk sitting in my garage that needs to be built.
Not when he’s bulldozed his way into our lives and added a little brightness to our days.
He doesn’t get to leave us in the dark with no explanation.
After our usual Friday evening dinner of pizza and Greek salad, I ensconce Lisset in front of the TV and head over to Gideon’s place, my gut churning with nerves. I pace his porch for a solid ten seconds and toe a stain in the wood with my booted foot for another five while I work up the courage to knock.
What is wrong with me? Why can I face down a demanding client, but get all jittery at the thought of confronting Gideon?
I rap sharply on his front door.
It opens and Gideon stands there, looking surprised to see me. “Hi, Kate.”
“Hi.” I clear my throat. “I wanted to check how you are.”
“I’m fine.”
“I haven’t seen you around much.”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy.”
“Oh.”
His phone buzzes. He pulls it out and checks the screen. “Look, now’s not a great time to talk. Maybe I can catch up with you tomorrow?”
My shoulders drop. “Okay. Sure.” He moves to close the door, but then indignation wells up. I stick my foot out to prevent the door from closing. “You know what, it’s not okay. Are you mad at me for something?”
“Why would you say that?” he asks quietly.
I try for a casual shrug. “It’s just, you know, you haven’t dropped by in a while.”
“Are you saying you missed me?”
“I’m saying I noticed you haven’t been around.”
“So, you missed me,” he declares, making it a statement and no longer a question.
I chew my lip into the pause, admitting to nothing.
“There was a problem with one of the companies I used to work for,” Gideon says finally. “They asked me for help and that took up a lot of my time.”
I nod. That explains a lot, but... “You still haven’t answered my question.”
He steps out onto the porch, wearing an expression I can’t decipher. “You asked whether I was mad at you?”
“Yes.”
He sighs. “I admit I was a little...upset.”
“Upset?”
“Yeah.” Gideon raises his hand. It startles me and I stumble back a step, my shoulders tense. A cold sweat breaks out on my skin.
But all he does is drag that hand through his hair in frustration as he stares at a point over my shoulder.
“Two weeks ago, I asked you out on a date and you said no,” he says. “But you asked me not to give up on you and I agreed.”
My heart is hammering away. My feet are frozen in place. I can’t seem to move.
“Then on Saturday I watch you go out on a date and—” He looks at me then and his voice cuts off abruptly. “Kate, what’s wrong?” Concern sharpens his words.
I swallow and force the words out. “You’re angry,” I explain in a small voice. Small . After I vowed never to be small again. Shame settles in my chest.
“I’m not angry. Well, maybe I am a little, but I’m more...”
And then he seems to realize what I’m saying. He rears back, as though I slapped him. “Wait a minute, you think I would hurt you?” He swallows and his arms lift slightly, as if he wants to reach for me, but he makes a visible effort to lower them and keep them rigidly at his sides.
“Kate, please, listen to me very carefully. I don’t know what happened in your marriage. I can only guess it wasn’t good, but I will never, ever physically harm you. Do you understand?”
I simply stare at him, processing his words.
“I can’t promise I’ll never be mad at you,” he continues, “because I’m sure there will be times when I’ll get angry at you and you’ll get angry at me, but what I can promise is that I’d sooner cut off my right arm than raise a hand to you.”
I feel his promise all the way to the deepest parts of my soul. The strange thing is, he’s talking as though we have a future together, as though it’s a given that he’s in all my tomorrows and I’m in his. It ought to freak me out, but it doesn’t. Not at all. Instead, I feel settled. Relieved. A tiny bit hopeful.
“Do you believe me?” he asks. There’s an urgency to his tone that underscores his sincerity.
“Yes,” I answer on a shaky exhale.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, my heart slowly returning to its normal rhythm.
He takes a deep breath. “What I was trying to say is that I was more hurt than angry that you went out on a date on Saturday. I was giving myself time to deal with the hurt before I spoke to you, but then I got caught up in work.”
My breath hitches at the frank admission. Then his words register. He believes I went on a romantic date with Joel. In the midst of this emotion-filled moment, a small part of me quietly celebrates. Gideon is jealous. The glimmer of fear I felt earlier is pushed out by the thought of how much this man appears to care for me.
“It wasn’t a date,” I tell him. “I work with Joel. We went out to discuss an upcoming project.”
“It wasn’t a date?” he repeats.
“No.”
Relief softens his features. “I thought you were playing games with me.”
“I’m not the type to play games, Gideon. I might be confused about what I want sometimes, especially with you, but I don’t play teasing games like that.”
“I made the wrong assumption,” he acknowledges in a low voice, “and I apologize for that. I think I would have come to the conclusion eventually that it wasn’t a date, but I just...” He gives a small head shake, as though his behavior these past few days still baffles him. “I guess I didn’t realize how seeing you with someone else would affect me.” His hands clench and unclench at his sides. “I went a little crazy.”
“So you weren’t shutting me out?”
Dismay fills his face that I would even think that. “Not a chance.”
“Ah, so you were sulking?”
“I don’t sulk.”
He looks so affronted I have to bite my cheek to contain my smile. I motion in the direction of my house. “I better get back to Lisset.”
Before I turn to leave, Gideon asks gruffly, “To clarify, you feel nothing for Joel beyond friendship?”
“He’s more a colleague than a friend. I don’t really have friends. But to clarify, I have no romantic feelings toward Joel.”
“I hate to break it to you, Kate, but Joel definitely has romantic feelings toward you.”
I shake my head. “You’re mistaken.”
“I’m a guy and I know what guys look like and how they behave when they’re attracted to someone.”
I gape at him. “You saw him with me for only a few minutes.”
He shrugs. “That’s all the time I needed to observe his obvious feelings for you.”
“Joel and I have a creative and collaborative relationship,” I say faintly. “There’s nothing else there...” My denial dies on my tongue as I turn Gideon’s words over in my head. Is there something else there, at least on Joel’s side?
“Do you let your guard down with him?” Gideon asks.
“I don’t let my guard down with anyone.”
His head dips as he smiles. “I forgot who I was talking to. Let’s try again. Are you more relaxed with Joel than with me?”
I think about it. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I’m comfortable around Joel.”
“Why aren’t you comfortable with me?”
My pulse jumps. How did this door get cracked open? “You know why.”
His face is the picture of innocence. “I’m afraid I don’t. I need you to explain it to me.”
“Sometimes there’s this tightrope of...tension between us.”
My words hang in the air.
His eyes hold mine. “Tension?”
“Like a charge,” I admit, a breathless quality to my voice.
He takes a purposeful step toward me, closing the gap between us. “Like this?” he asks huskily.
Yes. Exactly like this. An electrifying tension I’ve never experienced with Joel. But Gideon only has to look at me and I feel the heat of his stare humming in my blood, a faint pulse of yearning filling my chest.
My lips are suddenly so dry I lick them and his eyes track the movement before snapping up to mine, dark and turbulent, blazing with all the unspeakable things he wants to do to me.
All the things I would let him do.
An intolerable heat sears my chest as the air around us becomes even more charged.
“I think you should go,” he murmurs, a rasp to his voice, as though he has trouble forming the words. “If you stay here another second, I might do something one, or both of us, will regret.”
“Gideon,” I whisper.
“You’re not ready,” he says, retreating into his house, moving us both back from what nearly dragged us under. “I wish you were, but you’re not.”