Chapter 21
twenty-one
JOHANNA
“ Okay , you bring the crackers, I’ve got the cheese.”
“ Gotcha !” Quinn says to me as I walk out of the bakery.
Waving goodbye to her, I shut the door and step out into the street. In five short steps, I’ll be at my front door. Exhaustion hit me like an 18-wheeler about an hour ago, but when Quinn spotted me climbing out of the cab, she called me inside. I ran up to my apartment to get changed out of Patrick’s clothes and headed back down to see her, and time got away from us planning our wine and cheese night next week.
Now , I’m ready for bed, the aches in my muscles quickly setting in from my attack. I’m so relieved I’m not scheduled in the restaurant until Monday , because despite the long sleep in Patrick’s bed, it always takes a day or so to fully recover.
Reaching for my keys, I spot a large paper bag sitting at the base of my front door, my name written in large, messy letters. I hesitantly pick it up, worried about its contents— I’ve read enough crime thrillers to know how this goes. Only , once I open the bag, there’s nothing inside that scares me. It does make my heart gallop in my chest, though.
Bath bombs, scented candles, trashy magazines, a couple of DVDs . It doesn’t take a genius to guess who left this here, but the brand-new jigsaw puzzle confirms it.
My phone buzzes in my purse and I pull it out, juggling the contents of the bag in my other arm, and I’m surprised to see it’s a text from Patrick .
Patrick: Hope you can use some of these things for a relaxing weekend.
I’m still confused, but I’ve had time to cool down, and I understand why he would react the way he did.
Johanna: I love How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. Thank you.
It’s a lame response, but what else do I say?
His next text has me blinking repeatedly at my screen in confusion. It also makes my stomach dip. Like when you reach the top of a long, drawn-out incline on a rollercoaster before falling over the edge. It’s scary. Has your heart racing like crazy. Leaves you breathless.
But it doesn’t stop you getting right back on it, to experience all those things again.
Patrick: I don’t regret kissing you. I regret not doing it sooner.
Patrick: I’m not trying to send mixed messages and I’m sorry for how I reacted today. Can we talk soon?
I want to tell him he is sending mixed messages, and I’m now suffering from whiplash.
Johanna: I want to talk too. I need to recharge after last night and then I’m working most of next week .
The speech bubbles dance across my screen, disappearing and returning for a few minutes before he finally replies.
Patrick: Okay. You tell me when and where and I’ll be there.
Patrick: You look really pretty, but you looked better in my T-shirt.
My head snaps up and I scan the street for him. My eyes land on his blue Chevy and I can’t help the laugh of disbelief when I spot him.
Patrick raises his hand from the steering wheel, before pulling out in the street and driving away.
“ Oh , Jo . You’re in trouble,” I whisper to myself.
Do I let the fear of Patrick seeing me for all that I am stop me from getting back on the roller coaster, or do I take the chance that this trip could be the best decision of my life?
A low whistle sounds from the sofa as I walk into my living room.
“ Miss Ma’am ! Who would have thought you’d just put away a full wheel of brie? Those jeans were made for you.”
Laughing , I try to hide my slight blush at Quinn’s compliments. Tonight was our wine and cheese night. A few bites into the cheese board I’d whipped up, I realized I’d double booked and forgotten about the team’s pool competition at Shirley’s . It would look bad if I didn’t show, so I asked Quinn to come with me, who didn’t need much persuasion.
A little buzzed from the bottle of wine we shared, we’ve changed out of our sweats and into something more appropriate. Well , I thought my original outfit was perfect for tonight. After I told Quinn what happened between Patrick and me the other week, she pulled out a pair of tight, black skinny jeans and a black silk corset, stating, “ This will work up his appetite.” Quinn is likely to get some heads turning tonight from the knee-high boots and faded, blue denim dress hugging her curves.
I wanted to dress up in something nice, knowing Patrick would be there.
It’s been almost a week since my panic attack, and we haven’t had the chance to talk much since I found the care package at my door. We’ve seen each other at the restaurant, it just hasn’t been the right moment to talk and I’m secretly grateful, because it’s given me time to prepare myself for whatever he wants to discuss; the questions he might ask. I also don’t want to get my hopes up and overthink it all.
When I came back to town, kissing Patrick was the last thing I expected to happen. It doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it for the last six years. Do I want it to happen again? Yes . I’m cautious to put my heart on the line, no matter how much it aches for him. It’s a defense mechanism I’ve picked up over the years. It has nothing to do with trust and more with how he’s going to look at me if I shed that last wall of vulnerability.
Although he’s been on my mind a lot, it’s easy not to let myself overthink everything with how busy the restaurant has become. We’ve seen an increase in customers, with reservations being made through the automated system I introduced. I also set up a social media account and asked a friend from Tennessee if they could help build a website for us. All in a week’s work. It’s been hectic, but I’m proud of myself for the positive impact it’s having.
I just hope it’s enough. As we near the end of March , I’m getting more and more nervous that no matter what we do, my dad and Claire will still have no choice but to sell the restaurant.
“ Okay , the cab’s ordered. What’s the plan?” Quinn asks, looking way too excited for a night at the local dive bar.
“ Um . Not to make a fool of myself?”
“ Nope . One goal. Make Patrick feral. Flirt a little. Maybe get some dick, I dunno. The last part is negotiable.” She shrugs.
“ That’s three things? And I highly doubt I’ll be getting any dick tonight.” I laugh as I slip on my heeled boots, pushing the concerns of the restaurant aside.
“ A shot of something will change your mind.”
“ I forget you’re still in your twenties until you say stuff like that. My days of shots are over, unless you want to hand-feed me greasy fries tomorrow morning.”
“ The only person who will be eating is Patrick . Right outta’ the palm of your hand.”
Oh boy.
Twenty minutes later, we’re walking into the bar. It’s not typically this busy on a weekday, but with all the restaurant staff here, plus some locals and wandering tourists, it’s more crowded than usual.
“ Okay , I’ll do one shot,” I announce, deciding I’ll need something stronger if Patrick wants to talk tonight.
Quinn squeals and pulls me over to the bar. I spot most of the team in the corner, crowded around the pool table, but don’t see Patrick .
We order two lemon drops, though Quinn has to explain to Lenny how to make them. When the fiery liquid glides down my throat, I shoot her a worried look. “ I don’t think that was a lemon drop.”
She looks like she’s going to hurl but recovers quickly. “ Yeah , that might have been paint stripper. You’re going to need it though.”
“ Huh , why?”
“ Because a certain single daddy is looking at you like you’re his next meal. Shit , even I’m getting hot and bothered from the way he’s looking you over.”
I don’t need to look to know he’s staring. His eyes are burning a slow path up my body. Despite the warmth of it, my skin pebbles in the wake of his gaze.
Slowly turning my head, using my hair to shield my face, I find him across the room. His hand is clenched around a glass of beer so tightly it might shatter. Even from where he’s standing, I can see his throat working as his eyes flit between my neck and chest, until we finally lock gazes.
I don’t look away, thankful for the liquid courage Quinn served me, and why would I want to? Having him look at me like this, desire brimming in his eyes, is thrilling. The way his jaw clenches is emboldening, sparking something in me that I’ve only ever felt with him.
He’s the only person to ever strike that match, and right now, those embers from our first night together are ready to be rekindled.