Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Cooper
I fussed with my sweater. I’d changed three times before settling on a simple sage V-neck that Jack once said brought out my green eyes.
My gut fluttered with nerves. When was the last time I’d actually cared this much about how I looked for someone?
The realization that I was genuinely trying to impress Jack sent a fresh wave of anxiety through me.
The pressure to perform felt overwhelming in a way I’d never experienced with him before.
With Jack, everything had always been effortless.
Conversation flowed naturally, silences were comfortable, and I never had to think twice about what to say or how to act.
But now, with this new dynamic between us, I found myself second-guessing everything.
A knock at the door sent my pulse skittering. I took a steadying breath and reminded myself this was Jack. Just Jack. We’d had dinner together hundreds of times over the years.
But never as a couple.
I opened the door to find him standing there in dark jeans and a motorcycle jacket that hugged his shoulders in a way I’d somehow never noticed before. His hair was carefully combed, and I caught of whiff of body wash—something spicy and subtle that made my stomach do an unexpected flip.
“Hey.” His eyes swept over me in a quick appraisal. “You look nice.”
“Thanks.” The word came out slightly choked. “So do you.”
A moment of awkward silence stretched between us. This was ridiculous. It was just dinner with Jack, my best friend. Why did it suddenly feel so different?
Because we’re exploring the possibility of more than friendship.
“Ready?” Jack broke the silence.
I nodded and grabbed my jacket. “Want to go to Dottie’s Diner?”
A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “You read my mind. We should stick with familiar territory for our first official date.”
“Good thinking.” Relief washed through me. Dottie’s was relaxing, familiar ground for us. We’d eaten there at least twice a month since Jack moved to Seacliff Cove.
We stepped out into the January evening, the coastal air crisp and damp against my face. Jack hesitated for a moment, then extended his hand toward me, eyebrows raised in question.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry, and took his hand. His fingers interlaced with mine, warm and solid, and that same sense of rightness I’d felt in the coffee shop settled over me again.
We walked the short distance to Main Street and caught up on the last few hours of our days with the kind of easy conversation that came naturally to us.
Jack’s thumb absently traced small circles on the back of my hand, a gesture so casually intimate that it sent an unexpected shiver up my arm.
I wondered if he was even aware he was doing it.
Dottie’s Diner stood bright against the dark sky, its red-striped awnings and flower boxes giving it a cheerful appearance even in winter.
Inside, the trendy retro decor gleamed under vintage drop lighting fixtures—black-and-white checkered floors, turquoise leather booths, and bright yellow stools lined up at the counter.
Granite tables reflected the warm lights, and café curtains hung at the windows on sleek black rods.
We entered on a waft of cold air, still hand in hand, and several heads turned in our direction. A ripple of whispers followed, and nerves skittered up my spine. Jack’s grip tightened as if he sensed I needed his support, and I relaxed into his side.
Declan emerged from the back, and his handsome face broke into a wide grin when he spotted us. “Well, well, well.” He approached with menus tucked under his arm. “If it isn’t Seacliff Cove’s newest couple.”
“Hey, Declan.” Jack greeted him with a crooked grin. “Table for two?”
“For you? The best in the house.” Declan winked at me, then led us to a corner booth with a good view of both the street and the diner’s interior. “Date night?”
“Is there anyone in town who doesn’t know about us?” I slid into the booth.
“Doubtful,” Declan laughed. “Not after that kiss at Barnacle Brews. Callum said it was quite the show.”
Heat crawled up my neck at the memory. “It wasn't a show,” I protested, afraid we’d been caught in our lie. A lie I’d complicated by holding Jack against me for heartbeats longer than necessary.
“Just meant it was romantic,” Declan clarified and set the menus down. “I’ll send Nikki over for your drink orders.”
As he walked away, I became acutely aware that Jack and I were holding hands across the table. Somehow, our hands had clasped and rested on the cool granite between us.
“Everyone’s watching,” Jack murmured, his voice low.
I glanced around and saw he was right. Several patrons were stealing glances our way, smiling or quickly looking away when caught. Ed Rivers, a retiree and regular at the diner, gave us an enthusiastic thumbs-up from his counter seat.
“I feel like we’re in a fishbowl,” I whispered.
Jack squeezed my hand gently. “We knew this would happen. Small town, big news.”
“I know, I just…” I trailed off, unsure how to explain the strange mixture of discomfort and unexpected pleasure I felt. It made no sense. But there was something undeniably nice about sitting there holding Jack’s hand, being regarded as a couple.
“We can bail if you want,” Jack offered. His brow furrowed with concern. “Get takeout instead.”
“No,” I blurted. “No, this is fine. Just new.”
Jack’s expression relaxed into a smile. “Holding hands with your best friend over dinner is definitely new.”
He made no move to let go, though, and neither did I.
Nikki, a college student who worked weekends and evenings at the diner, approached with a notepad. “Hey, guys! Congrats on making it official! What can I get you to drink?”
“Thanks,” Jack replied easily. “I’ll have water.”
“Iced tea for me.”
“Coming right up.” She bounced away, her ponytail swinging.
“You realize we’re going to get this reaction from everyone for the next month,” I said once she was out of earshot.
Jack shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “The novelty will wear off soon enough. Besides, it’s not so bad—people are genuinely happy for us.”
I considered that and took in the warm smiles from other diners around us. “You’re right. It’s not terrible at all, actually.”
A soft smile curved on Jack’s mouth. “No, it’s not terrible at all.”
Something warm unfurled in my chest at his words and spread outward. I quickly dropped his hand and opened my menu, needing a distraction from the intensity of the moment.
“I think I’ll get the usual.” I scanned the familiar options.
“You always get the smash burger.”
“It’s reliable.” I defended my choice. “Unlike some people who gamble and order something different every time.”
Jack laughed. “What’s the point of a menu with options if you always choose the same thing?”
This was the same good-natured argument we’d had dozens of times before. The tension in my shoulders eased.
Nikki returned with our drinks and took our orders—the smash burger for me and the pastrami melt for Jack. Fries and shakes, of course. Once she left, Jack leaned forward slightly and took my hand again, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“We need to discuss something important.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper.
“What’s that?”
“Pet names.”
I nearly choked on my iced tea. “Pet names?”
“Couples have pet names for each other,” Jack insisted.
“I am not calling you ‘snookums,’” I stated flatly.
“What about ‘honey bunch’?” Jack suggested. His eyes danced with amusement. “Or ‘cuddle muffin’?”
Despite myself, I laughed. “Those are horrible.”
“‘Sweet cheeks’?”
“Getting worse.”
“‘My little espresso bean’?”
That pulled another laugh from me. “You’re making these up now.”
“‘Java joy’?”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
Jack’s smile widened. “I’m just trying to find the right one.” His eyes softened. “How about I call you ‘baby’? Simple, classic.”
The word sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. “Baby,” I repeated, testing it out. Somehow, despite its simplicity, it felt right coming from Jack.
“You like that one?” His voice gentled.
I nodded, heat creeping up my neck again. “It’s…not awful.”
“High praise from Cooper McKay,” Jack teased. But his eyes were warm, and he touched his foot to mine under the table. “Baby it is, then.”
The way he said it, low and intimate, made my stomach flip again. We were just temporary, I reminded myself firmly. That I was enjoying this so much was simply…unexpected.
I hadn’t anticipated how natural this would feel—the easy back-and-forth, how effortlessly we’d fallen into this rhythm of banter and affection. We’d always been comfortable together, but this felt different.
It was dangerously easy to lean into Jack’s space, to let my fingers linger in his hand, to speak in the softer tones that couples used when they thought no one else was listening.
Every shared glance felt loaded with meaning. Every laugh came too readily, too genuine for mere exploration.
It felt more like coming home.
Our food arrived and forced us to separate our hands. I missed the warmth of Jack’s touch immediately, which was both confusing and mildly alarming. I was supposed to be taking things slow.
Dinner continued in an easy ritual. We fell into our usual rhythm of conversation.
But underneath it all ran a current of something new, a heightened awareness of Jack’s presence across from me.
The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.
The comfortable way he talked. The warmth of his crooked grin when he smiled.
Had he always been this endearing, or was I just noticing it now because of our bargain?
“Earth to Cooper.” Jack waved a French fry in front of my face. “You in there?”
I blinked, realizing I’d been staring at him. “Sorry, just thinking about ideas for the event,” I lied.
Jack’s raised brows suggested he didn’t quite believe me, but he let it pass. “We should probably get together tomorrow to work on those. Isabelle will want details soon.”