8. “IT ALL KEEPS ADDING UP. I THINK I’M CRACKING UP.”
“IT ALL KEEPS ADDING UP. I THINK I’M CRACKING UP.”
When her shift in town ended, Jocelyn felt like celebrating. Not because of the chili contest or how many scarecrow votes came in, but because there was a liberating victory in accepting one’s own craziness and letting that freak flag proudly fly.
Shalimar thought she could intimidate her with her beautiful hair and old-money poise.
She totally underestimated how unhinged Jocelyn could get, and when that bitch flashed her sharpened manicured nails at her, Jocelyn showed her fangs, making it clear she was messing with a rabid bat-shit crazy townie who bites.
After she’d returned to her table, she told Wren what happened with the Shalimar Princess. Her loyal best friend took her side with absolutely no bias whatsoever.
“She said what?” Wren gaped, outraged that any outsider would claim to know what was best for her Hawthorne boys. “I’ve known Soren since birth, and I’ve never even heard of this woman! How meaningful could she be?”
The pregnancy was making Wren feisty, and Jocelyn liked it.
But before Wren grabbed her pitchfork and torch to storm the bluff, Jocelyn suggested they let the pettiness go and simply finish out the night at the Chowder House. Greyson wanted to see how the gambling pool was going, and Wren wanted onion rings, so it was a win-win. Jocelyn just wanted a drink.
Wren’s feet were still swollen at the end of Jocelyn’s shift, so they took the car and dropped Cordelia off at home on the way. Greyson walked ahead of them to put their order in.
It was no surprise that Logan was at their usual table when they arrived. But the moment she saw Soren, her mood deflated.
“We can go somewhere else,” Wren said, instantly reading her mood.
“No. It’s fine.” Their drinks and Wren’s onion rings were already on the table.
“Hey, guys,” Logan greeted, saluting them with a bottle of beer.
A wave of cheers floated across the bar. Football filled most of the screens, but one television was reserved for the tallies of the town contests, which were updated every thirty minutes.
“Who scored?” Wren asked.
“No one. Gus’s chili just tied with Ellen’s.” Logan pointed to the tallies. “It’s been neck and neck with those two all day. But Birdie’s still in the lead.”
Jocelyn climbed onto the stool beside Logan. “Ellen’s not going to be happy about that.”
Soren met her stare from across the table and gave a nod. “How was your day?”
“Fine.” She picked up a menu, blocking his view of her and breaking eye contact.
The second Logan finished his beer and excused himself to use the restroom, Soren stole his seat. “Hey. About this morning—”
“Hmm, do I want mozzarella sticks or fish?” She ignored him and reviewed the menu, which she knew by heart.
“Get the fish. We can have that dinner together after all.”
She ignored him until he brushed a hand against her knee. Jerking her leg away, she hissed, “Don’t touch me.”
When the menu got boring, she folded it and pretended to watch the game.
Soren typed something into his phone.
“Uh, oh.”
Jocelyn frowned at her friend, who suspiciously dropped her phone into her bag after reading something on the screen. “What?”
“I suddenly don’t feel good.”
“You’re probably just hungry. Have an oyster cracker.”
“No. I, uh, think we need to go. Greyson?”
She was going to strangle her best friend. Greyson got her onion rings to go. And when Wren hugged her goodbye, Jocelyn gripped her arm and hissed, “I can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”
“It’s the baby…”
Wren was a terrible liar. Jocelyn rolled her eyes and let her go.
“Bye, Soren.” She pressed a kiss on her brother-in-law’s cheek and waddled off after Greyson.
“And here I was just thinking what a loyal friend she is.”
“She is loyal,” Soren said. “To me. I texted her and asked for privacy.”
Jocelyn shook her head in disgust. “I should have known. Sometimes I hate that she’s a Hawthorne now.”
“Don’t worry, she was plenty loyal to you this morning when she threatened to maim me if I hurt you.”
“Oh, please. Wren couldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Well, she still scares the shit out of me on occasion.”
“Where the hell’s the waitress? I need another drink.”
Greyson and Wren said goodbye to Logan as he exited the alcove where the restrooms were hidden. He looked confused by their sudden departure, but rather than return to the table, he found a seat at the bar.
Unbelievable. “Are you happy now? You disrupted everyone’s evening.”
Soren looked undisturbed by his decision to chase everyone off. “I’m happy you’re here.” He reached for her hand.
“I said, don’t touch me.”
“Fine. What do you want to order?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Ignoring her, he flagged down a waitress and ordered the crabcake dinner, the fish-and-chips platter, and a second round.
“That’s a lot of food for one person.”
“Knock it off. One’s for you.” He sipped his beer as the conversation stalled. “I was going to order some oysters, but I figured we don’t need an aphrodisiac.” When she didn’t laugh or make a snarky remark, he sighed. “Joce, I’m sorry about this morning.”
“What happened this morning?”
“Come on. Us. Arguing. Fucking.”
“Must have been forgettable because I’ve already forgotten.”
“God, you’re such a bitch,” he muttered under his breath.
“Speaking of bitches. I ran into your friend.”
Soren stiffened. “Who?”
“The Shalimar princess, Olivia. She’s in town. But you knew that. It was you, after all, who begged her to stay.”
“What?”
“She told me how much you wanted her close by.”
“I never asked her to stay.”
“Oh, that’s not what she thinks. And, according to the precious princess, she knows you better than anyone.”
“You two talked?”
“Of course. We’re old friends now. Knitting club, couples’ Pilates, candle making, pottery class… We’ve got a full fall schedule of gal-pal outings planned together.”
Soren didn’t look amused. As a matter of fact, he looked furious. “What did she say to you?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because you matter.”
It should have landed like the perfect line, but instead it hit like a low blow. “You know, I think I’ve lost my appetite.”
He caught her knee before she could escape. “Don’t. Don’t go running the second things get a little real. We’re just talking.”
“Soren, let go.”
“No.”
“You’re going to make a scene.”
“Then I’ll make a scene.”
She met his stare and realized he wasn’t bluffing. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I’ve thought about it and I think Wren’s right. We need to see what this actually is between us.”
“It’s nothing. It’s sex.”
“It’s not nothing. Nothing doesn’t feel like this. Nothing doesn’t keep you up at night. If it was nothing it wouldn’t be this heavy.”
“People are staring.”
“Let them.”
She thought about who he was and everything he was on the path to becoming.
He might live here now, but his career was in Portland.
He could up and leave any time he wanted, but this was her home, and she wanted to stay.
Her privacy was important to her and she didn’t like being the center of town gossip.
But before she could remind him that she had her own reputation to protect, he turned her chin and kissed her.
She jerked back. “Are you crazy?” It was only for a split second, but it was enough that people saw. “People can see us.”
“I don’t care anymore. I’m not ashamed of us.”
“Since when? I’m not some stage you get to go through, Soren. I’m a fucking person.”
“I know that, Joce.”
“No, you don’t. Not really. Because while you’re sitting here pretending there might somehow be more than good sex between us, you’re not making any promises.”
“I haven’t slept with anyone but you in over a year.”
“So? You’re still hedging your bets and setting up dates with all your little East Coast heiresses—”
“Is that what you want then? Some promise of monogamy?”
“It would be a start.”
“Fine.” He sat back and flung out his hands in surrender. “Consider it done. No more seeing other women. What else?”
She gaped at him. “Give me a break.”
“I’m serious. Name it, and it’s yours. I want to try this my way for a change.”
“By prowling around my house at night and slipping in the back door like a stray?”
“No, that’s your way, Joce. That’s what you’ve forced me to do since you’ve been the one setting the rules.”
“Oh, please.”
“You know I’m right. You’ve had control this whole time, Jocelyn, deciding when we see each other and when we don’t.”
“I don’t even have your phone number!”
He snatched her phone off the table. “What’s your password?”
“Soren Hawthorne’s a little bitch.” She snatched it back. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“Maybe I have. Yesterday, I would have thought something like this was insane. But the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced it’s the right move.”
“You’re delusional.”
“No, I’m finally thinking clearly. Last night, I saw red when I saw my brother’s hands on you. Why would I respond that way if I didn’t have any real feelings?”
“Because men are cavemen and think the world belongs to them.”
“Tell me what you felt when you saw Olivia.”
Bitter cold settled in her chest as her shoulders tightened. She was silent, unwilling to name the emotion, even to herself.
“Tell me how it felt, Joce, here.” He pressed a hand to her chest, no doubt feeling the way her heart raced. “What did you feel when you saw her holding my arm? When she walked up to us yesterday? When she kissed me goodbye—”
“All right!” she snapped. “I didn’t like it.”
He grinned victoriously. “Good. Now, we’re getting somewhere.” He pulled his hand away and gave her a minute to cool off. “I’m sorry she confronted you. I don’t know why she would do that.”
“Because she wants you, Soren.”
“But I’ve done nothing to imply that we’re involved in anything more than a few casual dates.”
Jocelyn laughed without humor. “Do you think men are really the only territorial half of the species? Women can be vicious when they want to.”
“Oh, I know.”
She shot him a narrow glare, and he laughed.
“Think about it, Joce. If you can’t keep your hands off me when we’re fighting, imagine how hard it will be once we start being nice to each other.”