Chapter 16
There’s never a shortage of things to keep me busy during the week, and while this week was no different, in the back of my mind I couldn’t stop looking forward to the weekend and laying eyes on Jameson again. Hearing that hot Irish accent.
Now it’s finally Saturday. I’ve just finished my usual drop-off routine at my dad’s, and I’m on my way to the coffee shop. Again. Except this time, I might be even more nervous. I probably should have peed one last time.
I’d feel bad about dropping my daughter off over there so much, but whether I have a real estate appointment or not, my dad and stepmom like to have at least one day a week with her. I’m beyond lucky to have them.
When I pull up to the coffee shop, I don’t spot his motorcycle after a quick scan of the parking lot. Of course, he must have other vehicles besides that. The absence of it doesn’t necessarily equate to him not being here yet.
I park and head inside.
A quick scan shows no sign of him, so I step up to the counter to order my coffee before he arrives and tries to pay once again.
I stand behind the one person in line and pull out my phone, just to make sure he hasn’t messaged me.
“Ehem.”
A deep voice behind me causes me to turn on instinct.
Jameson holds up two cold brews, suppressing a grin.
“You already got them.”
“I did.”
“And you’re trying my favorite?”
“I am.”
“You were absolutely appalled by the thought of it last time.”
“Well, I told you I’d give it a try. Plus, you were right about the cider, so...”
I smile, the feeling of triumph washing over me.
“Where were you hiding? I didn’t see you.” I glance around the room.
“In that corner back there. They had just called out my order, and I got up to grab them and saw you with your back turned.” He points with his pinky toward a couple of tucked-away tables.
“Oh.”
“Shall we?”
“I was trying to beat you to it, you know. To get you back for last time.”
“You’re never paying for coffee as long as I’m around.”
He nods his head toward his spot and takes off before I can protest.
“Excuse me.” I stop and turn when I hear a female voice that I have a feeling is talking to me. A familiar blonde woman rises from her seat, smiling so wide it hurts my own face. I can’t recall where I’ve seen her. “You’re Carly Penbrooke, right?”
“Yes,” I say politely.
“We sort of met at Liam’s wedding.”
Oh, that’s right. The girl who was rude to Daniela because of a guy she dated ten years ago. “Oh, yeah. Hi. Marny, right?”
Jameson notices that I stopped and starts walking back to me, still holding the coffee.
“That’s right.” She does a double take when she sees him approaching, and her smile fades, replaced by one of curiosity as she looks me up and down. I think she’s sizing me up. It’s uncomfortable.
“So, I’m actually a realtor too,” she says. “And I heard through the community that you’re showing some pretty hefty houses.”
“Oh, really? I didn’t know.” I don’t bother acknowledging her other statement.
“Yeah. Maybe because you’re not very active in the community?” she says with a smile that definitely doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Well, I put it on pause for a while since I was busy with my daughter and…other things,” I reply. “Didn’t you just move back?”
“At the beginning of summer. Real estate is my full-time gig now.”
“That’s great. Congratulations.”
“Hi. Marny St. Clair,” she says to Jameson, extending a hand.
He lifts both coffee cups up in a shrug, barley glancing at her, then looks at me. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” I flash her one last tight-lipped smile before following him.
He waits for me to sit first, then takes a seat across from me and slides one of the identical coffees across the table.
“Friend of yours?” he asks.
“No.”
“Good.”
I glance at the cup he’s holding onto but not drinking. “You’re really doing it.”
“I’m a brave soul.” He takes a deep breath and studies it like it’s cursed and he’s about to bear it all the way to that dark, evil place in The Lord of the Rings. I forget what it’s called.
“You really are. I appreciate the sacrifice.”
“Well…cheers.”
I tap my cup against his, but I don’t take a drink. I want to watch his whole reaction first.
He takes a bigger gulp than I anticipated. Brave. Naturally, I can’t keep my eyes off the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. When I force my gaze back up, his expression is contemplative. He won’t meet my eyes.
“Well?”
He sets the cup down, clears his throat, and folds his arms over the table, leaning closer.
“Carly?”
“Yes?” I say softly, smiling and mirroring his folded arms over the table.
“I can’t believe you drink that. It’s awful.”
And then we lock eyes and laugh together. It’s the first time I’ve seen his full, genuine smile with no guard up, and it’s his best look yet.
“Well,” I say, still coming down from the high of the laughter, “at least you’re honest.”
“Always.” His face relaxes again, but a ghost of a smile remains, along with a certain twinkle in his eye.
“You’re different than I thought,” I comment, feeling emboldened.
“What do you mean?” His brows crease with curiosity.
“When I met you at the wedding, you seemed so…quiet?” I don’t want to say standoffish, but that’s exactly what he seemed. Serious, like he didn’t want to be bothered.
“Ah, the wedding.” He leans back and crosses his arms, glancing down for a moment. “Sorry. I was, uh…going through some things at the time. I’ve been making some big changes in my life. Primarily work stuff.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Plus, you were with that, uh…guy.”
I arch my eyebrows, waiting for more.
“Okay, I’m not the most outgoing man in the world. I’m…selective with whom I give my attention.”
“Could have fooled me. I guess I should feel lucky to be your realtor then.”
A look flashes across his face, but it’s gone in an instant. His brows had furrowed, and he looked perplexed or caught off guard for a moment.
He clears his throat again. “Well, are we ready?”
“Yep,” I reply. It seems like he cut that off rather abruptly, but I suppose we should get going anyway.
When we step outside of the coffee shop, the air is perfect. Autumn is in full swing, and I have a feeling it’s going to be a gorgeous one. Some years’ colors are more vibrant than others, but this year is starting to look like it’ll be a good one. Photograph-worthy.
“No motorcycle today?” I ask, glancing behind me.
“Nope. Now I can drive us.” His head nods toward the black Land Rover that’s parked in the front row a few feet away.
I scoff, my mouth hanging open as I fake being offended. “Is there a problem with my driving?”
“No problem.” He smirks. “But you don’t need to drive me all over the place.”
“It’s customary as a realtor, you know.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard. But we’re—” He stops himself.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“So, I win then?”
He puts his hands in his pockets—a habit of his I’m already picking up on—and releases a sigh. “Fine. You win,” he mutters.