Chapter 4
"I'm very mad at you," Jordan whispered to Barney as they slogged away through the snow.
"You were very naughty. But also, I'm totally in your debt and I'll buy hot dogs for you to have for dinner tonight.
Kylie Quinn," he said, awe-stricken. "Who'd have thought she would grow up that gorgeous?
She was always cute," he informed the dog.
"But wow. Wow. Okay, we're watching movies tonight, buddy.
I had no idea I'd gone to high school with a movie star.
Yes, okay, I know, she wasn't a movie star then, but you know what I mean. "
The collie, who was not only smarter than many people but at the moment looked as if he thought he might be smarter than Jordan in particular, cocked an ear at him and then, Jordan was fairly sure, rolled his eyes.
"Watch it, bud," Jordan told him sternly.
"I don't have to buy hot dogs." He did, of course, stopping off at the store for hot dogs, popcorn, and, after a moment's consideration, ice cream, because if he was going to spend an evening indulging in romcoms, he was going to do it right.
Then it was a brisk walk home, to the brightly-painted colonial-style house he'd inherited from his parents when they'd decided they'd had enough of upstate New York winters and fled south for warmer climes.
Barney was polite enough to stop just inside the door on the carpet meant for wiping feet, and to dance around on it until most of the snow had melted or dried off his feet.
Then he bounced through the house, searching for anything that might need herding while Jordan fried up some hot dogs for himself and cut a couple more into the dog's food bowl.
Barney gobbled it as politely as a dog could, then came to sit at Jordan's feet, looking forlorn, until it was clear he wasn't getting any more hot dogs.
"But you can sit on the couch with me while we watch movies," Jordan promised him, and half an hour later, once the kitchen was clean and the popcorn was popped, that's where they were.
"Let's see what we've got here." Jordan pulled up a streaming service, searched on Kayla's name, and let out a startled laugh.
There were eleven movies, seven of which she was the marquee name on.
"I can't watch eleven movies tonight," he informed Barney.
"Or even seven. Let's try this one, it's from last year.
" He pressed play, pushed Barney's questing nose away from the popcorn bowl, and ninety-seven minutes later was sniffling in his sleeve as Kayla Walsh got married to her handsome home-town hero on screen.
"That was pretty good," he told the dog, hoarsely. "Are we up for one more tonight?"
The dog, who had gone to sleep at some point, rolled one eye open, wriggled onto his back, stuck his tongue out, and went back to sleep. Jordan, still sniffling, said, "I'll take that as a yes," and put the second movie on.
At about ten, halfway through the third starring-role film, Barney gave Jordan a look of disgust and left the room, making it clear that somebody thought it was bedtime and somebody else was staying up too late.
Jordan, well into his chocolate-cherry-bomb ice cream, called, "I'll be there in a minute," after the dog, and at a quarter to eleven, now bundled up in blankets and exceptionally cozy on the couch, he mumbled, "It's not like I have to get up for work in the morning," and put the next movie on.
They all shared a basic plot: a woman living her best life in the big city was called home to small town America to deal with a family crisis.
There, she re-met an old boyfriend or a childhood friend, and resisted the sparks that flew because she had a life—and often a boyfriend—to go back to.
Sometimes the city boyfriend came to make a grand gesture, but in the end, the heroine stayed in her hometown with her first flame.
Some were very funny, others more poignant, and—Jordan couldn't lie to himself about this—sometimes the scripts were just terrible.
But Kayla Walsh was luminescent in every single film.
He believed, every single time, that she was the tension-ridden chef, the world-weary CEO, the ballroom dancer who'd given up on her dream, the slapstick personal assistant covering up an old emotional wound.
There was one where her city boyfriend was genuinely a great guy and their lives just couldn't work together as she returned home that pulled at his heartstrings, and the country boyfriends were always decent men who were afraid they couldn't offer enough to this amazing woman who'd returned to their lives.
Jordan totally understood that, for sure.
Every one of Kayla's lovelorn leading ladies was out of his league, and it might be nearly three in the morning, but he could still see the parallel between his accidental re-meeting of Kylie Quinn—Kayla Walsh, now—and the stories she played on screen.
He might as well have 'Hometown Hero' stamped across his forehead.
Except Kayla really was out of his league, and the least believable thing about all those movies was that someone as bright, beautiful and successful as the roles Kayla played would throw it all away to marry a Christmas tree farmer, or whatever her hometown hero was.
"At least they have businesses of their own," he said to the long-absent Barney.
"Two dog-sitting gigs does not qualify as a career. I'm not the hometown hero, I'm…"
He had no idea what he was, really. The good-looking loser who might get to go on a date or two with the heroine while the real hero bided his time, maybe.
As if Jordan had a chance to date somebody like Kayla Walsh at all.
Although he guessed, technically speaking, that they did have a date on Saturday. If she'd meant it. If she called.
That was too many heavy thoughts for three in the morning. "I'm just gonna close my eyes for a minute," Jordan told the last two starring-role films, and leaned his head against the side of the couch.
He woke up about six hours later with a crimp in his neck and a dog sitting between him and the television, glaring ferociously at Jordan.
Jordan rasped, "Don't judge me," and Barney leaped up and ran to the door, looking back at Jordan pointedly.
"Oh, you need to go out. Okay. Okay, hang on a sec, boy…
" He untangled from his blankets and staggered to the door, letting the patient Border Collie out and standing in the doorway, letting cold air hit his face and wake him up some while he waited on the dog.
He'd had romcom dreams while he slept, all of them starring Kayla Walsh's deep blue eyes, and Kylie Quinn's terrible high school dress sense.
Barney came in and herded Jordan to the food dish, which he filled obediently, then ruffled the dog's fur. "I'm going to go shower while you eat. Don't let any bad guys in the house."
The dog huffed into his food bowl, obviously offended that Jordan had so little faith in him.
"On the contrary," Jordan yawned on his way to the shower.
"You'd have them all tied up and sitting neatly in a row on the couch by the time I got dressed.
" He stood in the shower a while, gradually waking up, and exited feeling perkier.
Half the town would probably be out watching the filming.
It wouldn't be weird if he took Barney out for a walk and stopped to watch for a bit, either.
Catching another glimpse of Kayla would be a bonus, that was all.
If he told himself that enough times, he would…
still not believe it. Kayla Walsh, formerly Kylie Quinn, was the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on, and he would love to just look longingly at her all day long.
And probably would, since he had at least six more movies to watch, and that was just on the one streaming service.
But the real person would be even better.
"At least she remembered me," he said to Barney as he affixed the dog's leash to his harness and checked it twice. "No more running off." The dog looked faintly guilty, as if he actually remembered the previous afternoon's escapades, and stuck with Jordan as they struck off toward town.
It was cold and clear, the sun shining brilliantly from a blue sky and making inches-deep snow gleam hard white.
Jordan took his sunglasses from his coat pocket, checked his phone, and had it half put away again before he realized a message had come in while he was showering.
Hi, Jordan, this is Kayla. I have 45 minutes for coffee this afternoon if you're still interested?
Jordan, a fully-grown adult man of thirty-seven years, punched the air and yelled "Woo-hoo!"