Chapter Nine #2
That’s really nice of you, but I didn’t tell you my sob story to win points for them, he says. Just thought I’d fill you in on what you’re dealing with over here. As he says this, he gestures to his whole general self.
I mean, you’ve been great on the job so far, I say. Haven’t been crying into the cider hardly at all.
He laughs. I’m fine at work. It feels the most natural thing in the world to be back out in the orchards and in the cidery.
I’m more telling you all of this…for you.
Just in case you’d ever like to reconsider our barbecue date.
Or any other type of date of your choosing.
I mean, not that I’m really selling myself well right now.
I stare ahead for a moment, tapping the wheel with my thumbs. I had been daydreaming about this opportunity, but now that it’s here, all the reasons that this is also a bad idea are flooding my brain.
Harrison, I was pretty sold within four seconds of meeting you.
The problem is that eight minutes after meeting you, I offered you a job, and now you’re helping us through what would have been a minor crisis.
And then, presumably, you’re leaving? So, there’s…
a lot to unpack here, I say and finally turn to meet his gaze.
That was all a lot easier to say when I wasn’t looking at his face.
I don’t know what I’m going to do after this, he says.
Going back to Penticton is deeply unappealing, I’ll tell you that much.
But no, I also can’t promise I’m going to stay in the County forever, either, as it’s still pretty early days here.
So, I get not wanting to…go much further here, on a lot of fronts.
I shall abstain from any further flirtations, though it will take a lot of personal self-restraint because you’re fun to flirt with, Kate.
I snort at this. Absolutely no one has said that, ever.
It’s true! You ignore it, like, eighty percent of the time, but then when I get a really good one in, your whole face lights up, or you blush, and it’s cute. The odds make it more fun.
Right, so no gambling for you, ever. Also, it’s just that eighty percent of the time, I genuinely don’t realize when someone is flirting with me!
I clearly don’t even notice it with you, and you’re a very obvious flirt.
Also, you flirt with everyone! I pause and continue.
You actually might want to slow down a little on poor Daniel before you really start breaking hearts.
Also, Liz from the tasting bar. She had swoony eyes earlier, too, when you complimented her T-shirt.
It was a brilliant shirt, though! It had a quote from Die Hard on it, he protests. I wasn’t even trying to flirt then.
I’m pretty sure you flirt when you breathe, I say. You just sort of radiate an aura of flirtation. It’s charming, and you’re going to make a zillion dollars in tips at the tasting bar. But not everyone’s inoculated to it like I am.
Inoculated. Such a way with words. Like I’m a contagious virus just overtaking the cidery with my excessive flirtation, and only you are immune. Probably after having to hear about my rash so much, which is honestly fair.
Okay, not a good choice of words. I told you I was bad at flirting! I say.
So, you are trying to flirt with me, then. He grins. Wait, sorry, that right there was me flirting, too. I hear it now. Wow. I’m a monster.
Like I said, save it for the tasting bar, and then retire early, I laugh and move the car back into Drive. I should get you home. Which turn was it again?
It was up there, on the left. Well, right now. I mean, now that we’ve turned around, turn right up there. I need more water before I go to bed, he says and leans back in the passenger seat.
Ryan and Britt’s house is only a few more minutes down the road, and we pull into a cute farmhouse bedecked with those retro big-bulb Christmas lights, and it looks for all the world like a Christmas card. As we pull up, a motion-sensor light turns on and floods the place, and we hear a dog bark.
No sneaky entrances here, I say.
None at all, he says. Thanks for the ride home. But, um, just one last thing before I go in. No flirting, all business from now on. Yes?
All business, I confirm. Well, as much as is within your capacity, anyway. And thanks again for saving me up there onstage earlier. And for doing the MCing for the evening. All of tonight, really.
Anytime, he says, and he opens the door to get out. Good night, Kate, he says with a smile and then closes the door to walk up the steps to the Hallmark house.
For my whole drive home, my stomach is in a knot.
I should be pleased with myself: I made a responsible decision to separate work and life and do what’s best for the cidery.
And, honestly, probably what’s best for me, given that Harrison could decide to bounce on December 26th and never return, for all I know. I made the responsible, safe choice.
But it was also safe to work sixty hours a week for a job I didn’t even really like when I lived in the city, and it was safe to stay in a relationship for several years with a guy I had long grown apart from.
In theory, I blew up my old life because I couldn’t see the cidery being run by a stranger, and I wanted to have ownership over a place where I grew up, a place I really loved.
But I also think I was a little bit sick of being so damned safe all these past years.
Now I wonder if I haven’t just made the same mistake I made all those years.
Harrison made his interest in me very clear, which is just as baffling as it is problematic.
I’m not being self-deprecating here. I like to think I know my worth.
Lots of other people have asked me out; that in and of itself isn’t, like, a shocking development or anything.
I’m a great potential girlfriend, as long as the theoretical partner in question is someone who doesn’t mind my long work hours, likes obese cats, and is cool with the fact that I mostly survive on croissants and coffee.
It just surprises me that Harrison could see me that way.
When I picture his cool bartender ex, it’s someone as free-spirited and life-loving as he is, with cool tattoos and maybe a dog with three legs that she rescued from certain death from a shelter.
Someone with a matching desire to travel around the world and charm everyone they meet as they go—in other words, something I am very much not.
By the time I get home and feed my long-suffering, starving cat, I have almost convinced myself that I made the right call. Almost.