Chapter 5
Jack quickly splasheda little aftershave on his face and hurried to answer the door. “Hey, Ruger. I didn’t expect you until later this week. I’m headed out.”
Ruger and his brother, Booker, were mutual friends of Jack and Ethan’s. Ruger was the same age as Jack, and Booker was a year older than Ethan. They’d all become friends the year Jennings’ house burned down. The school put together a toy drive, and the football team helped rebuild his house. They’d each be taking a spot as one of the groomsmen in Ethan’s wedding.
His friends stepped inside Jack’s apartment. “Date?”
Nooooo…. Jack wasn’t calling it a date, and even if he was, he wouldn’t tell Ruger. He wasn’t in the mood for the inevitable teasing that would occur. “Uh, catching up with a friend.” That’s right. That’s what he’d call it, even if he was already hoping that it’d turn into a repeated event that looked suspiciously like dating. Man, this war between hoping for more and being practical was going to give him a headache before the night was over.
“Yeah, I guess there are quite a few people from high school showing up. I still can’t believe Ethan’s marrying Serenity Harper. I’m surprised there aren’t paparazzi camped out everywhere.”
Jack chuckled. “According to Ethan, she worked out a deal with the gossip rags. That’s why they haven’t shown up.”
“That’s cool.”
“Well, make yourself at home. I’ll catch you later.” Jack jogged out of the house, down the stairs to the ground floor, and over to his pickup. He jumped in and made the five-mile trek to the Stewart house.
He’d had no plans to ask Jo out, but when he saw her on the sidewalk in her cute little skirt and soft pink blouse, he was moving toward her before he even realized it. When she kicked the wall, she’d been irresistible. Not because she’d kicked it but because her cute little nose squinched up. What man could resist that?
Parking in front of the house, he stepped out of the truck and strode to the front door. He respected Charlie and Jo enough that he wasn’t going to honk the horn. Plus, he was pretty sure Charlie would beat him with a rolling pin, or worse, and never let him eat her chicken pot pie again.
Before his knuckles could touch the door, it opened. Charlie grinned. “Hey, Jack.”
“Hey, Charlie.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Jo will be out in a second?—”
“I’m here.”
Her eyes connected with his, and his heart was out of the chute. She was cute in the casual outfit she’d worn earlier. In the baby blue sleeveless dress she wore now, she was a knockout. It showed off her soft-looking skin and the delicate curve of her shoulders. Her hair was pulled up with little wisps left loose that framed her face, and lip gloss that made her already kissable lips even more kissable—and a bullseye for his attention.
Clearing his throat, he said, “Hey, you look great.”
She looked down. “Oh, thanks. I didn’t know what to wear.” When she lifted her gaze to his again, the world suddenly stood still, like it was telling him she was the one. He forced the thought away. They hadn’t even gone on a date yet. What if she wasn’t at all like he thought? His heart promptly shut that down. She was, and more.
“It’s great,” he said.
During the entire exchange, Charlie’s head moved back and forth like she was watching a tennis match.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Jo kissed her grandma on the cheek. “Don’t wait up.”
Her grandma laughed. “Sure, honey.” Based on the look in the woman’s eyes, she’d see Jo when he brought her home.
They headed down the steps, and Jack raced ahead to open the passenger door. Somehow, he’d forgotten the reaction when he’d shaken her hand the day before, and once again, his skin tingled as their hands touched.
He jogged around the truck and got in, put on his seatbelt, and started the engine. Dating was fun, but none of the women he’d dated made him feel like this. Excited, hopeful… Truth be told, after his breakup with Natalie, he’d been half-invested anytime he went out with someone.
“So… how was your day?” Jo asked.
“It was good.”
Silence fell over them for a moment while he racked his brain for something to say. “What was with the kicking the wall today? Did it have something to do with the phone call?”
“I started at the magazine with the understanding that one day I’d be one of their photographers. It’s been my dream to be a photographer. That wasn’t where I planned to stay forever, but I thought it was a great place to start and get my foot into the door of that world. Only…” She sighed. “Arianna Carter agreed to work for the magazine. She’s huge. She’s shot the hottest designers, models, and everything in between. There was only one opening, and it was supposed to be mine, but of course, Delia couldn’t turn down Arianna Carter.” She grumbled something else under her breath, something he couldn’t quite catch.
“So, you won’t transition to a photographer?”
“No. Honestly, I think Delia has been stringing me along. She always says I’m their best writer?—”
“You are.”
She tilted her head. “What?”
He smiled as he glanced at her. “I looked you up. As a guy, I have no warm fuzzies when it comes to weddings, and I even enjoyed your articles. You’re phenomenal. I can see why she’d want to keep you as a writer.”
Talented enough that it gave him a moment’s pause. She’d left town, moved to New York, and she was surrounded by successful people. Jack was a small-town guy with a little construction business. Then he’d reminded himself that this was just dinner with a friend. Not even a friend yet. Although, the prospect of becoming friends sure did sit well with him.
Pink blanketed her cheeks and with the sunset pouring in through the cab, it gave her skin a rosy glow. “Thanks. I can’t believe you read my stuff.”
Jack shrugged. “After the way Serenity talked about you, I had to see what all the hype was about.” He shot her a grin.
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
Her pink cheeks turned nearly crimson. An adorable color on her. He liked her humility. He’d wondered if it was just a show for the movie star, and he was glad to find that wasn’t the case.
“So, about the photography. Are you going to stick it out with the magazine?”
She sighed. Silence hung in the air for a moment. “Honestly, I don’t know. I love writing. It has always come naturally to me, so you’d think I’d be happy with that.”
“But…”
“I love taking pictures. Mostly wildlife, but people too. Capturing moments frozen in time, how composition and lighting can change the whole mood or tone of the image, and the expression that only a picture can give.”
“Wow. Sounds like your heart knows exactly what it wants.” It also sounded like she was describing his own heart when it came to his wood carving—something he’d pretty much given up on when no one seemed to be interested in it.
“How about you? Do you enjoy fixing up homes?”
He raked his hand through his hair, slid it down his cheek, rubbed his jaw. “I do. Although, I wish I could spend more time on my woodworking.” He wished it’d sold, but that’d been a failure. It’d hit hard at the time. Now, he was sort of glad it had. Maybe he wouldn’t be helping Charlie and she needed it. That made him feel good about himself and his purpose.
“Woodworking?”
“While I was in physical therapy, I had a lot of time on my hands. Depression settled in. I was moody and lost. I’d always loved woodworking, but football had taken over. One day I was hobbling around in my dad’s shop and found his lathe. That’s all she wrote. It gave me something to do, and it was fun letting the wood speak,” he said as he parked in front of the one and only sit-down restaurant in town, Capri’s Italian Restaurant, and cut the engine.
“I would say I hope this is okay, but I think we both know there’s really no other choice.”
She chuckled. “This is great. They make the best ravioli.”
“Wait there.” He jumped out of the pickup, jogged around the front, opened her door, and held out his hand.
Yet again, the moment her hand met his, a charge of electricity raced through his arm, hitting his heart and throwing it into overdrive.
Her feet hit the pavement, and she looked up. If the sky wasn’t clear he would say there was a lightning storm with as charged as the air felt. A desire to kiss her hit so strong he nearly choked. She wasn’t staying in Wishing Well, and kissing her would definitely be a mistake. Not only would it be too soon, but he suspected once he started kissing her, he wouldn’t want to stop.
Almost like she was sensing the same thing, she took a step back at the same time he did. A tinge of disappointment bounced around in his stomach. He wasn’t sure why. All evening, he’d given himself a guideline for the… not a date. Dinner with a gal. Food with a friend. One of numerous things to call this thing that didn’t include the “D” word.
No, he’d concluded that he was using this opportunity to put himself out there without having to worry about it meaning anything. A test run so to speak, so that when he finally asked a woman out on a date, he’d have a little practice under his belt.
This was only a confidence builder. Nothing more since nothing could come of it. They were from very different worlds. He loved his life. She obviously loved hers. A relationship wasn’t possible.
He needed to keep that in mind, and his heart corralled until it was safe.