A Sweet Possibility (Archer Cove Series Book 2) (13 page)

"Neither. I'm making a vanilla blueberry loaf cake with a sugar glaze. It's great with tea."

Jessie strolled around the counter to stand beside him. She snuck a few blueberries out of the bowl and said, "Uncle Hank, this is my business loan application. I made it with my hands." The folder made a slapping noise as it struck the counter. "I was up all night documenting my personal financial history and making bar graphs. I used teal, magenta, and canary yellow for the bars." She opened the folder to the appropriate page to show him. "See, the teal is year one of sales, magenta is year two, and canary yellow is projected growth over the next twelve months. It's sort of aspirational, but I did an Internet search and I think it works."

"It's definitely aesthetically pleasing," Uncle Hank said.

"I thought so. You know, loan officers live such dull lives, looking at numbers all day, thinking about creditworthiness. I thought, they need a bar graph with some magenta, and they just don't know it yet." She popped a blueberry into her mouth. "Mmm. These are good."

"I'm proud of you, honey. It's not easy to put yourself out there like this. Whatever happens with the loan, you've succeeded."

Jessie shut the folder and pushed it out of the way. Uncle Hank was unwrapping sticks of butter and dropping them into the bowl, and she didn't want her hard work to get greasy. "Thank you. I had dinner with Wren last night, and she got me thinking that I need to do this, not just talk about doing it."

Opening her own chocolate shop, that is. She needed to do it for herself, not to impress Quinn. Sweets were her passion, and even if her life was messy and imperfect, at least it could be passionate.

She was waiting by the door when the First Bank of Spencer opened at nine o'clock, and she marched right in and up to Fred White. He was coming from a back room, carrying a cup of coffee in a plain white mug. He probably liked beige. "Mr. White! Here's my application for a small business loan. I hope you find it up to your standards."

He accepted the proffered file with a furrowed brow. "Thank you, Jessie. You could have emailed everything to me."

Ah. She laughed nervously. "I was in the neighborhood. Just wanted to make sure it reached you safely. My email's been down. Hackers." The excuses came rapid fire.

"That's fine. Maybe next time." He blew steam over the brim of his mug and took a tentative sip. "I look forward to reviewing it."

"And I look forward to your judgment," she said. Then, after a few painful seconds of silence, Jessie realized that she couldn't possibly help her case if she continued on in that vein. "I'll see you later. I put my phone number on the application."

"Perfect. I'll bet it's right where it's supposed to be. Have a good day." He ducked into his office and set his mug on his naked desk. Then he shut his door in her face.

Jessie swept her palms down her shirt and felt like mostly, she'd accomplished something great. She'd filed an application for a loan, and she'd exercised her business sense with Mr. White and not screwed anything up too badly. As she stepped outside and into the sunshine, a bolt of sparks burst in her stomach. Until that moment, with the application still un-filed, she hadn't allowed the thought to register: she was going on a sort-of date with Nate. As a buffer between him and Emily, but still. She was kind of his wingman, a position of honor and trust in the male kingdom. Maybe that was a good thing? Did guys kiss their wingmen?

She shook her head. No need to go there. It was a night out, that was all. But he wasn't serious about Emily. The window was open.

She hummed to herself as she strolled back to work. I am the one who knocks on the chocolate door. And things were starting to turn around for her.

S
am's
After Dark was set on the rooftop, under the stars and a crisscross of white lights. Jessie and Wren had gone there on occasion, usually when there was something to celebrate. That night, the specials were gazpacho prepared with watermelon, and spicy fish tacos garnished with mango salsa and fresh guacamole. Jessie had decided in advance of the date that she was suspending her diet for the evening. She ordered both.

She'd also curled her hair. It felt a little bit like trying too hard, but she didn't give a damn. She'd also splurged on a new black top with a wide neck that exposed more of her shoulders, a pair of dark jeans, and black heels. Jessie was running late, and so Emily, Nate, and Max were already seated when she came running in. "Sorry!" she gushed. "My car — I accidentally turned on the radio and had to ask a neighbor to jump the engine."

"No problem at all." Max rose to his feet, his eyes wide as he looked her over. "You're worth waiting for, Jessie."

The compliment embarrassed her, and she looked to Nate. But he didn't speak. He was watching her, his lips slightly parted. Looking, she realized, like a lost puppy.

Her heart stalled. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Jessie felt gorgeous.

Of course Emily looked beautiful, too. Her light brown hair was pulled into one of those romantic braids, and she was wearing a white dress with cap sleeves that was really very sweet and pretty. But Nate wasn't looking at Emily, no matter how much she touched his arm or tried to engage him in conversation. He would answer her questions, or ask politely about her interests, but then he'd turn back to Jessie, who was sitting across the table from him. Jessie's heart was pounding in her throat so strongly that it was a wonder she could breathe at all.

"I did a fifteen-miler today," Max announced. "Lost another toenail."

"Oh, really?" Jessie lifted her drink to her lips.

She'd opted for a sangria mocktail, thinking she'd save enough calories that she'd be able to indulge in the bread basket. This, she quickly realized, had been a big mistake. She made a note to herself: where a blind date is involved, choose alcohol over bread.

"It doesn't actually hurt," Max explained, obviously mistaking the wrinkle in her nose for concern rather than repulsion. "It just turns black and falls off. I've thought of having mine surgically removed. You know, for when I go racing."

"Racing?"

Jessie pressed her lips back together, but it was too late. The question was out, and Max was eager to answer.

"I'm what you'd call an extreme athlete," he explained. "I've completed a few double triathlons. That's a 4.8 mile swim, a 224-mile bike ride, and a 52.4-mile run. I usually place in my age group."

Was it her imagination, or had he flexed his biceps while telling her about that? Jessie reached for a bread roll and cursed the poor choices she'd made. "That sounds time-consuming," she said.

This was not the right response. Max lifted his chin and issued something that sounded like a snort. "Time-consuming? Let me put it this way: we all get only so many hours on this planet, and instead of rotting in front of the television, I choose to spend my time taking care of the only body I'm going to get."

"Mmmhmm." Jessie broke off a piece of bread and buttered it. "I didn't mean anything by it. But I'm actually one of those who likes television. I even like commercials."

Nate leaned forward, his forearms on the table. "Animal shelter commercials make her cry."

"They do," she said. "Also, I like home shopping. I watched this one segment with a set of knives that could slice up a turkey in less than two minutes. Literally. They had the timer going at the bottom of the screen and everything." She was getting excited just thinking about it. "Anyway, I was broke at the time. Well, I'm always broke. But I was especially broke then, and so I didn't order the knives."

Emily, who had been listening politely, said, "So what happened?"

"That's it." Jessie shrugged. "I didn't order the knives, but now I watch that channel all the time and hope they'll come back on. I would carve turkeys every day of the week. Every day would be Thanksgiving. Em, wouldn't that be great? I was thinking I'd get a set for Hedda's."

"That's a great idea, actually," she said.

"I'm going to make a note to research those knives." Jessie reached for her mocktail and took another sip.

Max had grown uncomfortably silent. Also, he was staring at her in a way that made her check her shirt for stains. Nope, all clean there. "You watch home shopping," he said flatly.

"Totally. But if I have my choice, I prefer cooking shows. I like food," she explained to Max. "It's sort of my life, and I just enjoy it." Then she stuffed another bite of bread in her mouth to illustrate.

"She grew up in the bakery," Nate explained, trying not to smile at the look on Max's face as he watched Jessie devour her roll.

"The one you work at?" Max said.

"Well, I usually tell people that I came of age there," she explained. "I grew up in Colorado with my parents, and then they moved to Germany and left me to live with my uncle and cousin in the bakery. It's kind of a long story. But I spent some formative years there, yes."

Max reached for his ice water and took a long sip. Then he set it down carefully and nodded at Emily. "How about you? Don't you work at the bakery, too?"

"Yes." She smiled. "But I also like to run. Did you really run fifteen miles today?"

"Almost sixteen," Max said.

"Wow. I don't think I could ever run that far. I completed a half marathon once, and I nearly collapsed at the end."

"Look, it's real easy," Max said. "You've got to get 'I can't do it' out of your head and go for it. You want to push to the brink of death, but no further."

Nate and Jessie exchanged a glance over the flicker of the candlelight. Jessie choked on a laugh and covered her mouth with her napkin. Nate looked away and to the floor, biting his lower lip. Fortunately, the soup course came, and they were able to focus on that while Max gave Emily advice that he promised would change her life.

B
y the time dessert came
, it was clear that Jessie and Max were not a love connection. For one thing, he ordered black coffee, and she ordered the caramel turtle cheesecake. For another, he and Emily seemed to really be hitting it off. All's well that ends well, she thought, and fished in her wallet for a few bills to cover her part of the tab. "I'm going to run to the ladies' room," she said.

Emily stood. "I'll come with you."

The bathrooms were tiny, with two black stalls and white-and-gray spotted granite counters. When they got there, Emily sighed and leaned back against the dark purple wall. "I'm so confused. I need your advice."

"Mine? Really?" Jessie was kind of honored. Flummoxed, but honored.

"I just..." Emily tilted her head to the side. "I don't think Nate had a good time. He didn't talk very much."

Jessie checked her makeup in the mirror. No raccoon eyes. Victory. "I wouldn't take that personally. He gets that way when he's hungry."

Emily chewed her lower lip and folded her arms across her chest. "Do you think he'd be upset if we didn't go out again? I know you two are friends, and I don't want it to be weird. He's super nice," she added.

Jessie hoped Emily couldn't read the relief on her face. "Nate would definitely understand. He gets rejected all the time."

Emily blinked. "Oh. Okay." She nodded. "That's good, then. Max seems nice, doesn't he?"

She reached out and touched Emily's wrist. "Max is a
great
guy. And I think he likes you."

"Really?" Emily's eyes lit. "I think he's hot."

"Totally," Jessie said, and tried not to think about his feet. "Maybe you two will see each other again. Now, if you'll excuse me, my bladder's about to burst."

When she emerged from the stall, Jessie was a little surprised to see that Emily hadn't waited for her. She was also surprised that Nate was outside of the restroom, standing in the entrance to the rooftop. He watched her as she approached. "We've been rejected," he said.

A strand of Nate's hair fell against his eyebrow. He'd undone another button of his shirt, and his jeans skimmed his muscular legs in all the right ways. He was tall and strong and sexy as all hell. Jessie took him in and wondered how she could have ever missed it.

"How tragic," she breathed.

"I'm all broken up inside. Max and Emily are grabbing drinks," he smiled. "I'll take you home."

Jessie dropped her keys into his hand. "You walked?"

"Yeah. I'm not going to lie: I planned to be completely unattractive to Emily so I'd get to drive Old Cobalt again."

"You should've told me your plan."

"Why, so you could be unattractive to Max?" He shrugged. "I figured that part would come naturally."

"Hey!" She punched him playfully in the side. "That's mean."

"I'm kidding! You know that. I wanted to spend time with you, that's all."

She laughed, but it was subdued. Her throat was too tight, her thoughts elsewhere. "Thanks," she whispered.

At least the car started, and they pulled up to the cottage after a short, silent ride. Nate cut the engine. The full moon illuminated the interior of the vehicle, leaving few shadows. It even seemed to capture the unspoken words between them. Jessie wondered if Nate could hear the thrumming of her heart. Finally, he pulled the keys out of the ignition and said, "It's late. We don't have to run tomorrow morning if you don't want to."

"Tomorrow's my day to sleep in. I don't have to be at Hedda's until eight."

He shook his head. "The hours you keep. I don't know how you do it."

He clenched the keys in his fist once, twice. Then he handed them over to her and whispered, "I'm glad you're not Max's type."

He looked at her, and the breath caught in her throat. She wanted him like she'd never wanted anyone — or anything — in her life. "I'm sorry Emily isn't interested in you. She's always had a thing for guys with missing toenails."

But he didn't laugh. Instead he leaned across the console and cupped her chin carefully in his hands. "I could never date her." He stroked the pads of his thumbs across her cheeks. "I've gone on lots of dates and they've never amounted to anything, and it's because the entire time I'm with those women, I'm thinking about you."

His breath, sweet and minty, fell against her face with each word. She swallowed. "That's the best thing anyone's ever said to me."

He brought his thumbs down to the corners of her lips. Then he kissed her — softly at first, and then urgently, running his fingers across her bare shoulders and down her back. Jessie gripped his shirt and pulled at him. She wanted to be closer. She needed all of him. "Don't say anything," she said breathlessly when their kiss finally broke. "Come inside."

He did as she asked. No words, no lights other than the moonlight. No thoughts of how the morning would be. The first time, he took her slowly, almost reverently. The second time, with a frenzied need. The third time, well.

That was the time Jessie proved to him that she was the kind of girl who knew how and where to use her teeth. She brought him to his knees.

W
hen she opened
her eyes the next morning and realized the curtains were still open, Jessie's first thought was that they'd had sex in front of an open window. Her second was that she didn't care.

I had sex with Nate. The thought sent electricity coursing through her veins. He was still in bed beside her, naked and sleeping softly on her pillow. Her heart surged.

It shouldn't have been perfect. It should have been strange, and awkward, and uncomfortable. But instead of all of those things, it felt like a foregone conclusion. A little bit like destiny.

She crept out of bed and found a bathrobe. She wanted to make him breakfast — had she remembered to go grocery shopping that week? Jessie opened the refrigerator and was relieved to see a carton of eggs. She set them on the counter before grabbing the cream and butter. When a person rocks your world, there should be a decent breakfast afterward.

She melted the butter in a skillet, then cracked some eggs into a bowl, added some cream, salt, and pepper, and scrambled the mixture. She thought she'd seen some herbs in the vegetable drawer, but those would be a bonus. While she waited for the eggs to cook, she made a strong pot of coffee. Then she leaned against the counter, chewed on her thumbnail, and considered the fact that Nate was in her bed, very asleep, and very naked.

Holy crap.

She could tell Wren, but what should she say? What was going on, exactly? Maybe he'd wake up and tell her that they were better as friends. Hand to heaven, she would throw the eggs at him if he dared pull that. She was not a casual sex kind of girl. Not as a rule, anyway.

Jessie sat on her couch and drew her legs up. She was thinking too much, and she could try losing herself in home shopping or a cooking show of some sort. Then she heard a rustle in the bedroom, and her heart seized. She selected a channel and rose to her feet just in time to see Nate stumble into the kitchen. His hair was messy, and he was wearing only his jeans. And his boxer shorts, because she could see the black waistband sticking out. His abs. They belonged on a billboard.

Wow. Did she have good taste or what?

"Good morning," she said.

"'Morning." He smiled lazily and stretched. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a few bills, and set them on the counter. "That's from last night."

B
reakfast smelled great
. Scrambled eggs and coffee. Nate had woken up with his stomach growling. "Can I help you with anything?"

He scratched at his bare ribs and waited for a response. When he was hit with silence, he turned his head. "Jess?"

She was still there, all right. And she was glaring at him. "What's that for?" she growled, and pointed to the money. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

He rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry. I paid your part of the tab last night. That's the money you put down at Sam's. I'm just giving it back." He forced a laugh. "Things can only go uphill from here, right?"