A Sweet Possibility (Archer Cove Series Book 2) (5 page)

Quinn looked like hell, but at least he hadn't been sick...yet. When he climbed into the passenger seat, Nate handed him a gym towel from the backseat and said, "Keep this in your lap."

His friend's head bobbed around like he understood, but he didn't reply other than to say, "Thanks." Like handing him a towel was some massive gesture of goodwill.

Nate clenched his jaw as he backed out of the driveway next to Landry's, avoiding a drunken group of college kids who weren't dressed for the chilly evening. Listen to him — when did he become an old man?

Beside him, Quinn mumbled, "Girls're hot," and craned his neck to get a better look.

"Jesus, Quinn. Get a grip!" Nate shook his head, speeding away from the ugly scene once he hit the road. "What the hell happened to you tonight?"

Quinn squeezed his eyes shut, wincing as if the very question hurt him. "I slept with Caryn."

"I got that part."

Quinn leaned his head back against the seat and turned to Nate. His eyes roamed as he struggled to focus. "She wanted to go out. I said okay."

Nate's knuckles whitened. He didn't understand what Quinn saw in Caryn. Sure, she was pretty — beautiful, even — but their very brief, very volatile relationship seemed to consist of fight after argument after threats to never speak to each other again. Caryn had dumped Quinn for someone else after a few months of combustion, and Quinn hadn't eaten for days. When he'd invited Quinn out to Sam's, Nate had just been trying to cheer up his friend. That had been a mistake. Jessie had been there that night. Next thing he knew, Jessie Mallory, the girl Nate had been renting a cottage to and working up the nerve to ask out, was Quinn's rebound. Worse, she liked him. A lot.

"So you went out." The words barely squeezed through Nate's lips. "Where'd you go?"

"Her place." When Nate groaned, Quinn hastened to add, "She's going through a tough time. She needed to talk. I don't know where we stand right now. I mean, it was like old times, but better. Then we were done, and suddenly she's telling me to leave." He gazed down at his hands as they lay open and limp in his lap. "I don't get women."

"So you walked from Caryn's house to Landry's?"

"Pretty much." He fisted the towel and turned it to get a better look under the light cast by the streetlamps. "This is a nice towel."

Nate wasn't willing to change the subject so easily. "You've been sitting in Landry's drinking alone all night? You should've called me."

Quinn made an attempt to shrug, but it came off sloppy. "You wouldn't get it. Me and Caryn...we have a thing. Only we understand."

"What about Jessie?"

"What about her?" Quinn asked, sounding as if she wasn't even part of the equation. Sounding, Nate realized with a chill, almost as if he'd forgotten about her.

He gritted his teeth as he rounded the corner to Quinn's house. They were only a few blocks from Landry's, but his friend couldn't have made the walk. His head lolled around as if he was struggling to keep it upright.

Nate told himself not to lose it. No lectures. He was being Quinn's friend now, not Jessie's. But damn it if he didn't want to grab Quinn by the shoulders and demand to know what was wrong with him. "Jessie's a great girl," he said, measuring each word. "She doesn't deserve to be cheated on."

His friend was silent for a stretch before reaching up to rub his cheek with the palm of his hand and saying, "Me and Jessie are over."

Nate froze. "You two broke up?"

"Yeah. We weren't ever serious. I just...it was just for fun. She's not my type."

Nate mulled this over in his mind as he brought the vehicle to a stop in the driveway. So Jessie was single again? That wasn't the worst thing he'd heard all day. "Do you need help getting out?"

"Nah, I got it. Just a little buzzed." Even as he said it, he frowned at the seat belt buckle and made three jabs at the button before managing to get loose. "I'll be all right in a couple hours. Thanks again, buddy." He clapped Nate on the shoulder.

"Good night."

Nate waited until Quinn got into his house safely. It took him a couple of tries to unlock his door, but then he raised one hand and gave a sheepish smile. Nate shook his head and backed slowly out of the driveway, thinking of Jessie. Somehow, he imagined she'd be handling the breakup differently than Quinn.

He took a detour to drive past her cottage, though he didn't know why. It wasn't like he was going to wander up to the door and tell her he was in the neighborhood. His heart sank when he saw that her lights were still on. Not good. Was there any reason he could stop in, just say he was checking on her? He glanced at the clock. No, not at this hour. Nothing about that would be normal. Besides, he had a client appointment first thing in the morning, and he should get home, too.

He swallowed and continued down the street. He hoped she was all right, and that she'd just fallen asleep on the couch again. Quinn and Caryn? Bad news. But Jessie being single again? Nate felt a surge of hope.

Maybe.

T
he bottom stair
in the back was groaning again. Nate winced. He'd just fixed the darn thing, right before giving the staircase a fresh coat of white paint. He'd have to take a look at it when he came home to make sure it was an annoyance, and nothing structural. He had a tenant on the first floor, and he couldn't take the chance that anyone got hurt. The joys of owning rental property.

The cool breeze rolling in from the ocean dulled the headache that came from too little sleep the night before. He zipped his jacket and hesitated before climbing into his SUV. From this spot, he could see the sun rising over the water, turning it pink and orange. These were things in life worth pausing for, but he was only looking for a convenient excuse to stop. He was on his way to see Claire Burgess, and, well...He needed to give his coffee a few more minutes to work its magic.

He liked Claire, just as he liked most people. He'd been training her for almost a year now, and they'd developed a rapport. Despite Jessie's jokes — all of which were fair, he had to admit — Claire took her fitness seriously, and she was committed to being healthier. That's all he could ask as a personal trainer. As a man, though...Claire was a challenge.

The ride to Great Barrington at that time of day took less than twenty minutes. Nate drove along the coast to enjoy the view of the sunrise and the waves breaking against the rocks. When he pulled up to Claire's house, he only had to wait a moment for security to open the gates. Then he continued down the crushed rock drive, watching the mansion rise into view: gray stone, large windows, and shrubs pruned into decorative patterns. Four chimneys and a fountain out front. All of it purchased with old money that Claire's great-grandfather had acquired selling liquor during Prohibition. Sometimes crime paid very well.

He pulled into the usual spot, closer to the doorway so as not to block the gardeners' trucks. That morning, Claire was waiting for him on the front steps, clutching a steaming cup of something. Herbal tea if he had to guess, since she didn't go for coffee.

"Morning, sweetness," she said, and tilted her neck to the side in a stretch. "You're just in time for tea."

"Thanks, I'm all set. I had a cup of coffee before I left."

"Mmm." She wrinkled her nose. "I never could touch the stuff."

See, now this was where she got to be a challenge, because as she said that, she grazed a hand slowly down her side and rested it on her waist. Then she blew the steam over the top of her mug with stained lips, eyeing him the entire time. Nate pulled a box of rubber resistance straps from the back of his car and tried to ignore the flirtation. That and the tight raspberry-pink top she was wearing that left nothing to the imagination. "Today we're working on flexibility."

"Oh, that's my absolute favorite. I love the way you stretch me out, Nate." Said mildly, with another arch of the neck. "You have the best positions."

He took a deep breath. It was going to be a long morning. Now, if Jessie ever talked to him like that, he'd probably lose his head completely. There was a thought.

"We're going to do a warm-up first, right?" Claire took a sip of her tea and then nodded to the massive wooden door behind her. "Let's go this way. We can run on the beach."

"The weather's finally nice enough."

"You're telling me, sweetness. The winter's been so terrible that if it gets above seventy degrees today, I'm sunbathing topless. I don't even care."

Despite its size, Claire's home was warm. It looked like something out of those catalogues his tenant was always getting, the ones Jessie made him look through with her. Lots of sheer curtains and tile, area rugs and couches with different-colored throw pillows. It was nice, he had to admit. The furnishings, and the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the Atlantic. He could look at that all day, watch the sailboats glide across the water in the warmer weather.

Claire set her mug down on the black counter in the kitchen. Soapstone, but he only knew that because he'd remodeled the kitchen in the cottage before Jessie moved in. The old cabinets were flimsy, and he'd thought it was time for an upgrade. They'd gone shopping together and made a few weekends out of selecting white maple cabinets and picking a slab of gray granite. The end result had been better than he could've done alone. If it had been up to him, he would've walked into a store and pointed to the first cabinet and counter style he'd seen. He wasn't a shopper, but with Jessie, well. Things were more fun.

His pulse kicked. She was a great girl. And now she was single, which meant he could finally tell her how he felt. The thought sent sparks through his stomach. He'd never been good at that kind of thing. Not like Quinn, whose confidence had been stoked by the attention of all the girls in school. No one in Archer Cove High School paid attention to a track star, no matter how many records he smashed. When the challenge involved something physical, he could achieve. But when the challenge was emotional, he became tongue-tied.

"We'll go through the solarium," Claire explained as she slid open a glass door. A rush of heat greeted them. "It gets so stuffy in here. But the plants love it, and it's nice to sit in here in the winter."

They exited into an English-style garden with multiple levels and followed a series of slate stairs down to the grass. Once there, they took a steep wooden staircase to the beach. "All right. We'll do a fifteen-minute run," Nate said. "You ready to start?"

She ran a hand through her chin-length red hair. "Let's do it."

They set off down the beach, close to the waves, where the sand was firm. There was nothing quite like running on the beach, and within a few minutes, his legs started to burn pleasantly. "You know, you've come a long way, Claire. You remember the first time we did this?"

"I thought I was going to pass out," she laughed. "Now I actually head out here alone sometimes. I have fewer back problems, too."

"That's good to hear." His focus with his clients was always on functional fitness: not building huge muscles necessarily, but making their bodies better at performing daily living tasks.

"I'm probably going to make you blush," she said, and eyed him sidelong. "Look at that. I didn't even say it yet!"

"Am I blushing?" Probably. He could only imagine what was about to come out of her mouth.

"Yes, you are. But I was going to say that you've made a difference in my life. Have you ever thought about opening your own place? Because if you ever decided to go that route, I'd invest in your business."

Nate focused on his breath and the pounding of his heart as he digested her words. "You'd invest in a gym?"

"Is that what you'd do, open up a gym?" She bobbed her head. "I think it would be fantastic, knowing what I know about you. Then clients could visit, and you wouldn't spend all of your time driving around to meet them. Look at you! Your face is all red."

"I'm trying to keep up with you," he joked, but she was right, his face was burning. He struggled to process the compliment and the possibilities. "That means a lot. Thank you."

Not that he could ever take her money. He had some saved up, and he figured if the time was ever right, he could apply for a loan.

"I'm offering you money here, sweetheart. Money from the sky! Low-interest loan. We'll work something out. You say the word and I'll have my attorney draw up some papers. I'm looking to diversify my investments, and I'd like to put something back into the community. Local businesses, you see what I mean?" She waved a hand. "I'm getting winded. You think about it. Promise me."

Nate's heart was pounding harder than it should have been, but he nodded. "Yeah. Okay. I promise."

He doubted he could ever take Claire's money. If he was going to open a gym, he alone had to take responsibility for its success or failure.

She turned her head to stare and made a show of looking him up and down. "You still single? Look at those leg muscles. Someone needs to snatch you up."

He groaned and shook his head. "All right. Let's turn around and head back at that rock up ahead."

J
essie woke ahead
of the alarm. Or maybe she hadn't slept at all. She couldn't be sure. All she knew was that when she slumped to the bathroom and peered into the mirror, her eyes were puffy and red from crying. When she thought about the last words that Quinn had said to her, the shame burned in her chest.

Different social skills. What did that mean? She thought of all of the beautiful E&P wives and how elegant they were. Was she some sort of clumsy Neanderthal to him? She showered quickly and pulled her long hair back into a braid. By the time she was dressed, Jessie decided she was in a very foul mood.

She poured a bowl of cereal and milk and stood at the counter, watching Prince Travis. He looked like he was scowling. "I understand, Travis," she said. "Bad moods are contagious, though, so you may want to turn that frown upside down."

Well, so she was sounding like her father, who had the gene that predisposed people to be perpetually optimistic salesmen. Had he been born twenty years earlier, he would have gone door-to-door selling vacuums, she had no doubt. His particular talents had landed him in computer sales and taken him literally around the world. But whatever gene Dad had, Jessie lacked completely. Or so she would have thought, and yet here she was, pitching Dad-isms to her stuffed fox. "Never mind, Travis. You can be pissed off if you want to. Go ahead and let it eat you up on the inside."

Her ego was bruised, no denying it. To Quinn, she was some nobody who worked in a bakery and played with chocolate recipes in her spare time. She didn't know why she kept turning that thought over, because it sure stung, and she was hurting enough as it was.

She went through the workday mechanically and didn't mention anything to Uncle Hank or Emily. She was grateful that the bakery was busy. The normalcy of the routine helped. Then, as she left work for the night, she hit a wall of feelings.

Humiliation at not being good enough.

The shame that she had been judged based on growing up in a bakery.

Anger at the injustice.

Fear that she was unlovable.

She needed to snap herself out of it. There were things to look forward to, and plenty of distractions. That's when she remembered the dress that Wren had given her. She'd forgotten to try it on.

Jessie walked into her bedroom and opened the closet. She'd hung the dress in the center, and she slipped her fingers greedily across the fabric, feeling them glide. Now that she turned the fabric, she saw that it wasn't true sapphire, but that the color was translucent, shifting and changing with the direction of the light. She held it up to admire the plunge of the neckline and the elegant drape of the material. It was simple, but exquisite. "Beautiful," she breathed.

Jessie quickly disrobed. The dress fell easily down her body. Custom-made, she thought as she admired it in the full-length mirror. She'd never worn anything like it before. She began to zip up the back. Then the zipper resisted. She froze.

The dress was too tight.

"No," she whispered, and tried again. Sure enough, the zipper wouldn't budge.

She held her breath and sucked in her gut. She tried pressing the layer of fat on her back down and sliding the zipper over it. Nothing. Nada. Her gorgeous, custom-made dress didn't fit. "Damn it."

Jessie considered her shape in the mirror. Custom-made. The dressmaker had taken her measurements, what? Three months ago? And since then, she'd enlarged to the point she no longer fit in the dress. It was enough to make her want to stuff a truffle in her face.

Which may have been the reason she was in that mess to begin with.

She carefully peeled the dress off her form and told herself not to cry. This was not something to cry over. She could return it for a larger size. But then, oh right — it had been custom-made to fit her perfectly. Just...damn it.

She pulled on the pair of gray sweatpants she'd been favoring lately, realizing with a sinking feeling that she'd been wearing them because they were so roomy and forgiving. Then she ran to the bathroom. Her scale was lodged behind the toilet, the space issue being what it was. She could practically sit on the toilet and shower at the same time, and it wasn't like she needed to weigh herself daily. Though perhaps more often...

She stepped onto the scale and frowned at the number. No, the dial must be off. She stepped down again and checked. The dial wasn't off. By the pastry-loving lips of Saint Elizabeth. She'd gained fifteen pounds.

All right. No problem. This was not a problem. Still, Jessie bit her lower lip to keep from crying as she walked back into the kitchen and retrieved the magnetic calendar from her refrigerator. Desperate times called for plans, that was all. She traced the dry-erase marker across the weeks. It was mid-May and the wedding wasn't until the middle of August, so if she lost three pounds a week on average, then she would be fitting into that dress by July. Perfect.

Jessie set the calendar back on the refrigerator, but it didn't take long for the sense of victory to wear off. Three pounds a week. Her job was to create chocolates. She experimented with recipes. She basically made a living eating chocolate. Though perhaps she could take smaller bites.

Her heart was heavy as she slumped into the chair before the fireplace. Then it hit her. This could be the change she was looking for: she could slim down, but why stop there? If Jessie wanted to actually feel good about her life, then major changes were in order.

She grabbed a pen and a pad of paper and went to work, furiously detailing all of her faults. She was a little flighty, that was for sure. She still blushed as she remembered her speech at the baby shower on Sunday. How could she expect herself to be the kind of person Quinn would love if she acted so irresponsibly? Must think more before speaking. Or acting.

And what else? She tapped her pen against her lips. She worked hard at the bakery, and enjoyed what she did, and frankly she didn't see the need to strike out on her own. Perhaps, though, this was unambitious of her? Jessie frowned at the paper as she wrote, Be more ambitious. The thought of leaving Hedda's sent her pulse racing. Being out on her own, without Uncle Hank? What would she do without him?