A Sweet Possibility (Archer Cove Series Book 2) (6 page)

She swallowed and set down her hand again to write, Be fearless. Underlined it twice.

By the end of the evening, Jessie had carefully considered all of her flaws. Fortunately, she had also decided how to fix them. Satisfied, she pulled a blanket over herself and settled back against the couch, where she soon fell asleep.

T
he text from Jessie read
, "Emergency. Pizza. Meme's." Like he was some kind of mind reader.

Except Nate knew exactly what she'd meant, and he'd dropped everything, gotten in his car, and driven to the spot.

Meme's Pizza was located in an old chapel in the center of the downtown, and the owners had kept a lot of the original touches and architecture when they'd converted the space to a pizza restaurant. The windows were still stained glass, and a large brick oven sat in the spot where the altar used to be. The pizza itself was great, but the building's history was a large part of the draw. Since Jessie had started dating Quinn, the three of them had met there a few times.

A piece of him was relieved she'd reached out first, because for the past two days, he'd been trying to come up with a plan to contact Jessie, just to check in on her, without being too obvious about it. He didn't want her to know that he knew about the breakup. He didn't want her to think they'd been talking about her. Much better that she should tell him herself.

Jessie was already seated at Meme's Pizza when he arrived. She was sitting at a small round table covered in a white-and-red checked tablecloth, frowning with impressive concentration at a large laminated menu. Her blonde hair was down for a change, and she wore it in loose curls. She looked so pretty it hurt.

He'd dressed up more than usual. Not that this was a date. Just two friends meeting for Tuesday-night pizza. They'd order a pitcher of beer and complain, and they'd leave feeling better, aside from the indigestion. But he'd changed into khakis and a light sweater, and he'd even put on some cologne. He stepped forward then, and she looked up when he was a few strides from the table. Jessie smiled brightly and said, "You look nice."

His pulse kicked a few beats in response, but he pulled out his chair, the picture of calm. "You do, too."

She picked up the end of a curl and flicked it behind her shoulder. "Thanks. Want to split an IPA? I'm feeling bitter."

Uh oh. "Sure. Sounds good." He took a seat just as a waiter came over with a pitcher of beer and two pint glasses.

"Great, because that's what I ordered." She poured a glass for each of them and raised hers. "Cheers."

"What are we drinking to tonight?"

"Shoot, I don't know. How about if we drink to the adoption of orphaned kittens?"

"To kittens." He raised his glass.

She took a generous gulp and set the glass down with a sigh. "So, I'm thinking about making a change. A big one."

Nate was half-listening, half-scanning the appetizers. "You're going to drop this on me now? We haven't even ordered."

She pulled the menu from his hands and set it to the side, on top of her own. "You already know what you're getting. You get the same thing every time. We're going to split a large pizza, half Hawaiian and half sausage and peppers. You'll say that my half is disgusting and that pineapple doesn't belong on pizza, but you'll eat it anyway after you've finished your half." She wrapped her fingers around the bottom of her glass and pouted her lower lip. "It's always the same. Every day. Everything here. It never changes."

Nate sat back in his chair, feeling like he was under attack. "Is there somewhere else you want to be?"

"No. Don't take it personally." She unfolded her napkin and a metal knife and fork clattered against the table. "I'm just saying...you know how it is. You grew up here too. Everyone knows everyone else. Their business. It's always the same."

Something about that statement scratched at him. "You love the Archer Cove community."

Damn, he didn't mean to sound so injured. But wasn't he one of those things that was always around, cluttering up her day with the familiar? He took a breath. "So where's Quinn? I take it he couldn't make it?"

She picked up her beer, but then her face crumpled and she just sat there, holding her drink in midair and crying. Good lord.

"I'm sorry." Nate kicked himself. What a jackass he was! He wrested the pint glass from her fist and set it carefully down on the table. "We'll talk about something else."

"He..." Her face turned red, and the tears streamed freely. "We're taking a break."

"No, we don't have to talk about it. Let's talk about how boring everything is here." Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Damn it!

Nate had heard some women talk about "ugly crying," which he guessed was what women got self-conscious about these days, looking too emotional or something. Not Jessie. She sat there in the middle of the restaurant and bawled her eyes out. Nate stared at his hands, unsure where he should be directing his gaze. Not at her face. He wasn't supposed to look at how splotchy her cheeks were getting, because that was rude...right? Damn, he didn't know enough about women and all of their unspoken rules.

He swallowed and then handed her a napkin, avoiding eye contact. "Do you...want to use mine?" he muttered.

She accepted the napkin, but just gripped it in one hand and used the other to swipe at her cheeks. "What did I do, Nate?"

"Nothing." Now he thought he could safely look at her. He leaned over and set his hand over hers. "Listen to me: Jess, you didn't do anything."

Quinn was his best friend. Had been his best friend since the first day of kindergarten, and nothing had ever come between them. Not school, or sports, or girls. But seeing Jessie cry like this made him want to pummel him right then.

She pulled closer and set her face against his shoulder. Her hair smelled like soap and flowers. It tickled his cheek. He wrapped his arms around her and held her while she cried, smoothing his hand down her back. She was so soft. "I'm sorry," he whispered. His chest hurt.

A waiter who looked to be fresh out of high school came over then and gave them a shy smile, pencil and pad in hand. "Are you ready to order?"

"No," Nate said. Was this kid serious?

Jessie pulled back then and covered her face with her napkin. "Just give us a minute, please?"

The waiter stuck the pencil behind his ear and stuffed the pad into his apron. When he was out of earshot, Nate mumbled, "You want to get something to go instead?"

"No. I don't want to be alone."

Jeez, was he invisible or something? Not worth arguing about. Call it guilt over his friend's insensitivity, but he'd close down the restaurant with her if that was what she wanted. "Suits me fine," he said. "I don't have any client appointments tomorrow morning, anyway."

The tears were over, at least. She sniffed and eyed the menu. "I feel like eating popcorn shrimp. You should stop me."

"No ma'am. I'm not making that mistake again. You get what you want."

She blew some hair off her face and pouted at the menu, looking defeated. "I should eat a salad."

"Jess." He pulled the menu out of her hands. "Talk to me."

She set the menu aside with exaggerated patience and folded her hands on the table, but she refused to meet his eyes, instead setting her gaze somewhere off toward the restrooms. "Jess?" he tried again. This time he watched her return to him, slow as molasses, but eventually getting to where he needed her to be. "What's going on?"

She didn't cry. She pulled her hands into her lap and said, "I knew that things weren't going well. I've known for a long time. And then last night was just horrible." She shuddered.

Nate recoiled as he thought of how badly things had actually gone, and how unlikely it was that Jessie knew the first thing about it, but he recovered quickly. He was supposed to be offering support, not making it worse. "So the party was...stuffy?"

Her eyes widened as if to ask him how clueless he was. Then she said, "No, the party was amazing. Everything was so perfect and...luxurious, and the E&P wives are all gorgeous, of course. Then I was wearing this chartreuse dress. That's green, by the way," she added. "I don't know. It wasn't super high quality, but I wouldn't say it was cheap, either, but I felt cheap in it. I felt like I didn't belong at all, like maybe they were all laughing at me."

The statement struck him somewhere square in the chest. He winced. "That's a terrible way to feel."

"Yes. It is." She took a sip of her beer and sat back in her seat, appearing to mull over the statement." And then Quinn told me that he needed someone different by his side. Someone who had a more sophisticated business sense and not — how did he put it? Bakery social skills."

Nate blinked. "Wait. Is that what he said? Those words came out of his mouth?"

"Close." She said it calmly, almost as if she were resigned. "I've spent so much of my life being the outsider. In high school, I was the kid whose parents had moved to Europe and left her to live with her uncle and cousin in a cramped apartment. Now I look around and see that everyone else is advancing in interesting careers, getting married, and having babies. I kind of want to be like everyone else for a change." She looked at him. "Do you think that's wrong?"

The way she was watching him right then, like she was looking for something, anything, to hold onto, well. It tore him up inside. "Hell no, it's not wrong," he said quietly. "There's nothing wrong with what you've said. It's just that..." He paused, not knowing what should follow. "I think you're great the way you are, and if Quinn can't see that, it's his problem. That's all."

She smiled sadly and tipped her glass to tap against his. "Cheers. Thanks for that."

He eyed her over the rim of his glass. "What else? There's something you're not telling me."

She pulled her chair closer to his — so close that their legs touched, and a thrill shot up his side. Jessie didn't seem to notice as she pulled a slip of paper out of her handbag. "I've made a list of my faults. I'm going to fix them. All of them."

He blinked twice at her. "Wait. You did — you wrote —"

"I made a list of my faults," she said, more slowly. "And I'm going to fix them. Quinn will make partner in August, and then he'll be ready for a relationship again. By that time, I will be a whole new person." She smiled. "The woman of his dreams. And I want you to help me."

Oh for the love of...Nate shifted back in his seat and reached for his beer. "Jess. Come on." He paused, curiosity getting the best of him. "Let me see the list."

She brought the folded piece of paper closer to her chest. "I'm not ready to share it."

"You want me to mold you into the perfect woman, is that it? But you won't even show me what's on that piece of paper?"

Her lips thinned as she considered the question, and moment by moment, she relaxed her shoulders and brought the paper away from her chest." I guess when you put it that way...but you can't laugh. You have to promise me."

"You're coming to me, looking for my professional advice. I will be the paragon of professionalism."

He sort of meant it, but she didn't look convinced. Reluctantly, she handed over the paper. Jackpot.

Nate could barely contain his interest as he unfolded the paper. Was this —? Yes, it was. Pink stationery. With purple flowers at the top. She was so darn cute that Nate started to smile despite himself. Then he saw what she'd written, and the smile dropped away.

1
. Problem
: bakery social skills.

Solution: Must think before speaking. Or acting.**

2. Problem: headed nowhere professionally.

Solution: Must be more ambitious. Must be fearless. Open chocolate shop to demonstrate both.

3. Problem: headed nowhere personally —> perhaps due to bakery social skills (BSS)?

Solution: Must comply with #1 and #2. Small talk is critical.

4. Problem: don't fit dress.

Solution: Lose three pounds a week times five weeks.

**
N
.B
. No more mimosas. They are marketed as classy, but are actually the devil. Also, because of empty calories and sugars.

I
t was
like a dark cloud blackening his mood. Was this what Jessie thought of herself? "Bakery social skills?" he murmured. What the hell did that mean?

She took that as an invitation to remove the paper from his hands in one quick gesture and refold it into a small square. "I don't think it's my fault, per se. I haven't been exposed to more cultured matters, that's all. I also haven't challenged myself as much as I should have. I'm optimistic that all of this can be fixed." Jessie tucked the paper back into her bag and settled back in her seat, turning her wide, hopeful eyes to him. "Well? Do you think you can help me?"

Man, did he want to be invisible right then. He'd haul ass right out of that restaurant and pretend he'd never even seen that list. Nate couldn't explain the sudden raw, sick feeling in his gut, like he'd seen something he shouldn't have. "I don't think I'm your guy." He didn't want to change her. As far as he was concerned, she was great the way she was.

Her face fell, and for a minute he thought she was going to cry again. "Oh. That's okay," she said.

"It's just that I don't — what do I know about social skills? I wasn't born into that kind of a lifestyle."

"But Quinn's your best friend. I thought you'd have some insight into how I could develop country club manners." She bit her lower lip. "Forget it. Just please don't say anything about that list. To Quinn, or anyone. I can't stand the thought of people laughing at me."

She swallowed and inched closer to the table, keeping her gaze on the plate in front of her. "I would never laugh at you," Nate said. Not to be cruel. Not when she'd shown him how vulnerable she was.

They spent the rest of the meal avoiding the subject altogether, and Nate hoped that was a good sign. Then, as they were leaving, she whispered, "I still love him. I just want to do everything I can to show him who I am." She turned to Nate with wide eyes. "Does that make sense?"