Between The Lines (Main Street Merchants Book 5)

by Amelia C. Adams

  Jesse grinned. “Okay, how about tonight after work? I have a new shipment coming in this afternoon and I need to get it on the floor by morning, so I can’t be out partying too late, but maybe a quick dinner at the diner?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Great. Why don’t I pick you up here at—what time do you close?”

  “Six.”

  “I’ll pick you up at six.” He smiled again. “Thanks, Regan. See you tonight.”

  What was he thanking her for? She’s the one who ended up with a box of tiramisu.

  * * *

  As closing time approached, Regan found herself starting to feel excited. She couldn’t imagine what for—it was just dinner across the street. Okay, it was dinner with a really nice guy who had a great smile, but still, there was hardly any need to get all worked up about it.

  She punched out, slid the bakery box into her tote, and was ready to go when Jesse showed up at one minute after six. It’s not like she’d been watching the clock or anything. She just happened to be facing that general direction when he walked in.

  “Hi. Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Sure am.”

  “Great. I’m starving—hope you don’t mind being seen in public with someone wolfing down an entire plate of lasagna.”

  She shrugged. “If I’m doing the same thing, why should it bother me?”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Okay, then. Let’s go make spectacles of ourselves together.”

  Traffic was light, and they were able to cross the street without waiting. Jesse held the door open while Regan entered, and they were greeted by a smiling Sloane.

  “Hey, you two. I just pulled some cherry pie out of the oven, if you’re in the mood for dessert.”

  “That does sound good,” Jesse replied. “Right now, though, we’d like to make pigs of ourselves on your lasagna. Breadsticks, the works.”

  “Coming right up. Anything to drink?”

  Regan ordered ice water, and Jesse went for a Sprite. Sloane bustled off to the kitchen.

  “So, how was your day?” Jesse asked, unwrapping a straw and wadding up the paper into a tiny ball.

  Regan lifted a shoulder. “It was pretty good. Someone came in and brought me cake. That always makes it a good day.”

  “Surprise cake does have that effect on people. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never gotten any myself.”

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  Regan feigned shock. “Not even at a surprise birthday party?”

  “I’ve never had one of those, either.”

  “Well, that’s just dreadful.”

  “I know. I’m terribly picked on.” He grinned, and Regan couldn’t help but grin back.

  “How about you? Anything exciting happen in the world of tents today?”

  He raised an eyebrow. He seemed to do that a lot. It wasn’t irritating yet—Regan found it kind of cute. Give it a few hours. “Oh, come on. It’s more than just tents. It’s tents and sleeping bags.”

  Regan held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, then. Tents and sleeping bags. It occurs to me, though, that I’ve never actually been in your store. I’ll have to stop by.”

  “Are you into the outdoors?”

  “Um, I know it exists. Does that count?”

  Jesse gave her a look of mock horror. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve never been camping?”

  “I have never been camping.”

  “I’m just flabbergasted.” He turned to Sloane, who had just approached their table with drinks. “Can you believe that?”

  “I didn’t catch what you’re talking about, but no, I can’t believe it.” She gave Jesse a wink. “Your meals will be out in a minute.”

  “Thanks.” He turned back to Regan. “You do know what camping is, right?”

  “Yes, it’s where you give up your nice, warm, cozy bed to sleep on hard rocks and get chased by bears. And I believe you also have to wear plaid shirts and really ugly shorts.”

  “Ah, so you do know what it is. I don’t recommend shorts, though. Your legs would get all scratched up.” He paused to take a sip of his drink. “Camping is the best. You feel so alive up there in the mountains. The air is fresh, there are no distractions—it’s just you and nature.”

  The “just you and nature” part was what made the whole thing sound utterly unappealing to Regan. “Cara says you and Brennan go out quite a bit.”

  Jesse nodded. “He comes with me as often as he can get away, which is about every six weeks or two months. I go almost every weekend.”

  Regan gawked at him over the rim of her glass. “Every weekend? Isn’t that a whole lot of communing with poison oak or whatever it is you do up there?”

  He chuckled. “It’s part of my business. I have to test out all the new merchandise, make sure it’s top quality. Everything’s tax deductible, and plus, I love it. Honestly, I’ve got my dream job. It doesn’t get any better.”

  “I do too, although my roommates tease me all the time. They can’t understand that I drown myself in books on purpose and that they don’t need to rescue me.”

  Sloane brought over their plates and slid them onto the table. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Thanks. We will,” Jesse told her.

  They didn’t say another word for the next ten minutes as they both kept their promises to inhale their dinner. Regan was very glad to see that Jesse had good table manners. That was one of her biggest pet peeves—she couldn’t stand sitting at the same table as someone who chewed with their mouth open or slurped. She’d come close to committing homicide a few times over it.

  “Wow. That’s better,” Jesse said, leaning back. “I missed lunch today, and breakfast was just a bagel. Did you get enough? Do you want anything else?”

  “I’m great, thanks.”

  Sloane came over and took their plates. “What do you think about dessert tonight? I’ve only got three slices of that pie left.”

  Jesse grinned. “Whaddya say, Regan?”

  It was tempting—it really was. The diner’s pies were made from scratch—no canned filling in the place. But she had something better. “No, I’m fine. I have a lovely little bakery box to look forward to.”

  “None for me either, Sloane. Thanks,” Jesse said.

  “I’ll have your ticket ready in a flash.”

  As Sloane walked away, Regan said, “You don’t have to skip pie just because I am.”

  “No, that’s okay.”

  She thought about it. This wasn’t an easy choice. In fact, it might be one of the hardest choices she’d made for a while. But it was the right thing to do, the honorable thing to do. “You know, I could share my dessert.”

  Jesse blinked. “Share?”

  “Yeah. I mean, it’s right here in my bag, and we could get clean forks, and you could have a bite. Or maybe a few bites. Okay, you can have half.” Wow. She never thought she’d hear herself say that.

  “Miss Regan, I must say, I’m downright humbled that you think so much of me.” Jesse put one hand over his heart. “It would be my great privilege to share your dessert with you.”

  Regan stood up and grabbed two more sets of silverware from the basket on the counter. “You need to realize, fake cowboy person, this is kind of a big deal. I never share. Ever. With anyone. Not even my roommates. I’m a very, very selfish human being.”

  “Oh, believe me, I understand the depth of this sacrifice. And I respect and appreciate the choice you’re making.”

  Regan took a knife and cut the piece of tiramisu down the center. “Okay, which half do you want?”

  Jesse peered at the options carefully. “This one,” he said at last, pointing to the left.

  It was hard for Regan to see Jesse take that first bite. It was all she could do not to reach out, snatch the box away, and run. But she’d had a piece the night before too, and she needed to do this for her own personal growth and development. It was good for her. Besides, people who shared we
re people who cared, right? And she wanted to be a caring person. Whatever.

  They finished up, and Jesse paid the check with a nice tip. Then they left the diner to cross the street back to their cars. A large pickup truck zoomed down Main just as they stepped on to the asphalt. Jesse reached out and caught Regan’s hand, slowing her down so she wouldn’t step into the truck’s path, and after it passed, he didn’t let go.

  “Thanks,” she said, glancing down at their clasped hands. “I didn’t particularly want to get smashed flat today.”

  “Any time.” He sounded casual, like saving people from truck-flattening happened every day.

  She thought about tugging her hand away from his, but stopped herself. It felt nice, actually. It had been a long time since she’d felt watched over and protected, and she liked the way her hand fit inside his, like they’d been measured and then made to nestle just so. She shook her head—what a crazy thought.

  When they reached her car, he finally let go of her hand so she could pull out her keys. For a split second, she wanted to reach out and take his hand again—she missed it. Was she losing her mind? He was just a guy, a guy she barely knew. Her roommates would totally be reading all kinds of things into this—that they were soul mates and meant to be together and that she would finally have someone in her life. Blech. She was not mentioning this to them. Not even on pain of death.

  “Thanks for dinner,” she said, trying to sound as though everything that had happened over the last three minutes had been no big deal. Wait—had it really only been three minutes? Around that, yeah. Apparently, that was all the time it took to lose your mind. Who knew?

  “I’d like to do it again sometime. Soon. I think I’ll probably be hungry again tomorrow.” He grinned. “Whaddya say?”

  Regan blinked a few times. This guy was coming on like a ton of bricks. One minute, he wasn’t even in her life, and now, he wanted to go out three days in a row … holding her hand and stuff … She tried to take a deep breath and realized that she couldn’t. Her chest was constricting, and she was starting to feel dizzy. “Um, tomorrow’s not good. I need to go, okay?”

  She caught a glimpse of his bewildered face as she drove away. She had probably just been really unfair to him, and she felt bad about that. But how could she explain it to him when she couldn’t even explain it to herself?

  Chapter Four

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know,” Regan wailed into a couch cushion. “It was going so well, and then I just sort of freaked out and drove off.”

  Laurie sat down next to her and rubbed her back. “It’s okay. You haven’t dated anyone for a while, and you’re out of practice.”

  “I don’t want to get in practice. It’s too hard.”

  “You could always become a nun. But then again, you’re not Catholic,” Morgan commented from where she sat on a kitchen stool.

  “She could convert,” Cara suggested. “Problem solved.”

  Regan lifted her head from the pillow. “I’m not converting, and I’m not becoming a nun. I don’t think one disastrous date that I never, ever want to repeat is good enough grounds for becoming a nun.”

  “I thought just the ending of the date was bad,” Laurie said. “Wasn’t the rest of it good?”

  Regan leaned on her elbow. “Yeah, it was. We can just joke around with each other, you know? And he gets my sense of humor. No one ever really has before.”

  “That’s because you’re completely un-understandable,” Morgan replied.

  Regan shook her head. “That’s not even a word.”

  “Sure it is. I just said it—therefore, it’s a word.” She stood up and put her dishes in the sink. “I’ve got to hit the hay. Rory’s taking me to church with him tomorrow. See you guys.”

  “Night,” Laurie said. Then she turned back to Regan. “So, you just shut him down and drove away?”

  “Yeah, kind of like he did to me after our first date. Maybe it was just my turn.” Regan buried her face again. Maybe she should take him some surprise cake now. And then what—go through another round of awkward apologies? Where was this getting them?

  “I think I already am a nun,” she said. “I pretty much live like one—except for the clothes.”

  “And living in a convent,” Cara put in.

  “Well, I do live with a bunch of other women,” Regan pointed out.

  “I don’t think nuns have stashes of chocolate in their bedrooms,” Laurie said.

  “There is that.” Cara nodded.

  “Okay, okay, I don’t already live like a nun. Sheesh. The point is, I’d be better off if I did. You know how they sometimes don’t speak for hours on end? If I could learn to control my tongue like that, the world would be a much better place.”

  “I think everyone needs to learn to speak less and listen more,” Laurie said. “Listen—I know you feel rotten right now, but give it a good night’s sleep, okay? Come morning, you’ll probably see things a lot differently.”

  “Laurie’s right. You’re probably not nearly the dope you think you are.” Cara bent down and gave Regan a quick hug. “I need to go to bed too. Night.”

  An hour after Regan had turned off her light, she was still awake, reliving those last few minutes with Jesse, trying to understand why she’d flipped out like that. The answer was obvious—Glenn—but she didn’t want to give him blame or credit for anything in her life. He didn’t even deserve a second thought. She had Sundays off—maybe she’d spend the whole day asleep so she wouldn’t have to think about Glenn or Jesse or anybody at all.

  * * *

  Every time the door to the book store opened on Monday, Regan glanced up, wondering if it was Jesse. He didn’t have to bring her more surprise cake, but it would be nice to see him. On the other hand, if she saw him, she’d have to apologize, and that would be even more awkward than him apologizing to her. They had a rush around three o’clock when school let out, mostly mothers bringing their kids in to pick up books for reading assignments. That kept her occupied for a little while, but as soon as things quieted down, she was right back to thinking about Jesse.

  “Why don’t you knock off a few minutes early and go see him?” Melba suggested.

  “You mean, just walk into his store and be all, ‘Hey, sorry for flipping out at you the other night. I’m too neurotic for my own good.’ Like that?”

  “Or something like that.” Melba gave her a twinkly smile. “You’re just driving yourself nuts, staring at the door like that.”

  “I’m not staring at the door,” Regan protested. “Okay, I’m staring at the door. But it’s a very nice door, worthy of admiration.”

  Melba shook her head. “You know you want to see him.”

  “I want to see him, but I was hoping he’d come find me, not the other way around.”

  “He came and found you last time. Don’t you think it’s your turn?”

  “I don’t like taking turns,” Regan grumbled.

  “Well, it’s all up to you, but if I had a nice young man like that interested in me, I would definitely let him know the feeling was mutual.” Melba patted her arm before moving to the cash register to help a customer.

  Regan thought about that. Was the feeling mutual? Maybe . . . but she really didn’t know. That’s part of what was so frustrating. How could she act on her feelings if she had no idea what they were?

  * * *

  Cara stuck her head in Regan’s room that night. “Okay, so. Brennan and Jesse have this great idea.”

  “No! No more great ideas! I’m done with them. Done, I’m telling you.” Regan picked up a Tootie Roll and tossed it at her roommate.

  Cara caught it, laughing. “But this one is awesome.”

  “That’s what you always say. And you know what? I hate to tell you this, but it never is awesome. I always end up bored or embarrassed or something, and cursing myself for going along with you and your crazy shenanigans. I’m fine right here with my books, thank you very much. Now go away.”

  Car
a sat on the edge of her bed, suddenly looking serious. “Jesse told Brennan about your date Saturday night, how things were going really well and then all of a sudden, you just took off.”

  “Yeah, well, I do that when I’m scared.”

  “And why were you scared?”

  Regan sighed and grabbed her bookmark, knowing this wasn’t going to be a short conversation. “Jesse’s very . . . I don’t know. He’s there, and he’s all, here I am.”

  Cara raised an eyebrow. “I honestly have no idea what you just said.”

  Regan sighed and fiddled with the edge of her Tootsie Roll bag. “He shows up out of the blue and expects me to be glad he exists.”

  “Has he done something to make you mad?” Cara tucked one leg beneath herself and leaned forward, putting a hand on Regan’s knee. “If he’s done anything he shouldn’t, Brennan will kill him for you. You know that, right?”

  Regan shook her head. “He hasn’t done anything. He’s just there. And I don’t want him to be there.”

  Cara leaned back and tilted her head. “What I’m getting here is that you like him. And you don’t want to like him.”

  “What? No!” Where was Cara getting all this, anyway? “Who said anything about liking him? He’s annoying. He shows up at my work and brings me dessert.”

  “Oh, that’s very annoying.” Cara smirked. “The gall of him. You should get a restraining order.”

  Regan rolled her eyes. “You are so funny.”

  “Listen, Regan. Does this have anything to do with Glenn? Because you know he’s in the past, right? He can’t affect your future. You’re done with him.”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” Regan groaned and put her pillow over her face. “I just don’t know.”

  “What was that? You’ve got a pillow over your face. I can’t hear you.”

  Regan lowered it. “You heard me just fine. What I want to know is, why is everyone so eager for me to date again? I know, I know—you’re all blissfully happy and you want me to be too. We’ve had that talk. But I don’t feel like we’re scratching the surface.”

  “You’re right.” Cara nodded. “And I don’t think we’re scratching the surface of why you don’t want to date.”