by Tawna Fenske
Kate laughed, and Jonah glanced over, surprised to see such delight in her eyes. They were brown, but not a dull brown. More like the color of copper or toffee.
“I don’t like the word crash,” Marilee was saying. “Attend without an invitation sounds nicer.”
“It does,” Kate agreed, placing her left hand over Jonah’s right one, which was resting next to his plate of bacon. She looked down at their pile of fingers and palms, then frowned and pulled her hand back.
But she wasn’t fast enough for Carol, whose gaze skimmed over Kate’s bare ring finger. “They’re being soldered,” Jonah said. “Her rings. She really wanted to wear them for the honeymoon, but there was a mix-up at the goldsmith and they didn’t have them done in time.”
Kate shot him a grateful look, and Jonah smiled, glad the women didn’t seem concerned by his own lack of a wedding band. Even when he’d been married, he’d never worn one. Not really his style, and his ex had never minded.
Stop thinking about your ex-wife, asshole.
“This is such a lovely place to honeymoon,” Carol said, smiling at the two of them. “You’re seeing Shakespeare in Love, aren’t you?”
“Unfortunately, we couldn’t get tickets,” Kate admitted. “It’s okay, though. We’ll make plenty of romance of our own.”
She smiled up at Jonah, and he felt his heart leap up and lodge itself in his throat.
“Don’t worry, ladies,” he assured their tablemates. “We promise to keep it down from now on.”
“I know!” Carol looked at Marilee with an excited gleam in her eye. “We were going to skip Shakespeare in Love today anyway so we could go wine tasting. What if we made the tickets a wedding gift?”
Kate’s eyes went wide. “Oh no. We couldn’t possibly.”
“I insist,” Marilee said. “We were planning to gift them to someone at the box office anyway as our good deed for the day.”
“They’re front row,” Carol added. “Very nice seats.”
Jonah shook his head, not willing to let the charade go this far. “Really, you shouldn’t—”
“No, we insist!” Marilee fished into the little pocketbook she’d brought with her, pulling out a pair of tickets. “We want you to have them.”
Kate’s gaze dropped to the tickets, and Jonah knew how much she wanted them. “We’ll pay you for them,” he offered. “Those aren’t cheap.”
“Absolutely not,” Marilee said. “I got them free anyway for being a longtime donor. We were just planning to give them away.”
“And you two look nice,” Carol added.
“Very nice.”
Jonah watched Kate’s throat move as she swallowed. She looked up at him and gave a cautious smile. “What do you think, sweetie?”
He smiled back, his chest tightening with excitement for more than the play. “I think it’s a date.”
CHAPTER TWO
They dropped the marriage act before they got to the theater, which was fine by Kate. But they didn’t drop the “date” act, which was also fine by her, especially once the play had ended.
“Here, try this.” Jonah held out a spring roll filled with shrimp and fresh cilantro, and for an instant, Kate wasn’t sure whether to take it from him or bite it out of his hand.
She decided to err on the side of caution.
“Thanks.” She plucked it from his fingers and took the politest bite she could manage. “Mmm, you’re right. The peanut sauce is delicious.”
They’d both been hungry after the show, and found their way to a quaint little Thai restaurant near the theater. It seemed platonic enough, except that they’d been seated at a candlelit table on the patio beside Lithia Creek, with a canopy of twinkle lights strung through the trees overhead.
“I love this place,” Jonah said as Kate forked up a spicy bite of eggplant from her green curry. “Especially that little mouse over there that keeps darting onto the patio for crumbs, and then running back when the waiter comes out.”
Kate glanced behind her at the bushes to see the tiny pink feet scurrying away. “How do you know I’m not afraid of mice?”
Jonah grinned and poured the last dregs of wine into each of their glasses. “Because I saw you slip him a noodle when you thought no one was looking.”
Kate laughed and lifted her glass, enjoying the crispness of the rosé, the coolness of the evening, the warmth of Jonah’s company. “Guilty as charged,” she admitted. “You’re a very observant guy.”
“I try.” Jonah took a slow sip of wine, then set his glass down and looked at her. “So you just came to Ashland by yourself?”
She felt herself bristling, then relaxed. He was here alone, too, so there was clearly no judgment in the question.
“Yep.” She trailed her fork through the green curry, looking for another bite of chicken. “I used to come here all the time with Anton—that’s my ex. I guess I started thinking of it as ‘our place.’”
“So you’re here to reminisce?”
“God no.” She didn’t realize she’d jerked back until her cardigan slipped off one shoulder. Tugging it back up, she shook her head at Jonah. “It’s the opposite, really. I’m here to reclaim it.”
“Reclaim it?”
She shrugged and scraped a pile of rice to the middle of her plate, not wanting to miss a bite of it. “There’s this book I really love about getting on with life after a bad breakup—” She stopped, reconsidering how far she wanted to go down that path as she shoveled sauce-soaked rice onto her fork. “Anyway, it talks about reclaiming memories and places after a split. I used to come here with my parents as a teenager, so it’s really more my place than ours. Anton’s and mine, I mean. I realized I was being silly letting it stay haunted by ghosts of relationships past.”
“Ghosts of relationships past,” he repeated, giving her an odd look. “That’s an interesting turn of phrase.”
“I can’t actually take credit for it,” she said. “It’s from that relationship guide I mentioned.”
Something flickered in Jonah’s face, but it was gone in an instant. Maybe he wasn’t used to women admitting they read self-help books, but Kate refused to feel embarrassed. If anything, it was a point of pride, a reminder that she was willing to improve and grow and embrace change. Anyone who’d judge her for it was not the sort of guy whose opinion she valued.
“Breakups are tough,” he said. “Sounds like you’ve done a good job moving on.”
“I like to think so.” She studied him for a moment. “You’re not married, are you? Sorry to be blunt, but the last three guys I’ve gone out with turned out to be married. Not that this is a date, but—”
“Divorced.” The answer was firm and decisive, but he didn’t volunteer anything else. Kate lifted her wineglass.
“Well, here’s to having the self-assurance to vacation solo,” she said. “Feeling confident dining alone or seeing a movie by yourself or whatever.”
“Cheers to that,” he agreed, clinking his glass against hers. “Some of my happiest moments have been totally solo. No offense, of course.”
Kate grinned. “None taken. Enjoying the pleasure of your own company is one of the greatest skills to master.”
She replayed her own words in her brain and wondered if they sounded entirely too masturbatory. Jonah didn’t react, so she was probably overthinking things.
She watched him drain the last of his wine and tried not to be disappointed their plates were empty. Despite her assertions about the importance of flying solo, she’d enjoyed his company. A lot, actually. True, there was no point starting something with a guy who lived in another state. Or a guy from anywhere, really—
“Wait, no, you don’t have to do that.” She made a grab for the credit card he’d handed the passing waitress, but she missed and ended up grabbing the woman’s hip instead. “Sorry about that,” Kate said as she fished into her purse for her wallet. “Please, let me—”
“It’s fine, Kate.” Jonah grinned at her and caught her hand in
his. He didn’t let go right away. “I’m not paying so you’ll put out.”
The waitress giggled and hurried away, and Kate felt herself blushing all the way to the tips of her hair. She sat back in her chair with a grimace. “Sorry. I’m a little out of practice at this. But, you shouldn’t have to foot the whole bill for this.”
“I think I can manage.”
She must have looked dubious, which was pretty lousy of her. It wasn’t like she had any idea how much a bookstore owner made.
Seeming to read her thoughts, Jonah grinned. “I have other sources of income,” he said, pausing long enough to scrawl his signature on the bill the waitress handed him. Reading upside down, Kate could see he’d left a generous tip. “The bookstore isn’t my only revenue stream.”
“Oh. That’s—that’s good.”
She waited to see if he’d volunteer more, but he seemed to be done discussing his finances. She thought about what else she wanted to know about him. How long had his marriage lasted? Did he have any kids? Any tattoos or pets or—
“Don’t be afraid to ask blunt questions at the start of a relationship!” Kate’s brain quoted matter-of-factly from one of Dr. Brandt’s older books. “Someone who’d judge you for being inquisitive and straightforward isn’t worth getting to know, and walking on eggshells only makes your toes cramp!”
It felt weird to hear the words echoing in her head now, considering this wasn’t a relationship and she’d probably never see Jonah again.
They both stood and Kate tugged her cardigan tighter around her shoulders. The fall evening had turned chilly, and she shivered as she started up the stairs leading from the courtyard to the street. She was conscious of Jonah right behind her, and wondered if she had panty lines showing through the thin jersey fabric of her dress. The hemline came all the way to her ankles, and part of her wished she’d worn something knee-length or maybe gone commando.
“Something’s making you smile,” Jonah remarked as they reached the street and fell into step together.
Kate couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement, but she blurted an answer anyway. “Underwear.”
He laughed as they headed back toward the B&B. “I guess that’s something to smile about. Did you know nine percent of American men have underwear that’s at least ten years old?”
“That’s—wow.” She looked up at him. “So you might be wearing underwear purchased around the first time you legally bought beer?”
He grinned as his elbow bumped hers. “Was that a roundabout way of asking how old I am, or a roundabout way of assessing my hygiene?”
“Neither, really. Just an observation.” Kate shrugged as she sidestepped a crack in the sidewalk. “I don’t usually hold back if I have a question or something I want to say.”
“That’s a good trait to have. Straightforwardness, I mean. I’m thirty-six, by the way. And I bought all new underwear after my divorce.”
Kate laughed. “That’s an interesting post-divorce ritual.”
“Not a ritual so much as reestablishing my identity,” he said. “She liked boxers, but I’m more of a boxer-brief guy.”
“Reclaiming your sense of self with underwear. I like it.” Kate hesitated, not sure if she should press for more. But hell, he’d been the one to bring up the ex. “You’ve been divorced awhile?”
He shrugged. “A year or so.”
“Was it ugly?”
Jonah kicked a pinecone out of their way. “Nah, it was pretty amicable. Well, as amicable as divorce can be when one person gets fed up and pulls the plug while the other is sitting there like a dumbass wondering what the hell just happened.”
“Which were you?”
“The dumbass.” He gave a funny little laugh. “Probably part of the impetus for the divorce.”
Kate smiled to herself and tugged her cardigan tighter around her waist. “I don’t think dumbasses generally use words like impetus and amicable.”
He turned and looked at her, a flash of surprise in his expression. “Good point.”
A breeze kicked up, sending a pile of dry leaves skittering across the road. Kate didn’t realize she’d shivered until Jonah began shrugging off his jacket. “Here. We’ve got two blocks to go. I don’t want you freezing to death.”
“I don’t want you to freeze either.”
“I’ve got a long-sleeved shirt under a sweater,” he insisted as he settled the chocolate-colored suede around her shoulders. “I’m good.”
She started to protest again, but the jacket felt warm and smelled like cloves and cedar dust. It was five sizes too big, but she snuggled into it and tucked her hands up inside the sleeves.
“Thanks,” she said as they started walking again. “You’re very chivalrous.”
Jonah laughed. “My sister would say overprotective, and meddling, but I’ll take it.”
Kate smiled and breathed in the scent of crushed leaves and the warm leather of the jacket, letting the soft suede collar brush her cheek. She wondered if this qualified as a date. If it did, it was one of the nicest ones she’d had in months.
She was almost disappointed when they reached the B&B. He held the little white gate open for her, and Kate filed through, shuffling slowly up the steps. She hesitated at the top, pivoting on the wide front porch to face him.
“This has been a really fun day,” she said. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure. I enjoyed getting to know you.”
He lifted his hand, and she thought he might reach for her. Pull her in for a good-night kiss or a romantic cheek graze. She thought she might want him to.
Instead, he curled his fingers around the chain holding a white, painted porch swing under the eaves. He glanced at the front door, but made no move to go inside.
“Did you get one of the rooms on the ground floor, or on the second floor?” he asked.
Kate hesitated. He must have noticed, because he held up a hand and shook his head. “Wait, don’t answer that. I didn’t mean to sound like a creepy stalker. I was just making conversation.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m on the second floor.”
“Ground floor,” he said. “Right off the library.”
“Mm, I hear that room’s nice,” she said. “It’s got that antique, claw-foot tub, right?”
Oh shit. Did that sound like a request for an invitation? She hadn’t meant it to.
But Jonah just smiled and nodded. “It does. I haven’t used it, but you’re welcome to check it out if you want.”
Kate bit her lip. She was so out of practice. On one hand, she didn’t want to end the evening. On the other hand, she didn’t know what else to do. Invite him to her room? Suggest a nightcap? Was that even something people did, or were nightcaps only a thing in old movies?
She took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t do one-night stands.”
“What?” Jonah barked out a laugh. He was still gripping the chain of the porch swing, and the whole thing began to shake as he convulsed with laughter. He was laughing so hard he had to sit down in the swing, and Kate seated herself on the edge of the swing beside him, feeling silly.
“Sorry,” he said as he took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. “I didn’t see that one coming.” When he finally looked at her, he cocked his head to the side. “Was there a ‘but’ coming next? ‘I don’t normally have one-night stands, but with you—’”
“No.” She shook her head, wishing she could restart this conversation. “That’s not what I was getting at. I just wanted to be clear; I’m not having sex with you. I also don’t do long-distance relationships.”
“I see,” he said, still sounding amused. “And there’s nothing in between those two?”
Kate’s cheeks were burning, and she folded her hands in her lap. In her quest to be a forthright communicator, had she turned herself into a social moron?
But Jonah pushed his feet against the wood slats of the porch and sent the swing into a gentle sway. They glided back and forth a few times, rocking in a gentle rhyth
m that gradually began to soothe Kate’s tattered nerves. “I wasn’t planning to seduce you,” he said. “Not that I’d object if you wanted to seduce me. You’re very hot. And smart. And funny. Did I mention hot?”
He grinned, and Kate’s insides liquefied. Maybe she’d been too quick to dismiss the idea of a one-night stand.
No, of course she wouldn’t do that. It wasn’t her style. Still—
“You’re hot, too,” she acknowledged as she leaned back against the swing and kicked her feet. “This is nice. Just swinging. It’s such a pleasant night.”
“That it is.” He kicked off the porch again, giving them a little more momentum. “Swinging soothes the soul.”
“Can we sit here and talk for a while?” she suggested.
“I’d like that.” He smiled. “And maybe you’d let me hold your hand?”
Kate grinned and slid her hand onto his knee. He wrapped his fingers around hers, forming a comfortable web of digits. “I’d like that,” she said. “I’d like that a lot.”
Jonah leaned a little closer, and Kate gave a little sigh of pleasure. “And maybe eventually,” he murmured, “you’d let me kiss you good night?”
Kate looked up at him, admiring the soft creases in his forehead, the fringe of dark lashes, the sparkle of streetlights in those amber-green eyes.
“Why wait for eventually?” she murmured back.
Then she leaned up and kissed him.
Four weeks later, Kate was still thinking about that kiss.
Well, she thought about other things, too. Like the fact that she was on the brink of one of the biggest breaks in her career.
“So the rest of the network guys liked the pitch?”
Kate nodded. “They loved it.” She glanced over at her assistant producer in the passenger seat. Amy’s wild blond curls fluttered in the current from the rental car’s air vents, and her manicured fingers drummed the stack of books in her lap. The sight of those books sent a pulse of happiness through Kate’s body.
She knew every one of them by heart.
There was But Not Broken, Vivienne Brandt’s debut memoir about finding love after an abusive relationship.