“It’s the mountain, the quiet atmosphere, the community. I’m on the library board and Je— ” And Jennifer. Mentioning Bay to Jennifer had gotten him nothing but quick goodbyes. “My, my friends.”
Bay lifted that perfect eyebrow. “Maybe one friend in particular?”
Kirke pushed the broccoli around his plate. “Maybe.”
“Is she pretty?” Bay’s voice was a wee bit higher than normal.
Kirke tried to process this information quickly, hoping he wasn’t scaring her off, but he kind of liked the idea that she would be jealous. “She is pretty.” He took a sip of water.
“Have you slept with her?”
Kirke choked. “No!” He dabbed his chin with a napkin to make sure he hadn’t dribbled. Sleep with her? He couldn’t fathom taking that all-important step with Jennifer. Not without a ring on her finger. Jennifer wasn’t the type of girl you took advantage of; she was the type you ride mountain bikes with and discuss great books and can ask about dialogue when you’re stuck in a scene. She was …
“Have you kissed her?” Bay brushed her fingers over his hand.
Kirke didn’t have to think very hard to find the answer to that one. The muscle memory of holding Jennifer close, of her nearness, was so strong it appeared in his dreams at night. Almost. “No.”
She rubbed his arm. “Sounds like I can give you a whole lot more than she can.”
Kirke got caught up in the hungry look in Bay’s eyes.
“I’m here, Kirke. I’m right here, and I want to take you home to California with me. With your raw talent and my connections, we can take the city by storm.”
Feeling himself pulled in, he let Bay kiss him once and then once again. Her kisses were rough and grabby, yet exciting. The idea that Bay wanted him created a sense of euphoria. She was loved the world over, and she was offering her love to him. What man wouldn’t be flattered at her advances?
“Money flows freely out west, Kirke,” she whispered between kisses. “You can have everything you’ve ever wanted. Everything.” Pressing tightly against him, Bay deepened the kiss.
She was right. There was only so much money to be made in what he was currently doing. He didn’t need to limit himself. She was offering to back him, to introduce him to all the right people. Practically handing him a name that opened doors, financial freedom, his work seen by millions. This was his opportunity. He’d be a fool to say no … yet a part of him held back. Jennifer. What would a move mean for the two of them?
Jennifer would want this for me. She’d always told him to go for his dreams, to find his limits and then soar past them. She’d be proud of his success. “Okay.”
Bay squealed and bounced in her seat. “You’re going to love it!” She pulled out her phone. “I’m calling my agent; you have to meet him.”
Kirke laughed, caught up in her obvious joy. He took another sip of water as Bay invited her agent to Echo Ridge. The cool liquid was like an alarm clock set to three in the morning: it pulled him slowly out of the dreamlike state Bay induced and back to his cushioned chair. Even though he’d only lived in Echo Ridge for a few years, he’d put some roots down pretty deep. The library would have to find someone else for the board. He’d have to sell his house, or maybe find a renter. And he’d have to tell Jennifer.
Suddenly not hungry, Kirke pushed his plate away. Saying goodbye to Echo Ridge would be hard enough; saying goodbye to Jennifer was something else altogether. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it. He’d done hard things his whole life. In truth, he just plain didn’t want to leave her.
Bay giggled and brushed her bumpy lips across his cheek, infecting him with her enthusiasm.
What was he worried about? They had phones, email, Skype. He didn’t have to lose Jennifer. He could have it all. Standing on the edge of that cliff wasn’t nearly as scary knowing he’d have Jennifer and Bay. At this moment, he believed his chance had finally come.
KIRKE AND JENNIFER WANDERED through the estate sale. While Jennifer delighted in the engraved silver spoons, the handmade lace bedspread, the embroidered napkins, and even the nightstand with a heart around the initials M and T carved into the side, Kirke fidgeted with tags, unable to focus on much.
Bay had said good night to Kirke with a long, slow kiss that did a great job of distracting him from his doubts, but as soon as the sun came up, they were right there, staring him in the face. Echo Ridge was his home base. Moving here had freed him from the “just getting by” mentality of his dingy New York apartment. This in turn had bolstered his confidence and inspiration. He wanted to cling to the safety blanket and stay comfortable and warm.
Yet he understood that without risk there is little reward. How could he ask God to provide opportunities for advancement in his field if he wasn’t willing to jump on them? Even though his stomach twisted at the thought of booking a flight, he’d given Bay the go-ahead to set up meetings with a few people in a couple weeks. Perhaps by then he’d be used to the idea, and his anxiety symptoms would abate.
To take his mind off his future, he’d vowed to focus on every moment he had left in Echo Ridge, starting with this one right here, right now, with Jennifer.
Holding up two matching crystal goblets, Jennifer said, “I wonder why there are just two.”
Kirke smiled at the memory of two glasses in his mother’s china hutch. “They were probably their wedding glasses.”
“Oh, that is so sweet.” She set them down carefully, tracing the lip of one with her long fingers.
Kirke had been told on numerous occasions that he had a gifted imagination. It was a gift that should have come with a warning label, for a vision of Jennifer in a white dress with a long veil holding that glass cup appeared before him. Her luminous eyes were filled with hope and joy and love— and she was miraculously beautiful.
Leaning heavily on the table, Kirke closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” Jennifer’s hand was on his shoulder.
He wanted to trap it there and tell her to never let go. He didn’t want to lose her or let her slip out of his life like a could-have-been. There was so much about Jennifer he was going to miss. Like the way she played with her hair while she read and if there was a kiss on the page, she blushed. Sometimes, he wrote kisses into his screenplays just to see her cheeks pink. Why were these thoughts coming up now? Must be pre-leaving melancholy. As if there was such a thing. “I’m fine.” He smiled brightly. “I think I saw the bookshelf this way.”
Jennifer slipped her arm through his as they walked. Since their outing in the park, linking arms had become their preferred mode of travel. At least it was his. Jennifer was the perfect height, so she didn’t pull down on his arm, as Bay was prone to do, nor did she tower over him. He enjoyed having her close and couldn’t help but contrast the way Bay made him feel, bemused and overwhelmed, with the feelings Jennifer inspired: joy, protectiveness, and a heady feeling of being esteemed. Where Bay laid on the praise like thick coats of paint, Jennifer’s belief in him shone through her eyes.
He needed to tell her about the move. That would make all this confusion and comparison go away. She’d be excited for him because that’s the kind of person she was. The kind of person who didn’t have much in life but wasn’t envious of those who did. She took everyone as they came, including a moody, self-absorbed playwright who hadn’t seen the wonderful woman right next to him all this time. What-could-have-beens filled his mind, and he was acutely aware of Jennifer’s hand resting on his forearm; he could easily grab it and thread their fingers together. Such an easy movement, and it appeared more like a boulder garden on a bike trail.
They reached the library section of the sale, and Jennifer crouched down to look at the lower shelves. “You take the high ones.”
Kirke got to work, grateful to have something to focus on other than Jennifer. He skipped anything in paperback— Marian would never approve— making the search go rather quickly. They worked in silence around the others browsing the inv
entory.
“You’re not going to believe this.” Jennifer reached slowly for a thick-paged, maroon fabric-covered book. Kirke stepped closer to read the gold-leaf title on the cover as she slid it off the shelf with reverence.
“The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.” He took her by the shoulders. “You found it!” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, her lemon scent floating over him. Jennifer leaned into his touch, a sigh escaping her lovely lips. Electrified by her nearness, Kirke trailed his fingers up her arms, intent on twining them in the hair at the base of her neck and pulling her closer.
Before he completed his goal, a burly man in a ski coat shouldered his way between them. Kirke scowled.
Reaching for the book, the man said, “Oh, Aunt Sarah.”
Jennifer pulled the volume closer to her chest, her eyes dancing between Kirke and the stranger. “Excuse me?”
Kirke stepped around him to stand next to Jennifer. The man dropped his hands and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t— it’s just, this is my great-aunt Sarah’s estate. I was— ” He shrugged. “Still am, I guess, the black sheep. She cut me out of her will when I was seventeen.” He hung his head. “I don’t blame her. I would have done the same thing.”
Jennifer’s brow wrinkled in concern. “I’m sorry to hear that. This must be very hard for you.”
He surveyed the furniture and the white tent set up to protect the more vulnerable items. “I came looking for something … a memory I could hold on to … a reason to think I belonged.” His eyes landed on the book Jennifer held tightly. “She read that to me when I was a kid. I think even then she thought I was more Edmund than Peter and hoped learning what happens to sinners would straighten me out.”
Jennifer brushed her hand over the cover. “Take it.”
“What?” The man’s head jerked up.
Jennifer’s eyes brightened. “Books are … well, they mean something to people. Most of their lives, they say whatever comes to mind without realizing the power behind their words. If she chose this book for you and took the time to read its every page, then it already belongs to you, and I can’t take it.”
She pressed the book into his already open hands. Kirke scrutinized his eager face and found a lack of sincerity and a glimmer of greed. “Jennifer,” he warned.
Jennifer met his eye, and Kirke read her trust me look.
“Aunt Sarah would have liked you. Thank you so much.” He took a step, and Kirke saw their chance to appease Marian flit away.
“Although …” Jennifer stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. His eyes darted to the right, no doubt planning his escape route. “I don’t think she read that book to warn you about what happened to sinners.”
“Oh.” Eyes darted to the left.
“No, I think she read it to you to remind you that there’s hope for even those who lie and cheat. Anyone can change their ways; they just have to believe in the Lion.”
He shifted his feet, looked down at the book, and asked, “Do you believe that?”
Jennifer placed her hand on her heart. “I do.” She pressed the book into his chest. “Read it again with that in mind.”
He nodded once and meandered away, still staring at the cover. Jennifer brushed her hands.
Kirke shook his head. “You realize he’s a total con.”
“Perhaps.” she raised her finger. “But he’s a con with a conscience.” She slipped her arm through his again, this time leaning into him as they made their way to the parking area. “Besides, if he was telling the truth and I kept the book, I’d have been the world’s biggest jerk. If he’s lying, then he’s the jerk. Either way, I’m golden.”
Amazed at her easygoing and yet deep outlook on the situation, Kirke couldn’t refrain from kissing her hair. “Yes, you are.”
Jennifer ducked her head, but not before Kirke caught a glimpse of her pink cheeks. Had he embarrassed her by his show of affection? Nervous, and feeling as though he were screaming down the mountain without a set of brakes on his bike, Kirke smoothed his beard.
He needed to tell her.
Needed to tell her everything before he had a chance to identify the warm feeling spreading through his body. He opened his mouth twice, and each time the words evaporated in the fear of losing a pearl of great value. Disgusted with himself, he griped, “We’re still out of a book.”
Jennifer tipped her head and leaned against his shoulder. “Karma— we’ll find it. Pull out that phone of yours and work some magic.”
He disappeared into the Google search, trusting Jennifer to steer him around cars, pedestrians, and random items from the sale— like the saddle stand and anvil he almost tripped over. “I’ve got it.” He twisted his phone so she could see the screen. “There’s an auction of rare books and things next weekend.” He touched a link. “Aaaaaand, they’ve listed a complete collection of C.S. Lewis’s books.”
“What?” Jennifer used his wrist to pull the phone closer, and Kirke hoped she couldn’t feel his pounding pulse.
“No mercy this time.” Kirke pressed his lips into a thin line, trying to appear stern.
Jennifer laughed and held up her hand like a boy scout. “I solemnly swear that I’ll be up to no good.”
“Stealing a line from J.K. Rowling will get you nowhere with me.” He folded his arms.
They were almost to the car, and Jennifer dropped his arm to move ahead. “Not all of us can be brilliant playwrights.” She grinned over her shoulder. The autumn sun gilding her hair and skin.
Kirke fought the desire to reach around her middle and swing her around until they both collapsed in a pile of laughter and kisses. Stuffing his hands inside his jacket, he cursed his overdeveloped imagination. The tool he used to create worlds was turning his world upside down.
They settled into his car for the drive back to Echo Ridge.
Jennifer’s phone rang and she hurried to answer it. “Hello?”
Kirke stared out the window, wondering who was calling but not wanting to be intrusive. He had his secrets …
“Thursday sounds great. I’ll meet you there.” She bent down and tucked her phone into her purse. Meeting who? Where? Thursdays were library board meetings. Kirke was always busy on Thursdays. Was she planning a date for a time he wasn’t available?
He cast a smile in her direction hoping she’d drop a hint or two, but she just tucked her phone away and pulled out a piece of gum.
He drummed his fingers on the wheel. Was she seeing someone he didn’t know about? The conversation had been short, like she knew the person— no awkwardness filling the silence or anything. He shifted in his seat. He’d told her about Bay; she should tell him about this new guy. Well, he told her most of the stuff that happened with Bay. Not the couple of kisses. He fiddled with the heat controls. He didn’t tell Jennifer about the kisses because they didn’t talk about stuff like that. She never brought up the almost kiss and neither had he. The moment was hanging there, like a star twinkling in the firmament, winking every now and again. Calling it back was impossible, and he was left to admire from a distance. Although, at this very minute, he wished hard for a star catcher.
Her phone rang and she dived for it.
Kind of excited to answer. Like she’s hoping to hear from someone. He rested his arm on the console between them and leaned closer, hoping to catch a word here or there.
“Hello?” She made a face. “Hi, Mom.”
Kirke serendipitously shifted against the door in an effort to mask his attempt at eavesdropping.
“Yeah. No. I understand. I’ll be there. Bye.” She rolled her eyes as she hung up. “Birthday breakfast with Mom and Dad has been rescheduled.” She sighed. “At least she tries.”
Kirke held back his snide comment. He wasn’t impressed with Jennifer’s parents, but they were hers, and he would not say a bad word about them— in her presence.
Jennifer lay back against the headrest. “How’s the play?”
Kirke snorted. “It’s fine?”
/> “That bad?”
“It’s not what I’d hoped.” Kirke pulled onto the highway. His mood was growing blustery, like the fall weather.
“You’re probably trying too hard and are too hard on yourself.”
“Probably.” He changed lanes. “The pressure to be funny is some of the worst kind of pressure.”
“So if you’re not excited about the story, start a new one.”
Start a new one. Kirke mulled that over. He was definitely starting a new story. Moving to California was a ninety-degree turn.
His eyes cut to her pretty face as she reclined against the headrest. Was Jennifer starting a new story too? He hated the idea of her with a guy, all wrapped up and cozy through the fall and into the winter. He couldn’t even picture it. Maybe he could picture it— if he were the guy. The mental movie came all too easy. Except, Jennifer didn’t think of him like that. They were friends. Really good friends. If he wanted more … better not to go down that trail of thought.
When he’d moved to Echo Ridge, he was beyond thrilled at relocating. This time, he had a knot in his stomach and a dull ache behind his eyes. But like Bay said, sometimes you had to plug away at life— pay your dues— before it panned out. He’d had a few amazing years in New York, and it was time to take it to the next level.
“It will come.” Jennifer patted his arm. She leaned back, content to just listen to the music and be. Her calming essence filled the car, and Kirke’s grip on the wheel relaxed. If she was moving on, finding someone to be with, then he should be happy for her.
Should be, but wasn’t.
His gaze strayed from the road to his arm where Jennifer had touched him. The skin still tingled. He couldn’t bring himself to disrupt the only peaceful moment he’d had in a week by starting a long goodbye. It was selfish and dastardly of him to keep it a secret— and on one level he felt very much like the con artist who walked off with their book. He promised himself he’d tell her soon and then settled into the drive.
Kisses Between the Lines: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 2) Page 17