by M. E. Parker
When we finished eating, I stood up to collect the dishes from the table. He scooted his chair back from the table to get up. “Don’t get up. I’ll do the dishes. You just made me the best omelet I’ve ever had, it’s the least I can do.” I carried the dishes to the sink and rinsed off the first plate. Then I started looking around. Jack started laughing. “What are you laughing at? I can’t find the dishwasher.”
“Turn around.” I turned to look at him and he was sitting there with his arms crossed with a smirk on his face. “You’re looking at him.”
“I’m looking at what?”
“You’re looking at the dishwasher.”
I could feel my cheeks turning red. “No problem. I got this.” I turned on the water and looked down at the stopper in the sink. I reached down to turn it, but the water kept draining. It looked like it was in, but the sink wasn’t filling up. I heard his laughter coming closer.
“You have never washed a dish in your life, have you?” He was clearly teasing me, but it bothered me that he was right. He hip checked me and reached over and turned the little black knob on the stopper and the sink started to fill with water. Then he grabbed the dish soap and put a couple of drops in. “Scoot over. I’ve got this.”
“No way,” I argued. “I want to do it.” He threw a dish towel at me.
“I’ll let you dry.”
“Nope. I’m washing. You dry.” I threw the towel back at him and he stepped aside laughing.
“Whatever you say Freckles, have at it.”
I managed to wash the rest of the dishes without making a complete fool out of myself, but that didn’t stop the amusement from dancing in his impossibly beautiful eyes. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to slap him or kiss him. All I knew was that standing that close to him, smelling him, feeling his arm brush against me, made me completely crazy. My stomach was flip-flopping with butterflies and I needed some distance between us before I jumped him.
As he put the last of the dishes away, I leaned against the counter and asked, “What’s next?”
“Next we drink.”
“What are we drinking?”
“You have your choice of whiskey or beer, pretty girl.”
My heart fluttered at the nickname. I grinned. “Both.”
He laughed. “You sure are something, Claire. Both it is. Go over and have a seat by the fire.” I went over and sat on the corner of the sofa and tucked my feet underneath me. He came back a few seconds later with two bottles of beer, two shot glasses, and a bottle of green label Jack Daniels. He set it all down on the coffee table and went over to put some logs on the fire.
“Tennessee whiskey of course.” I teased.
“There’s no other kind, darlin’,” he said as he sat on the opposite end of the sofa and opened the bottle. He handed me the ice-cold beer poured two shots of whiskey handing me one. “What should we drink to?”
I grinned mischievously at him. “Let’s play a drinking game. I ask you a question and if you answer honestly, I drink and then it’s your turn to ask.”
He laughed, “So basically truth or dare, without the dare. Sounds dangerous.”
“You chicken?”
“Hell no. Ask your question.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
He laughed. “No. Now, drink.”
As much as I loved his answer, I wanted to know more. “Oh, come on Jack, you have to give me more than that. If you don’t, this is going to be a really short game and we’ll both get really drunk.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay. I had a girlfriend. We dated for a really long time, since I was a kid. We broke up a couple of years ago and I haven’t dated anyone seriously since then. Satisfied?”
I grinned at him and threw back the shot. “For now. I might have a follow-up. Your turn.”
“Okay, was tonight the first time you ever washed dishes?”
“Uggh…yes. Okay? But don’t make fun of me. I spent most of my childhood in a boarding school and at home, we had Nanna, and she did all of the cooking and she was super particular about the kitchen—she wouldn’t let me near it.”
“Was she your grandmother?”
“That’s a separate question, but I’ll let it slide. No, she worked for us, she was my nanny and she cooked, but she was like family to me. Now drink. It’s my turn.” I didn’t like where this was heading, I didn’t want him to think I was some spoiled brat out of touch with reality.
“Did you go to college?”
He chuckled, with amusement in his eyes. “Yes. I went to the University of Tennessee. I have a degree in Agriculture.”
“Of course, you do, your turn again.”
“Same question.”
“I went to Brown, got a degree in business and then to Wharton for an MBA, I graduated a year ago.”
His face sobered. “Impressive Freckles. Would’ve never guessed you were a brainiac and an ivy leaguer. I better start pouring half shots, or we’ll be in trouble.”
For the next hour, we traded questions about favorite colors, ice cream flavors, music, movies, and books. I was no longer keeping up with who was supposed to be drinking when and I’m pretty sure I had had two shots for every one of his and I was definitely feeling it. The more we talked, the less space there was between us. I think we both had unconsciously inched closer together finally meeting in the middle of the couch facing each other, our knees touching. I was drawn to him in a way I had never been drawn to anyone.
As much fun as we were having, I wanted to know something real about him, I wanted to know more. “My turn. What is that you love about farming?”
He smiled at me, “Good one Freckles. God, I don’t know. It’s always been a part of me. I always knew it was what I would do. But to answer your question, I think I love it because it’s real. I mean it’s tangible. Planting the seeds, watching them grow, harvesting the plants, and knowing that you are helping to feed millions of people around the world. It’s fulfilling. Like I know it matters, it makes a difference what I do.”
I loved his passion. I loved the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about the farm. I wanted that. “That’s what I want too. It’s what I need to find.”
He cocked his head playfully, “You wanna work on a farm too?”
I laughed, “No. Well maybe. Well, I don’t know. I just want to be passionate about what I do like you are. I want to do something real, something like you said that makes a difference. I wish I already had it figured out.”
He nodded his head, “I get it Claire, but don’t worry about it. You’re young, you just finished school and you’re intelligent. You have your whole life ahead of you. I know you’ll figure it out.” He looked down in his lap and the next thing I knew his hand was on my knee. He was moving his thumb back and forth and that tiny caress was sending me over the edge. I could feel the need for him throughout my entire body. His touch electrified me sending waves of butterflies fluttering through my stomach and a dull aching need began to form between my legs. That had never happened to me before. He had barely touched me, and I wanted him like I had never wanted another man.
His beautiful voice interrupted me from my indecent thoughts. “I have a question and if you don’t want to answer, just say pass. But I’m curious, what did your Dad mean today when he said that your year is up?”
My stomach clenched. I thought about taking a pass, but something inside of me knew I wanted to open up to him. I didn’t want to be the shallow spoiled princess he met in the diner and I knew in my heart that I wasn’t. I needed him to see who I was, I needed him to see me.
I took in a deep breath. “Up until last year, I have always done everything my father has ever asked of me. And when I say everything, I mean everything. I made straight A’s. I focused on school. I followed every single rule. I mean it, my teenage years were pathetic. I never once snuck out to meet a boy. I didn’t take a sip of alcohol until I was twenty-one. But it never bothered me. Somehow it was worth it to me to have my father look at me with
pride in his eyes. All I ever really wanted was to please him. I am not even sure why. He never put a lot of pressure on me. He worked like a crazy person, so maybe I just wanted his attention. I don’t know. But when I finished grad school, I went straight back to Boston and I started working for my father’s company, just like he had always planned. I wasn’t there a week when I realized that I was living his dream, not mine. I didn’t want to stand in his shadow. And I kept imagining myself going into that office every day for the rest of my life and the thought was suffocating. I felt like I was drowning.”
I stopped for a second to look at his face, to try to gauge what he was thinking but he was looking at me intently, without emotion. I took a swig of beer. “I know how it sounds. Believe me, ‘oh poor Claire, she has been given the whole world on a silver platter and it’s not good enough for her.’” Jack smiled at me and squeezed my knee.
“Stop Claire, it doesn’t sound like that at all. It sounds to me like you have worked hard your whole life and you deserve to make your own choices about what to do with your life.”
“Wait,” I said taking another gulp of beer. “It gets better. It wasn’t just the job. My father has decided that I need to marry his business partner’s son. He arranges dinners for us. It seems it was decided a long time ago, like I’m some part of a business arrangement. It’s like some damn merger or something. And let me tell you, the guy is awful. I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen him laugh since we were in the third grade and he is the most stuck up self-important snob I’ve ever met. In fact, he has made it clear that if it weren’t for the fact that I have more money than him, he would never consider marriage. He thinks his DNA is superior because his wealth dates back generations. My dad was poor, which makes me low class, apparently. I can’t stand the guy. I don’t get why my father would want me to be with someone like that.”
I looked up at Jack to see a moment of anger pass over his face—was is jealousy? I don’t know. I took another drink and continued. “So, me being the big coward that I am, went to my father and told him that I wasn’t ready. Instead of just saying there is no way I will marry R.J. and I don’t want to work at your company, I said I’m not ready yet. I told him I needed a break. He agreed and said that I could do anything I wanted for a year. I had no idea what I wanted to do, all I knew was that I didn’t want to work for my father and I didn’t want to marry R.J., so anything sounded better than that. I decided to move to New York. I thought maybe living in the city would be my first real adventure, that I would meet interesting people, figure what to do with my life. But it didn’t turn out like that. I made the horrible mistake of calling an old friend of mine from boarding school, Amber. She was more than ready for an adventure, but her parents were not about to fund it. So, I did. We moved into a loft and all she wanted to do was shop, go to the spa, to fancy restaurants, and the most exclusive clubs. So that’s what we did. I had no clue what I wanted, so I just went along. After about six months, I couldn’t take it anymore. I just sort of spent my days at museums and my nights in my apartment, while Amber kept living it up. But then I met Jonathan a couple of months ago, but that’s a whole other story.”
I looked up at Jack again, his eyes were kind and sympathetic. “Claire.”
I interrupted him. “No. Jack. Everything my dad said was right. I spent a crazy amount of money. I don’t even know how much. He just paid the bills. I feel like I used him just like Amber and Jonathan used me. I hate the person you met at the diner today. It wasn’t the real me. My year was up three weeks ago, and I wasted it and I don’t want to face my father.” I took a deep breath and prayed that the tears forming behind my eyes would not surface.
“Claire listen. You’re being too hard on yourself. I know it’s not my place to tell you what to do. But you should tell your father. You should tell him you don’t want to work for him and more than anything, you have to tell him you won’t marry that douchebag. It probably won’t be easy for him to hear but I’m sure he’ll understand eventually. He must love you right, you’re his only daughter and he should realize you’re incredible. I mean I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours and I’ve already figured it out.”
I felt a lone tear drop down my cheek. But that didn’t stop my heart from pounding or the smile from spreading across my face. “You think I’m incredible?”
“I do Freckles.” He said as he reached up and wiped the tear away with his thumb. “Do you love him?”
“Huh? Who? My father?”
He smiled at me, his face turning a little red. “No. Jonathan? I was curious about Jonathan.”
I laughed. “No way Jack. Not your turn. I just answered a big question. My turn.” I wanted him back in the hot seat. “Why did you break up with your girlfriend? What happened?”
He leaned back against the couch and ran his fingers through his hair. I could tell he didn’t want to answer. “I’m not really sure who broke up with who. We dated since high school. We were together for almost ten years on and off. A couple of years ago, I decided to propose. It just seemed like the natural progression of things. I bought her the ring she always wanted and got down on one knee. She basically said the only way she’d marry me was if—well she didn’t want to live on the farm. She wanted to be in a city. I guess she always pictured us in Nashville in the suburbs. The crazy thing was, I was thinking about it. I was thinking about giving up farming, but then I found out she was fucking some lawyer from Nashville and that made my decision easy. It’s been two years, but I’m starting to realize I didn’t really know her, or at least I didn’t really see who she was.”
I resisted the urge to reach up and run my fingers through his hair. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to comfort him. “No offense Jack. But she sounds like a real bitch. How could she ask you give up something you love so much? It sounds like you dodged a bullet.”
He burst out laughing. “You are so right about that Freckles, you have no idea.” He looked over at me and I could tell the distance between us wasn’t going to last for long. His eyes were filled with want and need and I’m sure mine were too. I reached down and put my hand over his and he intertwined his fingers with mine. “So, are you going to answer my question now?” He grinned as he caressed the back of my hand with his thumb.
“What?”
“Jonathan?”
“Oh right. Do I love him? No. Did I love him? No. But I cared I about him and he sure as hell had me convinced that he cared about me. What I hate most about it is that I didn’t see it. I couldn’t see that all he cared about what the stuff I bought him, the dinners, the clubs. How did I not notice that?”
“I think it’s hard sometimes especially when you want the see the best in someone.”
“I guess so. Is it weird to say that right about now that I’m grateful for him?”
“Yeah, that’s weird Claire. The guy was a douche. I could tell the second I saw him. You are so out of his league. No way that guy is good enough for you.”
I laughed, and I loved it that he seemed jealous. “Tell me what you really think Jack. But what I going to say was that I’m grateful for him, because if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have met you. Seriously, after such a shitty day, tonight has been the best.”
He reached up again and was rubbing my cheek with his thumb. “It’s crazy isn’t? You and me—this, whatever it is, I feel like we’ve known each other for years. You’re easy to talk to Claire.”
Kiss me damn it! Kiss me. “I feel the same way.” I looked at him smiling wondering if I should make the first move. I couldn’t, the whiskey was making me brave, but I didn’t think I could stand it if he rejected me. “What’s your ex-girlfriend’s name?”
He looked at me like I was crazy. “It’s Tiffany, why?”
“I was just thinking that Jonathan and Tiffany might make a good pair.”
He laughed and poured us each a half-shot and handed me a glass. “Let’s toast.”
“To what?”
“To dodging
bullets.”
I brought the glass up to my lips and swallowed down the whiskey. “No kidding, and to think I almost handed over my virginity to that guy.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Did I really just say that out loud?
I could feel the heat immediately rise to my cheeks. God, I must be drunk. Why the hell would I say that? I glanced up at Jack. He looked dumbfounded. Of course, he didn’t know what to say. What would you say to something like that? I covered my face with my hands. “Oh God Jack, I so did not mean to say that out loud. I think I’ve had too much whiskey. Can we please pretend I didn’t say that?”
I peeked through my hand and Jack was smiling at me with playfulness in his eyes. “Really Claire? You think I’m just gonna let that one slide. You have to tell me, how is this possible? You are twenty-five. You’re beautiful—I mean drop dead gorgeous.”
“God this is so embarrassing.”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Tell me.”
“I don’t know. It’s not like I made some pledge or promise or something. I’m not saving myself for marriage. It’s just I guess when most girls were losing their virginity, I was doing calculus or something nerdy like that. I didn’t go to parties. I didn’t have a boyfriend. I went on dates to dances but I always was home by curfew. And then college, I don’t know. I was super focused on school. I guess I never found the right guy.”
“And you thought Jonathan might be the right guy?”
“I don’t know, after we went on a few dates, I told him. He made a big deal about how he was going to be patient—I didn’t even ask him to be patient, but hell, no wonder. He didn’t need sex, he was getting plenty from my roommate.”
“Fuck that guy. You’re lucky you found out when you did. I swear he was nowhere near good enough for you.”