• • •
“It’s beautiful, Waverly, I’m really impressed.” Jake ran his hand along the crown moldings in the living room and looked up at the high ceilings.
“Isn’t it great?” I walked around and began to point. “I thought I could put the couch here, the TV here, my bookcase here, and my desk here. What do you think?” I’d downsized to a one-bedroom apartment, so my living room was now going to double as an office, as well as a temporary warehouse for all my Honey products. To date, I’d been fulfilling the few orders I got with sporadic trips to the post office, but I hoped all that would change once I met with Andie’s cousin, Paige.
He nodded and put his hand on the wall. “That’ll work. By the way, I really like the colors you chose.”
“I know, aren’t they great? Isn’t it all great? I’ve always wanted to live in an apartment with walls in various shades of green and blue. I can’t believe I—”
I stopped talking and put my hands over my mouth.
“Oh my God, wait, that reminds me. I have a joke to tell you.”
He laughed. “Do you really have to?”
I pointed at him. “You be nice. Wanna hear it?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
“Maybe.”
He walked toward his suitcase. “I’ll let you tell your joke if you let me give you something first, OK?”
My eyes brightened. “Give me something?”
“It’s nothing big, just a little housewarming gift.” Next to his suitcase was a medium-sized shopping bag. He picked it up and handed it to me.
“For me?”
“For you.”
I opened the bag and looked inside.
It was a plant.
A plastic one.
I laughed and pulled it out. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
He put a hand on my shoulder. “Just trying to stop the carnage. I’ve seen what you can do.”
I squeezed his hand and set the plant down. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. So are you ready for my new joke?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Of course not. So there are these two green olives just hanging out on an olive tree, chatting about their day, when all of a sudden one of them plummets to the ground.” I pretended to be an olive plummeting downward.
Jake nodded.
“So the one on the ground is just lying there on its back, stunned, and the one still safely attached to the tree yells down to it, ‘Are you OK?’”
Jake nodded again.
“And the one on the ground yells up at him, ‘OLIVE, OLIVE!’”
Jake didn’t say anything.
I held my palms up. “You get it? O-live, I’ll live?”
He smiled. “Oh, I got it. I’m tempted to jump out the window and plummet to the ground myself, but I got it.”
“Hey now, you know that was funny.” I pushed his shoulder.
“Don’t quit your day job, Miss Bryson. So what were you saying about your walls?”
I was about to reply, but when I looked into his eyes, I momentarily forgot what I was going to say. Jake’s eyes, an intense blue that put my walls to shame for even trying to associate themselves with the same color family, had a way of doing that to me. I needed to come up with a new color to describe them. Plain old blue just didn’t seem sufficient. Hot-guy blue? Babe-ilicious blue? Nothing seemed appropriate.
“Waverly, you there?”
I blinked. “Sorry, spaced out for a second. Um, so anyhow, I was about to say that I can’t believe I found a neighborhood and an apartment I love as much as what I had back home. I swear I’m never moving again though. Moving sucks.”
Jake looked at me as if he were going to speak, but instead he turned to check out the walls again. The landlord had done right by me, and the colors gave the place a fun personality that shouted Look at me! I’m a super-cute New York apartment! I adored it.
I’d chosen to live in Brooklyn not just because it was cheaper than Manhattan, but also because, to be honest, I was a little afraid of Manhattan. I’d been there several times over the years, and while I liked to think of myself as reasonably sophisticated, I secretly felt overwhelmed by the crowds, the shrieking of ambulances, and the constant chaos in general. Brooklyn Heights was neither scary nor sleepy. In fact, it was charming and clean, with tidy rows of brownstones and a village-like coziness that made me feel instantly at home. During the weekend I’d spent there looking for an apartment, I was pleasantly surprised to see that the main street teemed with more foot traffic than most neighborhoods in San Francisco. And it was right on the other side of the iconic Brooklyn Bridge, just one subway stop away from the infamous corridors of Wall Street in Lower Manhattan.
“So how’d you sleep on that thing?” Jake pointed to the blow-up mattress in my empty bedroom, where I’d just spent two uncomfortable nights.
I put my hands on my lower back and grimaced. “Let’s just say I’ve aged a bit since Wednesday. An air mattress may feel like a normal bed at the beginning of the night, but at some point you inevitably wake up lying on the ground, surrounded by mattress.”
He laughed and slid his arms around my waist. “Want to give it another try?”
I looked up at him and raised my eyebrows. “You mean now?”
“I mean now. What do you think?”
I glanced at the mattress, then back at him. My cheeks flushed.
“I think…I think I could be convinced.”
He smiled. “Well then, let me convince you.”
He took a step toward me and gently placed one hand on the back of my neck. I lifted my head as he leaned down to kiss me, his lips warm and soft. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him back.
“You smell so good,” I whispered, suddenly feeling a little tipsy.
He briefly nuzzled my neck before straightening up and taking a step backward. He stared at me for a moment, the look in his eyes speaking for him, then pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the hardwood floor. I admired his strong chest and abdomen. He was nearly thirty-six years old, but he looked like he could still be playing college basketball.
“Come here,” he said softly.
I inched toward him. He gently pulled on the spaghetti straps of my tank top, then slowly removed it and lobbed it in the general direction of his T-shirt. He put his hands on the small of my back and pulled me toward him. We began kissing again, and I reached for the top of his jeans. I unbuttoned them and began to slide them over his hips with both hands.
Then I stopped.
“Are you going commando?”
He nodded.
I laughed. “Is this new? I’ve never seen you like this.”
He shrugged. “It’s fun once in a while. Sort of liberating. Plus, I like to keep you on your toes.” As he said this, his jeans fell to the ground, and he quickly kicked them away, along with his flip-flops. I was wearing a jersey skirt, which took approximately one second for him to remove. I pushed it with my bare foot toward the growing pile of discarded clothes.
“This is sexy,” he said softly as he kissed my shoulder.
“Mmm.”
“You’re sexy,” he whispered, nuzzling my neck.
“Mmm.”
We kissed some more, and as the heat began to spread through my entire body, I couldn’t think about anything other than how attracted I was to him. We both started breathing harder, but we didn’t stop kissing.
He unhooked my bra and lightly threw it on top of the clothes pile. The look in his eyes, which were locked onto mine, made it clear that neither of us wanted to be standing up anymore. He pressed his body against mine and began to move us toward the mattress.
When my foot touched the bed, I reached down with one hand and eased myself onto my back. I looked up at him, standing over me, his wavy brown hair falling into his beautiful eyes.
I reached my arms up to him.
“Now it’s your turn to come here,” I said softly.
&n
bsp; He smiled and nodded.
Then he kneeled on the mattress.
He slowly began to lower himself on top of me.
Then his weight blew a huge hole in the mattress, and together we sank to the floor.
He collapsed on top of me, totally cracking up.
“Nice,” he said, still laughing.
I started cracking up too. “How…ro…man…tic…but…I…can’t…breathe.”
• • •
The movers arrived early the next morning, and Jake and I spent the weekend getting everything unpacked and sorted. By the time Sunday night came around, we were exhausted. But at least we had my sturdy queen-sized bed on which to collapse. After the air mattress experiment had literally exploded in our faces, we’d spent Friday at a boutique hotel down the street. Jake insisted on paying. He always did.
“So tell me more about the job.” He played with my fingers as we lay side by side on our backs, gazing up at the old-fashioned ceiling fan in my bedroom.
“To be honest, I’m pretty much going to be drinking from a fire hose. I don’t know anything about how a TV show works, but Scotty said it’s a lot easier than it looks, and that I’ll learn as I go.”
“Just don’t plan on telling any of your jokes on the air.”
I lightly pushed his arm. “Shut up. You know you love my jokes. Scotty’s convinced that the viewers will respond to what I have to say, so he’s excited to get me out there, even though I’m a total rookie.”
“And what do you have to say, exactly?”
I laughed. “Honestly? I have no idea. Honey on Your Mind was always such a hodgepodge, you know? An entertaining hodgepodge based on hilarious reader e-mails, but a hodgepodge nonetheless. So I guess I’ll be free to report on whatever’s on my mind, so to speak.”
He laughed. “So they really haven’t given you any direction?”
“Not yet.”
“Not even a list of topics to cover?”
“Nope.”
“So what exactly are you supposed to do?”
I put my finger on his chin. “You ask a good question.”
He laughed. “You really up and moved across the country without a formal job description?”
“Apparently I did. I guess I’m just trusting that Scotty will take care of me.”
“You do realize that’s a little crazy, right?”
“Good point. But we’ve already established that you think I’m crazy, so are you all that surprised?”
“Actually, I am. I guess your craziness never ceases to surprise me.”
I pushed his shoulder again. “Be nice.”
“But seriously, what’s the plan?”
I shrugged. “I guess we’ll see what happens at that first meeting. It should be illuminating, to say the least. I’m sure Scotty will point me in the right direction. After all, he convinced the higher-ups at NBC that I’m worth a paycheck, right? He must have some ideas floating around in that pretty head of his.”
“Did I ever tell you that I’ve seen the show?”
“You’ve seen Love, Wendy?”
He nodded. “Just once, after you got offered the job. I stumbled across it on a road trip. I was ironing my shirt before a pregame meeting and turned on the TV.” Jake was the head trainer and physical therapist for the NBA’s Atlanta Hawks.
I propped myself up on my elbow and looked at him. “So what did you think? Was it cheesy? I’m not sure what to make of Wendy’s style, especially given all that hairspray holding her blonde helmet in place. If she’s not careful, she could easily catch on fire around an open flame.”
“It’s actually not bad. I was surprised, given how you’d described her to me. I expected her to be wearing a tiara or something.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really? You didn’t think it was that bad? In the only episode I saw, she was talking about all the beauty pageants she used to compete in. After that I couldn’t bring myself to watch again.”
He laughed and messed up my hair. “It was fine, really. Maybe she’s not as bad as you think.”
“I hope you’re right. If nothing else, it means so long, erratic print column and near poverty; hello, TV version and regular paycheck.”
“Nothing wrong with a steady paycheck. So tell me, what’s on your mind right now?”
I nuzzled my head against his chest. “You mean besides the fact that I’m never moving again?”
“Yes.” He gently caressed my cheek.
“To be honest, it’s not suitable for family-oriented programming.”
“I like the sound of that.” He lifted my face to his, and I immediately forgot all about Wendy Davenport.
Early Monday Jake flew back to Atlanta. The hectic NBA season was just getting under way, so I felt lucky that he’d had a free weekend to help me get settled. For the next few weeks, however, I was on my own. Or at least I was sleeping on my own. My friends Kristina and Shane lived on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, and of course, there was Scotty, so I wasn’t entirely by myself. Funny, though, how you could feel alone in a city of eight million people.
I had a week before my first day at Love, Wendy. In between countless trips to Target for everything from a shower curtain to a coffee pot, I was planning to meet Paige Murphy, Andie’s cousin. A career sales rep, she was willing to help me get the products I sold online at Waverly’s Honey Shop into brick-and-mortar stores.
Since Paige lived downtown, she suggested we meet for happy hour at a place called Harry’s, one of the many old-school pubs in the financial district. It was easy to spot her when I walked in, not just because she’d described herself over the phone, but also because she was pretty much the only person in there not wearing a suit. Talk about a Wall Street stereotype. It’s hard enough finding anyone who wears a suit to work in San Francisco, much less in a packed pub downtown on a Monday. In San Francisco on Monday evenings, everyone’s either walking a dog, going for a run, or at Pilates.
Paige stood up from the barstool and gave me a hug as I approached her. “Waverly, it’s so great to finally meet you in person. I’ve been hearing about you for years.” Her smile was warm and genuine.
I sat down next to her. “Hearing good things, I hope.” I suddenly realized that if Andie and I ever had a falling out, she could ruin me forever.
She laughed and stood up to get the bartender’s attention. “Of course, all good. Now what can I get you? It’s on me.”
I picked up the drink menu and scanned it. “How about a Blue Moon with an orange slice?”
“Sounds great. I think I’ll have the same.” She ordered the drinks, then sat down and faced me. “So how are you liking New York? What a huge move to make by yourself. I’m impressed.”
I smiled. “So far, so good, but I don’t think it’s completely sunk in yet that I actually live here. It was just so unexpected, and everything’s moving so fast.”
“Get used to it. Everything in New York moves fast. God forbid you’re a slow walker, especially on the subway platform. You can seriously get taken out.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
She reached down and pulled a large binder from her bag. “OK, let’s get down to business. I have all sorts of plans for your Honey products, so I hope you’re ready to get busy. Are you?” She opened it across her lap.
I stared at the binder. “Wow, Andie said you were on top of it, but I think she sold you a bit short.”
She laughed. “Oh yes, I don’t mess around.”
Over the next half hour, Paige explained where she thought the Honey products would be a good fit, as well as her strategy for developing both local and national accounts. She also discussed the most cost-effective production network to support orders, which, until then, I’d been fulfilling piecemeal out of my apartment with sporadic trips to the post office. Compared to what she was describing, I was a retail preschooler, barely out of diapers.
“Are you following me? Am I going too fast?” She stopped and put a hand on my arm. She didn
’t say it in a mean way and was clearly only reacting to the look on my face, which apparently displayed what I was thinking: I am totally in over my head!
I blinked. “I’m following. I just didn’t realize how much was involved in, um, in getting a product on the shelves.” Until now, the T-shirts, tote bags, and other items that made up Waverly’s Honey Shop had only an online presence.
She smiled. “That’s OK, no one ever does. But that’s a good thing, because if you did, would you have made the effort to create all those cool products in the first place?”
I laughed. “Probably not.”
“See? That’s why you have me. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. I’ve been doing this for years, and while it’s never easy to launch a new product, I think your Honey line has potential.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “I don’t take on product lines I don’t believe in. I learned that lesson once. It’s just a huge waste of time for everyone.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a Honey Tote that said IS IT WORSE TO BE FAKE OR BITCHY? on the front and HONEY, JUST FACE IT. IF YOU’RE ASKING, YOU’RE PROBABLY BOTH on the back. She pointed to it. “This is the story of my life, right here in black and white.”
I smiled. “That’s my best seller. And I don’t believe that’s the story of your life. Andie says you’re the nicest person in her family.”
“She really said that?”
I nodded.
“Andie’s so sweet.” She finished her beer and set it on the bar, then looked at her phone. “Listen, I hate to drink and run, but I have a date, so I need to leave soon. I’m sorry.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You’re seeing someone?” Given what Andie had said about Paige’s dating history, I figured she was single.
She shook her head. “It’s a first date. It’ll probably be the last too, but you’ve got to try, right?”
“You’ve definitely got to try. How did you meet him?”
“Actually, I haven’t.”
“Set up?”
“Sort of. It’s through a matchmaking service.”
“A matchmaking service?”
She nodded. “I figured I’d try putting my love life into the hands of professionals, because whatever I’m doing clearly isn’t working. You know what happened with the last guy I dated?”
Honey on Your Mind Page 2