Good Wood (Carved Hearts)

by L. G. Pace III

  “Hmmmm…that sounds an awful lot like a date.” I frowned. I could feel my heart flutter and I wanted to beat it back with a hammer.

  “So?” He whispered, taking a test sip of the coffee. His lips were terribly distracting and the direction of the conversation was so off course I couldn’t get my bearings. Flustered, I shoved the bear claw at him, which he took from me absently. I stuffed my debit card into my pocket.

  “We don’t date, remember.” I picked up my coffee and Danish and headed for the door. He arrived there ahead of me and pushed it open with his elbow.

  “I keep breaking all of my rules with you.” He was watching my face carefully as he spoke. I stopped just before the doorway and locked eyes with him for emphasis.

  “Yeah. About that. Look…last night was all my fault, but we’ve got to stop doing this. We just keep compounding our mistakes.” I started to go through the door, but he purposely stepped into my path.

  “Go out with me, Molly.”

  It was like he’d kicked me in the chest. Thankfully, my brain was still firing on all cylinders and my weathered walls were still intact. I sidestepped him and headed toward my car. “You don’t want to take me out, Joe. I’m not your type.”

  I hurried across the parking lot, glancing over my shoulder to see him looking after me. Confusion and frustration marred his gorgeous face. I sat my coffee and pastry on the top of my car and was about to unlock the door when I heard his deep voice call out to me. “I can’t keep my hands off of you. If you aren’t my type, little girl, I sure as hell don’t know what is.”

  I dropped my keys, unable to believe my ears. Turning in his direction, I froze as his serious gaze held me in place. He hurried over to me, his uneaten bear claw in one hand and the coffee in the other. He abandoned them on the hood of my car and cupped my face in his hands.

  “Joe…” His name came out as a weak sigh, like I was pleading for mercy, and part of me was. I was getting everything I’d always dreamt of presented to me on a silver platter. It was too good to be true and I was far too superstitious to believe otherwise. Of course, I’d always wanted him to chase after me. Now my biggest concern was that he wasn’t lying to himself.

  He looked down at me, his eyes darting back and forth as if trying to read the story behind mine. “I’m not playin’, Molly. I can’t stay away from you. I’ve tried.”

  “Are you sure you want to?” My heart was in my throat, choking me. I felt my brow furrow. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  His lips pressed into a thin line and he dropped his hands from my cheeks and put them on his hips. “So you know.”

  “Graham told me after he kicked you off the site.” I murmured nervously.

  He nodded and I watched him process this. After a minute I dropped my gaze to my feet, sure he’d realized what a bad idea this whole thing was. When he reached out and ran his hand up my arm and stepped closer to me. Both of his hands carefully gripped my shoulders. “Honestly, I have no idea if I’m ready but I’m 100% sure I want to.”

  “Fair enough.” It was my turn to nod thoughtfully. Dating. The word had never sounded so threatening. So taboo. Considering he’d already had me in just about every conceivable position in the Kama Sutra, what could dinner and a show hurt, really?

  “Well, I guess we’ve already done a lot worse. Why not?” My saucy tone made him smile and the sight of it left me a bit breathless.

  “Tonight?” His hand was in my hair, stroking it.

  I shook my head, knowing regret was plastered on my forehead like a neon sign. “I’m working.

  “How about tomorrow?” He whispered as his lips touched mine.

  “Sweet baby Jesus on a tricycle!” We abruptly pulled apart. The woman from the bakery stood close by, frowning at us with her hand on her hip. She had apparently made the mistake of parking next to me. “Would you two just get a room already?”

  It was Sunday afternoon before we finally had our date. I’d worked late into the night on Friday feeding the bar crowd on Sixth. Some drunken guy with dreadlocks had nearly ruined my night when he reached in the window and grabbed Stacy’s chest. Sanchez lit out after him and I had a temporary panic attack that he might end up back in prison for assault again. Fortunately dreadlock guy could run surprisingly fast. I had my lame little version of an H.R. lecture with both of them. It was peppered with several colorful adjectives but either Stacy and Dirty S. really like working for me, or they were both too inexperienced to accuse me of any impropriety.

  After all of that, I needed a full day to recover. At least that was what I told Joe. In truth, I wanted a little more time to hash out my concerns about dating him. I slept in, went for a meandering walk, even lounged on the couch and watched a cheesy 80’s movie. I puzzled, pondered, asked myself “what if” this and “what if’” that. After examining every angle ad nauseaum, I still ended up shaving every inch of my body and painting my toenails. Because nothing was going to stop me from going out with Joe Jensen. Not even me.

  I texted Joe to ask how I should dress. When he texted back that I should dress casually, I heaved a sigh of relief. I’d spent way too much time working in Michelin Star restaurants to be impressed by them, and I just wanted to kick back, relax, and get to know Joe in the non-biblical way.

  I’d tried on three different outfits before settling on a periwinkle sweater and dark blue jeans. Shoving on my brown biker boots, I ran the brush through my long hair one last time. When the knock on my door came, I had the worst case of butterflies in my entire life.

  Seriously, Molly? He’s already seen you naked.

  With a shaky exhale, I yanked open the door.

  There he was, leaning against the doorframe with a large bouquet of flowers. The stunning yellow roses and the hunter green of his shirt played up his eyes, and I struggled not to stare. “Sorry. They’re not wild ones.”

  “They’re beautiful.” I felt my cheeks redden and I rushed into the kitchen as much to hide my emotions as to dig for a vase in my cupboard.

  “So are you.” His husky voice came from right beside me. I bashfully glanced at him, and his solemn expression made me want to take him right then and there on the kitchen floor. Somehow, I thrust the urge aside and finished arranging the flowers.

  As we walked hand in hand to his little old man truck, I gasped at the transformation from the day we’d nearly kissed in the back of it.

  “It’s so pretty now.” I cooed running my finger along the brilliant turquois paint job.

  “Mason.” He stated, as if my brother had given birth to the truck. “I might have helped a little.”

  He opened my door for me, and I slid onto the newly upholstered seat. Once he was inside the cab with me, I couldn’t help but tease him.

  “You know, you don’t have to open doors for me. It’s really sweet, but I’m not very high maintenance.”

  He snorted. “Don’t forget: I’ve slept with you. You may not be high maintenance in the traditional sense…but you could easily put me in traction.”

  I didn’t even try to suppress a throaty laugh. My response made him smile. Then his face grew serious.

  “That stuff has nothing to do with being sweet. It’s about being brought up right.”

  I looked out over the hilly landscape and thought about his statement. Draven hadn’t even opened the limo door for me on our wedding day. I’d never thought much about it at the time. I suppose I figured it was cultural, him being a New Yorker. He hurried everywhere he went. In retrospect, he probably just wasn’t all that concerned with me, If Joe knew how little it took to impress me, he’d probably have heaved a gigantic sigh of relief. “It’s just a little jarring. I’m not used to all the southern hospitality.”

  “Well, get used to it.” That unflinching green gaze of his made me want to pull over somewhere and drag him into the truck bed with me.

  Soon the interstate we were traveling on ended at a stoplight. As we continued out of Austin, I arched an eyebrow at him, and he tur
ned and gave me a quick once over. As I continued to admire his perfect profile, a secretive smile curled on his lips.

  “Where the hell are you taking me?” I chuckled, and he simply shook his head.

  “Patience, little girl.”

  When we finally turned into the vineyard-lined parking lot of The Salt Lick, I gasped and smacked his shoulder.

  “You traitor!” The Salt Lick had always been my dad’s major competition. They were far enough out that we had an edge over them on location, but even in Seattle everyone knew they had some of the best barbeque in the country. For as long as I could remember, we’d always ranked number two after them in every survey Austin had.

  “Hey…it’s not like Hildebrandt’s is open anymore.” Even while he protested, he looked appropriately admonished. He hopped out of the truck and came around to open the door for me. Unmoving, I continued to fix him with a disapproving glare. He gave me the irresistible puppy dog eyes and I burst out laughing.

  “I’m just messing with you, Joe.” I climbed out of the truck and took his hand in mine. “Their pork ribs are the best.”

  Since the restaurant itself was B.Y.O.B, we wandered over to their conveniently located wine tasting room, The Cellar Door and bought a six pack of Shiner Blonde before heading into the restaurant. Since the past couple of days had been rain-free, we chose to sit outside so we could hear the band. We chose a spot near the heat lamps far enough away from the outdoor stage so that we could carry on a conversation.

  Our waitress took our order and I turned to face Joe. He’d chosen not to sit across from me, but next to me on the picnic table style seats. He leaned both of his elbows on the table, and looked at me expectantly.

  “So.” I twisted the top of my beer.

  “So.” He chimed in, taking a sip of his. “Where do we start?”

  “You know, I’ve been thinking about that all day, I’m at a major disadvantage here. You’ve known my family forever, but I know nothing about yours.” I pulled my leg out and straddled the bench so I could give him my full attention head on. He paused thoughtfully, and for a moment I wasn’t sure he’d agree to the discussion.

  “The only family I have is my sister Tamryn. She doesn’t live very far from here, as a matter of fact.”

  “I remember you talking about her way back when. She’d just started law school, I think. You said she wanted to be in politics or something.” He just laughed at that.

  “Oh yeah. That was her flying her rebel flag. A Jensen…running as a democrat.” He uttered a mock gasp.

  I smiled and raised my bottle to my lips again. “I take it she abandoned that idea.”

  “I think she figured out pretty quickly that she didn’t have the diplomatic skills to be a politician.” He shook his head and finished his beer in one long gulp. “Tamz has no poker face whatsoever.”

  “I like her already.” My drawl creeped out on the word ‘like’ and I pursed my lips together.

  “Liiiihhhhk?” His eyes lit with amusement as he teased me, and his lips twitched in a sexy smirk.

  I giggled, elbowing him playfully. “Did she finish law school, though?”

  “Yep. She sure did. She went into Criminal Law. She was a hell of a trial lawyer. Robbie-her husband-is an attorney, too. Intellectual Property Law, though he’d rather play rancher.

  “What does she do now?”

  “Some consulting. Mostly she’s a soccer mom and a Brownie troop leader. I think she misses it. She’s an adrenaline junkie at heart. But I don’t think she’d ever admit it.”

  “What about the rest of your family?”

  “Tamryn and the girls are my only family.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yep.” Our waitress had impeccable timing, arriving with monstrous platters of decadent meat, potato salad that had an odd orange-ish hue, peppery cole slaw, and buttered rolls. One beer in and Joe switched to Dr. Pepper since he was driving. We spent the next twenty minutes focused on sampling every item and discussing it in relation to Hildebrandt’s bygone menu. Joe had gone against my recommendations again and ordered the brisket. I pressed him to try my pork ribs, knowing he’d love the way they melted off the bone. Naturally, he ended up finishing the ones I couldn’t eat.

  “So back to what we were talking about before.” I cracked open another beer and shoved the rest of my plate away. “You didn’t spring fully formed into this world.”

  He wiped his mouth and took a drink, focused hard on his potato salad. I put my hand on his knee and leaned in trying a different tact. “I think it’s time we talked about how babies were made. You see, when a boy and a girl really like one another…”

  That got a bright smile out of him.

  “Okay, fine. I have parents. They’re retired and live in Naples.”

  “Italy?” My face twisted in surprise.

  “Florida.” He corrected. “I know. Very cliché.”

  “But a hell of a lot easier for you to visit them.” I waited to see how he’d respond to that opening.

  He bit his lip but never broke eye contact. “We haven’t spoken in a long time. My dad and I don’t talk. We haven’t really said more than a few words to each other since I graduated. Mom leaves me an occasional message. She sends cards at the holidays.”

  “Sounds like mom’s a rebel, too?” I replied. I was glad I’d finished eating because imagining Joe alone for so long would have spoiled my appetite.

  He snorted. “The most rebellious thing Mom ever did was marrying a Gentile.”

  I spun at him in surprise. “Your mom’s Jewish?”

  “You didn’t know that?” He was caught off guard and graced me with a tight grin, “Yeah. Her parents were pretty hardcore. Why do you think Mac always called me Rabbi Joe?”

  I thought this over and squinting, shook my head. “I don’t remember him calling you that. But to be fair, I rarely pay any attention to anything Mac says.”

  “Well, now you know. Tamryn still does the whole Santa/Menorah fusion for the holidays. I’m pretty sure it drives Robbie nuts.

  “I bet your nieces love it.” His eye lit up at the mention of the kids.

  “I know I did.” His hand rested comfortably on my thigh. “What’s not to love about unwrapping tons of presents?”

  I slid my hand over the top of his and squeezed it. “I’ve got something you can unwrap later if you like.”

  A truly dirty gleam shone in his eyes and he moved like he was coming in for a kiss. His eyes locked onto something beyond me. He stopped mid-motion and looked completely freaked out. I’d never seen a look like that on him and fear gripped me. I turned to see what could have forced such a reaction from him.

  Through the large picture windows I saw a family being seated inside in the dining room just on the other side of the glass from us. They were completely overdressed for the restaurant, and a tall, model-thin woman with lots of blonde hair seemed to be the focus of his attention. She happened to look over and meet my eyes curiously. I saw her spot Joe, and an expression of pure hatred overtook her already pinched features.

  “Ex-girlfriend of yours?” I turned back to Joe with wide eyes.

  “God, no.” He scoffed, but I could tell by the grit in his voice our current situation wasn’t funny.

  “Well whoever she is, she doesn’t seem to like you much.” I swigged my beer in order to wash away the rising lump in my airway.

  He didn’t acknowledge this, and his jaw muscles practically throbbed with tension. “Ready to go?”

  Anxiously tucking my hair behind both ears, I nodded. I unwillingly fed off of his black mood. “Sure, I guess. Just let me run to the ladies room.”

  He rose stiffly and nodded. “I’ll go find our waitress.”

  I headed to the outdoor entrance to the newer set of restrooms, while Joe walked purposely inside to pay our check. I was only gone for three minutes, but who knew what a difference a few minutes could make. I came out of the exit to find a scene of utter chaos and Joe standing stone-fa
ced at the center of it.

  The fashoinista that had been giving Joe the dirty looks was being held barely in check by her glam boy husband-or at least I assumed he was her husband, based on the matching rings they wore. Either that or they were in the same high-end cult. She waved her dragon lady finger nails just out of reach of Joe’s face.

  “...probably a good thing she’s dead! She doesn’t have to see what a disappointment you turned out to be. Your low-brow carousing and questionable company just gives veracity to everything I ever said about you! She never should have wasted her time with a-“

  “Hey!” Without a second thought, I threw myself into the fray. “Pipe the hell down, Lady. What the f—”

  “And who is this?” She slurred, giving me a condescending once over. I was convinced she was drunk or on something. Or both. “What street corner did he find you on? Jesus, Joe. Jess’s probably rolling in her grave as we speak!”

  My lips and fingers were numb and my heart was beating a million miles a minute. I shook with rage as I pushed up my sleeves. “Alright! That’s about enough out of you. I don’t know who the hell you think you are-“

  “I’m his maid of honor! Tell her, Joe! I watched my best friend walk down the aisle with that asshole.” She pointed a fake nail at Joe. “And now I get to sit back and watch while he goes all over town disrespecting her memory and calling her a thief.”

  “She was a thief.” Joe’s neutral delivery made me turn to him.

  I stared at him wide eyed. I hadn’t expected him to sound so cool and collected. All of the information about his wife was news to me.

  “Bethany, honey. Let’s just go back inside.” Her husband pleaded, his eyes begging me not to make a bad situation worse. She started to sob uncontrollably, bringing a whole new meaning to the term ‘ugly cry’. I felt a hand grip my shoulder, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of the crazed woman.

  “She loved you, you son of a bitch.” She hissed, glaring over my shoulder at Joe. “She wanted to tell you about the money so fucking badly. The last time we talked she was in tears about it.”