A Sweet Possibility (Archer Cove Series Book 2)

by Natalie Charles

  They hadn't talked about the kiss since it happened almost a week ago, but then, they hadn't talked about Quinn, either. The more time that passed, the more the entire incident felt like something he might have imagined, or some misunderstanding. Nate hated that it was unresolved, but he didn't know how to fix it, and he didn't want to address it until he felt better prepared. Ultimately, he was glad that Jessie was on board with the road race, which Tom was calling the "Sweet Relief 5K." She was going to run, and she was going to create solid chocolate finisher's medals. It would be the perfect way for her to promote her new business venture.

  As for his business...he was back at the drawing board. There were simply no spaces in the surrounding towns that would be appropriate for a gym, and if Mr. Dinardo wasn't going to budge on the price, Nate didn't have a lot of options.

  He pulled open the door to Hedda's, stepping in as the bell above the door chimed. Jessie was standing beside a table in the corner, taking orders. She didn't see him, so he crossed behind her to the counter, where Emily was measuring coffee. "Hey, Emily."

  She was a pretty girl with a nice smile and clear, green eyes. He only knew her casually, but from what Jessie said, she was considering med school. She was focused, too, because she looked up and smiled warmly without a break in her task. "Good morning, Nate. You're here to see Jessie, I presume."

  "I brought something for her." He lifted the bag and set it on the counter.

  "I'm sure she'll be right over. Looks like she's finishing up."

  He glanced over his shoulder at Jessie and felt that familiar longing in his chest. She had her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail that curled up at the end, and she was wearing a pink T-shirt, white chinos, and a black apron. As she stood there, she scratched at her ankle with the toe of her opposite shoe. Adorable. Hell, they were running together three days a week at four in the morning, and he could say with certainty that she looked pretty cute right out of bed, though she'd never believe him if he told her that.

  Emily looked up at him from beneath her lashes. "Can I get you anything while you wait? I'm brewing some fresh coffee."

  "Nah. I can't stay long, but thanks."

  He was heading out to the country club in a few minutes. Man, there was a topic for avoidance. Jessie hadn't mentioned joining him for lunch there again, but he knew that something like that would only lead to trouble. What could she possibly want with a stuffy lunch with stuffy people? She wasn't like that, which was exactly what made her great.

  She turned away from the table and tucked the pencil in her hand behind her ear. When she saw him, her face brightened. "Didn't I just see you?"

  He held out the bag. "I have something for you."

  "For me?" She couldn't disguise the excitement in her voice as she reached eagerly for her gift. "You didn't have to do that!" She set the bag on the counter and nearly tore into it.

  "If you're going to be training for a road race, you can't wear those sneakers you've been wearing. You need these, trust me. Your entire body will thank me."

  He paused. Entire body? That wasn't what he'd — that had come out sort of...well. At least Jessie hadn't noticed. Her jaw dropped and her blue eyes widened as she pulled the running shoes out of the box. Her bright pink running shoes. "Wow, Nate! These are beautiful!" She paused, then set them back in the box. "I can't accept this, though. It's too much money."

  Damn it. That wasn't the reaction he'd been hoping for. He pushed them toward her, gently. "It's a late birthday gift."

  "No it isn't. You gave me that beer T-shirt for my birthday."

  Yeah, he had. It wasn't his finest moment, and a psychologist would probably tell him it was evidence of stunted emotions or something. "That's a collector's item, I'll have you know. And that was before I knew you'd be running a 5K. Now I want to give you this."

  Just accept them, he thought. He needed her to accept them. Was it so wrong that he wanted to do something nice for her? But he saw her turning it over in her mind, wondering what the catch was and to what extent she was going to be in his debt. He swept his hand down his face, feeling exasperated at how complicated everything was when all he wanted to do was to give her a pair of shoes. "No strings attached. I know the owner, and he gave me a discount. You need running shoes."

  "I'd listen to your personal trainer," Emily said with a small smile. "He seems to know what he's talking about."

  Nate waved an arm in Emily's direction. "See? Emily knows."

  Jessie was staring down at the box, but she slowly brought her eyes upward to meet his gaze, a smile spreading across her beautiful lips. If only she had any idea how she could devastate him with that smile. "All right," she said. "Thank you. That was very thoughtful. But you should know that I'm going to repay you."

  Here we go. "You don't have to. It's a gift."

  "No, I've been thinking a lot about...things," she continued as she turned the shoes on their side and slid them back into the box. "I was thinking that I'd like to set you up with someone."

  He glanced over his shoulder and then back again at her. "You're talking to me?"

  "Yes, you," she laughed. "I've been thinking about myself too much, and I don't like that. You've been a good friend, and I'd like to do something nice for you. So I'm going to set you up with one of my friends."

  Nate took a deep breath and told himself not to snap. Her heart was kind of in the right place, right? But did she think that he wasn't capable of getting dates of his own? And he was starting to get damn sick of this song and dance between them — the one where he went out of his way to show Jessie what he thought of her, and then she went ahead and missed the clue entirely. His stomach tightened. It was long past time for him to take the hint and realize she wasn't interested.

  He pushed away from the counter and pulled himself up to his full height. Then he attempted a smile that felt downright painful. "I don't need you to set me up with anyone."

  She blinked her large eyes and drew closer. "I have the perfect person in mind. She's an old friend of mine, and her name is Heather MacKenzie."

  "Heather?" He nearly groaned.

  Jessie halted. "You know her?"

  Sure, he knew her, and he knew her well enough to know that he wasn't interested. She grew up on the cliffs, and she was the girl in high school who sneered at people like him. And Jessie. "You're actually friendly with her?"

  He didn't really have to ask. Of course they were friends. Jessie was friends with everyone. She looked flustered for a moment, so he continued on. "It's a nice thought, but I'm not interested."

  "If you gave her a chance —"

  His neck started to heat. He'd come in there to give the girl he was actually in love with a thoughtful gift, because he was a fool and he still held out hope that she'd stop chasing a guy who wasn't interested and see the one who was. And her response was to fix him up with someone else.

  He was finished.

  "You want me to date someone?" Nate turned to the girl behind the counter, who was trying to look like she wasn't eavesdropping. "Hey, Emily? Are you seeing anyone these days?"

  Emily looked up, stunned. "I'm not — no."

  Beside him, Jessie's gaze was darting back and forth between him and Emily. "Well, wait. What about Heather?"

  "Forget Heather," he said. "Emily, are you busy on Friday? Would you like to grab dinner?"

  Even as he asked, he knew it was all wrong. He was only half watching as Emily's face lit up and she eagerly smiled. The person whose reaction he was waiting for was Jessie. She was shifting from left to right and fidgeting with her apron, probably coming up with some kind of reason he and Emily shouldn't go out together. The petty part of his brain thought, Bingo.

  "I'd love to." Emily beamed. "Hold on a sec. I'll give you my number."

  "Great."

  Nate waited while Emily headed back toward the kitchen. He glanced over at Jessie, who was looking slightly shell-shocked. "Is that okay with you?" he said. "You're always talking about how nice
Emily is, so I just thought —"

  "No. I mean, yes, she's really nice." Jessie swallowed and looked down at her apron. "I should get back to work. Thanks for the shoes."

  "We're running on Thursday morning, right?"

  "Yes, that sounds good." She slid the bag off the counter and pressed it against her chest, over her heart. "Thanks again for the shoes."

  "You're welcome."

  She headed for the kitchen just as Emily was coming out. The two didn't look at each other as they crossed paths. "Here's my number," Emily said to him, holding out a slip of yellow notebook paper. "I included my email, too. Just in case."

  He folded the paper without looking at it and put it in his pocket. "I'll give you a call later."

  "Or you can text me."

  She was grinning, and Nate felt a stab of guilt. Then he told himself there was nothing to feel bad about. He and Emily could go out and hit it off. Maybe he'd forget all about Jessie, and finally move on. He nodded. "Or I'll text you. Stay tuned."

  It could have been his lucky day.

  He had a date with Emily, and he had so many people signed up for yoga that he had to create a waiting list. It was either that or violate the fire code by overfilling the room. His friend Jim was thrilled. He was the Director of Member Activities, a title that, as he explained it, made him a "glorified scheduler."

  "I hire people to run recreational programs, then I fill in their names on this dry-erase board with different colored markers," Jim explained as he flourished a blue marker. "Like so: Yoga Burn with Nate." He wrote the words and capped the marker with a mock-satisfied grin on his face. "Now it's official."

  "What the hell is Yoga Burn?" Nate scratched at his neck. "I'm only doing sun salutations and some downward dogs."

  "Throw in a few warrior poses and a triangle pose here or there," Jim said, tossing the marker to the side of a desk that was overflowing with papers. "The 'burn' is what gives your class a waiting list. It's all about marketing."

  Jim set his hands on his hips. They'd known each other for years and had run track together in high school. Jim had placed second in states in the shot put. Since then he'd gotten a little thicker around the middle, and his white polo shirt pulled across a round stomach. "You should've been in marketing," Nate said.

  "That's the plan, actually." Jim rounded his desk and sat on the edge, in the only clear space. "I've been working with a head hunter. I need a change. Ever since the divorce..." He shook his head. "I've always lived in Archer Cove. It's time to get out."

  Nate had never seriously considered living anywhere else, but he thought he understood the need for a change. "Good luck with that."

  "Thanks. In the meantime" — Jim folded his arms across his chest — "you should think about options."

  He studied his friend, but Jim wasn't giving anything up. "What options?"

  "I've had a second interview with a place in New York. Not the city, a little outside. I should hear back this week, and if so, I'm going to need to find a replacement. I think you'd be perfect."

  Nate's first response was to laugh. "As a recreational manager at a country club?" Everything about the idea seemed horrible.

  "No, as the Director of Member Activities," Jim said. "They'd hire you like that," he said with a snap of his fingers. "It's not a bad job. I've been here for almost eight years. The salary is decent, and so are the benefits. Most of the members are pretty cool, though you have the occasional pain in the ass who thinks we should offer things like polo. And yeah, they mean the kind with the horse."

  Nate winced. "Yeah, it sounds great. Where can I sign up?"

  "All joking aside, it's a decent job that lets you make a lot of connections. I got that interview in New York because of one of the members." He eyed Nate, slightly tilting his head to the side. "I'm trying to help you out. What are you doing now, running from rich person's house to rich person's house, showing them how to do bicep curls? This is a chance for you to get in somewhere. Get some stability and health insurance."

  Jim's gaze was steady, the scrutiny uncomfortable. Nate stuffed his hands into his pockets and couldn't help but wonder why all of his friends seemed to think he needed help getting his life in order. "I like what I do," he said. "I help people, and if I worked here, where would my clients go?"

  "They'd go here, buddy." Jim pushed off of the desk. "We have a full recreational facility. That means weight room, cardio room, and pool. You can talk to management about offering personal training. They're open to new ideas. Plus, and this is the best part, you'd get a referral fee for every new member you bring in. Let me tell you, those fees add up quickly. Then if you can convince your rich clients to also pay you for personal training sessions..." Jim whistled and shook his head. "Let's just say you'd be doing well for yourself."

  He turned that over in his mind. It was true that to an extent, his income was capped as it was. There were only so many clients he could accommodate in a day. But Nate was fine with what he earned, even if it wasn't all that impressive. It was nowhere near what Quinn earned, for example. He took a deep breath.

  He was earning a living as a freelancer, and where was that getting him, anyway? The girl of his dreams was treating him like he didn't even exist because she was hung up on the guy who earned the impressive salary.

  He rubbed at the back of his neck. "I don't know, Jim. I guess I'll think about it."

  "That's all I'm asking. Hey, you're on the way to yoga, right? You want a bottled water?" Without waiting for the answer, he walked over to a small refrigerator in the corner of the office and removed two bottles.

  "Thanks, I'm all set."

  Jim shrugged and tapped the door closed with his foot. "If you change your mind, you can help yourself." He twisted the top off his own bottle and grinned. "Your class is sold out, and that's never happened. People here like you. It's nice to be appreciated."

  The comment struck Nate as a perfect summary of his life. It was nice to be appreciated, all right. At least his clients appreciated him, and maybe they'd follow, and maybe he could help more people if he took the job. "Thanks for thinking of me," he said. "I'm definitely interested."

  Chapter 10

  J essie stirred the thick, buttery batter with the red rubber spatula. Her hands were covered in flour, as was her apron. On the counter before her was a chaotic spread: paper butter wrappers and eggshells, spilled sugar crystals, and smears of flour. She only baked messy when she felt messy.

  Jessie had never actually seen auras before, though she'd always been jealous of those who claimed to have that ability. But on the day that Emily made plans to go out with Nate, she felt as though she could actually feel her own aura, and it felt spiky and irritable. Before the day was done, someone might lose an eye.

  Not that this was Emily's fault. She'd done nothing wrong, and so Jessie felt bad for avoiding her. It was just that if she looked her in the eyes, she felt certain that Emily would be able to tell how much it bothered her that she was going out with Nate. She was even more afraid that Emily would know why she was bothered, and even Jessie couldn't figure that part out. So she hid herself in the kitchen and directed an unusual amount of attention to baking scones and mulling over her feelings. She sure had a lot of them right then, and the ugliest was the painful jealousy that ricocheted inside her chest like she was a human pinball machine.

  I am a chocolate warrior. I am focused on my goal in a single-minded, obsessive way that is totally healthy and functional. That day, the affirmations were coming out all wrong.

  She dropped cups of wild blueberries into the batter and slowed her aggressive stirring, blending them carefully. Yes, she was jealous. She could admit that. After all, Nate was a dear friend, and she was used to having him around. It was only natural that she'd fear being supplanted by Emily. Except she knew that wasn't the problem, exactly. She wasn't afraid to lose pizza-and-beer nights with Nate — not when all she could think about was that single, perfect kiss, and about how he might go and kiss
Emily that way, too.

  She set the spatula down beside the bowl, feeling ill.

  "You okay?" Uncle Hank asked from the small desk at the back of the kitchen. He peered at her from above a stack of documents. "You look pale."

  "I'm fine, thanks." Jessie inhaled and reached for the spatula. "Just thinking, that's all."

  "If it's anything you want to talk about, I'm here."

  She smiled. "Thanks." She most certainly would not be discussing any of this with her uncle.

  Jessie lifted the batter from the metal mixing bowl and set it on the floured surface, smoothing it into a circle. She sliced the dough into triangles, set them on a baking sheet, and sprinkled the tops with sugar. As she was opening the door to the industrial stainless-steel oven, Emily walked into the kitchen. No, make that bounced.

  "I just locked up. Should I run to the bank?" She held up a navy blue deposit bag.

  Jessie slipped the baking sheet onto the oven rack and closed the door. "I could do it on my way out."

  "You're busy," said Uncle Hank. "I'll head over. I could use a walk." He stood and stretched behind the desk before approaching Emily, arm outstretched. "Good day?"

  "Very. Jessie, I sold a few boxes of your chocolates."

  Jessie couldn't meet her smile, so she looked down at the floor instead. "That's great." She crouched down to the black-and-white checkered tile floor and pretended to pick something up. "I should sweep the floors."

  "I can do that," Emily chirped, reaching for the broom.

  Jessie's shoulders tightened and rose closer to her ears. Did Emily have to take everything? She ground her teeth and headed back to her messy workspace on the counter. As she collected the broken eggshells and the butter wrappers and dropped them into the trash, Emily pushed the broom merrily across the floor. Jessie half expected her to break into song and swing on the hanging pot rack like she was trapped in some damn musical. People shouldn't be that chipper in real life.

  Emily glanced up from her happy sweeping. "Did you end up applying for that small business loan? It seemed like you were interested in it, but I haven't heard anything else."