by Abby Jimenez
“Right. I grew up in a really small town in northern Minnesota. Population three thousand. So everyone knows everybody else. There was a little girl in the town who got leukemia, so a lot of the townsfolk—”
“‘Townsfolk’?” She sounded amused.
“Yes, ‘townsfolk,’ we actually talk like that there.”
She laughed at this. I liked her laugh. It was musical.
“A lot of the townsfolk registered on Be The Match because she needed a bone marrow transplant. She ended up getting one. Nobody she knew. But I was in the registry after that, and I ended up being the match for a guy with lymphoma. So I donated.”
“Did they live?” she asked.
I nodded. “They did. I’m friends with the guy on Facebook. He’s been in remission for four years now. And Emily too. She just graduated high school.”
“Wow. That’s…that’s really generous.”
I shrugged. “I just couldn’t imagine being that sick and not having any options, you know? And maybe one day someone will do it for me. Or someone I love.”
There was a little pause, and she was smiling when she started talking again. “So in this tiny town of three thousand, what kind of things did you do for fun?”
I ticked off on my fingers. “Ice fishing, dogsledding in the winter. Canoeing. I worked as a guide for trips into the Boundary Waters for ten years. My dad owns an outfitting company.”
“And your mom? What does she do?”
“She stayed home. Worked at the outfitters in the summer when it was busy.”
She laughed a little. “You really are a northerner, aren’t you? Have you seen any moose?”
“I’ve seen moose, wolves, the northern lights—”
“Oh, I would love to see the northern lights. It’s on my bucket list.”
“Yeah? What else is on your list?”
She made a humming noise. “I want to eat soft-shell crabs. Oh, and I want to visit Ireland. That’s my biggest one. What’s on your list?”
If anyone had asked me the same thing yesterday, I’d have answered, “Play the Hollywood Bowl.” But today? “I want to take you on a date.”
Chapter 8
Sloan
♪ This Charming Man | The Smiths
Tucker loved PetSmart. He started crying to be let out as soon as we got to the parking lot. He jumped from the car and pulled me into the store, choking himself in the process. His enthusiasm made me laugh, but that wasn’t the only thing making me smile today. Jason had me in a good mood.
We’d talked all day yesterday. All day. When Fight Club came on the TV in his hotel room, I found it on Netflix and we watched it together, talking through it. I drained my cell phone battery three times and finally ended up lying in bed hooked up to my charger until we hung up a little after midnight.
It was official. I had a major crush on him.
He’d grown up stomping around in the woods, and I’d gone to a high school that had a student body the size of his town. He’d worked summers taking tourists on canoeing trips into the wilderness while I did beauty pageants until I was eighteen and worked at the mall. But somehow we clicked. We got along so well, it was crazy.
And it was scary.
Now I hated that he didn’t know what I looked like. What if he didn’t think I was pretty? What if he was like, “Oh” when he finally saw me for the first time? I wanted to just bite the bullet and send him a picture, but now I was too freaked out about it. And all through yesterday’s phone call he’d kept asking me for a date.
It was 1:00 and I hadn’t heard from him yet today, but it was still early in Melbourne. I’d spent the morning stressing about my appearance. I had a newfound urgency to undo two years of neglect.
Jason would be back in California in a week. That gave me seven short days to prepare. I hadn’t cared about my appearance in so long I wasn’t sure where to even begin. I always threw my hair into a bun, my toes went without polish, my skin got nothing except a splash of soap and water twice a day. And now this man was practically extorting me for a picture of myself, and I was in no way prepared to be examined.
“You’re being dramatic,” Kristen had said this morning when I called her in a half panic. “Your hair has never looked better. It hasn’t been heat-styled in years. You’re tan, and you’ve always had a perfect figure. Relax, you’re a knockout. Believe me, I’d tell you if you were a hot mess.”
This did make me feel a little better. She would tell me. She had literally no filter.
This morning I’d plucked my eyebrows and made an appointment to have my hair trimmed. I did a teeth-whitening strip and a mud mask, and afterward I felt slightly less despondent. But I was still so nervous. I hadn’t cared about what a man thought of me since Brandon, and suddenly I was obsessed. I felt like I was shaking out a dusty party dress I’d left balled on the floor of my closet for two years, hoping it still fit and the moths hadn’t destroyed it.
I walked Tucker to the grooming department at the back of the store and stood waiting to check him in at the counter, thinking of Jason and chewing on my lip.
A woman in a dark-blue PetSmart shirt greeted me. “Checking in?”
“Yes, he just needs a nail trim.”
She leaned over and looked at Tucker. “No problem. And who do we have here?”
“Tucker.”
Something flashed across her face. The groomer behind her jerked her head up to stare at me, and the two shared a look.
“Are you Sloan?” the first woman asked.
“Yeeeees,” I said, looking back and forth between them, unsure what was happening.
“One moment.” She grinned, putting up a finger. “Just wait here.” Then she darted into a side door. When it opened again, a giant vase of sunflowers floated out.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “He didn’t.”
The woman heaved the vase onto the countertop. “These are for you,” she said, beaming.
I stared at the arrangement in shock. “How?”
“Your boyfriend called us this morning and said he wanted to surprise you when you came in. We’ve been waiting for you all day. It’s so sweet!”
My stomach flipped at the word “boyfriend.” He wasn’t, of course, but my stomach didn’t care.
The flowers were stunning. Red roses were mixed in with the huge yellow blossoms, and flowering branches gave it extra height. It was easily the largest arrangement I’d ever gotten. It must have cost a fortune.
“There’s a card,” the woman said, turning the vase to the little white envelope.
I plucked it free and slid a shaking finger under the seal.
There were two square boxes drawn on the small paper, with the words “yes” and “no” written above them.
Sloan, do you like me? Check one. —Jason
I laughed out loud and had to slap a hand over my mouth.
I handed Tucker over for his nail trim and called Jason. He answered groggily, but I could hear the smile in his voice. “Good afternoon, Sloan.”
“You are too much. How did you know where to send these?”
He sounded like he was stretching. “You said you were going to PetSmart. I know generally where you live. I googled it.”
“They’re beautiful.”
“I was accused of not being properly motivated once, so I stepped up my game.”
“You really did,” I said, looking the flowers up and down. “But you shouldn’t have done it.”
“Did you read the card?”
I blushed. “Yes.”
“Did you check a box?”
“Maybe.”
“Are you going to tell me which one?”
“Definitely not.”
“Then that’s my question for the day,” he said, the smile in his voice coming through the phone.
I sighed. “I checked yes.”
“Good,” he said. “I like you too.”
Chapter 9
Sloan
♪ A Beautiful Mess | Jason
Mraz
There was a small wet spot on my kitchen tile. “I think I’ve got a leaky pipe,” I told Jason over the phone. I started pulling out all the cleaning products from under my sink and dabbed at the damp surface with my finger. “Ugh, it’s definitely wet under here.”
“I can have a look at it for you when I get back,” he offered, a hopeful edge to his voice.
Jason was coming home tomorrow. He was packing his hotel room up as we spoke and heading to catch a flight in just a few hours. My stomach flipped again. It had been roiling for days in anticipation of meeting him in person. I was a mess. My eyelid twitched mercilessly from the stress.
“No, you’re not coming over here,” I said again. “I’ll meet you like we planned.”
“Come on, at least let me meet you at a restaurant. What kind of date is Starbucks?”
“It’s not a date,” I reminded him, sliding a bowl under the slow drip.
“Oh, that’s right. It’s an appointment.”
We’d known each other for two weeks, and for the last week of that, we’d spoken daily, for hours a day. We texted nonstop when we weren’t talking. I liked him so much it was ridiculous. I think I knew him better in a week than I’d known Brandon in six months—Jason was a lot less shy. But I couldn’t bring myself to agree to a real date. Not until we met in person.
“I just don’t want things to be weird,” I said, turning and sliding down to the floor with my back against the dishwasher. I closed my eyes and put a finger on my spasming eyelid.
“Why would they be weird?”
Because you’ve never seen me before? Because we’ve talked constantly for the last week and you’ve never even been in the same room with me?
I didn’t answer.
The long sound of a zipper closing on luggage came through the line. “Put Tucker on the phone,” he said.
“What?”
“Tucker, put him on the phone.”
“Like, put the phone up to his ear?”
“Yes.”
I got up and found Tucker sleeping on the sofa. “Should I leave you two alone for this?”
“Yeah, this is just between us guys.”
“Okay, here goes.” I held the phone to Tucker’s ear. He immediately perked up at the sound of Jason’s voice. He cocked his head and listened and then bolted off the sofa and tore around the living room, barking.
I put the phone back to my ear, laughing. “What did you say to him?”
“I asked him to show you how excited I am to meet you. Actually, I told him there’s a squirrel outside, but I think he still illustrated my point.”
I smiled into the receiver. Then I moved the phone away from my mouth and swallowed. “I made you something.”
“You did? What is it?”
“Just something. I’m going to send it to you now. I hope you like it.”
I attached a link to a text and held my finger over the little arrow that would put it into the universe. I took a nervous breath and sent it through.
No getting it back now. It was done.
“I’m going to go to bed early,” I said. “Have a safe flight, okay? I guess I’ll see you tomorrow…”
Chapter 10
Jason
♪ Soul Meets Body | Death Cab for Cutie
Sloan sent me a link to a YouTube video. I sat on the edge of my bed and watched it, maximizing the screen.
Someone held up a piece of paper in front of the camera that read, My vacation with Sloan. Then it began to show clips of Tucker. Tucker on hikes, Tucker swimming in a swimming pool. Tucker at Starbucks licking whipped cream out of a paper cup, and him at PetSmart with a blue plush doll in his mouth. Then he was in a bathtub getting a bath with his hair spiked into a Mohawk. Tucker chasing a green tennis ball on the grass and playing with other dogs at a dog park.
If I hadn’t already liked Sloan, this would have done it. Tucker was my currency. It might as well have been me she was spoiling, it had the same effect.
I smiled down at my screen as I watched a clip of Tucker on his back, getting a belly rub. Then the frame changed, and he sat on a couch next to a woman. I bolted to attention and pulled the phone closer.
The woman smiled at him, and he licked her face. I could see the tattoos on her arm. She looked directly at the camera and reached up off-screen, and the video ended.
My heart thudded against my rib cage. This was Sloan. This was the woman I’d been talking to.
And she was fucking beautiful.
I played the video back. Then I played it back again. I paused it and took screenshots of her so I could look at them. I zoomed in and studied her. She had one of those broad smiles that radiated. Full lips, large brown doe eyes, long golden-blond hair. Jesus, she was gorgeous.
I was still watching the video when I got into my Uber. I called her.
Voicemail.
* * *
I texted Sloan last night, telling her how beautiful I thought she was, but all I got was a smiley face and didn’t know how to interpret that. I think the stress of our meeting each other was getting to her.
It was getting to me too.
Even before I’d seen what she looked like, I’d liked her more than anyone else I’d met in a very long time. I went to sleep and woke up thinking about her. I fucking dreamed about her. I hadn’t even looked at another woman sideways pretty much since the moment we started talking. And all that for a woman I hadn’t even laid eyes on yet.
Now I worried that I would somehow not measure up—which was crazy. She’d seen enough pictures of me to know what to expect, and I was not an unconfident person by any stretch of the imagination. It was just that meeting her felt too important.
My flight had been smooth, and I’d gotten as much sleep as I could so I’d be fresh for our “appointment.”
After I dropped off my luggage at home, I took a shower, threw on a T-shirt and jeans, and took longer than I care to admit trimming my beard and messing with my hair. Then I made my way to the Starbucks on Topanga Canyon.
I waited on the patio, bouncing my knee, opening and closing my hand the way I always did right before I played in front of a big crowd. I’d gotten there half an hour early and I sat there scanning the parking lot and sidewalks, completely nervous and laughing to myself because I never got like this—for anything or anyone.
I didn’t know what it meant that I felt like this already. All I knew was that I did.
She was eight minutes late when she called.
“Hey,” I said, picking up on the first ring. “You said Topanga Canyon, ri—”
“Jason, I can’t come, my kitchen is flooded!”
Chaos came through the line. Tucker barked in the background, and I could hear the sound of spraying water. “The pipe under your sink?”
“Yes! Oh my God, it’s a disaster!”
I was already running to my truck. “Give me your address.”
There was a pause.
“I…but…”
I had to laugh. Still? Even now? “Sloan, your kitchen.”
She moaned. “Fine.”
She rattled off her address and told me not to knock.
Google Maps said she was just two blocks away, and I got there within three minutes and ran into the house.
I glanced around the living room, registering only momentarily that I was in Sloan’s personal space. It smelled like vanilla. It was clean. The flowers I’d sent her sat by an easel with a half-painted canvas of a pug dressed like Napoleon on it. I darted toward the sound of distress and burst into the kitchen to madness.
Sloan was by the sink, soaking wet and panting, standing in an inch of water.
Our gazes met, and she hit me like a ton of bricks. My body’s reaction to her was instantaneous. I could almost feel my pupils dilate as I took her in.
She was a woman who would have frozen me dead in my tracks anywhere. Absolutely showstopping.
I allowed myself two heartbeats to stare at her before I tore my eyes away to look
around. She hadn’t been kidding, this really was bad.
Towels and what must have been the contents of the cabinet were strewn all over the floor. The doors under the sink were open and water sprayed out. Tucker barked and scratched from behind a door off the kitchen.
I quickly rummaged through the open toolbox on the counter, hyperaware that Sloan watched me. Then I dove to my knees to look under the sink, kneeling in a pond of cold water and taking the spray right in the face.
Sloan had amazing water pressure. I was impressed.
The cutoff valve on the water inlet line was jammed. It took a few hard yanks, but I got it shut off. By the time I stopped the flow, I was completely drenched.
I shimmied out and stood, soaking wet, water dripping off the tips of my fingers. I turned to her, raking a hand through my damp hair. She looked at me, her eyes wide, and we stared at each other.
Wow. This is her.
“Hi,” she breathed.
“Hello.”
The short video clip and the tiny picture of her on The Huntsman’s Wife had in no way prepared me for Sloan in person. She was like a 1950s pinup girl. All tattoos and curves. Long hair, loose around her shoulders, wet at the ends.
Smart, funny, and now this. I’d won the fucking lottery. Why she hadn’t been throwing pictures at me right and left was beyond me. Maybe she didn’t want me to know how good-looking she was for the same reason I downplayed what I did for a living? I didn’t know, but this was a welcome surprise for sure.
Her wide, brown eyes moved down my chest and back to my face. The only sounds were the water still trickling out from under the sink and the thrumming of my heart in my ears.
The corner of her mouth twitched. Then she started to laugh, and I mentally assigned the image to every smiling moment I’d imagined on the phone.
Beautiful.
“I’m glad you didn’t make things weird for our first appointment,” I said. “Just a run-of-the-mill, no-stress, first-meeting flood.”