“Go on.” Her voice whispered, barely audible. “I have to get dressed.”
He breathed in, his chest rising and then falling under his simple gray sweatshirt, before brushing past her and closing the bedroom door behind him.
When she emerged from the bedroom fully clothed and supremely confused, he sat at the kitchen island holding a fork and staring at the pie like an oracle.
“It’s probably still not cool enough to cut,” she said. She tucked a loose curl into the bun she’d quickly twisted on top of her head, but it fell back down almost immediately. She hoped Vin was into unruly hairdos.
Or did she? Was it normal to hope a guy didn’t like you enough to want a second date before you’d even gone on the first one?
After retrieving a knife from the drawer, she turned back to the island to find Jared staring at her like he’d been staring at the pie. Openmouthed, wide-eyed.
“What?”
“You look hot.” He pressed his lips together like he was sorry he’d said it. “I mean, I can’t remember the last time I saw you dressed up.”
“The funeral.”
He snorted a laugh, and all at once she remembered why they were such good friends. She didn’t need to explain to him that it was a joke, or that he didn’t have to be delicate with her. They could be themselves.
“Seriously,” he said. “You, uh . . . you look good.”
She tugged at the sleeve of her fluttery red blouse. The neck dipped low, exposing a stretch of cleavage typically hidden under stained T-shirts and heavy winter garb, but she figured date night called for something outside her everyday look. She’d even slicked on a deep berry-colored lipstick. The way Jared gawked at her, she guessed it worked.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Where are you going?”
She pressed her lips together and tried to swallow the discomfort tickling her throat. “To dinner.”
His eyes narrowed. “With that Indigo weasel?”
She shook her head and sunk the knife into the pie, averting her eyes. “He’s not a weasel. He even asked to take me to dinner instead of meeting up with him and his buddies at Taylor’s the way most guys in this town do.”
“So the bar was already at an all-time low. Well played, weasel.”
“Stop.” Her voice lacked conviction. “He’s nice.”
Jared scoffed. “Nice? I showed the guy a rental property. He’s a total douche.”
“A rental property? In Pine Ridge?” She stopped cutting mid-slice and looked at her friend, whose cheeks had turned blotchy.
“The company put him up in Utica, so I told him he’d be better off renting a place nearby to cut down on the commute. He’s renting the old Fuller house.”
She waited for the rest of the story, but Jared sat stone still, simply watching her like he’d done during the staring contests they used to have as kids. “Well, that was nice of you.”
He pursed his lips and turned back to the pie. “Just trying to make that money. Are you gonna cut that or what?”
“Why is he a douche?”
Vitriol colored Jared’s tone. She needed to know why.
“I dunno.” His eyes remained trained on the pie.
“I’m going on a date with this guy, so if there’s something I should be aware of, can you just spit it out?”
His jaw worked back and forth, and he crossed his arms tightly across his chest. The color remained in his smooth cheeks. He still wouldn’t look at her.
“Jared.”
He looked up. The golden kitchen lights bathed his face in a warm glow, and his green eyes burned right through her. Tension tugged at his mouth.
She swallowed, but the parched feeling in her throat remained. What if all Jared needed was an opening? Would he admit something was different between them? She had to ask. She simply had to. “Is there any reason I shouldn’t go on a date with this guy?”
He unfolded his arms and ran a hand through his hair, sending it sticking up in uncharacteristic chaos.
Sex hair.
She tightened her thighs as if somehow just the thought of him in bed might send her off an orgasmic cliff.
“No,” he said. “I’m just . . . protective over you. That’s all.”
Her heart sank into her stomach. Protective. Right. Definitely not wild with jealousy at the thought of her with another man. She tiptoed backward from the edge of the cliff.
“Fine.” She slid the knife through the pie and then used a serving utensil to lift the dripping slice out of the pan. “See. I told you it was too hot.”
* * *
* * *
Seven o’clock came and went. Jared lingered at her place, sneaking forkfuls of the pear pie she’d already deemed subpar based on fruit quality. As much as she didn’t want him in her apartment when Vin arrived, she also didn’t necessarily force him out.
At six forty-eight he’d asked, “Lemon or lime?” and thirty minutes later, they collapsed into hysterical laughter as the game devolved into gems like, “One ply or two?” and “Would you rather smell like tuna for the rest of your life, or every time you burped, a tiny word cloud appeared over your head with the exact thought you were thinking at the moment of the burp?”
“Oh shit,” Mila said, rising from the couch and noticing the time. “Did I get stood up?”
“Maybe he heard your shitty music from the hallway and thought twice about dating you.” Jared grinned, settling back into his regular spot in the corner of the couch.
“Twenty bucks says you have a Randy Travis album in your car right now.” She trailed her tongue across her lip and reached for her cell phone. “You have absolutely no room to weigh in on what good music is.”
The phone in her hand dinged with a text notification from Vin, and she checked the screen.
Call me?
She picked up her home phone and dialed his number, avoiding Jared’s stare as best she could. He didn’t even pretend not to listen in.
“Mila, I’m so sorry,” Vin said as soon as he picked up. “I was on my way to pick you up and I got a call from the hotel that a pipe burst, and they need me on-site. I hate to do this, but can we rain-check dinner?”
A weight lifted off her shoulders. Did normal girls experience unfiltered relief when their dates canceled on them? She crossed her arms over her chest and turned further away from Jared. He’d have a field day if he saw any trace of joy on her lips.
She promised Vin it was no problem, hesitantly agreed to a drink on another night, and hung up after he apologized once more. After she replaced the phone in the cradle, she turned back to Jared, who quickly erased the hint of a smile from his face.
Forced disapproval knit his brow. “Dick move,” he said. “Canceling after you’re already late?”
She shrugged. “There was an emergency at the hotel. We’re gonna grab a drink next Monday night.”
Jared nodded slowly and ran a hand across his chin, the sound of skin on stubble like nutmeg on the grater and eliciting the same warm, tingling sensation in her chest.
“Bummer.” Sarcasm hung heavy on the word. “So, you’re free tonight?”
“I guess.”
“All dressed up and no place to go.”
She narrowed her gaze and placed her hands on her hips. “I was canceled on. What’s your excuse?”
“You’re right.” His lips curled into a grin. “I should see if I can scrounge up a date.”
Even joking, the thought of him with another girl summoned tension to her shoulders. Jared’s past was common Pine Ridge knowledge, and more than once they’d had to switch tables at a restaurant or hurry into another aisle at the grocery store to avoid an awkward run-in with someone he’d slept with and never went out with again. He told Mila he was always honest with the women he hooked up with, but she wondered.
/> “You should,” she countered. “I’m sure there are at least two or three lonely women at Utz’s or Taylor’s right now, just waiting for your smarmy ass to walk in the door and shake up their evening.”
The grin faded from his lips, and the taut column of his throat constricted as he swallowed. As the urge to lick him from clavicle to chin washed over her, she took a step backward, brushing up against the refrigerator. When would these lusty feelings pass? What would it take for her to stop seeing him this way?
A mind eraser.
“I’m not like that anymore,” he said.
“Oh, you’re not? Forgive me. I must be misremembering the last time you and Chloe were on the outs and you took home that semiprofessional rower who was in town on vacation.”
His cheeks flushed, and he lifted his gaze, his forest green eyes blazing. “That was a year ago.”
“And now you’re reformed?”
“Forget it.” He pressed on his knees and stood up from the couch. “I’m gonna go.”
He grabbed his coat and brushed past her, moving steadily toward the door.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “Now you’re gonna pout?”
He turned sharply, a delicate wave of warm, spicy cologne washing over her. He stood close enough that she could see the heavy lashes overlapping at the corners of his eyes. The closeness paralyzed her.
“I’m not like that anymore.” The gravel in his voice shivered down her spine. “Seriously, Lee.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t believe me.” His jaw tensed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But you just broke up with your long-term girlfriend because she wanted to get married. You physically flinch at engagement ring commercials. And up until . . . apparently . . . a year ago, you were king of the one-night stand. I’m just drawing logical conclusions here.”
He shook his head. “I can be anti-marriage and also not want to treat women like shit.”
She drew in a deep breath. Anti-marriage. So not everything about him had changed. “No one ever said you treated women like shit.”
“Well, I did. I don’t need anybody to say it out loud to know it’s true.”
She tucked her arms across her chest and ran her tongue across her teeth. He used to carry the reputation like a badge of honor, grinning and laughing and slapping hands when one of his guy friends joked about the Kirkland swagger or how Jared hadn’t experienced a sex drought since he lost his virginity at the ripe old age of sixteen.
“Maybe you’re growing up,” she said.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and dragged tense fingers across his eyebrow. “Or maybe I’m just tired of doing the same old shit.”
Something in her chest deflated. Did he include her in that statement? Was being around her the same old shit? She ran a hand over her arm, suddenly chilled.
“Speaking of the same old shit,” he said. “You wanna go get a drink?”
“Actually,” she said, “if I have a whole night free, I should test out some more recipes. I don’t have all that much time to dedicate to testing with my work schedule, so this is sort of a gift.”
His face clouded over. “Ah, okay. I’ll head out, then. Leave you to it.”
“No!”
The second the word shot out of her mouth, his eyebrows rose into his forehead. “It’s not goodbye forever, weirdo.”
She nestled her thumbnail between her teeth, properly shielding half her face. What was her problem lately? Spending platonic time with him felt like having an itch in the middle of her back she couldn’t quite reach.
“I just meant you don’t have to go. You know, if you don’t have any other plans tonight.”
“No offense, but I’ve been in the room when you’re testing. You’re not the most . . . social.”
Okay, he had her there. With the pressure of the contest and the money at stake, she’d be even more focused than usual. And the truth was, she didn’t know where to go from here. The cinnamon pear pie was good, but it wasn’t anything to write home about. She could practically hear her mother’s voice.
No, it’s good. Really, Mila. Very tasty. Hey, you know who makes a good pie? Safeway.
“That’s fair,” she said quietly.
He studied her, his eyes darkening with seriousness that made her stomach tighten. These moments happened more frequently lately. The young, goofy Jared mask slipped, and they connected over something deeper. Like he was trying to show her another side of himself. Another possibility.
“How’s all this going?” he asked. “You feel like you found the recipe yet?”
“Mm.” She stared at the pie plate, one giant wedge and several additional forkfuls missing. “No. This was okay.”
“Are you kidding?” he stammered. “This was legendary. You better add this to the rotation no matter what.”
“You’re sweet. It’s just the fruit . . . It’s March, you know? The worst season for fruit. And we’re in North Country, where I have even less access to quality produce.” Mediocrity threatened her fingertips. Pine Ridge’s famous pie baker couldn’t get past simple fruit combinations and chocolate tarts. “I feel a little stuck.”
“Of course you feel stuck. You’ve done nothing but work and bake and work and bake for the past, I dunno, twenty years of your life? When’s the last time you let your hair down?”
“Let my hair down?” She grinned. “Golly gee, I’m not sure, Aunt Georgie.”
“Ha. Ha.” His lips downturned into a sarcastic smirk. “I mean it. You need some fun in your life.”
“I had fun at your party.”
He dropped his chin. “You had two beers and left at ten o’clock.”
“Okay.” She raised her arms and let them slap down against her thighs. “So take me out, Kirkland. Let’s have some fun.”
“Don’t tease me.”
She laughed. “I’m not.”
“We’re gonna have fun?”
“Yes.”
“Fun that lasts past ten?”
“Yes.”
“Fun that includes calling Sam at two in the morning to ask him to come pick us up and then having him yell at us not to puke in his back seat during the ride home?”
Her cheeks burned at the memory. Pine Ridge had one cab company, and Herb knew Jared far too well to risk picking him up after midnight.
“Yes, J.” She brushed crust crumbs from her hands. “Let me just go change.”
“Nuh-uh.” He grabbed her wrist, sparks shooting up her arm. “If Vin was gonna get this version of you, then I want this version of you, too.”
From the waist down, her body turned to jelly. He bit his lower lip and blinked, as if realizing what he’d said. His hand slid away from her wrist, and he stepped backward.
“You think I’m arm candy, huh?” Did he hear the tremor in her voice?
He cleared his throat. “Obviously. You know me. If I’m not making the other guys in the bar jealous, I don’t want to be there.”
With one last mind-clearing breath, she grabbed her purse. “Okay, Fabio. Let’s go.”
chapter five
I know where we’re going.”
Jared’s secretive gaze slid over to the passenger seat in his car, but he remained silent. He said he wanted to surprise her, but there was no such option for a Pine Ridge local who knew every cool spot within a hundred-mile radius.
“That coffee shop that serves local beer at night, right? Jam’s or something?”
His eyebrows jumped into his forehead as if to say, Maybe, and he turned his attention back to the road. Twilight settled into the dense forest surrounding them, coaxing the melodies of nightfall out of the wildlife within. Crickets chirped, furry animals scuttled along the forest floor, and bats flapped overhead. Anyone who came to the Adirondacks for peaceful, quiet evenings had never been i
n the woods at night.
Mila leaned against the cool glass and soaked in the blurred view. She loved Pine Ridge. The inky nights, the sparkling lakes, the air so pure and clean it melted on your tongue like ice cream. Her life hadn’t always reflected the postcard-perfect scenes sold at tourist shops in town, but nothing in life was perfect. The town suited her best that way.
Jared’s silver Camry rounded a tight corner before slowing abruptly and turning into a parking lot filled nearly to capacity. At the far end of the lot stood a dark wood structure with a pink, neon sign blazing on the roof. EAT AT JAM’S.
“Wait,” Mila said slowly. “Is this the same place?”
“How about when I tell you something’s a surprise, you let the unknown of it just wash over you?” He closed his eyes, fluttering his fingers dramatically across his cheeks. “Letting it all just waaaash over you.”
She slapped his hand, and he smacked himself in the face, his eyes flying open in mock outrage.
“How dare you?” he said through laughter. “You know, you try to do something nice . . .”
“Hey, have we met? I don’t like surprises.”
He huffed out one long, dramatic sigh. “It’s just a cool spot with good food and live music that happens to be owned by a guy who bought a house from me a few years back who also happens to own a pretty serious vineyard in the Finger Lakes.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Okay?”
“A vineyard with grape crops. Concord grapes.”
The words rang in her head like a bell. New York–grown fruit. She wet her lips in anticipation.
“Grapes he’d be willing to part with?”
Jared shrugged. “Won’t know until we ask. Right?”
Visions of tarts, cakes, and pies danced in Mila’s head. The mouthwatering Concord grape cookies Edith O’Hare baked up for last year’s Harvest Festival. The tangy grape quick bread Karen Walsh gifted the Bailey family the day Aunt Georgie passed. The classic grape pie Mila whipped up at the diner after closing last year. The possibilities seemed endless. Unique. And New York grown.
Sweet Love Page 6