Jake’s smile faded. “Your friend’s less than thrilled to see me.”
“We watch out for each other.”
“And I’m the dangerous, bad-boy ex.” He leaned in, looping an arm around my waist.
“Hardly.” I sidestepped, smothering a laugh at the suggestion that Jake—AKA Mister Responsibility—could even pretend to be the stereotypical bad boy. “Still, go home.”
“I’m sorry.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “That seems to be all I say to you lately, but I am … sorry.”
“Sure, until next time when you’ll be sorry again. East Coast”—I pointed at his chest, then hooked my thumbs toward myself—“West Coast. How is that supposed to work?”
“Maybe we’ve both grown up. Maybe this is our chance.” He glanced over his shoulder as one of my neighbours entered the building. “Can we go inside and talk privately?”
I shook my head. Alone with this charmer. Worst-ever idea. Somehow, we never ended up just talking. “There’s a coffee shop around the corner.”
“Lead the way.”
Chapter 8
The warmth of Jake’s hand against my back as he ushered me inside the door of the café made me shiver. “Chai latte, Mar?”
“Mmmhmm.” I draped my coat over one of the wicker chairs before settling into the chocolate-coloured faux leather seat.
Jake slung his leather jacket over the back of another chair and set the package on the table before heading toward the front counter. He extracted his bank card from his wallet, his chuckle carrying across the café as the barista batted big baby blues and smiled with a practiced coyness. Jake leaned in, shaking his head at whatever the woman said as she fiddled with the machine, finally placing two mint-green ceramic cups on the counter and fluttering her lashes.
Moments later, Jake set my cup in front of me. “Why so serious?”
“Hmmm?” I forced the corners of my mouth up, ignoring the covert glances from the flirty barista. Checking for evidence of couple’s chemistry and assessing Jake’s potential availability, no doubt.
His brows drew together, but then smoothed, a tight smile appearing as he sat across from me. “I never can tell what you’re thinking.”
I lifted one shoulder, distracting myself with the artistry of the leaf etched in the foam.
“It’s that flattering, huh?” Jake raked his fingers through his hair and stared at me, barely blinking, then pushed the box toward me. “Brought you something. Sorry, it’s not wrapped with a pretty bow on top, but I had to put it in my carry-on bag, so …”
“What are you up to?” I removed the tab of scotch tape and unhooked the flap. Ha. Classic Jake. “It’s perfect,” I said as I lifted the mug from the box. “I tried to replace the broken one, but I couldn’t find any that matched.”
“I used my superior sleuthing skills and tracked down the artisan. She remembered the design, so she made one for me.”
“Thank you. That’s sweet.” I reached across the table and squeezed his hand, aching to hug him. But how could I? What kind of message would that send? Instead, I wrapped my fingers securely around my cup of chai.
“You wanted to know what this”—he waved between us—“is.”
I scuffed the toe of my leather boot across the rough tile. “Maybe it doesn’t matter. Go back to your life and forget about it.”
“I can’t.” He pried my fingers loose from the mint-green cup and gripped my hand. “The question caught me unprepared.” Jake brushed his fingertips over my palm, his light sensuous touch making me twitch. “I didn’t know what to say, and then when I did, you ignored my phone calls. Did you get the bouquet?”
“Yes.” I tugged free and clasped my hands in my lap. “Stargazers. Nice touch.”
“Why the sarcasm? Remember when we’d lay on the beach for hours looking at the stars?”
“Yeah, and you’re using that to get to me.”
“Wow. Cynical.” He shook his head slowly. “The florist had an amazing display of lilies, and I thought about you and how close you seemed on those nights, that maybe you’d remember how much fun we had, and the flowers might make you smile. Silly me.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, now feeling like most churlish human in existence. I’d never forgotten the soothing shush of waves on the dark beach wrapping us in a secure cocoon, keeping my secrets safe even as I’d bared my deepest fears and feelings to this man. “They made me smile, and cry, and miss you. I hated you a little, too, for playing that card.”
Jake’s smile was tinged with sadness. “It’s not a play. I’m working my way through a bundle of confusing feelings, but you’re not cooperating, at all.”
“It’s too complicated. That’s why this thing is over.”
“Is it?” He traced the jagged heart embedded in our table. “I wonder if ours is still there.”
I gnawed on my lip, picturing the perfectly formed heart Jake painstakingly carved so long ago in that Muskoka dock one hot night in mid-August. J.C. + A.G. forever.
“This is my first real relationship since …” Jake closed his eyes, tapping a fingertip against the scarred wood. “Jumping into something, considering our history, is dangerous. I get that.”
I considered my next words, debating, keeping one eye on Jake as I took a long lingering swallow of the perfect blend of chai and honey. “It isn’t anything,” I said, finally. “We can’t let it.”
“It might be something.” That finger was in motion again as he bowed his head. “It seemed—seems—like everything.”
It had to be said. Didn’t it? Allowing him an easy out was the right thing. The kind thing. Wasn’t it? Damn. Those eyes. Quit looking at me like that, Jakob. All that hope, that sweetness, that …
“If we take it slow. Stay low key.”
“Long distance?” My knee twitched, speeding into a nervous bounce as I slurped another mouthful of tea. “Like that ever works.”
He brushed his thumb over my top lip. “Maybe if I was closer.” That thumb travelled to his mouth, riveting me as it transferred that tiny lick of chai froth between those kissable lips.
Mmmm. Closer. That I
