“Not as fun as it would be if I were there with Shane,” I said with a little melancholy. “I wish I could help you more. Though, arguably, there may not be a person on this planet who needs more help than Mark Bailey.”
She chuckled. “You’d get wildly bored. Beyond burping, diapers, and cleaning up messes, I mostly just nurse him and bounce on that stupid exercise ball to help him fall asleep. It’s not thrilling. But it has lovely moments.”
“Any news on the shop?”
“Just waiting for the insurance adjuster.”
“Any mail?”
The question fell like a thousand-pound rock.
Bethany shook her head. “Sorry, no word from Pinnable yet.”
My hope plummeted. Asking about news from the regular mail only made my desperation obvious—they’d probably email or call if they wanted an interview. Bethany leaned her head back and studied me through the phone.
“So? How is living around the Bailey boys? I’m dying of curiosity.”
“Things are fine.” I shrugged. “Mark is . . . interesting. He’s kind of a pack rat, honestly. Some of the papers he’s kept? Random.”
She grinned. “So I’ve heard. I don’t know them that well. Their dad came by for coffee pretty often, but that’s the extent of it for me.”
“I don’t think many people know them well anymore. Part of me thinks they like being hermits.”
“What does JJ do for a living?”
“Great question. I can’t figure it out. If he’s not out on the mountain or helping Justin, he’s buying groceries or cooking in the big camp kitchen.”
“Huh.”
“Something is going on with him,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out. But everything he cooks is delicious, so I’ll take it.”
“Does it stink like man-cave?”
I laughed. “Not anymore. I brought your old wax warmer and hid it behind a stack of papers. Now it smells like vanilla. But frankly, I’m not sure I can live here much longer in this state, so I made a Pinnable corkboard. That office is a man-disaster. Mark uses socks to warm his hands because he can’t find his gloves. Which are on the floor by the fire, but he couldn’t see them because of his boots.”
She snorted.
“Don’t laugh.” I angled my phone to show her my computer screen, propped up on my bed next to me. “See? I’ve already started a corkboard that will help me rearrange the office with a new aesthetic.”
“What?”
“I know.” I panned the camera back to me. “Outside my job description. But it’s needed. They’re a hot mess.”
“How are you going to do that?” she asked, subtly readjusting Shane with a little grimace.
“Slowly. And quietly. I have a plan.”
Bethany laughed again. “I’m sure you do. They probably won’t even notice until you do something drastic.”
“I could probably shave Mark’s head and he wouldn’t notice.”
“Stop.” She giggled. “I think I’m squirting Shane in the face.”
My mind wandered to the bizarre discussion I’d had with JJ yesterday morning about romance. As soon as the idea of telling Bethany about it surfaced, I shoved it back down. There wasn’t much to say.
In fact, I’d left as confused as him.
For how much I loved romance, I still didn’t know how to define it in an appropriate and all-encompassing way. Not without an entire paragraph and an army of adjectives at my beck and call. My binder was mostly empty.
Plus, the moment I’d called out his gesture as romantic, I’d felt a jolt all the way to my spine. Why had I done that? It had taken us both by surprise. He probably thought I looked for romance in everything.
Which wasn’t actually wrong.
Of course, this sort of thing happened all the time in romance novels. The heroine, fighting her startling attraction, would study the love interest for any sign of affection. He’d give only a few hints—obvious though they were to me, the reader—that seemed to pass by the heroine. But still, I’d know his feelings for her.
Even better if the book had a dual point-of-view.
It always felt better when I actually knew what was happening. In real life, there was no dual point-of-view. My utter lack of insight into JJ’s mind left me swimming in uncertainty, engulfed in the desire to hole up in my room.
Besides, he had a few points, I had to reluctantly admit. Why had his cleaning and mice removal been a romantic gesture? I had no idea, but it was. Surely, it had roots in something. I’d have to psychoanalyze it later.
Despite all my best efforts to stay strong, I couldn’t stop a niggling doubt: What if he was right? What if romance wasn’t real and I was in for a world of hurt?
Before that grew steam, Bethany turned the conversation. “When are you coming home next?”
“Not sure. Maybe this weekend? I told Mark I wanted Saturday and Sunday off.”
“Great.”
“Why?”
“Because I have a huge favor to ask.”
“Anything.”
She grimaced. “Don’t say that yet, because you may not be on board. There’s a couple I’ve been working with for a month now. They found a house they want, and an offer is about to come through. But the buyers want to check out the Jackson City area to make sure they like it. They’re city people.”
“Okay.”
She bit her bottom lip. “I think their son might buy it for them.”
“Well, that’s nice.”
“He told them he wants to get a feel for the place before he gives his blessing on buying it. They said something about him possibly moving out to be near them? I’m not really sure. It’s their we’re-going-to-buy-it-and-live-there-till-we-die house.”
“Don’t tell me you want me to show him around.”
“No. They’re exploring on their own, but the son would like to talk to a local about Jackson City. I want you to go to dinner with him and talk to him about what it’s like living in the mountains.”
“What?” I cried. “Why?”
“Because it will make him feel more comfortable!
