Lizbeth blinked. “Wow. No wonder you have a thing against romance.”
“It’s not so much a thing as experience. Romance leads to a broken heart.”
“That wasn’t romance’s fault,” she said. “Your romantic gestures were a sincere reflection of your effort and the way you felt. The fallout? That was Stacey. She used you and manipulated you. A person broke your heart, JJ. Not love.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. She was right, and I felt it in my bones. Perhaps I’d held a vendetta against romance all these years because I assumed Stacey was in love with love. But really, Stacey had been in love with herself.
Romance had nothing to do with it.
With a sigh that dropped my shoulders an inch, I nodded. “You’re right. Point to you, Lizbeth. Romance often gets blamed for people’s problems, and I’ve been guilty of that for the last eight years.”
No sense of victory lit up her gaze, and I knew the feeling well.
She set down her fork. “Are you going to hold my hand again when we leave?”
“Yes. Do you want me to?”
She nodded, and I offered her a soft smile as we dug back into our food.
23 Lizbeth
The next day, I sat in the office and stared at the rest of the papers.
Only one small pile remained. One stupid, ridiculous group of papers left and I could move on to developing the online interface for the investors and working on the websites.
Still, I wanted to stick a fork in my eyes at the thought of scanning one more page. When I finished the paperwork, half my work here would be done. The online stuff would move easily and quickly.
Except, I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to finish.
Now that I’d Pinnable’d this place out, it wasn’t half-bad here at the office. Living in the warmth of Adventura had felt so . . . easy. Uncomplicated.
Did I want to leave?
There was also the matter of JJ and whatever was budding between us. I thought for far too long of the way it felt to sit next to him in the Zombie Mobile, his hand in mine.
Was this real?
Then again, how could it not be?
To make the day bearable while JJ tortured me by working in the main kitchen for far too long, I uploaded files and puttered around the office. Shelved books by topic and height. Placed a blanket that I’d found in the spare bedroom over the back of the couch for a splash of color. A little organization had a profound effect.
Though the Bailey boys hadn’t said anything, the way they stopped and stared as if they couldn’t figure out what had happened always made me giggle.
While I waited for the latest batch of pictures to upload, I leaned back in the chair and grabbed my newest read, The King’s Desire. An otherworld, Regency-esque romance with said castles and dresses. So far, it hadn’t disappointed, though it had been a bit . . . rote. Since when did I predict so much of the plot?
Annoyed, I set it aside, grabbed the love binder, and updated my observations. His confession about Stacey had been a big one. The fact that he’d conceded a point to me should have thrilled me, but it didn’t. I recorded it, but didn’t like the way it had happened. So far, we were even.
Romance still had a chance.
And maybe we did too.
Something definitive had shifted between us yesterday. My mind kept wandering to the movie. Then lunch. Now I wanted more. More of him. More confessions. More JJ in his element.
The rustle of JJ’s parka and snow pants drew me out of my reverie. He shuffled in through the main door with a smile. My stomach flipped.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi.”
He set a plate on the table. The smell of sugar and butter drew me closer. Pastries! A glaze had crisped along the edges. I broke a piece off, and it crumbled on my fingertips.
“Oddballs,” he said as he tossed his coat onto a peg on the wall. “They look a little funny, but taste delicious.”
In truth, I thought their gleaming brown tops graced with fruit compotes were gorgeous. I snatched one with a grin. Where was he taking the non-oddballs? And why all the secrecy around the baked goods?
With a wink, he pressed a quick kiss to my cheek, then grabbed a coffee mug. My heart raced like a hummingbird when he leaned against the table and just looked at me. “You look beautiful today,” he finally said. “Like always.”
“Oh.” Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Thanks.”
“Mark and Justin plan to offer their tribute of fire to the gods of paper and snow tonight, if you want to come.” He poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. “I plan on making homemade hot chocolate.”
“I’ll be there.”
Images of chanting, fire, and snow flashed through my mind. I had little doubt Mark would make it dramatic—probably with copious amounts of lighter fluid. It fit his rampant energy.
Regardless, it was the perfect culmination to finishing all the paperwork.
JJ lounged back against the sink. “That was a huge project, Lizbeth. Well done.”
“Thanks.”
The end of the huge project left a sizeable gap in my plans for the week. Further grilling of Mark had given me no guidance on what to do next. I’d probably start with the website. He’d been using social media and one web page that looked like a dinosaur had created it.
While I was excited to work with design again, I couldn’t wait to revisit my Pinnable corkboard. Not only because I’d been trying to ignore the fact that I hadn’t heard back on the job despite emailing them to ask for an update, but because there was something steadying about making plans.
“I started a new romance book after our date last night,” he said. “One that came on my mom’s recommendation.”
“Oh?”
My curiosity was piqued even as I relished the words our date. Romance was one thing. Plot structure was another. Every dissection of a romance novel gave me a physical
