Smoke? What the heck is wrong with you, Mary? There’s nothing sexy about a fire.
Besides, he doesn’t want sex from me—of course that’s not what he wants.
So what does he want?
But he’s waiting for an answer, and I find myself saying, “Yes. Where would be convenient?”
He releases a sigh, but it doesn’t sound relieved. More like he’s dreading this conversation. “I’ll meet you wherever you like.”
Again, I have that vision of a bedroom—his bedroom—and to shake it off, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Tea of Fortune. They…um…I hear they have a lunch menu now.”
“Sure, that’s fine,” he says. “Twelve o’clock?”
“Uh. Yes. That would be good. I’ll see you there?”
“See you soon, Mary.”
Before I can even process what’s happened, he hangs up.
Tea of Fortune? What came over me?
Tea of Fortune is the tea shop run by an old family friend, Dottie Hendrickson. I’m fond of Dottie, only a stone could withstand her charm, but she’s the most eccentric person alive, and she’s certain to have ideas about why I’d show up at her tea shop with a gorgeous man—and have no compunction about expressing those ideas.
It’s just…my rational mind doesn’t work right around Jace, and the first thing I thought of popped out of my mouth. Maisie and I were talking about Dottie last night, and Maisie conveyed some more sisterly wisdom.
“You barely talked to her at Thanksgiving. You kept hiding behind Aidan, and once I even saw you duck behind the turkey,” Maisie said, rolling her eyes. “She cares about you, and she really wants to have a heart-to-heart. You should go see her at her tea shop. Seriously.”
It’s hard to say no to Maisie, even more so when she has Mabel cradled in her arms, so I promised I’d visit Dottie sometime, and Jace makes me lose my head, so now, apparently, I will be fulfilling my promise under the most humiliating circumstances possible. At this point, the only thing I can do to head this off is go early so I can try to waylay Dottie and her ideas.
It’s only later, when I’m in the car, that I realize there’s only one reason Jace would ask to meet with me privately, without my son.
He knows I’m lusting after him, and he wants to let me down easy.
Oh God. How embarrassing.
The fact that Dottie will likely be hanging around, watching us and probably trying to matchmake us, only makes everything worse.
There’s no sign of a red truck when I get there, which isn’t surprising given I’m ten minutes early. I go in, and a familiar person with short dark hair and large eyes perks up and rushes toward me.
“Are you here for lunch, Mary?”
It’s only as she comes closer that I place her. This is one of Molly’s roommates—Tina, the one who talks a lot. I probably should have known she works here, but somehow that information failed to make it to my long-term memory. That’s not like me. In any case, this means Molly is about to get an earful about Jace. Shoot.
“Um, yeah,” I say. “I’m a little early, but I’m meeting a friend. A platonic friend.”
She nods as if that wasn’t a purely insane thing to say and leads me to an empty booth in the back. I notice a huge star made of sticks and covered in holly, propped against the wall across from me, along with several wreaths. It comes as no surprise that Dottie, like Hilde, favors pagan decorations.
“More private this way,” Tina says as I slide in. It’s on the tip of my tongue to repeat myself—platonic, platonic—but she’s sliding into the booth across from me.
Oh God. If Jace finds us sitting like this, it’s going to be even more awkward. Hi, Jace, you know how you asked me here to kindly let me down? I brought a friend to witness my embarrassment! The more the Mary-er.
She must see it on my face because she gives the air a little swat. “I’ll just be a moment. I wanted to ask you about Nicole. You’re joining her Bad Luck Club?”
Is there anyone who doesn’t know?
I settle for a slight nod. “She’s persuasive.”
Tina lights up. “I want to join too.”
“You’re unlucky?” I ask, genuinely shocked. Admittedly, I’ve only met her twice, but she seems like the kind of person who’s always happy. She’s certainly not the kind of woman who’d let anyone else tell her what to do or think or be. She wouldn’t spend her whole life hiding.
Still, a little voice reminds me, How do you know? Didn’t you always seem like the kind of person who had it together?
She makes a dramatic frown. “Let’s just say it’s best if I don’t play the lottery. What did Nicole ask you to do for your first challenge?”
I have this sudden fear that I’m going to tell her, and Jace is going to walk in just in time to hear the news about my new vibrator, which is due to arrive on Friday, hopefully after Glenn’s parents pick up Aidan for his weekend in Charlotte. The fear of him overhearing, of him knowing I’m thinking of sex, is so heavy, so convincing, that I just shrug. “I can’t tell you until you join.”
She gives me a big, dramatic wink. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.” Then she stands and asks, “Do you know what you want?” as if I’m a regular who comes in every day for tea and snacks.
“No, a menu would be great,” I say stiffly. “Is Dottie here?”
“She stepped out for a moment.” She leans over to grab a couple of menus from the counter and hands them to me. “But I’ll send her by as soon as she gets back.”
That’s not ideal. In fact, it’s very far from ideal, but I can’t exactly ask her not to send Dottie over. Dottie wouldn’t listen anyway.
“So,” she says, conversationally, “Is Platonic Man hot?”
It’s then that I see him, stepping through the door. And I’m not the only one. Every woman in the place seems to turn toward the door as if pulled by a magnetic force. Is this what happens to him all the time? Is his life one constant stream of letting women down easy?
Tina turns around, totally obvious, and whistles. “If that’s Platonic Man, you really need to do some soul searching, my friend. I recommend the matcha tea for clarity of mind.”
“Sure,” I say, the quicker to get her away.
“I see what you’re doing,” she says. “But I’ll allow it. You don’t need to tell Handsome you know me.”
Given that he’s looking at us, those eyes zeroing in on me, making the world seem to condense down to this table, this moment, it’s pretty unlikely he hasn’t noticed. But I can’t summon words right now.
She steps away, whistling “O Christmas Tree,” and I get shakily to my feet as Jace approaches me. We’ve only met once, so a nod would do, but I have a weird need to touch him, even if it’s for the last time, and I reach my hand out for a shake as if this were some sort of business meeting. Which it is, I guess.
He doesn’t hesitate to take my hand, his long, capable fingers engulfing mine, shocking me with their calluses and strength. Two thoughts occur to me at once: Glenn’s hands weren’t like this. Every man’s hands should be like this.