Hooked Page 12

  “Great. I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

  He gave her a smile and then headed back into the garage.

  She just leaned up against the counter and tried to figure what she’d just done. She’d agreed to have coffee with Clay Reynolds, the last guy she’d ever thought would want to see her again.

  She didn’t know what it meant, if anything. She did know it would probably be a very awkward and strained conversation. She’d forgiven him for his transgression. She wondered if he’d forgiven her for her lies.

  Chapter 10

  Catching Up

  “COME on, just pick something,” Jenna muttered to herself as she looked at her clothes.

  She’d been standing in front of the open closet for almost five minutes trying to find something to wear. She’d already picked up a dozen different outfits, holding them up against herself and then putting them back.

  “It’s coffee, not a night at the opera.” She shoved the dress she’d pulled out of the closet back on the rung and shook her head.

  She and Clay were going for coffee at eight-thirty. It was true it was Friday night, but that didn’t mean anything. He wanted to catch up, not wine and dine her. This wasn’t even a date; it was a reunion of sorts. She didn’t understand why she was nervous.

  It was true the past two times she’d seen him their reunions had ended in fights. The first one was on him, the second one was on both of them. Now they were meeting for the third time, and she didn’t know what to expect.

  He’d put her car repairs under his code to save her some money. What did that mean? Unless he’d completely changed his personality, she knew it didn’t mean he expected sex or any sort of repayment, but at the same time she wondered why he’d done it. Was he still feeling guilty for lying to her? For causing her pregnancy and for her miscarriage? Was he just genuinely a nice guy and would he have done the same for any of their classmates? Did he do it because he’d been happy to see her and he’d wanted to catch up, and not out of guilt?

  He was doing well. He had a job, he looked as handsome as ever, and he still seemed to be a decent guy. He wouldn’t have given her a second thought over the years if it wasn’t connected to guilt.

  She was unemployed, about to be underemployed, and really had nothing going for her. She’d managed to avoid the “freshman fifteen,” but she’d put on what she called the “after grad ten” on top of putting on the “college ten” so she didn’t even look like she used to while he looked better.

  She’d gotten frumpy and a little chubby, and he’d gotten cut and gorgeous. He could have his pick of women. Why would he even look at her in that way?

  Just then something dawned on her.

  He could have a girlfriend. It was actually quite likely he was with someone and this was just a friendly coffee to catch up and maybe have one more talk to make sure they were both okay with everything. He could be doing this to ease his guilt, and after their talk he would go home to his girlfriend and she would come home to her empty house.

  The thought was sobering, and surprisingly it hurt.

  She didn’t know what she wanted. She was about to move away and start a new post-grad life. It wasn’t as if she was in any place to start anything with Clay, and she highly doubted he would want to start anything with her.

  She just shook her head and pulled a fitted blue-and-gray plaid shirt and a white ribbed tank top out of her closet and tossed them on the bed. She pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans and a pair of black leggings and looked between them.

  She was already feeling fat enough at the moment and the shirt wasn’t very long. She would wear the jeans. She tossed the leggings back in the closet and grabbed her favorite pair of boots.

  She stripped off her yoga pants and T-shirt and pulled on her clothes. As she zipped up her flat-soled boots she felt the waistband of her jeans digging into her. She was almost out of her current size. A few more pounds and she’d have to buy new pants.

  She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed.

  The shirt was a little tight. It pulled slightly across her chest, but at least there were no gaps in it. Her jeans were definitely too tight and created a little bit of a muffin-top the cut of the shirt couldn’t hide. She looked okay. Not great, but presentable.

  Sighing, she picked up her brush and pulled it through her hair as she looked around for her makeup bag. She didn’t usually wear makeup, but she felt the need to look her best. If this was the last time she was going to see Clay, she didn’t want his memory to be of her too-tight clothes and her pale and washed-out face.

  Bending close to the mirror, she put on just a touch of eyeliner, some mascara, and concealer for the circles under her eyes. As she dabbed on some lip gloss she felt better about herself. Her makeup was subtle, and it made her look better and more rested.

  Picking up her phone, she glanced at the time. He should be here in less than two minutes. She grabbed her jacket and purse and hurried downstairs to wait. Since this wasn’t a date she didn’t know if she should go and wait on the porch, or wait until he pulled in and came up to the house. It seemed a little pointless to stand there waiting for him if she knew he was there. Should she just go wait outside?

  She was still trying to figure out what she should do when she saw headlights through the front window. He was there. Not bothering to wait, she went to the door and pulled it open. As she was stepping outside she saw him turn off the car and open his door.

  “I was going to be a gentleman and come and get you,” he said teasingly as he leaned against the roof of his car, watching as she locked up and started toward him.

  “I guess the whole chivalry being dead is because of women like me.” She grinned as he came around the car, meeting her at the passenger’s door.

  “Nah, not because of women like you. It’s because there’s so few guys like me left that you’re forced to brush off chivalry.” He opened the door for her, making a big show of holding it open so she could climb in. “We gentlemen are a dying breed.”

  “You need some help nailing yourself to that cross?” She laughed as she folded herself into the car.

  “I’ve got long arms.” He grinned and closed the door before coming around to get back in the driver’s seat.

  As he climbed in the car, she discreetly looked him up and down. His coveralls had been a little loose and shapeless. His dark-wash jeans and lightweight black jacket certainly weren’t. His body was incredible, and she quickly looked out the front window when he glanced at her.

  “Any place in particular you want to go?”

  “Not especially. Is there a place you like around here?”

  “It’s not exactly close, but there’s a café I really like. They make the best lattes, and the baristas make little designs in the foam.”

  “Sounds great.” She grinned. “One of the shops at school did that. Sometimes it was hard to figure out what the designs were supposed to be. It was like deciphering a toddler’s artwork some days.”

  He laughed as he backed out of the driveway and pulled onto the street.

  “Here they use tools for the really intricate ones, and they’ll put stencils of something on the top if you ask for cinnamon or chocolate powder.”

  “Fancy.” She grinned at him. “Didn’t know you were so sophisticated.”

  “I’m a man of many interests.”

  “And coffee art is one of those interests?” she teased.

  “One of many.” He nodded and grinned at her.

  She leaned back in her seat and smiled to herself. She’d been worried things would be strained and uncomfortable, but the conversation was natural and came easily. She assumed that had something to do with how they were talking about coffee and not about anything serious. It was nice to know they could still laugh and joke after everything they’d been through.

  The topic switched to their favorite foods a
nd restaurants.

  “Best pizza in town?” she asked as she glanced at him.

  “Uncle Louie’s,” he said without hesitating.

  “Really? That’s mine too.” She looked at him in surprise.

  “It’s the sauce. There’s something about it, and the little bun thing they put in the center.”

  “I know the secret.” She grinned at him.

  “How?” he asked as he looked at her.

  “I figured it out and asked one day.”

  “What is it?”

  “The bun is actually leftover calzone dough they bake up and put in the center of the pizzas after they cook. It’s their version of the little table thing that keeps the lid from hitting the cheese. The sauce is a little harder to figure out.”

  “What is it? The suspense is killing me.”

  “Applesauce.”

  “What?”

  “They add applesauce to the tomato base. That’s the sweet tang.”

  “How the hell did you ever figure that out? It makes sense now that you said it, but how did you figure it out?”

  “My sense of taste was really heightened while I was—” She cut herself off. She’d been about to tell him how her pregnancy had affected her sense of taste and she’d figured it out while she’d been pregnant.

  “While you were what?” He glanced at her. “Oh yeah. While you were pregnant.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “It’s been the elephant in the room for four years now. I think we need to talk about it, and doing it in the car is better than in a café with other people.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” She nodded and looked at him. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

  “I know you are, and now that I’ve had a lot of time to think about it I don’t blame you. Everything you said that night makes sense. I would have done the same thing in your position. I don’t begrudge you not telling me. I just hate how you couldn’t tell me.”

  “Thank you. I’ve been worried you’ve been hating me all these years.”

  “I never hated you.” He gave her a sidelong look. “You, on the other hand, have every right to hate me.”

  “I never hated you either.” She shook her head. “I was shocked, and I was still in a weird place. I shifted the blame I was feeling onto you because it was easy.”

  “Blame? Why would you blame yourself?”

  “I felt guilty. I did what I was supposed to with the vitamins and the not eating or exposing myself to certain things, but I was stressed out. I woke up every morning in knots, and I didn’t relax once between the day I found out and the day it happened. I was freaking out about school and what I was going to do and how I was going to tell everyone, and that stress had to have affected things. It must have contributed to the miscarriage.”

  “I don’t know a lot about this kind of thing, but I do know it’s not your fault,” he said seriously. “If you didn’t take or do something dangerous, then it’s not your fault. Lots of women are stressed during their pregnancies. My mom hid hers for five months, and she didn’t do anything she was supposed to other than not drink. She still had me.” He looked over at her. “You’ll never know why, but you have to know it wasn’t because of you.”

  She looked at him and nodded slowly.

  “You don’t blame me?”

  “How could I blame you for something outside your control?” He shook his head. “I don’t blame you at all, Jenna. I’m just sorry you had to go through all that alone, and when you did tell me I dropped a bomb on you so you couldn’t even lean on me.”

  “Clay, before you start apologizing again, you don’t have to. I know you’re sorry.”

  “But I—”

  “It was wrong, but you were eighteen. I get getting lost and caught up in the moment and your mind not thinking clearly. I was into it, I wanted it, and you made a mistake. If it hadn’t been that day and that time, then nothing would have happened and it wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

  “But something did happen.”

  “Lots of things happen every day.”

  “But what you went through, getting sick—”

  “That was because of me. I didn’t go to the doctor to make sure everything was fine. If I’d gone and gotten checked out, they would have caught it before the infection set in. That was on me.”

  “I still feel terrible.”

  “I know. So do I, but are we really going to torture ourselves over this for another four years? I think it’s something we have to let go of and move on from, or it will eat both of us alive.”

  “True, yeah. I guess you’re right.” He pulled into a parking lot, and she glanced up at the café. She’d never been there before, and it looked quaint.

  “I talked to a school psychologist after I learned everything,” she admitted as he turned off the car and looked at her. “They helped me realize that shit happens. You can either hold onto it and let it destroy you, or you can deal with it and let it go.”

  “I’m glad you got help.” He reached out and put his hand on hers, and she shivered slightly as a pulse of electricity went through her. “I’m glad you were able to move on.”

  “And I hope you can too. You’re not a bad guy. You made a mistake and you need to forgive yourself.”

  His hand tightened around hers. She held her breath as the heat from his skin seeped into hers.

  “Thanks, Jenna. I’ve thought about that a lot over the years. I was worried you hated me.”

  “I don’t. I never hated you.”

  He gave her hand one last squeeze and nodded to the café as he let his hand fall from hers. “How about we go and get some sophisticated coffee art and talk about fun stuff for the rest of the evening?”

  “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.” She grinned and put her hand on the door. “And these artists better be up to snuff after all this build-up. I don’t want to be looking into my cup and wondering if I’m looking at a dog or a sun.”

  He laughed and pushed open his door. “You won’t be disappointed.”

  * * * *

  After they’d gone inside, Clay had asked what she’d wanted and then sent her to get a table while he picked up their drinks.

  He was glad they’d had that part of the conversation in the car. They’d needed to talk about it, and he was glad it had been in private. There weren’t many people in the café, but there were enough that their conversation would have been overheard. That wasn’t something he’d wanted an audience for.

  He was so relieved she didn’t hate him, or blame him. He wasn’t so sure he would be able to let things go as fast, but he was happy she seemed okay. It could all be an act and she could be lying to him, but why would she bother?

  He ordered their drinks when he got to the counter and on impulse he bought a cookie. He stuck the bakery bag in his coat pocket and paid for their drinks before bringing them over to where she was sitting.

  “Vanilla latte, extra hot.” He put the drink in front of her and put his on the table in front of the chair opposite her.

  “Aw. It’s a rose.” She grinned as she looked into her cup. “I almost don’t want to drink it. It’s so pretty.”

  “I told you.”

  “What did you get?” she asked, leaning over to look in his cup as he stripped off his jacket and pulled the bag with the cookie out of his pocket.

  “Caramel latte, extra caramel.” He grinned and sat down. “And a leaf.”

  “Wow, it’s so detailed. Did they use a pick or something to make those lines?”

  “No, just poured.”

  “It’s amazing. You were right.”

  “You like salted caramel?”

  “Yes, and I’m guessing you do by the theme?” She grinned.

  “That obvious, huh.” He pulled the cookie out of the bag and broke it in half. “I love caramel, not really a fan of chocolate. Want half?”

  “I shoul
dn’t.” She shook her head.

  “That wasn’t really an answer to the question I asked.”

  “I’m about a pound away from having to wear my pants unbuttoned. I shouldn’t have junk food.”

  He just looked at her. “You look great, Jenna. Half a cookie won’t tip the scales. Even if it does, you’ll still look amazing.”

  She blushed and took half the cookie from him. “Thanks.”

  “You a chocoholic like pretty much every other person I know?” he asked as he took a bite of his cookie.

  “Not really.” She shook her head and popped a piece of the cookie in her mouth. “I’m actually a vanilla person. Chocolate is good, caramel is great, but vanilla is amazing.”

  “So your favorite ice cream flavor is vanilla?”

  “Boring, but delicious.” She grinned, and he laughed.

  “The more I learn about you the less I would ever use the word boring to describe you.”

  She blushed again and put another piece of cookie in her mouth.

  “So, are you seeing anyone?” he asked lightly.

  He’d been trying to find a way to ask her since he’d seen her at the shop. She wasn’t wearing a ring so she wasn’t engaged, but she could have a boyfriend and this whole coffee date could just be him being friend-zoned without even knowing it.

  “No, not anymore.”

  “You were?”

  “We broke up. When school was over.”

  “What happened?”

  “It wasn’t that serious. He got a job out of state, and neither of us wanted to try distance. We ended on good terms, so it wasn’t a bad breakup.”

  “Oh well that’s good.” He tried to hide his grin, and instead he shoved the rest of his cookie in his mouth.

  “What about you?” she asked, almost managing to sound casual as she looked into her drink for a moment.

  “Not anymore.”

  “By the look on your face I’m guessing it wasn’t so amicable?”

  “Not at all.”

  “What happened?”

  “She found someone else.”

  “And she didn’t break up with you until after getting with this someone else?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “I was kind of blindsided by that one.”