Lovesick (Coffee Shop Series Book 2) Page 9

  “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! They’re a really cute family with money to burn, and closing this sale would be huge. If their son is on board, they’ll go for it. Plus, it’s just one dinner. I’ll tell him that you’ll meet him in Jackson City and give him some insight.”

  “I don’t live in Jackson City. I live in Pineville.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s all mountain living, right? Plus, he’s filthy rich. I bet he takes you somewhere really nice for dinner. His mom happened to drop several hints that he’s single and looking. You know, if he sees how cute the girls are here . . .”

  Thankfully, she let that trail away.

  Of course I’d do it—I’d do anything for Bethie—but that didn’t mean I liked it. Setups like this were the worst. I felt awkward and judged and like I had to be peppy and bright and show off my best side when all I wanted to do was talk books. Or better yet, text the person instead and hole up at home with said books.

  “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  Relief melted her features. “Thank you,” she whisper-cried after a quick peek at Shane, who I guessed had fallen asleep. “I’ll give you a bonus based on the final price. That should help with that whole-buying-a-new-car predicament you’re in. It’s a sixteen million dollar house.”

  “Done!” I cried.

  “All right. I’ll check with them, then email you the details.”

  After a few more parting coos at Shane, we ended the call. I leaned back against the wall with a heavy sigh. Maybe this unexpected date would work to my advantage in several ways. Besides, wasn’t this a classic romance novel plot twist?

  Go on a date with someone else to test the actual love interest?

  Nah, JJ wouldn’t care.

  But while out there, I would refine some romantic theories. Resume my progress on proving in a data-driven way that romance existed. My wobbling certainty could benefit from a boost. If nothing else, the date would give me a control sample to record.

  Then JJ would eat the romantic leftovers for breakfast.

  16

  JJ

  Lizbeth sat at the folding table near Mark’s desk, red hair spilling onto her shoulders. She was mapping out a scanning system and organizational structure for Mark’s paperwork now that it was all categorized and alphabetized.

  I lounged on the couch and tried hard not to stare.

  After separating Mark’s disaster of papers—and freeing up a ridiculous amount of space—Lizbeth had stacked them all in alternating directions in three separate piles. They towered in the corner, where she hovered protectively over them and glared at anyone who came too close.

  I glanced at the timer on my watch. Fifteen fresh loaves of miniature ciabatta had only a few minutes left to rise before I had to trek back to the main lodge and bake them. Meanwhile, Mark was spouting like a volcano, muttering in that
maniacal way that meant a breakthrough was on the horizon.

  “No.” He shook his head back and forth. “That won’t work, either.”

  With my hands threaded behind my head, I leaned back against the couch and waited. About seventeen seconds would produce the desired revelation, if his hair standing on end meant anything. His initial spa plan had been thwarted by a zoning issue on the land he wanted to use. Now he was pacing, determined to work through it.

  Most humans drowned when overwhelmed with ideas, but Mark drew energy from the impossible. From the unlikely. Adversity fueled him.

  In a poor attempt to escape Mark’s impending outburst, I thought of Lizbeth. Again. Nine seconds later, Mark slammed a hand against the wall. I jumped, startled out of my thoughts. Lizbeth glowered at him with a precious fury beneath those light eyebrows.

  “I’ll buy the old pizza place!” he cried. “I thought of renting, but this is better.”

  My brow quirked. “What?”

  “That’ll get rid of my zoning issue while keeping the building tucked away from the main road. It has that fenced area, remember?”

  “It’ll still be loud when cars drive by. No one wants noise while they’re getting a massage.”

  “We can reinforce the walls. Or put up some trees.”

  “That would take more capital up front, or years.”

  “True,” he murmured.

  “What about the lot?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll sell it or find something else.”

  “Buying the pizza place also means you’ll still have a build-out.” I yawned. “Maybe even worse because they have to tear down the existing interior. You know you’re not patient enough for a build-out. And you don’t have the cash flow.”

  He waved that off. “Funding isn’t the problem.”

  “You barely saved Adventura.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Adventura is fine now. Meg is paying me back. It had the same rocky beginning as any venture.”

  Sensing a chance, I casually said, “Why not repurpose Adventura to do something else and bring in more cash?”

  “I will.” He stroked his cheeks. “Once I can go full mountain man.”

  This was where I had to stop. Mark’s dependence on me to save him from himself had become a problem between us. I wasn’t his mother. Granted, I was the person closest to him on this planet, but that didn’t mean he was my responsibility.

  “When are you going to start drawing up boards?” I asked, bending my knee.

  He settled on the edge of the other couch, then sprang back up. “Tomorrow.”

  A strangled noise came from my throat. The question had been a joke, but his response wasn’t. I sat up.

  “What?”

  His grin deepened. “Oh, yeah. I’ve already got this rolling. Approval for a new loan came through yesterday. I could meet with the real estate agent tomorrow about the pizza place if it works out. Gotta get my eyes on it first, of course.”

  “Damn, Mark,” I muttered.

  He slugged me in the shoulder, but it didn’t move me. “JJ! This is it! We’re doing our next big one. Adventura is coming along. We’re successfully running four Airbnbs in three separate Colorado ski towns, and the car wash in Nebraska is holding its own.”

  “It’s not profitable.”

  “It’s . . . getting there. You can’t expect a toddler to swim. Give it time. This is awesome. This spa could bring in the revenue I need for my final push to mountain-man status, or at least fuel our retirement funds.”

  “You did it, Mark.”

  He shrugged that off. “I’m nothing without you, bro. We just gotta figure out the interior restructuring now. Let’s see if we can pull images off the internet.”

  The sound of Lizbeth clearing her throat startled both of us. She stood near the couch. Her fingers fidgeted with the bottom of her shirt. Mark sat down next to me, laptop in hand.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Ah, quick question. Are either of you going into town tomorrow?”

  Mark and I both shook our heads.

  “Oh.”

  “Do you need a ride?” Mark asked.

  “Yes, if possible. I, uh . . .” She cleared her throat and lifted her chin. “Have a dinner I need to go to in Jackson City.”

  “Oooh?” Mark drawled dramatically, eyebrows waggling. “Hot guy, Lizbeth?”

  She refused to look at me, which was fine. Because something was burning in my throat, and if I had to speak, I’d croak. Like an utter imbecile.

  “Ah, I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just a dinner. I was supposed to borrow Mav’s SUV, but he’ll be using it. With my car in the river . . .”

  “I’ll take you.”

  The words came from me, but I’d had no intention of saying them. Or even realized that they were in my head.

  She blinked. “Great. Thanks. I, um . . . you don’t have to do that, though. Maybe I could just drive it? Then you don’t have to wait around?”

  I shrugged. “Not a big deal.”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “You’re just going to wait in Jackson City while I’m on a date?”

  So it wasn’t just dinner.

  “Sure. I have some errands I could run.”

  She pulled in a breath, opened her mouth, and paused. Mark looked at me with a grin I didn’t care to acknowledge.

  “I mean . . . do you not want me to drive the Zombie Mobile?” she asked.

  “You could try,” Mark offered, “but it doesn’t have power steering, and the floor is about to fall out.”

  He wasn’t kidding.

  “Plus,” Mark added, “if this guy ends up being a serial killer, the Zombie Mobile isn’t your best option.”

  I punched him in the arm. He grimaced.

  “Serial killer,” Lizbeth muttered with deep annoyance. “Seriously?”

  Mark shrugged.

  She shook that off, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ears and pulled her shoulders back. “Got it. Okay. Well, thank you, JJ. I’m sorry if this is inconvenient.”

  “Not at all.” I shook my head. “It’s good.”

  “Thanks.” She shuffled back a step. “I’m going to finish up some work in my cabin.”

  Like a flash, she disappeared out the back door with her laptop clutched to her chest. The heaviness in the air seemed to hover for several long moments before Mark broke it.

  “You’re a friggin’ mess, JJ.”

  “Shut up.”

  “What? Tell me you don’t see it in her eyes when she’s looking at you all day long and tries to pretend she isn’t.”

  “I don’t see it in her eyes.”

  “Then you’re choosing to be blind.”

  I frowned. “I’m practically her employer.”

  “Correction: I am her employer. Adventura is in my name, per your request. You are an investor and employee in the company that’s contracted her to work for a very short amount of time.”

  “Mav would kill me.”

  “Nah. You’ve earned your way into his good graces with the fact that you’ve saved her life one and a half times.”

  “One and a half?”

  “I don’t count the fire.” He smirked. “She would have left on her own.”

  I rolled my eyes, which only made him laugh. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Mark.”

  He sobered. “What has you so freaked out?”

  “Who said I was freaked out?”

  “The fact that confident JJ has suddenly gone all weird? The fact that you won’t ask her out, which is a dead giveaway. Not every woman is Stacey, you know. That witch was something else. You lucked out, brother.”

  A thousand memories whirled through my mind. A beach. Candles. The strange feeling of nausea and anticipation in my stomach. Then Mom crying. Dad’s stoic, pressed-together lips. A dusty day at Adventura when they announced the official demise of their marriage, then bickered like children.

  The feeling of being rent in half when the family fel
l apart.

  Of being the only one on the outside.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  He stood up. “Okay, brother. Tell yourself you don’t like her. Tell yourself you’re not raving jealous. Tell yourself you’re not scared. But it will only work for so long. And if you don’t ask her out yourself, I might. And we both know she’ll fall madly in love with my charms once I fully unleash them and you won’t have a prayer.”

  He shuffled out the front door, likely to talk to the real estate agent. I simmered on the couch for a few minutes. My jealousy was new, and that bothered me. My annoyance wasn’t entirely new, but it really bothered me.

  The sudden sense of fear that cropped up at the idea of Lizbeth out with some other guy? Definitely new.

  Definitely bothered me.

  Friday night came a little too quickly.

  Before I knew it, Lizbeth and I were ambling along the snowy path to the bridge that crossed the river. It was a thirty-minute drive to Jackson City from there. The way things were going, it would pass in total silence. I’d already been grumpy and concerned over this “dinner.” Then I saw her sleek black pants, flowing white top, and the pop of her eyes in makeup.

  After that, I was downright irascible in my head.

  Lizbeth cleared her throat and said, “I had you bring me a little early. I hope that’s okay. There are a few things I need to pick up.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Tyler’s email said to meet at Belle Vie at five.”

  Tyler was his name. Interesting.

  “Where do you want to go first?” I asked as we pulled onto the highway. Belle Vie was a fancy upscale restaurant with a hundred-dollar-per-plate average. Which all but firmly refuted my hope that this was a punk college kid. Also destroyed the idea of this being just a dinner. This Tyler guy was taking her on a date.

  And damn if it didn’t annoy me that it would probably be a romantic date.

  “The Antique Barn, if you don’t mind?”

  For what felt like the first time in days, I cracked a smile. “The Antique Barn? What do you need from there?”

  “Something very important,” she replied mysteriously, but some of the uncertainty had left her voice. Which meant it was probably time for me to lose the annoyed vibe that I wasn’t meaning to give off.