More Than This: Contemporary Christian Romance Novel Page 3
His eyebrows arched. “A scone? Seriously?”
A shrug that she hoped looked nonchalant accompanied the small smile she got past the hammering of her heart. “Every third Friday the bakery sends some over. I know. It’s very Old English and everything. Too bad we don’t serve tea with it, and crumpets too. That would be good.” Gah! Stop talking, Liz! He’s going to think you’re an idiot.
“I’ve never had a scone before.” He took a sip of the coffee and set the cup down.
Did that mean he wanted one, or was he just making small talk? In a normal situation she would know the answer to that. “They’re really kind of good. Different. They aren’t really like a donut more like bread.”
That slightly amused look was back on his face. “Do you have cinnamon?”
“Uh, yeah. I think so. Some of them, but not all of them. We have blueberry ones too if you want that.”
He sat for a long minute, considering. “Okay. That sounds good.”
She was a second from saying Really because she was so excited, but she jerked that back. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here.”
Jake shook his head and rolled his eyes at his own inability to make a decision and make it stick. First it was the decision to not come back in here. That had lasted all of two nights until he just couldn’t stand it any longer. Then it was how happy he’d told himself he was when he got here and she wasn’t working. That lasted all the way until she walked through the door, high ponytail swept up and away from the face that had been floating around in his dreams for two days.
He ran his hand down his face, frustrated by his lack of discipline. It was bad enough that he hadn’t gotten more than two pages done in the last three days. Now here he was wasting even more time practically stalking a woman he didn’t even know. He angled his gaze down to his computer screen, seriously questioning his sanity. A click at a time, he scrolled through what he had. It amounted to 25 pages of crap and not much else.
Even he was finding it hard to care if Jasmine lived or died, and that couldn’t bode well for his future readers. He scratched at his sideburn, trying to form a conclusion about what to do with this manuscript that was obviously going nowhere. Should he just trash it altogether? That seemed the logical thing to do. Maybe he should just give up the whole idea of writing and resign himself to the drudgery of the warehouse and life such that it wasn’t beyond that.
“One blueberry scone, nice and hot.” She laid the plate in front of him, and his first thought was how wonderful it smelled. When he looked up, she smiled with a glint of challenge in her eyes. “I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of heating it up a little. It’s been in there since this morning.”
She had a way of making it sound wonderful and awful at the same time.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’m sure it will be great.”
“Great.” And it took her another three seconds to move from the spot. When she was gone, Jake couldn’t help but follow her movement across the shop. He wondered how she did that, moving like her feet weren’t even in contact with the ground. She was this weird dichotomy of grace and anxiety all rolled up into one. Careful not to burn himself like he had with the coffee the other day, he picked up a small bite of the scone and popped it into his mouth. It was very good, much better than the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he’d scarfed down before coming. He took another bite and another as blessed peace settled into him.
Hunger now tamed, his gaze burrowed into the book on his screen. He could do this. It was what he was meant to do with his life. That feeling of sureness despite all the doubts overwhelmed everything else and he got back to work.
The craziness of Friday night at The Grind took over Liz’s life. Date nights that might go somewhere but started there, other dates that ended there because the couples didn’t want their time together to end just yet. She liked watching them, the couples. She had always liked making up their stories in her mind as she waited on them.
There were the older couples, clearly together so long that they had every move memorized. Others were young, first time together types, anxious about making each move the right one. And those in between, connections being established, memories made. Liz waited on them all, schlepping mocha lattes and nonfat, decaf frappe chinos from the counter to the tables and back again when the patrons left. She was so intent on filling the orders that she had nearly no time to keep tabs on one patron, absorbed by the shadows over in the corner.
Jake knew it was kind of silly to feel abandoned. After all, she had half a hundred other people to worry about, and it wasn’t like they had anything even close to a standing commitment. Still, his cup had been empty for over an hour, and she hadn’t even come close enough to ask if he wanted more. Okay, so her friend had, but that wasn’t the same.
If he’d had just a little less sanity, he would have mapped out where their areas lay so that next time he could sit in her area. The biggest problem with that was that her area appeared to be out in the light, and he much preferred the darkness. Give him shadows and a place to hide any day. True, his normal job was in the well-lit, nearly too bright warehouse. But that was the part of him that made sense, not this part that he’d only let a few people know about— mostly people who didn’t know him at all. Strange how that was. That he could share this part of himself with complete strangers because he knew his closest friends would laugh in his face if they knew anything about it.
Ugh. This was getting him nowhere. It was like getting sucked down rabbit holes that made no sense and were serious wastes of good writing time. With renewed determination, he anchored his gaze to the screen and the cursor that blinked at him, taunting him, reminding him how inadequate he was to this task. Jasmine had made it away from the car and whoever was in the bushes. She was alive and safe for the time being. He got her all the way to the hotel which unbeknownst to her was about to be engulfed by flames. He’d figured that out the night before sometime around three a.m.
That’s the way this thing worked. He got pieces at odd hours, in the shower, on the forklift so he could do nothing about them and then when he got the chance to do something with them, he couldn’t. It wasn’t a pattern he liked but one he had grown to know by heart.
“So how was the scone?”
Like an angel appearing in the mists before him, she stood there, coffee pot in hand, that softly amused smile directed right down at him.
He sat back, really liking how she looked standing there. “Great.” Jeans and a nice tan tank top stretched over her curves. That high ponytail that spoke in such whispers about her free spirit and fun side. All of it met somewhere in him so that he couldn’t quite think straight. “Blueberry’s my favorite.”
She raised the pot. “Would you like some more?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” He pushed the cup over to her even as his gaze slid down her, trying to stop at her waist but not succeeding. There was no denying he liked everything he saw. “Looks like you’re pretty busy tonight.” Why he said it, he had no way to explain. He was, after all, supposed to be working, not looking to start a conversation. He didn’t need distractions like cute waitresses named Liz giving him any more reasons to procrastinate.
“It’s a Friday.” She finished pouring and slid the cup back across to him, her gaze caught and held on the laptop just long enough for him to notice. Then it came back to his, soft, amused, gentle. “If you need anymore, just get my attention. I’ll be here.” With that, she turned to go, and he felt it.
“Hm.” He cleared his throat, feeling that if she kept walking he would know the connection wasn’t meant to be, but she turned.
“I’m sorry. Did you need something else?”
“What?” Panic tightened on him like a vice-grip. “Oh.” Never. Not once had anyone ever heard him like that much less understood what his heart couldn’t even say he was wishing. His gaze came up to hers as sheer horror flooded through him. He hadn’t really planned this anywhere other than i
n the deepest parts of his dreams that he didn’t even allow himself to remember. “Um.” The panic latched onto his shoulders, siphoning the air from his lungs. “I was just… hm.”
He felt like an idiot, a hot, uncomfortable, stupid idiot. “I was just wondering if you’re going to have a break any time soon.”
What she had expected, Liz didn’t know. But this was not it. Scones. Danish. Coffee. Yes. An invitation? Never. “A break? Oh, well, I…” She glanced behind her to the growing crowd, headed to the late movie no doubt, stopping in to kill just a little bit of time. She wondered what the late movie at the theatre was tonight. Then she beat that thought back as completely ridiculous. “Uh. Yeah. Maybe in an hour or something.”
He nodded. He—the guy with the nice eyes and the five o’clock shadow that made her knees weak. “Oh. That’s cool.” His gaze fell to his laptop, and she wondered then what secrets it held.
However, the pause lasted so long that she thought she must have completely misread what he was asking.
Another moment that lasted an eternity and his gaze came back up to hers, capturing it and holding it prisoner. “Well, hm, I was just thinking if you wanted somewhere to spend it…” The invitation was running out of steam the farther into it he went, and her heart wanted to find a way to make him not be so nervous. He glanced across at the empty chair on the other side of the table. “Yeah.” He shook his head as his gaze dropped to his hand on the table. “Never mind. I’m sure you have better things to do.”
What do you say to a non-invitation like that? Liz held the coffeepot, knowing she should be getting back to work, but seeing how alone he was and how big this leap of faith was for him, she just couldn’t. “Tell you what. Give me an hour. If you don’t mind watching me read, I’ll come back.”
A look of pure gratefulness drifted across his unsettled features. “I’d like that.”
The hour was a dichotomy of speeding by and crawling at a snail’s pace. Liz couldn’t explain that, but every time she looked at the clock she couldn’t believe how much time had passed and how little time had. Five minutes before the end of the hour, she looked around the dwindling crowd and grabbed up the spray bottle. “I’ll just spray down the tables and then take my break.”
She took off before Mia could even approve the plan. The biggest problem was her nerves were set on permanent spin cycle. He was still over there, still working or whatever he was doing, and she had the distinct impression he was keeping tabs on where she was and what she was doing. Her hands worked, spraying down the tables and wiping them off. How was she going to explain this to Mia?
Ugh. She should have thought of that before she had accepted. Then again, how could she have known he was going to propose something so rash right here in the shop? She should have told him no. Really. No. Homework. Reading. That made far more sense. Besides, what did she even know about this guy anyway? Nothing.
Maybe he was a spy. What had Mia said about the CIA? But did spies hang out in dark shadows of coffee shops for hours and hours? Probably not. But if he wasn’t CIA, what was he and what was she doing accepting invitations from guys she didn’t know? An uneasy feeling snarled through her, knotting her stomach. Isn’t this how it had started back in freshman year? With a cute guy and a little too much trust?
With a shove she pushed that back. “That’s in the past, Liz. The past. Besides, it isn’t a date. It’s not even coffee. It’s sitting together for 10 minutes at the same table. There is no law against that.”
Chapter 3
Jake watched her, trying not to. It was impossible. How had he never noticed the sweet way she smiled at the customers and the graceful way she moved from place to place? Had he been so involved with his writing and himself that he could have missed it?
As the clock wound around to her break, or what she had said would be her break, he began to wonder if she would really go through with it. Would she really come over to his table? What if she did? What would he say? What if he said something completely stupid? Or, then again maybe he had dreamed the whole thing up. That was, in fact, a distinct possibility with the strange and mysterious ways his brain would go when he just caught sight of her. Of course, he was getting little to nothing written. It was a little odd that he wasn’t more upset about that. Getting nothing done had always been his favorite reason to freak out and berate himself. Tonight he had so many others.
He watched as Liz went back behind the counter. She had been cleaning tables. There were only two tables occupied other than his. With the movie one way and the play the other, everyone else had gone. He glanced at the clock, knowing they would get crazy busy again in less than an hour. His nerves leaped to the top of his heart as he scratched the side of his face and focused on his screen. Write, Jake. Write something. Anything. Come on already. He put his fingers on the keys.
Jasmine was in the hotel. He wasn’t sure how she had gotten there or if that had even made any sense. He couldn’t go back and wade through it now. That would waste even more time. Much better to plow ahead. Okay. Time to light the place on fire. His fingers drummed without really pushing the keys as he searched for the next place to start. Should she be in her room when it happened or at the pool or…
“Hm. Hi.”
When he looked up, Jake had the distinct impression that the world had just slammed to a stop and was one small twitch away from pitching him headlong off of it. “Oh. H-hi.” He felt the smile, questioned it, and then saw no reason to stop it. “Hm.” It was as if he was going in eight directions at once. He started to stand, realized that was too formal, pushed her chair out and barely caught it when he pushed too hard. “Hm.” His gaze traveled up to hers with an apology for how stupid he was being. “I’m sorry. Sit.” What was he talking to— a dog? “Please.”
Lifting his hand, he indicated the chair opposite his. The way she was looking at him caused his nerves to vibrate. What did that look mean? That she thought he was weird and dangerous? That she was wishing she hadn’t accepted his offer? He hoped not though he then berated himself for hoping not. She was, after all, a major distraction from getting any writing done. But he couldn’t blame her, he had invited her over…
His brain caught up with the fact that he hadn’t said anything, and he ran his hands down his black cargo pants, wishing he had thought to wear something a little nicer. They were hardly date material. Not that he had anything that was good enough for a date with her. Something that didn’t smell like the warehouse would be taxing his wardrobe options. He watched her sit, and somehow he sat too, wondering what was supposed to come next. “Hm.” How could a writer be so very bad with words? “So. You work at the coffee shop?”
She smiled though it barely made it to her lips. “Yeah. And I… I go to college.” She lifted her book. Contemplating Philosophy. At least he thought that was what it said, but she dropped it before he could be sure.
Jake was impressed, far more than he could even get out. She was so far out of his league, he couldn’t even see her league from where he was. Inviting her to sit with him was a very bad idea. What was he thinking?
“I don’t recommend it,” she said, leaning toward him as if there were spies that might be listening.
He wasn’t sure what she meant, and before he thought better of it, he asked, “What? College or the class?”
She laughed. She had a nice laugh; it helped him relax for a half a breath. “Either.” Shaking the stray strands of hair out of her eyes, she put both elbows on the table and rocked there slowly. “So, what are you working on? Or is it top secret?”
Not realizing he would be the topic of conversation, Jake looked down at his computer. It had already slid into making different shapes out of lines. “Oh, it’s very exciting.” He turned it so she could see, praying it wouldn’t make the connection and go back to his book screen. It amused him that for the first half-second he could tell she believed he was actually working on shape-shifting. He tried not to laugh. “Personally I like the triangle. I
t’s my favorite.”
The square shifted into an orange hexagon, which shifted into a blue triangle.
“Is it always blue? Is that why you like it?”
Jake hadn’t really realized she would take his stupid comment so literally. “Oh. I don’t know. Um.” Carefully he turned the computer so they could both see it. The lines shifted to a green rectangle and a yellow octagon. The square came back only this time it was blue. Then the hexagon which was red, followed by the triangle which was now a light purple. “Oh. No. I guess not. Sorry. Apparently it’s not blue all the time.” He shrugged. “Who knew?”
He turned the computer a little more back to himself as he glanced over at her. “So, you said you had reading?”
“Yeah.” The word was a breath that he couldn’t quite read. However, without further comment, she opened her book on the table and bent her head over it.
Somehow that wasn’t what he expected, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Seeing no other option, he turned his computer back toward him and laid his fingers on the keys.
No one even knew Jasmine was in the Amazon. She had reasoned it was safer that way when she had left. Now she wasn’t so sure.
When she entered her small hotel room, she stood at the door, wondering if whoever had been in the bushes might have gotten here before her. Trepidation snaked up her spine as she grabbed the glass from the little hospitality layout and raised it as if ready to strike. If whoever it was attacked, she had at least one line of defense.
Jake’s gaze yanked up and found Liz watching him. Caught, she ducked her head back to her own reading. He shifted in his chair, feeling odd about being watched. He pulled his focus back down to the words and put his fingers on the keys.
No one in the closet. No one under the bed. Jasmine checked the balcony before lowering the glass. She was being paranoid. Not that she didn’t have reason to be— whoever had destroyed the evidence in the car surely knew she had other leads. Nonetheless, her nerves soothed, she grabbed up a new set of clothes and headed for the shower. She felt like she’d been dipped in smoke and soaked in sweat. Nothing compared to the humidity of the rain forest.