Chapter 19

Jo

"You're quite pink this morning, Jo! You look like you've already done a ten-kilometer hike."

Sandra at the Mirror Lake Farmers Market loves to remark on everyone's health by way of their appearance. It's usually along the lines of "You look like you could use a coffee!" Or "Have you been eating enough red meat? You look anemic!"

It's annoying and borderline inappropriate sometimes, but most folks give her a pass seeing as she's 89 years old.

It is the next morning after Jakob and I had sex for the first time, and I flush red every time I think about it.

Sandra's comment comes as she's arranging a bunch of rather scrumptious but phallic-looking late-summer squashes in the scales as I wait.

"A 10K? Not exactly," I say.

"Pumping iron and whatnot, then. Good for you," she says. Sandra eyes Jakob, and I make introductions.

"You look familiar. Are you a trainer from that American show? The Beastmaster?"

Jakob stammers, and I interject. "He's quite a beast, I assure you."

"He's been working you hard. That's a good girl," Sandra quips.

Jakob, for the first time ever, looks like he might pass out from embarrassment. Sandra eyes Jakob with suspicion as she loads up her gourds and takes my money.

"Silent type, eh?" she says. "Well, once you're done with her, make sure you offer your services to the mothers group that haunts the coffee shop this time of year. They need less pumpkin spice and more pumpin' and poundin', if you ask me."

My face so red I'm starting to sweat, I hook my arm through Jakob's and drag him as far away from Sandra as fast as I can.

"Let's go," I chirp.

Jakob snorts an adorable laugh. "Where are you taking me?"

"Coffee," I say, gesturing to the shop on the corner. All this talk of exercise—not to mention last night's activities—has made me hungry for lots of carbs. Portia's Pastries and Coffee is displaying fresh croissants in the window. "So you can meet your next pumping and pounding clients," I tease.

"Oh my gods," Jakob groans.

I give a low harrumph as we pass the group of moms, who stop and stare at Jakob, and make our way to the line to place our order.

As I squint at the chalkboard menu, Jakob circles his arms around my waist from behind. He leans down and murmurs against my skull, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was jealousy coming off of you right now." His breath warms me and sends tingles zipping over my scalp and down my neck and spine.

I turn toward him, and he catches my mouth in a soft, sweet kiss. Closed mouth, no tongue, but oh-so-lovely. I'm very grateful Jakob understands decorum when it comes to public displays of affection.

I just wish he could let loose a little more in private.

Someone clears their throat, and when I look back at the counter, the barista is waiting on us with a wry grin.

I feel like a silly schoolgirl who's out in public for the first time with a new boyfriend. I suppose that's exactly what this is. The only difference is I'm fully grown and everyone is staring.

"What can I get you, Jo?"

Jakob's arms around me tighten when the young, handsome barista addresses me by name. Ha. Now who's jealous?

"Sesame honey mocha, iced, whole milk. Large," I say.

"Same for me," Jakob says, burying his face in my neck, not bothering to look at the menu.

"Don't you have a coffee drink preference? They have everything," I say.

"If you like it, I want to try it," he says.

This is going to take some getting used to.

We take our coffees to go, and Jakob tells me that we should do what I would normally do on my day off.

"Well, I like to visit the bookstore," I tell him. "I usually stock up in the fall because winter can be pretty harsh around here."

"Perfect," he says. "Let's go."

We reach Bargain Books at the end of the block, and the owner, J.D., lights up when I come inside.

"I have a stack ready and waiting for you, Jo," J.D. says.

I bounce up and down on the balls of my feet as J.D. produces a stack of craft books and slides them across the counter in my direction. I flip through them excitedly. "Crochet Creatures," I exclaim, cooing over the design patterns to create tiny woodland squirrels, birds, and foxes with wool and crochet needles. There's also a cookbook with nothing but fruit tarts with flavorful crusts like lemon rosemary shortbread and gingersnap and sea salt.

"This is making me hungry," Jakob says.

I smile up at him while I thumb through the recipes. "I'll make one of these for you tonight," I say.

This earns me a quick kiss on the forehead. "You're good to me."

Am I even allowed to be this happy? What is the catch? Because there's no way this man—this artist from the city—finds me, a small town supermarket manager, all that interesting. I am enjoying myself immensely, but I am waiting for the boot to drop.

The defeatist voice that sometimes pops up in my head tells me that this man will be bored of me sooner rather than later.

It's more of a nagging feeling than a voice, and it taints everything about this day.

I decide here and now that I'll have to enjoy this while it lasts—because nothing lasts forever, so why not make the best of it? Turning back to J.D., I tell him that I'll take the whole stack. These will keep me busy during the winter—and also give me plenty of ideas to keep Jakob entertained, in my own silly, homespun way.

"I have an idea for tonight," I say as we make our way through the bestselling fiction section of the store.

Jakob chuckles and winds his arm around my ribs. "So do I," he rumbles, kissing my neck. His breath is so warm and his touch so exciting it makes my nipples hard. This bra is my most comfortable one, and yet I want to be rid of it as it suddenly begins to feel tight and itchy. Do breasts swell when a woman is turned on? Is that a thing?

"Not that," I say, playfully swatting his shoulder. "Well, yes. More of that, please. But also…"

I can hardly get the words out because he's now kissing me out of sight and out of earshot of J.D., who has busied himself on his computer with one thing or another.

"Yes, love?"

There's that word. It feels so good to hear it. But I remind myself that it's just an expression like "lass" or "dear." He loves me as a friend. He likes me as a romantic partner, but love-love? We're not there yet.

"I think we should split up and each of us choose a book for the other. We'll keep it a secret and then we'll exchange our books as gifts tonight."

Jakob's eyes gleam at the idea. "What sort of book?"

"It could be anything. It could be any type of book that makes us think of the other person. It could be a recommendation of something we read that we'd like to share. Or it could be something completely out of our usual comfort zone."

"Hey," Jakob says, grinning. "I like the comfort zone idea. What do you normally read?"

I tell him that mainly I read mysteries and thrillers, biographies, but my most frequent purchases are books on crafting, cooking, gardening, and design.

"What about you?"

"Mostly I read about mechanics, fine art, engineering, welding, and graffiti art."

"That gives me quite a range to choose from," I say.

He shrugs. "Not much of a reader unless it's something I need or an artist that I absolutely fall in love with." He names off a few sculpture artists I've never heard of, and I find myself feeling a pang of jealousy at two or three who sound like women's names.

I'm being absolutely ridiculous, I know.

"You'll have to introduce them to me one day."

"Promise. They'll love you," he says, pressing his lips softly to mine. So these are people he knows.

It hits me like a ton of bricks to realize how big and grand his life is in the city. He knows artists. Artists who are no doubt more interesting than I am. More educated. More fabulous.

More…everything. How could they possibly love me? How could I possibly be a match for their cool, successful friend?

"What's wrong?" Jakob studies me with concern in his eyes.

"Nothing," I say with a brave face. "Just trying to think of what to get you. Let's do this."

We separate for less than five minutes, but I could have spent five hours picking something. I finally land on a book about stargazing. Perhaps this is a little bit of a cheat. I assume he doesn't do much gazing at the stars what with the city lights hampering such activities. But it's also something I'd like to learn more about.

There I go again, racking up more and more activities to keep him entertained enough to fool him that I'm interesting.

I wonder if that will ever wear off.