Best Served Cold (21 page)

As much as I worried, Danny didn’t even blink when Jesse told him I was staying for dinner.

“Jules cooked us dinner, so I asked her to stay.” He looked up at his father from the floor, where he and Des were building a block labyrinth for the kitten.

Danny nodded. “Cool. I’m going to get changed and then pour some wine.” He sniffed, long and appreciatively. “Julia, that smells divine. Can’t wait to eat it.” He headed up the steps, and Jesse shot me an I-told-you-so look.

I dropped another flat dumpling into the rolling broth and watched it bob to the surface. Outside, dusk was falling, painting the woods a smudgy gray. I listened to the boys laughing as they tried to convince Choo Choo to walk through the narrow path of blocks. All of that, combined with the aroma of dinner cooking and the warmth of the kitchen, gave me an odd pang of familiarity. I hadn’t realized how much I missed home—the feeling of being at home—until that moment.

“Okay, little bro, let’s clean up the blocks before Mommy gets here.” Jesse stood up and came into the kitchen, leaning over my shoulder to see what I was doing.

“Don’t touch,” I warned him, glancing back as I dropped in the last dumpling.

“That’s not what you were saying earlier.” He whispered the words into my ear, but I elbowed him all the same.

“If you don’t behave, I’m not staying for dinner.”

He stepped back, hands raised. “I’ll be the perfect gentleman, I promise.”

“Hmph. We’ll see.”

But he did behave. Sarah came in a few minutes later, just in time to help me finish up dinner. We sat down to eat with the same chaos I’d known growing up: everyone getting drinks, trying to settle Des into his booster seat, moving the plates onto the table and trying to avoid tripping over the kitten, who wanted to be underfoot. Jesse caught my eye and smiled.

It wasn’t a bit uncomfortable. Danny talked about his classes, and Sarah told us funny stories about her clients. Jesse sat next to me, but he kept his hands to himself, except for a few reassuring touches to my leg under the table.

When we finished and I rose to clear the table, Sarah fixed me with narrowed eyes.

“Jules, maybe you didn’t notice, but you’re off the clock. No more work.”

“I don’t mind helping--” I began, but Jesse took my hand.

“You heard the woman. Sit down. I’ll help with the dishes.”

“We’re okay, Jesse. Thanks. Why don’t you both go do something fun?”

He grinned, tugging at my hand. “That sounds like an order. Come on.”

“Where are we going?” I had asked the question twice in the last ten minutes, and each time, Jesse only smiled at me and shook his head.

“It’s a surprise,” he said now, turning onto the highway. “You’re familiar with the concept, right?”

“Yeah, but surprises haven’t worked out so well for me lately,” I muttered under my breath. “I don’t deal well with not being prepared.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Mostly.”

He laughed and took the next exit.

“Are you taking me off into the woods to murder me? Because if so, I need to text Ava and let her know. She worries.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m doing. You got me.”

I saw lights ahead, and Jesse glanced sideways at me.

“One of the guys in my motor disorders class told me about this. I thought it would be something different, and fun, too. I hope.” He pulled into the parking lot of a large warehouse building. “How do you feel about ice hockey?”

I raised my eyebrows. “I love it. I don’t watch the games on TV so much, but I like the in-person ones. Is that what we’re doing? But where?”

Jesse opened his door and came around to do the same to mine. “Right here. This is a farm league, or the closest thing the NHL has to them. The Pennsville Flash.”

He took my hand as I slid off the seat into the frigid night. “This is very cool, Jesse. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

He rubbed his thumb over the back of my gloved hand. “I had to think of something to get us out of the house. Because what I really wanted to do was go watch TV in the guest house, and pick up where we left off this afternoon. But I figured if I want a relationship with you, it has to be more than just that.”

I smiled up at him and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I appreciate that. Not that I wouldn’t have enjoyed your other idea, too. But you’re right. I like spending time with you, no matter what we do.”

The arena was older, and the crowd was sparse, but the action on the ice was just as intense as a professional game. Jesse laughed at my fervor; I was hoarse from yelling by the end of the first period.

“You’re crazy!” he shouted in my ear, over the organ music playing a fight song.

“What’s the point of coming if you’re not going to support your team?”

He pulled me closer and tipped my chin up. “I like your passion.” He dropped his lips onto mine.

“I’m passionate about many things,” I murmured against his mouth.

He grinned, and his dimples flashed. I reached up and touched his cheek.

“Do you know what those dimples do to me? From the first time I met you...I’ve wanted to kiss you there, to run my tongue over those little indents...”

The blue in Jesse’s eyes deepened. “You say things like that, and it makes me regret that we didn’t just stay home tonight.

I smiled sweetly. “Something to look forward to, next time.”

It was after ten when we pulled into the Flemings’ driveway. Jesse pulled his truck up alongside my car.

“Back to your coach, m’lady. Door-to-door service, with a smile.”

“Thank you, kind sir. Not only for the service, but for a good time tonight. You rocked it. Next time you surprise me, I’ll trust you, I promise.”

“Good.” He unlatched his seatbelt. “Then that should earn me a hot good-night kiss, right?”

“That isn’t earned. That’s just a given.” I undid my seatbelt, too, and slid to the middle of the seat. Jesse reached down to unbutton my coat.

“What are you doing?”

“My hands are cold again.” He slipped them against my side, rubbing up and down. I shivered.

“But now I’m cold,” I complained.

“Well, I guess I should do something about that.” He moved his hands around to my back and pulled me closer. “Shared body heat is the most effective, you know. I thought we covered that this afternoon.”

“Mmmhmm.” I arched my neck to meet his lips. “I’m getting warmer already.”

“I feel that. In fact, I think you’re putting off enough heat for me to take it up a notch.” Before I could protest, his hands were under my shirt against bare skin, and his mouth smothered anything I had to say.

I raked my fingers through his hair and relaxed against his arms, enjoying the lazy interplay of our tongues and feel of his fingers as they teased my spine.

“I should go,” I sighed a few minutes later as his tongue trailed down my neck. “Ava will worry. At least I think she will.”

Jesse raised his head, frowning in the dim light of the truck cab. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. She’s been...funny the last week or so. Like something’s bothering her, but she won’t tell me. She says it’s nothing. Or she avoids me.”

“She’s not upset about us, is she? Didn’t I make a good impression?”

I shook my head. “No, she liked you. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I need to get to the bottom of it.”

“You’ll figure it out. She seems like a reasonable person.”

“She is. She’s been my best friend...almost like another sister. I’d never want to hurt her.”

“Then I guess you really do have to go. Talk to her. Work it out.”

I smiled up at him. “You’re pretty amazing. For a guy.”

“Gee, thanks.” He held the back of my neck and kissed me once more, hard and searing. “That will have to hold us both until Sunday.”

I drew a shaky breath. “Okay then. Text me when you get up to New York?”

“Sure—but I’ll talk to you this week. Before I go.”

He held my door and stood alongside as I climbed into my own car, and when I looked in the rearview mirror at the end of the driveway, he was still standing just outside the house, in the dim porch light, watching me go.

I didn’t talk to Ava that night, because once again, she was asleep when I got home. She had an early class on Tuesdays, but I intentionally set my alarm so that I was awake before she left.

“Hey, what are you doing up?” She stepped out of the bathroom in jeans and a long sleeved thermal shirt, wet hair combed back from her face.

“I was hoping to catch you before you left. I feel like we keep missing each other the last few days.”

“Oh.” Ava rolled up her sweats and socks and tossed them into her laundry basket. “I guess so.”

“Ave, what’s up? I know something is. Can we talk about it? Are you mad at me?”

“No.” She sat down on the edge of her bed and pulled on clean socks. “Of course I’m not.”

“Then what is it?”

She bit the side of her lip. “It’s nothing you did, Jules. It’s me. But can we talk about it this afternoon? I promise. I’ll meet you at Beans after my last class, okay? Like around four?”

“Okay.” I pulled the blankets up around my chin and dozed again until the door closing woke me up.

I only had one class, just after noon, so I had a lazy morning of catching up on homework and updating the blog. I had put up Marcus’ story over the weekend, and it was getting huge response.

Writing my own story was on the agenda for today, but I hesitated. The time I spent with Jesse had taken the edge of my rage against Liam, and maybe I didn’t need to name names. When I sat back and thought about it rationally, all it would do was hurt Liam and make me look like a loser. There wasn’t any winner here.

On impulse, I grabbed my coat, shoved my feet into my shoes and made the short walk over to Dr. Turner’s office. I knew she didn’t have formal open hours on Tuesday mornings, but I took a chance, and happily, she was there.

“Ms. Cole, this is a surprise.” She looked at me over her glasses, but the smile on her face softened the words.

“Do you have a minute, Dr. Turner? I know office hours aren’t until tomorrow, but I had a question.”

“Of course. Close the door, take a seat.”

I shut the glass door, shed my coat and perched on the imitation leather chair across from her desk.

“How’s the project going?”

I made a face. “That’s why I’m here. It’s going well. I mean, we’re getting a lot of response, and people are commenting on our posts. There’s been discussion about the site on the related social media, and most of it is constructive. Some of it isn’t.” I frowned, remembering some of the bashing posts I’d read that morning, both from women hating on the guys and men calling our site ‘loser chick sob story heaven’.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all. What you’re revealing can be painful to both sides, to the victim and the perpetrator, as it were. Plus, you have to take into account point of view. What a sensitive young girl might take as a cruelty might not seem such a big deal to the boy who thinks he’s doing the right thing.”

I nodded. “I’m starting to see that. Lots of the comments are saying we’re only telling one side of the story. And because it’s anonymous, that’s all we can do.” I took a deep breath. “And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I need to make a decision about publishing a story, and I want to make the right choice.”