Awkward. Page 4

  He’s got the top floor, penthouse condo. Two bedroom, two bath—lots of open spaces and modern, eye-catching interior design. One entire wall of his bedroom is a window overlooking Los Angeles. I can see the ocean, the morning sunlight glittering off the water, the start of easy Sunday traffic.

  I curl under the luxurious blankets for another long moment, pushing away the guilt of stealing Jack’s bed yet again. I always tell him to let me sleep where I fall, but he never does.

  He might be one awkward date, but he’s a sweet guy. Gentle, often kind—except when he’s too blunt. But underneath it all, there’s a gummy bear that I’m lucky enough to have as a friend.

  Finally, the guilt of lying around while Jack cooks breakfast hauls me out from under the covers. I take one look in the mirror and am shocked to find I look like something out of Friday the 13th. Makeup is everywhere. My hair is a haven for rats. I have lipstick where eyeshadow belongs.

  After helping myself to a quick shower in the master bath, I peek into the extra bureau drawer where Jack keeps all of my favorite sweatshirts. They’re technically his sweatshirts, but I steal them like M&M’s from a candy jar.

  I secretly suspect that he arranged this little drawer for me on purpose so that I won’t go ruffling through the rest of his clothes as I scrounge for my favorites. Which is funny because it’s not like I don’t have plenty of my own clothes here.

  I have a few pairs of jeans, one or two work shirts, and a slew of socks stashed among a pile of other random clothing I’ve left here over the years. Socks are one thing that Jack never lets me borrow, so I’ve had to overcompensate. Basically, I have enough clothes at Jack’s to dress myself for any occasion should the need arise.

  Easing into an old college sweatshirt and a pair of shorts, I sneak out into the hallway and ease toward the kitchen. I appear in the doorway, ready to greet him as usual, when I notice something is wrong.

  He’s whistling this morning. Whistling.

  Jack Darcy doesn’t whistle. I narrow my eyes, watching as he moves with ease, almost relaxed, behind the stove. He’s smiling? What does he have to smile about? Jack Darcy doesn’t whistle or smile unless someone gives him a very good reason to be happy. It’s not that he’s a grouch, he’s just...reserved with his expressions.

  I inch back out of the door and watch for a moment. What the hell has him in such a chipper mood? Usually he hurls a plate of eggs onto the table while telling me to stop adding four spoonfuls of sugar to my coffee. Nevermind the creamer spiel.

  I feel a bit like a zookeeper as I watch Jack, surveying some exotic, never-before-seen animal in the wild. This morning, it’s easy to see why Aimee has been pestering me to pursue Jack for years.

  I understand her confusion. I can see, objectively, what the women who turn to watch him pass on the street notice. Jack is tall and lean, his dark hair ruffled from a night spent on the couch. His abs—holy abs—flex as he turns to toss the eggshells into the trash. Forget a six pack; there appear to be twelve abs on Jack’s stomach.

  Even his back is shapely. Can a back be beautiful? I read plenty of romance, so I should know the answer to this, but my mind is experiencing technical difficulties. It really is a nice back.

  Usually, Jack sleeps in a t-shirt and shields my tender eyes from his dazzling abdomen. But not this morning. He either lost his shirt or forgot about it, and that dazzling body is sending synapses firing to my girl parts. Along with everywhere else.

  I drink him in, suddenly no longer hungry. Suddenly no longer obsessed with the smell of coffee. As he flips eggs, his muscles tense, all nice-looking and defined. Damn his gym routine.

  I wonder briefly if he does this for all the women who sleep over here, and I immediately dismiss the idea. It’s like a cold shower dumped over my head. I struggle to put my finger on why I hate the fact that there’s probably been a woman standing right where I am in the past, ogling Jack Darcy just like me.

  I’m in the process of finding the courage to clear my throat and announce myself when I take a step. Unfortunately, I stub my toe against the doorway in the process, ending with a cuss that’s unusually violent for me. My long, loud f-bomb has the side-effect of drawing a sardonic smile from Jack as I hop around in pain, and he turns to face me.

  “Good morning to you, too,” he says. “I was hoping for a hello, but I suppose a fuck will do.”

  “So, is that eggs I smell?” I say, dumbly changing the subject. I feel as awkward as humanly possible, now that I’m face to face with a half-naked Jack. “I’m starved.”

  “It is eggs.”

  “Coffee?” I shuffle over to the counter, nursing a slight limp. “You didn’t have to do this. Any of it.”

  “I always cook breakfast for myself; it’s easy enough to throw on a few extra eggs.”

  “And giving up your bed—you didn’t have to do that, either.”

  In answer, he slides eggs onto a plate and tosses it on the table. “The couch isn’t so bad; I like a change of scenery now and again.”

  I lean over and give him the briefest kiss on the cheek. He stiffens slightly, then turns away and sets the meal on the table. “Let’s eat.”

  Twenty minutes later, we’ve finished up breakfast and changed for the day. I’ve also convinced Jack to let me drive him to work. We live in sunny Los Angeles, and more days than not, it’s no problem that the only vehicle Jack Darcy owns is a badass motorcycle.

  Then, there are days like today. A surprise rainfall having crept in over breakfast, pouring a little too hard for a ride to work to be comfortable. Luckily, I have a car with an actual roof, and Jack isn’t in a mood to arrive drenched.

  Together, we finish breakfast and head down to my car. We drive in silence for a bit, the traffic picking up despite it being a Sunday morning. I chance a few glances over at him and catch a view of that jaw—sturdy and handsome. His face, concentrated, shows just a hint of stubble on his chin.

  “So,” I say, easing into conversation. “What’s different this time?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I slam on the brakes and ease us into wall-to-wall traffic. Chancing a look at Jack, I realize he’s still distracting—even with a shirt on—so I return my gaze straight ahead. “I mean, why’d you come to me for help after this date? You’ve been on a million dates that didn’t lead to anything, but it’s never bothered you before.”

  “It’s nothing.” He tilts his head, pointing his gaze out of the passenger side window. “I’m just ready to find something more serious.”

  “I don’t buy it,” I tell him. “What made this wine stain worse than all the others?”

  His jaw is working, and I sense there’s something he’d like to keep from me.

  “Is this about Caroline?” I ask. “I can talk to her if you’d like. We could arrange an accidental meeting, and—”

  “It’s not about Caroline. I have no interest in her, and you’ve never met her, so I don’t know why you have an interest in her.”

  “Because you keep your life so isolated from me! I introduce you to all my friends. Work and otherwise.”

  “I’m not keeping my friends from you.”

  “You’re still not giving me a good answer to my question.”

  His jaw tightens, his gaze still pointed out the window. “I’m just ready to be done. The disaster dates, the wasted time, the online chats that go nowhere.”

  “Do you know what you’re looking for?”

  He shrugs. “I guess I’ll know it when I see it.”

  I sense I won’t get anything more from this conversation, so I don’t push it. The rest of the drive consists of an easy mix between the talk radio show and amicable silence. We arrive without further incidence outside the hospital, and I throw the car into park as Jack unbuckles.

  “Thanks again for the ride.” It’s Jack’s turn to lean over this time as he plants a chaste kiss on my cheek. “When’s our next lesson?”

  “Right now,” I say, glancing at the
clock, noting we’re half an hour early for his shift. “Lesson three. Always be prompt to your dates.”

  “And the next lesson?”

  “Lesson four. Read the damn books I gave you.”

  “And five?” he asks with an amused grin. “If you haven’t figured it out, I’m trying to find out when’s the next time I can see you.”

  “Rule number five: don’t be so anxious.” I grin at him. “We’ll talk later. By the way, do you need a ride home today?”

  He shakes his head as he slides out of the car. “We’ve got that charity game, so I’ll hitch a ride home with Shane.”

  I wait in my car, watching as Jack makes his way into the building. He walks with such confidence it’s difficult to look away. He’s been inside the building for two minutes before I pull away and notice, not a half a block later, that his phone must’ve slipped out of his pocket and landed on my seat.

  I debate holding onto it for the day, but Jack won’t have a way to get ahold of me without his phone. So, I turn the car around and pull back into the parking lot. Leaving the car in a fifteen-minute parking space, I climb out and tell myself this isn’t reconnaissance.

  I’m here only to return a phone. I’m totally not here to scope out Jack’s workplace and the new nurse, I tell myself as I lock the door to my car. Just business. If I run into Caroline on accident, so be it.

  “HOW ARE YOU NOT SOAKED through?” A female laugh sounds through the door. “It’s really coming down out there.”

  I freeze behind the office door, pause, and wonder if I should turn right around and head back into the rain to retrieve my car. But Jack’s phone burns a hole in my pocket, and I press forward.”

  “Morning, Caroline,” Jack says. “Allie gave me a ride.”

  “You can always ask me for a ride, if you’re desperate,” she says. “We don’t live that far apart.”

  I hold my breath, realizing things between these two have progressed further than I expected. Which means I have less time than ever to prepare Jack for their first—inevitable—date.

  “Thanks, but I usually manage.”

  “What about after the game tonight?” she presses. “If you don’t have your bike, will you be needing a ride home?”

  “No, I’ll get Shane to drop me off.”

  “He lives in the opposite direction,” Caroline says, sounding peppy. “It wouldn’t be a hassle for me to drop you off.”

  “It’s fine, really.”

  “Speaking of Allie,” Caroline chirps, though the conversation has moved well past me already. “Are the two of you together?”

  “Allie?” Jack laughs, though he noticeably doesn’t answer.

  I’m surprised to find that I’m holding my breath. My chest is tight as I wait for his response, which is absolutely ridiculous because I know the answer already.

  “I’m just curious if she’ll be at the game today,” Caroline says. “We are allowed to bring significant others.”

  “Oh, well, she won’t be there.” Jack clears his throat. “We’re not dating. Just friends.”

  “Aw, bummer. We could really use more girls on the team. Bring her along sometime.”

  I nearly bite my tongue, wondering what her play is this time. Scouting out her competition? Lucky for her, she’s got none. Zip, zero, zilch.

  The sounds of pens and clipboards and other medical paraphernalia rustling about is probably a sign that they’re getting ready to head out of the office. I should probably leave right about now, but for some reason, I’m frozen in place.

  Why? I have no idea. To see if they spontaneously break out into a make out session? Because my brain has shut down? I’ll never know because it’s at this point Caroline mumbles goodbye to Jack. The next thing I hear is the sound of rapid footsteps coming around the corner.

  I should move, but I don’t. It’s not until the last second that I straighten and attempt to back away. Unfortunately, it’s far too late.

  Caroline’s eyes grow wide as she spies me. “Hey there, looking for someone?”

  “I’m, uh,” I say, trying to decide if she knows I was eavesdropping, or if I made it look like I’ve just arrived. “I’m here to see Jack. He left his phone in my car this morning. Sorry to interrupt, but I figured he would need it and—”

  “Oh, you must be Allie!” Caroline gushes, seeming genuine in her exclamation. “The famous Allie.”

  “Famous, huh?” I glance over her shoulder at Jack.

  Jack appears then, looking flustered by something. Why he’s flustered, I have no clue; I always knew that someday I would have to share Jack with another woman. In fact, I signed up to help that along with this whole Romance Academy business. So, I give him a huge smile and offer him the phone, hoping he can read the happiness I’m struggling to feel for him through my eyes.

  “In this hospital, you’re the only Allie we hear about. Ever. Believe me.” Caroline offers a good-natured eye roll. “Dr. Darcy never shuts up about you.”

  That tinkling laugh follows, and I shift my weight from one foot to the other, wondering if this is meant as a good thing or a bad thing.

  “It’s a great thing,” Caroline says in a rush. “Don’t worry. I feel like I know you already. In fact, I was just asking about you! Wasn’t I, Dr. Darcy?”

  “Oh really? Interesting.” I offer Jack a tight grin. “Because I definitely wasn’t eavesdropping.”

  Jack rolls his eyes in the background.

  “I was just saying you should come join us for tonight’s kickball game,” she says, reaching out a hand to squeeze my shoulder. “What do you think?”

  “Oh, no. No, thank you. That’s really sweet of you to ask, but it’s a work thing. You guys have fun.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s a charity thing. We’d all love to have you.”

  She looks to Jack for support, but he doesn’t do more than offer a half-hearted shrug.

  “Do you have plans tonight?” Caroline waits for me to answer.

  Her gaze is so piercing I can’t help but shake my head no. I don’t even know if I actually have plans or not, but she’s very convincing.

  “Great, then it’s settled. You’ll be on the blue team with Dr. Darcy. I’ll move over to the red team because Jenny and Andrea are sick,” she continues, “so they’re hurting for women. You’ll be with Dr. Darcy.”

  “Doctor Darcy,” I mutter, spinning on a heel to face him. “How about that?”

  “Don’t start, Allie,” he mutters, raising an eyebrow. “Since when are you athletic?”

  “I do athletic things. Sports. Eating competitions. Television marathons.”

  “Tell me the first rule of kickball,” Jack insists.

  Now it’s a matter of pride, so I rack my brain for the rules of the game. In reality, I’m no more athletic than a toad, but I pretend otherwise. The only sporting events I’ve been to are ones where I’ve been reading a book on the sideline. Jack knows this about me, of course. He knows just about everything about me.

  “Well?” he presses.

  “Rule number one.” I glare extra hard at him. “Kick the ball.”

  “See?” Caroline looks relieved at my comeback. “She’ll be a star. We’ll see you there around six, then, Allie? I offered to give Jack a ride, but if you’d rather...”

  “No, no!” I exclaim, waving my hands at her. “You two should ride together. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Great. You can give me a ride home,” Jack says with a smirk. “So Caroline doesn’t have to do it. Or Shane.”

  I’m about to respond when a commotion breaks out behind me, the noises of someone crying out in pain filtering through the hallway. Jack’s eyes pull reluctantly away from my face, his forehead crinkling in concern as he catches sight of whatever’s happening over my shoulder.

  “What is that sound?” I turn around and instantly regret it. “Oh, no. That’s disgusting. That’s horrible. That’s...” I gag and crumble in half. “Blood.”

  So much blood. Someone stumble
d through the front doors of the hospital, and it looks like he’s taken a gunshot wound to the face. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but the fact is the smallest sight of blood makes me queasy. Needless to say, hospitals are not my favorite place, hence the reason I rarely visit Jack at work.

  I chance a look up, and my world spirals at the sight of bright red dots against antiseptic white linoleum. Black spots swirl around the outer edges of my brain, collapsing in on me, stealing the light and taking me under as I tumble forward.

  The last thing I mumble is something to the effect of, “Jack.”

  Chapter 6

  ALLIE

  “Izz he alive?” I slur, my words coming out thick. “Did he die?”

  “Who?” Caroline’s face comes into view, her sweet voice pulling me from my very unflattering sprawl on what appears to be a hospital bed. “How are you feeling, sweetie?”

  “Did he die?” I struggle to sit up. “The gunshot guy. Blood everywhere.”

  “Oh, no he’s—”

  “Was it a gunshot wound?” I ask. “I’ve never seen anything so horrible before.”

  “Gunshot wound?” Caroline wrinkles her nose. “We haven’t seen a gunshot wound here in months. Let me call Dr. Darcy in here. I’m a little worried you hit your head harder than he thought.”

  “No, no.” I lunge forward and pull Caroline close to me. She smells fruity and bright, like strawberry Jell-O, and I take a sniff. “I like your perfume.”

  “Um, thank you.”

  “Leave Jack out of this,” I mumble, sounding highly intoxicated. “Just tell me what happened. Sorry about the whole fainting episode.”

  “Oh, Allie.” Caroline titters as she leans forward to confide in me. “Dr. Darcy always says you’re hilarious, but I’d never guessed he actually meant it.”

  “Oh, I’m not hilarious.”

  “You are! And adorable. It’s just that Dr. Darcy’s so serious...I guess I didn’t expect you to be his favorite person.”

  “He’s serious, but he’s also very nice...and handsome.” I squeeze her hand and don’t let go. “Don’t you think he’s handsome?”