Taking a Chance Read online

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry.”

  “I know. And thank you. This job might kill me before I’m thirty.”

  “You’re thirty-three.”

  “See? Already forgot how to count. It’s happening.” Emma heard Ari’s teakettle hiss, and it gave her a quick pang of homesickness. “So distract me, please. I beg you.”

  “I would, but I’d run the risk of you actually getting in your car and coming up here. You’d totally marry this one.”

  “Re-eally. Because?”

  “Because he’s nice. And sweet. And he really is fostering kittens, so—I mean—hel-lo. He’s so good with his dad, and he runs a café downtown that’s gorgeous and smells like heaven, and…I don’t know. He’s just kind of one of those too-good-to-be-true guys.”

  “Well, obviously there’s something heinously wrong with him, then.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Is he easy to talk to?”

  “Frighteningly.”

  “Would you do him, given the chance?”

  “Ari!”

  “Hey, just asking. I mean, he sounds gay, so the question occurs.”

  Emma laughed. “Oh, he is definitely not gay.”

  “And you know this, how?”

  Emma took a deep breath as she thought back to the way Jasper had looked down at her last night after he’d helped her put on her sweater. She’d bet money he’d been thinking about kissing her.

  But then he’d backed up, and she’d felt like she must be imagining it. Then she’d made inane comments and practically fled.

  And then she’d gone the wrong freaking way.

  “Emma? Seriously? Leaving me hanging here?”

  “He’s not gay. I don’t have any carnal knowledge of the man, but I guarantee he’s not. He just—isn’t.”

  It would be a crime, really.

  “So what’s next?”

  Emma shook her head. “What do you mean—‘what’s next’?”

  “Did you make plans to see each other again?”

  “We see each other practically every day. He visits his dad a lot.”

  Ari sighed. “Are you going to do anything outside of the nursing home?”

  “Actually, yes. He convinced me to go out to Whisper Creek this afternoon.”

  “Cowboy heaven? Seriously? You will send pictures, right? Of the scenery, I mean?”

  Emma laughed. “Of the scenery, yes. Any particular scenery you’d like me to focus on?”

  “Oh, you know. Mountains, horses, cowboys. Whatever crosses your path. And Emma?”

  “Oh, boy. You have your advice-voice on.”

  Ari sighed. “Have fun, okay?”

  “That’s it? That’s your sage advice?”

  “You want more?”

  Emma bit her thumbnail, considering. Did she? “Maybe? Sort of? I don’t know?”

  “Okay, fine. Since you asked, I have more.”

  “Excellent.”

  “I think you would be nuts not to date this guy, if he’s actually as great as you make him sound.”

  “With the understanding that he hasn’t actually asked me to date him, you mean?”

  “Details. He’s had dinner with you how many times now? Invited you to his place? Is taking you out to Whisper Creek for the afternoon? I mean, seriously? How do you define dating?”

  “He’s just being kind, Ari. I’m out here alone, and he’s taking pity on me. I’m sure that’s all it is.”

  She hugged herself as she remembered the heat of his hands sliding down her arms last night.

  Please let it not be pity.

  “Does it feel like pity?”

  “I…don’t know. Not sure I know what that does feel like. I’m a little out of practice in this whole game, right?”

  “Well, time to pick up that bat and get back in the game, sweetie.” Ari sneezed again. “Or whatever analogy actually goes together and makes sense. I’m too stuffed up to know anymore. But seriously. Go wild, do something crazy, and stop worrying so hard about being perfect enough to impress the universe. Maybe the universe doesn’t give a hoot right now.”

  “I have no delusions about my own perfection, Ari.”

  “Oh, I know that. You might be a tad delusional about your future chances of perfection, however.”

  “I think your cold has gone to your head.” Emma laughed, but she could hear the nervous undertone, and she was sure Ari could, as well. “I’ll do my best. How’s that?”

  “Twelve weeks is a long time. It’s long enough to tell a lot about a person.”

  Emma’s gut swirled. Yeah, twelve weeks was a long time.

  It was also a painfully short one, when the stars and moon and oceans collided.

  And some rebellions ended in nothing but tears, accusations, and horrible, aching loss.

  Chapter 15

  “Try the crab cakes. They’re amazing.” Jasper pointed to Emma’s menu two hours later. He’d popped his head into her office twenty minutes ago to pick her up for their trek out to Whisper Creek but had suggested detouring downtown for a quick lunch at his favorite outdoor café before they headed out. She wasn’t sure there’d be room for food among the grasshoppers in her stomach, but she trusted her eating skills more than her horseback ones at this point, so she’d been happy for the delay.

  She wrinkled her nose. “I think we’re a little too far inland for me to trust seafood.”

  “You sound like Lexi. She lives out at Whisper Creek, but she grew up in Maine. Her husband flew in lobster one time when he was trying to convince her to stay out here, because she was too afraid to order it locally.”

  “Smart girl. I think I like her already.” Emma smiled as she scanned the menu. “Also, I have to respect a man who’d go to those lengths for a woman.”

  “Yeah, Gunnar pretty much killed the bar for everyone out here with that move.”

  She tipped her head, remembering a sunset shot. September, maybe? “Is Gunnar on the calendar?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t look at it.”

  “Fine.” She laughed. “Are you jealous of the hot Whisper Creek cowboys?”

  “Any lesser mortal would be.” He smiled. “But they’re good guys—every single one of them—so it’s hard to fault them for posing.”

  “I have been ordered to take pictures.” She shrugged. “Just so you know. If I’m going all shutterbug, it’s for my friend. She’s seen the website, and she’s demanded proof that they’re real.”

  Jasper laughed as he closed his menu. “Great. Here I was, thinking maybe I’d have your attention for the afternoon.”

  He stopped suddenly, like he hadn’t meant to let those words out of his mouth, then picked up his menu again with a tight smile.

  “So, no seafood for the gator-girl. What else looks good?”

  “Feel like splitting one of these artisan pizzas?”

  His eyebrows hiked up like he was surprised she’d want pizza. “Really?”

  “Yes. Why? Is something wrong with them?”

  “No, not at all. They’re delicious. I guess—never mind.”

  She sat back. “Let me guess. You’re used to women ordering a small salad with dressing on the side, and a glass of club soda with lime?”

  He laughed. “Maybe?”

  “Well, let me tell you a little secret.” She hooked her finger and he leaned in closer. “Those women went home afterward and gorged on Ring Dings and Cheez Doodles because they were starving.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “I do say.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  “Absolutely.” She closed her menu and set it on the table. “But I left salads behind in my twenties. I like to eat. I can’t help it.”

  “I love it.” He smiled. “What do you like on your pizza?”

  “Surprise me, but no slimy fish. And no black olives. Oh, and no peppers, please. Or pineapple. And no weird broccoli concoctions. Kind of goes against the point of pizza, right? But anything else is good.”
/>   He laughed. “So, pepperoni?”

  “Perfect.”

  He signaled the waitress and ordered their pizza, then sat back in his chair, looking as relaxed as she was nervous. She sipped her water, watching people walk by on the sidewalk, and just like the other times she’d been downtown, she marveled at how the pace here just seemed…slower.

  “Is this always what it’s like?” She pointed toward the sidewalk.

  “It’s actually kind of busy for a Saturday, but the tourist season is wrapping up. I think everyone’s getting in their last visit before they fly out of town. We’ve got a couple of guest ranches besides Whisper Creek around, and Saturday tends to be the turnover day, when one week’s guests are gone but the next week’s haven’t arrived yet.”

  “It’s so—I don’t know—calm. Like nobody’s rushing anywhere.”

  “Nobody is.” He shrugged. “We’ve got a different clock out here. Moves slower. It’s part of what drew me here.”

  “Huh.” She nodded, watching two teenagers walk along the diagonal path through the park in the center of the downtown block. She studied the girl the way she always studied them.

  Brown hair. Dark. Too dark, probably, but would she know, really?

  Too tall, probably, though. Yes, definitely too tall.

  “You okay?”

  Jasper’s voice snapped her back to the present, and she pulled out a quick, practiced smile.

  “Yeah. Sure. Of course.”

  “Looked like you were a million miles away.”

  “Nope.” Only three thousand. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

  “I asked when you were last on a horse.”

  “Oh.” Safe topic. Thank goodness. “It’s been a lo-ong time. I rode when I was a teenager, but I fell off one too many times, and my father decided I wasn’t meant to be an equestrian, so that was the end of that.”

  “Did you want to stop?”

  “No.” She took a deep breath. “I loved it, actually. I just wasn’t especially good at it.”

  “Nobody is, at first.”

  “Well, Winthrops are.” She rolled her eyes. “My older sister was a natural.”

  “Tough act to follow?”

  “Pretty much always.”

  Emma tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. It wasn’t Annabelle’s fault that she was so freaking good at everything. She just…was.

  “Does she still ride?”

  “No. She’s a little busy winning Nobel Prizes and things like that.”

  He laughed. “Of course. Sorry.”

  “I’m not even kidding. I mean, she didn’t win a Nobel Prize—yet—but she’s a neurosurgeon. Studies brains. Discovers really amazing stuff and publishes it in all of the really important journals, then travels around speaking to lesser doctors about it all.”

  “Tough that there’s no talent in your family.”

  “Right? It’s a problem.” She sighed. “She had to choose from scholarships at Dartmouth, Princeton, and Yale. She’d taken Harvard off the list when she decided she didn’t like their dorms, but they probably would have begged her to go there, as well.”

  “And I imagine this caused you absolutely no anxiety as a kid, trying to live up to all of that?”

  “Not a bit.” Emma twitched her shoulder. “I’m fine with my measly master’s degree or three.”

  He raised his eyebrows, his face almost serious. “Did your parents put a lot of pressure on the two of you?”

  “Three of us, actually. I have a younger sister, too.”

  “Let me guess—she’s the attorney?”

  “Was. She’s home with her twenty-three kids now.” His eyebrows went so high that Emma laughed. “Not really. Just four. But call at bedtime, and it sounds like twenty-three.”

  “Do your sisters live close to you?”

  “No.” Emma shook her head. “Annabelle’s in New York City in some high-rise apartment building that looks out onto other buildings. It’s expensive and gorgeous and completely horrible. I could never live in a space I had to share with that many other humans. It’s utter insanity. Last time I went to visit, we went to Times Square, and there was some sort of movie premiere going on. There were so many people there that I actually feared for my life.”

  “Sounds like L.A.” He shook his head, grimacing. “What about your other sister?”

  “She’s in San Diego, where it’s seventy degrees and sunny all year long.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad. Let me guess—you visit her more?”

  Emma looked down at the table. “I haven’t been out in a while. Busy, you know?”

  “How long’s it been since you’ve seen her?”

  “Too long.”

  Three years, but work was nuts, and anytime she’d tried to plan a trip out West, something came up and she ended up working instead. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go visit Lauren. She just hadn’t been able to make it happen.

  “Must be hard to watch her kids grow up online, hm?”

  Emma’s eyes met his, and she couldn’t tell whether there was judgment in his words or just understanding.

  She was guessing judgment.

  “You know how it is. You have the best intentions, and then—it just doesn’t work out.”

  He nodded, then picked up his water glass like he was doing it to avoid saying whatever he was thinking.

  But maybe that was just her guilty conscience talking. Hard to know.

  “What about you?” she asked. “Any NASA engineers or astrophysicists in your family tree?”

  “Just coffee-guy me.” He shrugged. “But I make damn good coffee, so there’s that.”

  “Is your mom—gone?”

  “Cancer.” He nodded again, swallowing like the word was covered with cactus spikes. “Seven years ago.”

  “Oh, no.” Before she even knew she was doing it, she reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry. Were you guys close?”

  He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand back but didn’t let go. “Not as close as we should have been. And that’s on me. I was always too busy to go home and visit. Too busy to call.”

  Emma swallowed hard, thinking about how little Lauren’s kids had been the last time she’d managed to visit them.

  “And then it was too late.” He blew out a slow breath, letting go of her fingers. “And I can’t get that time back.”

  “I’m so sorry. Which is a super-lame thing to say, but wow. I just—I am. Your heart must be in a hundred pieces. I don’t know how you do the whole happy-coffee-guy thing so well.”

  “Well, I was the king of bad decisions, but somewhere along the way, I decided it was stupid to stay in that role. So here I am, living in Carefree, Montana, figuring out how to do it better the second time around.”

  He paused while the waitress set a steaming hot pizza onto the table, then slid slices onto each of their plates. Emma couldn’t help but sigh happily as she tasted the first bite of perfectly cooked, just-enough-cheese pizza-nirvana.

  After a few moments, she looked at him. “So are you? Figuring it out?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “I am.”

  She looked down, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “So I imagine people like me? Ones who spend their weekends at work and their vacations at work and their evenings at work, all in pursuit of the elusive whatever? Not your favorite breed?”

  “Actually, they’re completely my favorite breed, because I get them. And can maybe get to them before they become—well—me.”

  Suddenly a smile hit Jasper’s face as he looked over Emma’s shoulder, and she turned to see what had lightened his mood.

  Save for two elderly women at a nearby table and a squirrel in the flower barrel outside the café doors, she couldn’t spot anything.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  He hitched his chin toward the window that had Gina’s swirly logo painted on it. “I’m about to let you in on a locals-only secret.”

  �
�Ooh.” She leaned in. “I’m all ears.”

  “See that little neon circle on the door?”

  Emma turned and looked over her shoulder again. Yep, there was a bright green piece of paper about the size of a dessert plate, just hanging on the door for no discernible reason.

  “Okay, I see it. What does it mean?”

  “It means there’s news.” He raised his eyebrows.

  “What kind of news?”

  “I don’t know. We have to ask.”

  “Huh?”

  “Tell you what—go inside and ask anybody who’s working. Just ask if there’s news.”

  “Is this some sort of a test? And do I have to air-quote the word news like you just did?”

  He smiled. “Maybe.”

  “Fine.” She pushed her chair backward. “I’ll go find…news.”

  She pushed through the door, heading for a tall counter in the back, where three women were scuttling around spooning up salads and slicing bread.

  “Excuse me,” she asked. “Is there some—news?”

  A middle-aged woman whose hair was escaping her ponytail one frazzled strand at a time scrunched her eyebrows together. “What kind of news?”

  Shoot. She’d forgotten to air-quote.

  “I’m not sure, really. Just—you know—news? I was told to ask.”

  The woman looked behind her at the other two, who both shrugged. “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yup.”

  Emma pointed toward the door. “But—the green paper?”

  “Oh, that’s nothing,” the woman pshawed. “Forgot to take it down.”

  “Hey, Meredith.” Jasper’s voice startled Emma as he came up behind her, moving around her to go to the counter. “What’s the news?”

  Meredith slanted a look toward Emma, then handed Jasper a piece of paper. He opened it, read whatever was inside, and then slid it back over the counter.

  “Thank you.”

  Meredith blushed. “You’re welcome.”

  Emma followed Jasper out of the café and back to their table, feeling half annoyed and half amused.

  “So what was that all about?”

  “It’s a locals-versus-tourists thing.” He smiled. “When there’s something that businesses want locals to know about, but not tourists, they slap up a neon circle, and we know to ask.”