Romance By the Book by Sarah Ready

Jessie

“Let me get this straight,”says Veronica.

We’re all at the bakery for a morning coffee and emergency girl chat called by moi. Chloe, Veronica and Ferran sit around an outdoor table on the sidewalk. The white and blue striped table umbrella shades us from the morning sun. Tall ceramic pots full of red and purple and pink flowers surround the outdoor seating area. It’s seven in the morning and downtown Romeo is just starting to wake up.

“Okay,” I say to Veronica. I take a bite of my apple fritter. The coating of white sugar glaze cracks as I bite into it and melts on my tongue. I know donuts are terrible for your health, but this morning I don’t care.

Veronica gives the side-eye to my Romeo Public Library book bag stuffed with romance novels. “For the past few days you’ve been going gung ho after Gavin.”

“Ye-es,” I say, stretching out the word.

“And Will, the man you love to hate—”

Alarmed indignation washes over me. “I do not—”

“Has been gung ho after you.” Veronica wiggles her eyebrows at me.

I drop the apple fritter to my plate. “What are you saying?”

“She’s right,” Chloe says. “You do love to hate Will. You have for years. Every time you see him or his name is mentioned, you get all hot and bothered.”

“What? That’s not hot and bothered… it’s…” I wave my hands in the air. “It’s dislike. Mutual dislike.”

Ferran puts down her mega jug of coffee. She’s a coffee fanatic. “I’m pretty sure him making out with you against that wall”—she points to the brick wall ten feet away—“means the dislike is not mutual.”

We all stare at the wall for a moment. I feel my cheeks flush. While my mind is saying no way, my body is saying wheeeee, like it’s on some deranged lust roller coaster. The way Will backed me against the wall and held me in place while he moaned into my mouth is apparently just what my body has been waiting for.

My body wants more.

I shake my head. “He promised to keep me from Gavin, it’s just a game to him.”

Chloe looks skeptical. “Are you sure my aunt said Gavin was your soul mate? Because she can be kind of opaque in her predictions.”

My stomach flutters, then does a cartwheel. “No. She did. It was clear. She said my soul mate was the Williams boy I’d loved since I was a kid.”

“Gavin,” says Ferran.

I nod. “Gavin.”

Chloe bites her lip in thought. “Hmmm. I just thought, maybe…”

Across the street, Chloe’s husband Nick runs by, pushing their baby Ava in a running stroller. Ava’s in a frilly dress and a sun hat and she waves her arms and giggles. Nick grins at Chloe as he runs past and Chloe snaps a picture with her phone. We all take a second to soak up the cuteness of Dad and baby out for a morning run. After they’ve disappeared past the bridge we turn back to the conversation.

“So, you’ve tried a dance, a long stare, a makeover, romantic dinner, a kiss in the rain…what’s left?” asks Ferran.

“Desperation,” I say.

I grab the apple fritter and shove another bite into my mouth.

“His fiancée.” I swallow down the growing guilt, “Gavin’s fiancée gets here on Saturday for their engagement party. So I need him to realize I’m his soul mate before then.”

Chloe frowns. “I don’t like it. Take it from the woman left at the altar by her cheating fiancé, it’s not…it’s a really horrible thing to do to someone.”

Veronica reaches over and pats Chloe’s arm.

“It worked out though,” I say. “Because your fiancé wasn’t your soul mate. In fact, you should thank your second cousin for marrying him so you could find Nick.”

“A soul mate pronouncement doesn’t give you the right to hurt other people,” says Chloe. “Be careful that you don’t do something you won’t be able to forgive yourself for.”

I look down at the crumbs of my apple fritter. The sugary pastry sits heavy in my stomach. I haven’t met Lacey yet. It’s been easy to forget her existence, or push her aside as “not right for him.” But what if I’m wrong? What if she’s as kind as Chloe, or as loyal as Veronica, or as determined and smart as Ferran? This woman I’ve never met, she doesn’t deserve her heart broken.

“I…” I look at my friends. “I texted Gavin this morning and asked if he wanted to go mountain biking.”

There’s a long moment of awkward silence, then, “You need to borrow a bike?” Veronica asks.

“Yes, please,” I say quietly.

Veronica has three mountain bikes, two Specialized, and a Trek. She took up mountain biking after college for when she needs something more exhilarating than rock climbing.

“He’s only here for a few more days,” I say. “I’ve never followed my feelings for him before. I was always too scared or too shy or too whatever. I know the timing sucks and it looks…”—I glance at Chloe—“really bad. But I just want to put myself in his path and let fate do its thing. If it doesn’t, and Gavin keeps looking at me like I’m his kid sister—”

“He did?” asks Ferran.

I shrug. “Pretty much.”

“That’s weird,” says Veronica.

I shrug again. “If nothing clicks for him, then I don’t…I have to try.”

Chloe sighs. “What a pickle.” Then she looks at Veronica. “Vee, I just got the best idea for a pickle card.”

Veronica perks up. “Nice. Pickles, huh? I could sell that.”

“I have to go,” says Chloe.

We wave her off. Once inspiration hits, she doesn’t have room to think of anything else. She jumps up and hurries to her office. It’s in the loft above the bakery, where the senior ladies sprinklered Will and me from last night.

“I’ve got to get to work too,” says Ferran. She gulps the last of her coffee. “If you ask me, you should figure out if you actually love Gavin or if you just really, really want to.”

There’s a tightening in my chest at her words.

After she’s gone, Veronica turns to me. “So…bike?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Thanks. Let’s do this.”

She smiles. “It handles light, and since it’s your first time, be careful. I don’t want you to break any bones.”

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” I ask.

Veronica studies me, then shrugs. “I ran from my soul mate, and fate caught up with me. You’re chasing yours. I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

She sounds sort of doubtful.

My teeth clatteras I steer the bike over a makeshift log bridge. My helmet strap digs into my neck and my head knocks about as I ride over a pile of rocks strategically placed on the path.

“Whooo,” shouts Gavin. “This is awesome!”

I wipe at the sweat dripping into my eyes and attempt to keep my bike upright. My favorite kind of exercise is walking. It may have been a tad ambitious to invite Gavin mountain biking. Gavin hits a ramp and his bike soars for a second before landing on the dirt single track.

“Don’t you love it?” he shouts.

“Love it,” I squeak. I brake to a stop and awkwardly scoot my bike over the ramp. Behind me, Will snorts.

“Think that’s funny?” I ask over my shoulder. “Let’s see you do it.”

Will is ten feet back. He’s riding one of Gavin’s old bikes. He has on a helmet, bike gloves, and a pair of shorts and a T-shirt that shows off his bulky shoulders and biceps.

When I arrived at the mountain bike trail, Gavin was already there with Will and two bikes. I wasn’t surprised to see Will. Of course my traitorous body started to cheer.

Gavin said that Will had been working since three in the morning, and since it was eleven, he’d already put in a full day. Which meant Gavin felt obligated to drag Will from the office and make him have some fun. Gavin said “fun” with a weird emphasis. I smiled and agreed that Will did need to loosen up and have some fun. Will looked at me with a wolfish gleam in his eyes. A gleam that made heat rush to my cheeks.

The Romeo mountain bike trails are on the ski slopes outside of town. The ski lodge converts the slopes to bike trails during the non-snow sport months. For the first half-mile, Gavin stayed close, telling stories about other bike trails he’s been on. But after it became clear that Will and I were mountain bike newbs, Gavin sped forward to try out some of the more expert obstacles.

“What’ll you give me if I make the jump?” Will asks.

There’s that light in his eyes again, the gleam that he had right before he kissed me last night. I stare at him for a long moment, then, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

He scowls at me and my gaze latches on to the fullness of his lower lip. Earlier, when I saw Gavin in shorts and a t-shirt, I waited for a flood of attraction, a flash of lust, something, anything…it didn’t come.

But one look at Will and all I can think of is the look in his eyes when he pressed me against the wall and—

“Stop looking at me like that,” he says in a low, husky voice.

I startle and shake myself out of the fantasy.

He moves his bike back and I maneuver off the path. Will picks up speed, hits the ramp perfectly and lands five feet past me. He brakes, turns around and gives me a wicked smile.

“Fine. You win. I’m the only one here who is terrible at mountain biking.” I think for moment. “Or sports. I’m pretty terrible at all sports. Except walking.”

Will smiles at me and I feel myself flush. “You’re good at climbing trees.”

“Is that a sport?”

“Obviously.”

I smile and climb back on my bike. We start forward. Will lets me lead, since I’m the slower, more wobbly one.

“Looks like we lost Gavin.” I check and am surprised that I don’t feel disappointed.

“Not my doing,” Will jokes. Then, "Is that okay?”

“I guess. I mean, he wanted to enjoy himself biking. He has to move faster than my snail pace if he wants to do that.”

“I’m enjoying myself,” Will says. “I like your snail pace.”

I give a small smile that he can’t see. I don’t tell him, but I’m enjoying myself too. The mountain is beautiful in the summer. There are boulders and stony outcroppings covered in moss and ferns and the glistening of small natural springs leaking from the rocks. The smell of sun-warmed leaves and freshly biked-over dirt fills the air. A bird calling zee-zee-zee ascends in high notes.

“That’s a warbler,” I say. “Hear that call? They’re common in New York. Prairie warblers, Canada warblers, chestnut sided warblers—”

“Wait,” Will says. He pedals closer. "You really do go bird watching? With binoculars?” He sounds surprised and slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, so now you believe me? You think I really was birdwatching in the oak tree?”

I look back and grin. When he sees my smile, his expression shifts. “Nope. You’re still a peeping Tom.”

I look forward again. "We had a bunch of birdcall CDs at the library. I did a community program on New York birds one summer.”

“Hence, warblers.”

“Mhmm. They’re funny birds. During courtship they perform dances in the air to show off their skills and chase after their chosen female.” I don’t know why I’m bringing up courtship with him.

“Fascinating.”

I shiver at the way the word rolls off his tongue.

“They also sing to mark their territory and fight off other males.”

“Hmmm. Do they?” There’s a thoughtful note to his voice.

I carefully steer around a cluster of rocks. Gavin’s tire tracks are on the trail, so he’s still somewhere ahead of us. Maybe I should try harder to catch up with him.

“You didn’t have to try very hard today,” I say.

“Try what?”

“To separate me and Gavin.”

There’s a rickety-looking bridge, three wooden planks that are eight feet long, laid over a small rocky stream. I pull to a stop.

Will pulls up beside me. He steps off his bike. I look over in surprise. He lays it in the grass at the side of the trail.

“What are you doing?” I scoot my bike backwards.

“Trying harder,” Will says.

A warm heat pools in my abdomen. It’s a delicious melting feeling that says yes. That, more than anything else, scares me.

“I don’t want to kiss you,” I say, shaking my head.

His eyes flash in challenge.

I back my bike up a few more steps, then decide it’s not fast enough, so I hop off and drop it to the grass. I back off the trail into the short woodland grass. Will follows. He unbuckles his helmet and drops it to the ground. I watch as he pulls off his bike gloves and drops them too.

My heart starts to flail like the beating of a bird’s wings against my chest.

“Gavin, he’s—” I cut off when Will reaches out and runs his fingers down my cheek.

An electric current runs through me, priming my body to receive his touch.

“Why were you working at three in the morning?” I ask, trying to distract him, or let’s be honest, myself.

“I was on a call with the Tokyo office. Then later Dubai, then London.” He’s not really paying attention to what he’s saying. Instead, his fingers trace along my jaw. I stand still, afraid to move, afraid not to. His fingers find the clasp of my helmet. He unbuckles it and slowly lifts the helmet from my head. Strands of hair fall around my face.

“You work too much,” I say.

“Yes.”

He takes my right hand and strokes the fabric of the bike glove.

“Why?” I ask.

He tugs at the fabric covering my pointer finger. It rides up, sliding to my knuckle. He wraps his fingers around my pointer and caresses my exposed skin and then firmly pulls until the tight fabric lifts off. He gently touches the tip of my finger and then moves to the next. He circles my middle finger, plays with it, then pulls the fabric up. Every tug, every touch, reverberates through me. Each time he pulls on a finger of my glove, I feel a responding tug low between my legs.

“Why do I work so hard?” he asks.

His voice is rougher than I’ve ever heard it. He moves to my ring finger and slides it through his hand. I gasp. The black of his pupils grows and nearly swallows his irises.

“Mhmmm,” I say. I’m falling into a drunken lusty deliciousness where my body feels heavy and warm.

Will has removed my entire glove except for the pinky. He drags his hand over mine. I shiver at the feel of his heat covering me. He grabs the pinky and tugs. It comes off with no resistance. The glove falls to the grass.

I stare at my hand, naked and supple. Will threads his fingers through mine.

“Because that’s what I do,” he says.

Cold rushes over me. I hear the sardonic Will in his voice. He said the same thing the first time we kissed. I yank my hand from his. I stoop down and grab my glove and helmet.

“We should go.”

Will reaches out. “Wait.”

I turn back to him. I expect to see the cold, arrogant Will I’ve known so many years, and I startle when I realize he’s not there. In fact, I don’t think he’s been there for some time. If I’m honest, years maybe. I think I’ve been seeing Will as he was in the past and not letting myself see him with fresh eyes. I guess that’s the hard part about knowing someone so long and making judgments about them. You don’t let them grow or change. In my mind, Will solidified as a villain at age eight and I never let him grow beyond that. But people change.

I look at Will.

His too-long hair falls across his forehead. He holds out his hand, his long fingers reach toward me. He looks like a mournful angel, beautiful, powerful, but unsure of whether or not he’ll get what he’s lost.

I wonder what he’s lost.

I don’t know. But I do know one thing, that maybe I’m finally seeing him in a new light. And I’m not so sure he’s a villain. At least, I can give him the chance to begin again. Because the worst thing you can do to a person is freeze them in time and not let them move forward and grow.

“Yes?” I ask.

He drops his hand and steps towards me.

“Do you want to sit?” He gestures at the smooth short grass at the base of a mountain maple tree. I study him. Funny thing, if I don’t assume that he has ulterior motives, I can almost believe that he’s…thoughtful.

I sit in the grass and cross my legs. Will stretches out next to me.

“When I was nine, my dad realized that I was a mathematical prodigy.”

I turn to look at him. I knew this, sort of. Everyone in Romeo heard about how Will was running the family’s international accounting offices by age 14.

“He was proud?”

Will shakes his head no. “He hated it. I just wanted to play. Run around outside, climb trees, swim in the river, wrestle with my dog.”

“You had a dog? I didn’t think you liked dogs.”

Will gives me a strange look. I try to imagine him with the puppy.

“My dad said he’d be damned if he’d stand by and watch me waste my talent. That he’d rather I’d never been born than to see me fritter away something he would’ve killed to have.”

“What happened?” A cloud covers the sun and I feel cold. Will swallows and I catch him glancing at me from the corner of his eyes.

“He made certain I didn’t waste my talent.”

Something in his voice makes my heart crack. I think about the difference in him from age eight to age twelve. In four years he became so cold, so…

I reach out and put my hand on top of his.

He looks up in surprise.

“When my mom died,” I begin, “I was eight. My dad cracked. He broke apart, and he was never able to put himself back together. Not even for me. He didn’t speak more than a hundred words in nearly twenty years. Not even on the day he died. I told him I loved him and he…he said, ‘Marlena.’ That was my mom’s name. And that was it. He died. So, I guess I’m saying, I don’t know how it was with your dad, but I know how it feels to want a parent’s love and not have it. I won’t judge.”

He shifts. Slowly he puts his arm around me and scoots me close.

“I fought him the first year. He banned play, toys, friends, video games, anything ‘fun.’ Anything outside of math and accounting that I showed an interest in, he removed.” He says the word “removed” with a horrible finality.

“He didn’t let you have friends?”

Will looks at me.

“No.”

“How lonely.”

Will shrugs.

“So that day when I asked you to be my friend and your dad came around the corner?” I ask.

Will gives a sharp nod and I ache to hold him.

“What about your dog?” Dogs are a boy’s best friend.

“Riley was a distraction. He had him put down.”

I stare at Will in mute horror. He doesn’t look at me.

Finally he says, “I work because it’s what I do. It’s what I was trained to do and it’s what I’m good at. It surprised the hell out of my dad when I became so good at it that I forced him out of business when I turned eighteen.”

“Good,” I say with vicious satisfaction.

Will gives me a small smile. “Then once he was out of my life, no longer pushing me, I realized I like what I do. I love it. He may have gone at it the wrong way, but he put me on the right path.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I spent a few years as a teenager in therapy. It helped me realize I was angry with my father. I found the takeover of the company very cathartic.”

He grins and I smile back.

But something’s bothering me. “What about friends? Or hobbies or love? Don’t you want those?” For years I never thought that Will had human enough emotions to desire those things, but now…I want him to have them.

Will turns toward me. I suddenly realize we’re sitting close, our faces are inches apart. His arm is around my back. His fingers reach up and run through my loose hair. I shiver and my legs clench in response.

“Jessie?”

“Yes?”

“Can I please kiss you?”

I look into his eyes. They’re wary and uncertain. I don’t say anything for a moment. The cold, closed-off Will starts to reappear. I see him shifting his shield back in place.

“When we were fifteen,” I begin.

His eyes narrow.

“Why did you really kiss me back?”

He lets out a harsh puff of air. He looks as if he’s struggling with whether or not to tell me.

I run my fingers over his hand. He lets out another breath and when he looks at me again, his eyes have thawed.

“Because you were the closest thing to heaven I’d ever felt and I didn’t want to stop.”

My heart flips over in my chest. His lips curve into a small smile.

“You’re not…” I pause, and clear my suddenly dry throat. “Why?”

“You’ve always been my friend,” he says. “Even when you didn’t know it.”

“Yes,” I say, and he understands.

He leans forward and takes my lips. I gasp as his mouth meets mine. He threads his hands through my hair and pulls me closer. He groans deep in his throat and the sound vibrates through me and reaches low down so that I lift my hips toward him.

He swears against my mouth, and I nip at his lips.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he breathes.

I reach up to stroke his shoulders. He grabs my wrists, leans me back to the grass and pins my arms over my head. He places his legs over mine, pinning me to the ground, and sets his mouth to mine.

I fall into the rhythm of his body rocking against me. His tongue strokes my mouth, his hips run over me and his length strokes my clit. I struggle in his grasp. I need my hands to pull off my shirt, to take off his. I want to touch him.

“Let me go,” I say.

He pauses, then releases my hands. I smile and drag his shirt up over his chest. His eyes go dark with surprise, then want. I lean up and pull my shirt off, then my bra. My breasts bead and ache in the open air. Will lets out a hard breath and moves his hands to cup them. When his thumbs rub over my nipples, I gasp and arch toward him. His eyes spark like he’s found a new hobby and he strokes me again. I cry out. He bends and pulls a nipple into his mouth. He grazes it with his teeth. I rock up against him. I send my hands over his muscular back, his shoulders. I tug at his hair as he teases my breasts with his mouth.

“Will.”

He stops then. Goes completely still and quiet. Then he looks up at me and a strange light enters his eyes.

“Say that again,” he demands.

“Will,” I whisper, tasting his name on my tongue.

He grabs my mouth and kisses me hard and fast. I pull him to me and hold him close.

“Hey guys! Will. Jessie!”

I jerk up and fling my hands around my breasts. It’s Gavin. He’s calling us and he’s not far away. Will swears and grabs my T-shirt. He hands it to me and I thrust it over my head. I shove my bra in my pocket. Will moves just as fast. In seconds, we’re both fully clothed and standing five feet apart. My heart hammers in my chest and I stare at Will.

What the heck did I just do?

Last night I could chalk up to a mistake, but today…I invited him to kiss me. I…wanted him to? Yeah, I did.

“Will? Jessie?” shouts Gavin.

I hear the snap of dry branches under bike tires.

“Over here,” Will calls.

He glances at me, takes in my expression, my clenched hands and the fact that I can’t hold his gaze.

“You have a twig,” he says. He steps closer and reaches up to my hair.

Yes. I want his fingers threading through my hair. The realization makes me flinch. Will stiffens in response. Then he pulls the twig out and drops it to the ground.

He takes a good six steps back, and when I gather the courage to look at him again, all the warmth and yearning and openness is gone. His face is closed-off and expressionless and his stance is cold.

I want to go to him and tell him I didn’t flinch because of him, but because I’m so confused. Because how can I feel these things for Will when Gavin is my soul mate?

“Will?” I look down the trail. Gavin is fifty feet away, just past the rickety log bridge.

“Yes?” His jaw clenches.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He shakes his head and looks away.

“Hey Jessie, watch this,” shouts Gavin.

Will and I both turn to look. Gavin is at the bridge. He pulls up on his handlebars and the front tires leave the ground in an impressive wheelie. Then, he brings his front wheel down on the three logs. When he does, the logs split apart. There’s a loud crack. Gavin yelps and tries to maneuver his bike.

I watch, completely stunned, as the bridge collapses and Gavin and his bike plunge into the rock-strewn water.

“Holy heck!” I shake off my shock and run toward the stream.

Will’s faster. He reaches the stream and stands at the edge. Gavin lies in a pile of rocks, and the water rushes over him. His bike is tangled over his legs. He sputters and coughs.

“You okay?”

“Dang. Ahh. Dang.” Gavin tries to sit up and falls back against the rocks. “I think I broke something.”

“Huh,” Will says. He wades into the water and assesses the situation. Based on the amount of swearing on Gavin’s part and his level of pain, Will decides to call the paramedics. While he’s on the phone, I take off my shoes and socks and climb into the cold stream. I squat down next to Gavin.

“Does it really hurt?”

Gavin grits his teeth. “It’s not too bad.”

I glance over at Will. He’s talking to the 911 operator, but he’s watching us from the corner of his eyes. Even now, he doesn’t want to leave me alone with Gavin. I frown and look down at Gavin. He grimaces in pain and tries to put on a brave face.

Suddenly, I realize that once again fate has intervened just in time. I was confused and then Gavin fell. Gavin being injured is fate’s way of letting me nurse him back to health. There are thousands of romance novels on the Florence Nightingale effect. Injured men falling in love with their nurses. I’ll nurse him back to health and he’ll finally feel that spark. And…so will I. All of my strategies didn’t work, and that’s because they weren’t the right path to love.

I pat Gavin’s hand. “Don’t worry, the ambulance will be here in no time.” I smile down at him and he gives a grateful smile back.

“Thank you,” he says. “It helps having someone as pretty as you as a distraction.”

I smile and ignore the pinch in my chest. I purposely don’t look at Will as he splashes in the stream and pulls Gavin’s bike to the grass. I don’t look at him as he crowds close to me and checks on his brother. I don’t…I can’t look at him.

I feel like I’m betraying him, which is silly. Because fate couldn’t have spoken any louder. It wants me to be with Gavin. It’s paving the way for a classic Florence Nightingale romance.

It’s basically a done deal.