Page 36 of About that Fling (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #2)

“ A re you sure about this?”

Jenna shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans while Adam tossed his suitcase into the trunk of her car. He looked up at her and smiled, and every unsure part of her suddenly felt a whole lot more certain. And turned on. But mostly certain.

“Positive,” he said. “You said, and I quote, ‘maybe we could go away together, just the two of us.’”

“Right. I was thinking more like a romantic weekend.”

“Visiting my dying grandmother isn’t your idea of romance?”

She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Adam. I’m just so sorry. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.” Grief rolled through her in a big, sloppy wave. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to Aunt Gertie.”

“It isn’t quite the same,” he said. “Nana hasn’t been herself for years. We’ve been in the end stages of Alzheimer’s for a while now. My sister Beth—she and I have been saying our goodbyes to her for five years. In some ways, this is a formality.”

“Still, I’m sorry you didn’t get a better goodbye. Maybe if Belmont hadn’t kept you working so hard, you would have been able to get up to Seattle sooner?—”

“Shhh,” he said, nudging the trunk shut and turning to press his lips against hers. It was probably more about halting the flow of nervous words than a passionate gesture, but it still felt good.

He drew back and smoothed her hair back from her face. “Let’s not make this about what-ifs. I want you with me this weekend, Jenna. I need you with me. I need some light and laughter and joy in a situation that might be pretty grim. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded, then handed him her keys. “Yes. Would you mind driving? Seattle traffic makes me nervous.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to take my rental car?”

“I’m sure. I told Mia and Gertie I’m going to Seattle to spend the three-day weekend with some old friends. They’d think it was weird if I didn’t take my car.”

“And I think it’s weird you’re calling me an old friend when we’ve been acquainted a few weeks.” He smiled and moved around to the driver’s side. “It’s okay. We’ve got a three-hour drive to get acquainted better.”

Jenna turned and opened the passenger door, trying not to feel giddy at the prospect of six whole round-trip hours in a car alone with Adam.

Truth be told, that was the part of the journey Jenna looked forward to the most. She was nervous about meeting Adam’s family, about tagging along for something that should be a solemn occasion.

But there was something about joining him for a trip like this that made things between them seem more real.

“I want my sister to meet you,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat as Jenna buckled herself in beside him.

“After I got divorced, Beth got protective. Swore she never liked Mia anyway, which is never very useful to know after the fact. From the moment I started dating again, Beth’s been suspicious of any woman I went out with more than once. ”

Jenna regarded him warily from the passenger seat. “So the fact that your sister hates my best friend and judges all the women you date is supposed to make me feel better how ?”

He grinned. “She’s going to love you. You’re the first woman since before I got married who’s meeting my sister in person, so that’s significant. When I told her you were coming, she knew right away what it meant.”

“Which is what?”

“That we’re more than just a fling. That things feel more serious than that.”

Jenna bit her lip and tried not to grin like some goofy idiot. “Is she going to sit me down for a stern discussion of my intentions with you?”

Adam laughed. “Beth doesn’t do stern. She does wedgies and dirty jokes, often within ten minutes of meeting someone. You can relax.”

“Well, still. If she hated Mia?—”

“You’re nothing like Mia,” he said. “Beth will notice that right off the bat and adore you.”

Jenna kicked off her clogs and tucked one foot beneath her on the seat, not sure whether to feel defensive or pleased about that.

She settled for saying nothing, nestling back into the passenger seat as Adam steered the car onto the I5 on-ramp headed north toward Seattle.

It was just after five thirty on Friday evening, less than an hour after the bargaining team had broken from a long negotiation session to grudgingly wish each other a good Labor Day weekend.

Three whole days. That’s what she had alone with Adam, after telling everyone she was going away to visit a group of old college roommates for the weekend. Mia had seemed delighted.

“I’ll stay at your place to watch after Gertie,” Mia had insisted. “She needs someone to drive her to that meeting with the TV people, and I need a break from being home with Mark.”

“Things still aren’t going well?”

Mia had shrugged and trailed a finger over one of the roses in a vase at the center of her dining room table.

“We’re both trying. He brought me flowers last night.

I made his favorite bourbon pecan chicken for dinner.

We tried the Compassionate Communication thing again last night, and it wasn’t so bad. ”

“Sounds like progress.”

“I hope so. Maybe we’ve just had too much drama in the last couple years. Between moving to Portland and planning a wedding and the pregnancy and everything—” She’d shrugged. “Maybe we just need a little break.”

“For the weekend, you mean?”

“Just the weekend,” Mia had said, kissing her on the cheek. “Have a good trip, sweetie.”

Jenna had nodded and smiled and tried not to feel too guilty about the whole thing. Was it wrong to let her best friend babysit her aging aunt while Jenna flitted off to Seattle to make nice with Mia’s ex-husband’s family? The whole thing sounded like a soap opera.

You’re not exactly going to Seattle for a party , she argued to her guilty conscience, and her conscience had to admit she had a point.

She looked over at Adam. The last remnants of sunlight glinted through the windshield, making flashes of cinnamon in his hair.

He wore his glasses, which sparked glints of green and gold in his eyes.

He’d changed from his suit into jeans and a T-shirt with the words Cornucopia Books printed right above Ballard, Washington in the middle of his chest. She wondered when he’d gotten it and who he’d been with.

He must have felt her eyes on him, because he glanced over and smiled. “What are you looking at?”

“You.” She stretched her legs out, feeling oddly relaxed for someone en route to a death vigil. “You’re lovely to look at.”

He laughed and turned his attention back to the road. “Thanks.”

“Tell me something about your grandmother before she got sick.”

Adam signaled left and passed a semi, then merged back into the middle lane. He looked relaxed behind the wheel, at ease. One hand rested on the edge of the passenger seat, the tips of his fingers grazing her knee. Jenna liked seeing it there.

“My grandma was always a survivor,” he said. “She had triple bypass surgery in her sixties and breast cancer in her seventies.”

“Wow, that’s a lot. She sounds tough.”

“She was. Is. After the double mastectomy, she said she didn’t want to bother with reconstructive surgery or implants. Said she was proud of her scars, and thought one of them looked like a jack-o’-lantern.”

“Sounds like a spirited woman.”

He nodded, his eyes still on the road. “I went to visit her one afternoon around Halloween, and she disappeared into the bathroom. When she came out, she’d drawn a full jack-o’-lantern face in eyeliner over one of the mastectomy scars.”

Jenna laughed, trying to picture the old woman in her mind. It wasn’t hard. “That sounds like something Gertie would do.”

“Your aunt reminds me a lot of Nana. My grandfather had to stop her from showing it off to trick-or-treaters at the door.”

Still smiling, Jenna angled a little in her seat, letting her bare forearm brush the tips of Adam’s fingers. They were warm and felt so natural trailing over the bones in her wrists. “Your grandma sounds like someone my mom would have loved.”

Adam glanced over, surprise in his eyes. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I get the sense you don’t talk about your mother much.”

“You’re right.” She nibbled her lip, considering that. “It’s kinda how Mom was, too. Not real forthcoming with feelings or fears or family stories or anything that might give the impression she didn’t have everything under control.”

Holding the steering wheel loosely, Adam nodded. “She protected you by controlling the narrative.”

“I—yes, I guess so.” This discussion had started to feel like a post-mortem psychoanalysis of her mom. Jenna fought the urge to get defensive, to stick up for her mother. Then she gave up and said what she felt. “My mother loved me completely. I never, ever, for one single minute, doubted that.”

“You must miss her a lot.”

“I do.” Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back hard. “Tell me another story about your grandmother.”

Adam seemed to hesitate, and Jenna held her breath. Then he slid his palm over her knee, rubbing it thoughtfully.

“She never could stand to see anyone mistreated,” he murmured.

“One time my grandfather was having the riot act read to him by a woman who got mad at him for leaving his cane propped up against his chair. Nana was in the bathroom at the time, but she came back just in time to hear the woman yelling at him for being careless. She called him a crotchety, clueless old man who didn’t care if people tripped over his cane and broke their necks. ”

“What did your grandmother do?”

“She stood there for a second, assessing what was going on. Gramps used to forget his hearing aid sometimes, and he’d try to play along like he knew what people were saying. This woman was yelling all these nasty things at him, he just nodded and smiled and said how nice the weather was that day.”

“The weather?”

“That just made the lady mad, so she tried to grab his cane.”

“Jesus. So then what happened?”