Page 3 of At the Heart of It (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #4)

T hey dropped the marriage act before they got to the theater, which was fine by Kate. But they didn’t drop the “date” act, which was also fine by her, especially once the play ended.

“Here, try this.” Jonah held out a spring roll filled with shrimp and fresh cilantro, and for an instant, Kate wasn’t sure whether to take it from him or bite it out of his hand.

She decided to err on the side of caution.

“Thanks.” She plucked it from his fingers and took the politest bite she could manage. “Mmm, you’re right. The peanut sauce is delicious.”

They’d both been hungry after the show, and found their way to a quaint little Thai restaurant near the theater. It seemed platonic enough, except that they’d been seated at a candlelit table on the patio beside Lithia Creek, with a canopy of twinkle lights strung through the trees overhead.

“I love this place,” Jonah said as Kate forked up a spicy bite of eggplant from her green curry. “Especially that little mouse over there that keeps darting onto the patio for crumbs, and then running back when the waiter comes out.”

Kate glanced behind her at the bushes to see the tiny pink feet scurrying away. “How do you know I’m not afraid of mice?”

Jonah grinned and poured the last dregs of wine into each of their glasses. “Because I saw you slip him a noodle when you thought no one was looking.”

Kate laughed and lifted her glass, enjoying the crispness of the rosé , the coolness of the evening, the warmth of Jonah’s company. “Guilty as charged,” she admitted. “You’re a very observant guy.”

“I try.” Jonah took a slow sip of wine, then set his glass down and looked at her. “So you just came to Ashland by yourself?”

She felt herself bristling, then relaxed. He was here alone, too, so there was clearly no judgment in the question.

“Yep.” She trailed her fork through the green curry, looking for another bite of chicken. “I used to come here all the time with Anton—that’s my ex. I guess I started thinking of it as ‘our place.’”

“So you’re here to reminisce?”

“God no.” She didn’t realize she’d jerked back until she felt her cardigan slip off one shoulder. Tugging it back up, she shook her head at Jonah. “It’s the opposite, really. I’m here to reclaim it.”

“Reclaim it?”

She shrugged and scraped a pile of rice to the middle of her plate, not wanting to miss a bite of it.

“There’s this book I really love about getting on with life after a bad breakup—” She stopped, reconsidering how far she wanted to go down that path as she shoveled sauce-soaked rice onto her fork.

“Anyway, it talks about reclaiming memories and places after a split. I used to come here with my parents as a teenager, so it’s really more my place than ours .

Anton’s and mine, I mean. I realized I was being silly letting it stay haunted by ghosts of relationships past.”

“Ghosts of relationships past,” he repeated, giving her an odd look. “That’s an interesting turn of phrase.”

“I can’t actually take credit for it,” she said. “It’s from that relationship guide I mentioned.”

Something flickered in Jonah’s face, but it was gone in an instant.

Maybe he wasn’t used to women admitting they read self-help books, but Kate refused to feel embarrassed.

If anything, it was a point of pride, a reminder that she was willing to improve and grow and embrace change.

Anyone who’d judge her for it was not the sort of guy whose opinion she valued.

“Breakups are tough,” he said. “Sounds like you’ve done a good job moving on.”

“I like to think so.” She studied him for a moment. “You’re not married, are you? Sorry to be blunt, but the last three guys I’ve gone out with turned out to be married. Not that this is a date, but?—”

“Divorced.” The answer was firm and decisive, but he didn’t volunteer anything else. Kate lifted her wineglass.

“Well, here’s to having the self-assurance to vacation solo,” she said. “Feeling confident dining alone or seeing a movie by yourself or whatever.”

“Cheers to that,” he agreed, clinking his glass against hers. “Some of my happiest moments have been totally solo. No offense.”

Kate grinned. “None taken. Enjoying the pleasure of your own company is one of the greatest skills to master.”

She replayed her own words in her brain and wondered if they sounded entirely too masturbatory. Jonah didn’t react, so she was probably overthinking things.

She watched him drain the last of his wine and tried not to be disappointed their plates were empty.

Despite her assertions about the importance of flying solo, she’d enjoyed his company.

A lot, actually. True, there was no point starting something with a guy who lived in another state. Or a guy from anywhere, really ?—

“Wait, no, you don’t have to do that.” She made a grab for the credit card he’d handed the passing waitress, but she missed and ended up grabbing the woman’s hip instead. “Sorry about that.” Kate fished into her purse for her wallet. “Please, let me?—”

“It’s fine, Kate.” Jonah grinned at her and caught her hand in his. He didn’t let go right away. “I’m not paying so you’ll put out.”

The waitress giggled and hurried away, and Kate felt herself blushing all the way to the tips of her hair. She sat back in her chair with a grimace. “Sorry. I’m a little out of practice at this. But, you shouldn’t have to foot the whole bill for this.”

“I think I can manage.”

She must have looked dubious, which was pretty lousy of her. It wasn’t like she had any idea how much a bookstore owner made.

Seeming to read her thoughts, Jonah grinned. “I have other sources of income,” he said, pausing long enough to scrawl his signature on the bill the waitress handed him. Reading upside down, Kate could see he’d left a generous tip. “The bookstore isn’t my only revenue stream.”

“Oh. That’s—that’s good.”

She waited to see if he’d volunteer more, but he seemed to be done discussing his finances. She thought about what else she wanted to know about him. How long had his marriage lasted? Did he have any kids? Any tattoos or pets or?—

“Don’t be afraid to ask blunt questions at the start of a relationship!”

Kate’s brain quoted matter-of-factly from one of Dr. Brandt’s older books.

“Someone who’d judge you for being inquisitive and straightforward isn’t worth getting to know, and walking on eggshells only makes your toes cramp!”

It felt weird to hear the words echoing in her head now, considering this wasn’t a relationship and she’d probably never see Jonah again.

They both stood and Kate tugged her cardigan tighter around her shoulders.

The fall evening had turned chilly, and she shivered as she started up the stairs leading from the courtyard to the street.

She was conscious of Jonah right behind her, and wondered if she had panty lines showing through the thin jersey fabric of her dress.

The hemline came all the way to her ankles, and part of her wished she’d worn something knee-length or maybe gone commando.

“Something’s making you smile,” Jonah remarked as they reached the street and fell into step together.

Kate couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement, but she blurted an answer anyway. “Underwear.”

He laughed as they fell into step together and headed back toward the B&B. “I guess that’s something to smile about. Did you know nine percent of American men have underwear that’s at least ten years old?”

“That’s—wow.” She looked up at him. “So you might be wearing underwear purchased around the first time you legally bought beer?”

He grinned as his elbow bumped hers. “Was that a roundabout way of asking how old I am, or a roundabout way of assessing my hygiene?”

“Neither, really. Just an observation.” Kate shrugged as she sidestepped a crack in the sidewalk. “I don’t usually hold back if I have a question or something I want to say.”

“That’s a good trait to have. Straightforwardness, I mean. I’m thirty-six, by the way. And I bought all new underwear after my divorce.”

Kate laughed. “That’s an interesting post-divorce ritual.”

“Not a ritual so much as reestablishing my identity,” he said. “She liked boxers, but I’m more of a boxer-brief guy.”

“Reclaiming your sense of self with underwear. I like it.” Kate hesitated, not sure if she should press for more. But hell, he’d been the one to bring up the ex. “You’ve been divorced awhile?”

He shrugged. “A year or so.”

“Was it ugly?”

Jonah kicked a pinecone out of their way. “Nah, it was pretty amicable. Well, as amicable as divorce can be when one person gets fed up and pulls the plug while the other is sitting there like a dumbass wondering what the hell just happened.”

“Which were you?”

“The dumbass.” He gave a funny little laugh. “Probably part of the impetus for the divorce.”

Kate smiled to herself and tugged her cardigan tighter around her waist. “I don’t think dumbasses generally use words like impetus and amicable .”

He turned and looked at her, a flash of surprise in his eyes. “Good point.”

A breeze kicked up, sending a pile of dry leaves skittering across the road. Kate didn’t realize she’d shivered until Jonah began shrugging off his jacket. “Here. We’ve got two blocks to go. I don’t want you freezing to death.”

“I don’t want you to freeze either.”

“I’ve got a long-sleeved shirt under a sweater,” he insisted as he settled the chocolate-colored suede around her shoulders. “I’m good.”

She started to protest again, but the jacket felt warm and smelled like cloves and cedar dust. It was five sizes too big, but she snuggled into it and tucked her hands up inside the sleeves.

“Thanks,” she said as they started walking again. “You’re very chivalrous.”

Jonah laughed. “My sister would say overprotective , and meddling , but I’ll take it.”