Page 2

KAREN

Sighing in sublime relaxation, Karen sipped on her coffee before distractedly turning the page in her newest addiction – sci-fi fantasy books from the seventies and eighties.

There was an amazing innocence yet intriguing and uplifting mentality to the books that hadn’t been tainted by the current events that would soon follow.

Challenger’s explosion had put a certain shadow or skepticism that wasn’t there before in books, almost like the ‘ What If ’ moment hadn’t even dawned on the author.

And she loved it.

There was something so satisfying in the easy escape that these books provided and…

Karen paused.

Something prickled the back of her consciousness like someone was staring at her. She looked up just in time to see someone move out of her line of sight. Shrugging, she went back to reading. Maybe they were just looking to see if the seat was empty?

“Nope,” she whispered softly to herself. “Distinctly taken for the next few hours.”

Today, she was off of work, had just gotten paid, and was excited to have the afternoon to herself for something that didn’t tax her brain.

Oh yes, this was easy to absorb, unlike studying the hieroglyphics of ancient Egypt for several weeks to see if she could crack the code or understand what was being inscribed on the walls and obelisks.

Newsflash – she couldn’t, which was why she was delving into this.

A huge letdown after months of studying and admitting the truth: she couldn’t decipher the stuff.

That awareness combined with a four-pack of wine coolers, a box of tissues, and a two-hour binge-watching Stargate while screaming at the television just how wrong the movie was – had led to this.

Giving up.

She wanted to travel to the pyramids, to see with her own eyes and comprehend the echoes of the past like some egotistical brainiac, whereas the truth was much harder to swallow.

A broke librarian was never going to Egypt – and would never chance upon her Antony.

She was never going to speak fluent Gaelic on some craggy moors like in Outlander .

There was no Spanish count looking for his Contessa, no Portuguese prince searching for her, and no suave Frenchman looking woo her, whispering ‘ voulez vous coucher avec moi?’ in some secluded glade…

“Um… hey?”

A voice interrupted her thoughts, and Karen looked up – and her mouth dropped open – before snapping it shut. He had to be lost or asking when she was giving up her seat because there was no reason for a guy like him to be interrupting her.

“Yes?” she said simply, giving him a lofty look over the pages of her book. “Can I help you?”

And to her shock, he turned around slightly, reached about four or five feet away without moving, and snatched a small chair that wasn’t being used from another table.

The woman with glasses looked up in shock where the chair had once been, continuing up to the man, and had the same reaction Karen had as her lips parted and she shoved her glasses back up her nose, gawking. The man put the chair down beside Karen’s chair and took a sip of his coffee.

“Hi.”

“Again – may I help you?” she repeated in a hushed voice, staring at him in disbelief.

“I’m Jett,” he began easily, staring at her like he knew her. “What’s your name?”

“Do I know you?” she asked in confusion, pinching her eyebrows together as she tried to place how she knew this man. He was acting like he knew her; like they were about to have some deep conversation that was long overdue, but she was pretty sure she’d never met this guy.

“We’re about to make history. What’s your name?” he whispered, giving her a confident half smile as he curled his lip in the most annoying way, almost like he was about to celebrate some victory before the battle had already engaged.

“I’m sorry… what?” she chuckled, shaking her head as she looked at the gorgeous guy once more and hesitated.

He was not her type. This man screamed ‘jock’ in so many, many ways.

He was athletically built and tanned, and his hair was clean cut to the extreme – in fact, on one side of his head, he had lines shaved into his hair and a part shaved in one eyebrow.

His ear was pierced as well as one eyebrow, and he wore a chain around his neck.

The man wore more jewelry than her, and it strangely suited him.

“How are we about to make history? Is that a pickup line?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled easily and winked at her. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” she closed her book, fully fascinated at this strange conversation unfolding around her because this had to be a prank, a ruse, a dare… and she wanted to know who on earth she needed to file a restraining order or press charges against for harassment.

“The courthouse,” he smiled widely, looking distinctly pleased with himself.

“And why, pray tell, are we going to the courthouse?”

“To make history, babe. We’re getting married.”

Karen felt something bubble inside of her as she stared at the beautiful man in disbelief, fighting back a laugh as she grinned almost as hard as him.

“We’re getting married?” she repeated quietly.

“Yup.”

“To make history?”

“You know it. Fastest marriage on record, and then we’re off.”

“To where?”

“We’re moving.”

“Oh really? And where are we moving to?”

“Quebec for my new job.”

“As a psychiatric inmate?” she goaded just to see how he’d react – and to her surprise, he smiled. The man brushed off her words like it was nothing.

“Naw, babe – I play hockey. I’m not an inmate.”

“I’m not your ‘babe’.”

“That’s because you haven’t told me your name.”

“That’s because you haven’t been serious about this conversation yet – and I didn’t catch your name either,” Karen replied smoothly, lifting an eyebrow towards him almost in a dare.

“So you are getting one chance to start over, bowl me over with your charming ways, and have a real conversation before I decide to call Beatrice over because you are harassing one of her favorite patrons.”

He paused, his eyes searching hers, as his smile faded slightly.

“You’re really freakin’ smart – aren’t you?”

“I am,” Karen smiled and moved slightly, adjusting her seating as she continued to hold his gaze.

“So gimme everything you’ve got and make it good.

This is your chance to win me over as a friend before I start yelling ‘stranger-danger’ and get you tossed out of here, so let’s hear what you have to say,” she encouraged almost arrogantly knowing she held all the cards in this moment as she saw the flicker of unease in his eyes.

“Um…” he began and cleared his throat, looking at her once more.

“Go on,” she chuckled. “Unless you’ve got a case of cold feet after that wondrous proposal that would sweep any girl off their feet, friend.”

His face paled slightly as he swallowed and then cleared his throat, all while holding her aggressive gaze and a part of her respected him immensely for not giving up or leaving at that moment.

“My name is Jett Acton, and I’m the man who’s going to marry you, making every dream you could ever wish for come true for a few months…” he paused and hesitated as Karen pounced.

“Why months?”

“If you don’t want to stay married to me, then I would let you go – but in the meantime, I would give this marriage my everything and put you on a pedestal.”

“I don’t need to be put on a pedestal, Jett,” she replied almost breathlessly, just hearing his explanation that seemed so normal yet abnormal at the same time.

It was almost like something from a fairy tale but with a modern slang to it that seemed to hit home. “And I can dream of a lot of things.”

“I hope to show them to you.”

“Why me?”

“Because you would be my wife and give me a chance at a future,” he said softly, and Karen hesitated as she felt him touch her hand.

“Miracles happen every day, but I haven’t found mine, and I’m willing to bet that you haven’t gotten one either.

So what if we reach for this one and make it our own miracle? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could end up hurt…” her voice trailed off as she swallowed.

“I could end up hurt too,” he breathed faintly, holding her eyes.

“But what if six months from now you wanted to travel the world, to take a chance on life, to have a whole library of old books like this, or simply to sit in a coffee shop in Quebec with someone you could call a friend by then… could you imagine spending the afternoon with someone who wants to share a moment with you? And if you didn’t want me around, then I would give you your freedom. ”

“Just like that?”

“Life is full of chances and choices… I’m taking my chance, but to do so, I need help – from my wife.”

“Me?”

“You.”

“But we don’t know each other.”

“Then we get to know each other and become friends. A future together with a friend by my side sounds pretty good… don’t you think?”

“You think you are so smart, don’t you?”

“Oh no,” he chuckled softly, his brown eyes growing warm as he smiled. “I’m a menace on the ice, but my wife is the brains of this marriage – and I kinda like it like that.”

Karen stared at him in disbelief, her mind whirling.

He kept talking about a future, a chance, friendship, and maybe it was the openness of his expression or perhaps the way his timing seemed to be just at the moment when she was rattling off all the ways she wasn’t going to meet her Prince Charming.

Could Mr. Right be stepping into her field of vision when she’d been looking in a different direction?

“I have a job,” she began nervously, whispering the words as his hand moved slightly, clasping hers. “I have a life here and…”

“I hear the key to a happy marriage is dating your wife,” Jett began softly, his thumb caressing the back of her knuckles easily.

“I think we should do coffee dates and talk like this once a week. Wouldn’t it be funny to be eighty years old and hobbling down the street together to our café, sharing a moment and celebrating our differences?

You could still be smart, pretty, and wearing pink while sitting in some little nook,” he chuckled softly, waving his other hand at himself.

“And I could still be here beside you, trying to keep your attention and prove that giving me a chance wasn’t a mistake. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Karen felt something crack within her as she stared at him in amazement.

Her grandparents relationship had always been a ‘goal’ to a little girl growing up in a home split by divorce.

She would go to her father’s house on the weekend and during the week, spend time with her mother who was actively dating and looking for her next husband – only to never remarry – but her grandparents were iconic.

Her grandpa smoked a pipe, looked out the window at the cars driving up and down the street, and chatted with her grandmother about everything and nothing. It was like they enjoyed just being in the same room together, sharing the same space.

A massive part of her soul stood up and took notice of his words, making her hesitate.

It wasn’t just the touch of some man’s hand on hers, the preposterous proposal, or the way his gorgeous eyes held hers; but there was touch of ‘him’ within those words that gave conjecture, a glimpse of who he was down to his deepest foundations that made Jett Acton who he was.

Heaven help her… it worked.

“Coffee dates?” she whispered, her breath held in her chest, waiting for a warning sign.

“Give me this chance – and yes.”

“When?”

“Now. Today.”

“I don’t know you…”

“Then learn who I am – and I’ll get the same opportunity.”

“I can’t believe this…”

“Will you marry me?” he asked again softly, and it wasn’t until then that Karen saw he was holding his breath, his entire body tense as he held her hand in his, waiting. “Please? Let’s grab this miracle with both hands and see how long it lasts. What do you say?”

“Yes.”