Page 55 of This Time Around (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #3)
Kate Geary stepped onto the sunny back patio of the B&B and scanned the breakfast tables. Each held a bouquet of daisies and a noisy array of her fellow guests. As she smoothed the skirt of her ankle-length black sundress, Kate breathed in the scent of maple syrup and assessed her options.
Four octogenarians discussing the merits of hip-replacement surgery as they devoured plates of German apple pancakes.
Two fortysomethings bickering about the aesthetic distance and dramatic unity in the Shakespeare production they’d seen the night before.
One thirtysomething guy sitting alone, munching an impressive heap of bacon while reading a children’s picture book with a pig on the cover.
Kate headed for Swine Guy, figuring he was most likely to let her eat breakfast in peace.
He looked up from his book as Kate approached, hitting her with the full force of the most striking eyes she’d ever seen.
The color, somewhere on the palette between green and amber, reminded her of tree moss or spearmint.
A pair of black-rimmed glasses framed them like portraits, and they studied her in a way that suggested their owner wasn’t thrilled by Kate’s intrusion.
Kate touched the back of a chair, as much to keep herself steady as a request for permission to plant her butt in it. “Is this seat taken?”
Swine Guy looked at her for a few beats, then picked up another piece of bacon. “Nope. Feel free.”
“Thanks.”
She pulled out the chair and sat down, then spread a blue-and-green checkered napkin over her lap.
A server walked past en route to the next table, and Kate heard her stomach growl.
She glanced at Swine Guy, wondering if he’d noticed.
He’d glued his eyes to the book again, but maybe he was being polite.
“I love German apple pancakes,” she said, then wanted to kick herself. Hadn’t she sat here precisely to avoid conversation? But here she was, blathering like an idiot. “And the bacon smells incredible. I thought nothing could top yesterday’s crêpes suzette, but everything looks amazing.”
Swine Guy glanced up, then followed her gaze to where the octogenarians sat debating cemented versus uncemented hip-joint replacements as they passed around a white platter loaded with thick slices of ham.
He nodded and bit into his bacon, chewing for such a long time that Kate thought he might not respond at all.
“I’m not much of a sweets-for-breakfast fan, so I asked for a bunch of extra bacon,” he said. “I’d offer you a piece, but that seems creepy.”
“Offering bacon to strangers, you mean?”
“Right. Or offering any food to strangers, really.” He gave her a one-shouldered shrug and the faintest hint of a smile.
Kate stuck out her hand, and Swine Guy wiped his fingers on a napkin before grasping hers in a firm handshake. His palm was big and warm and enveloped hers almost completely.
“Kate Geary,” she said.
The moss-green eyes flickered with mild interest as he let go of her hand. “Jonah Porter.”
Kate grinned. “Now we’re not strangers. May I have a piece of bacon?”
He laughed and shoved the plate toward her. “Nicely played. For the record, I wasn’t hoarding it. I just figured you’d want your own.”
“I do, but I’m starving. I’ll share mine when it comes.” Kate chose the smallest piece of bacon and bit into it. “Oh my God. You weren’t kidding.”
“I never kid about bacon.” Swine Guy—er, Jonah—picked up another piece and chewed quietly as he set down his book atop a pile of others.
“Would you like coffee, ma’am?”
Kate turned to see one of the servers holding a silver urn. With a nod, Kate flipped over the bright-green mug beside her placemat.
“Thank you.” She watched as the server filled her up, then set the plate in front of her with a flourish, presenting her with her very own German apple pancake and four crisp slices of bacon.
“This looks fabulous.” Kate got to work doctoring up her breakfast. A little syrup, some powdered sugar, a squeeze of lemon ...
Jonah picked up another piece of bacon, and Kate let her gaze drift to his left hand. No ring. Single? It looked that way, but she’d learned not to judge too quickly.
“Jumping to conclusions is a lousy form of exercise!”
It was a quote from one of Kate’s favorite books, and she smiled to herself as she thought of it.
She forked up a bite of pancake and glanced at Jonah again. He’d set the pig book on top of a larger pile of children’s books, which seemed interesting. Was he the father of a young child, or a guy with unambitious reading habits?
Jonah caught her staring and nodded. “I own a bookstore,” he said, resting his hand on the stack of books. “Customers have been trying to talk me into expanding the children’s section, so I’m checking out some new releases.”
“Ah.” Kate smiled and chewed a bite of pancake, oddly charmed by his profession.
There was something cultured and intelligent about a guy who owned a bookstore.
The fact that he was here in artsy little Ashland said something, too.
This time of year, nearly everyone in town was here for the city’s renowned theater productions at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.
“Before you assume, try asking.”
There went Kate’s brain again, reciting words from Dr. Vivienne Brandt’s most famous tome on relationships and positive communication.
“You learn much more asking questions than you do by painting the walls inside your own mind.”
Kate picked up her coffee and took a sip. “Which plays are you seeing?”
“Oh, I’m not here for a play,” Jonah said. “I just came for the bacon.”
She must’ve looked startled, because he laughed and shook his head. “Sorry, I’m kidding. I saw Julius Caesar last night, and I’m seeing Off the Rails tomorrow night. I was hoping to see the matinee of Shakespeare in Love today, but it’s sold out. How about you?”
“Oh, I wanted to see Shakespeare in Love , but I couldn’t get tickets either,” Kate said. “I saw Hannah and the Dread Gazebo instead, which was amazing. How did you like Off the Rails ?”
“It was terrific. Sort of a Blazing Saddles meets Shakespeare kinda thing. “
“Isn’t it OSF’s first play by an Indigenous writer?”
He nodded and gave her a look of keen interest. “Yeah. It’s sort of a comedic musical about Indian boarding schools. Cedric Lamar gave an amazing performance. Really powerful.” He picked up his coffee mug. “Are you seeing anything else?”
For a breathless instant, she thought he’d asked if she was seeing anyone, and she started to blurt out her availability.
Luckily, her brain worked quicker than her mouth did.
“I’ll probably go lurk around the theater this afternoon to see if anyone’s selling any last-minute tickets,” she said.
“I have to leave early tomorrow morning.”
“Sounds like you’re quite the theater buff.”
Kate shrugged and took another bite of pancake. The lemon she’d squeezed over it lent the perfect zingy contrast to the warm maple syrup. “I guess so. I actually studied acting in college, but wised up by the time I hit grad school and learned to be on the other side of the camera instead.”
“You’re a filmmaker or something?”
“Close. I work for a production company in LA, but I got my start making documentaries.”
“Is that what you’re doing now?”
Kate shook her head, not sure why she hesitated a little before answering. “I’m actually in unscripted television now.”
“Unscripted television?” He gave her a curious look. “Is that a fancy way of saying reality TV?”
“Bingo.” Kate took a bite of bacon. “Don’t judge.”
“I’m not.” He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t watch much TV myself, but my sister is crazy about The Bachelor and Survivor and a bunch of other shows like that.”
His expression shifted to a sort of fond admiration, though there was something else, too. A flicker of melancholy, maybe, though Kate was probably reading it wrong. She wanted to press for details about the sister’s favorite shows, but decided this wasn’t the time for market research.
“Where’s your bookstore?” she asked instead.
“Seattle,” he said. “One of the few indie bookstores that’s still thriving in the age of the e-book.”
“What’s your secret? Free bacon with every book?”
He laughed and picked up another slice. “I put in a full-service bar and started bringing in live music a few times a week. There’s also a room where guests can interact with adoptable cats. My sister runs an animal shelter, so it’s been a great way to socialize them and help them find new homes.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“Thanks. Travel + Leisure featured it in a piece about America’s best bookstores.”
“Nice!” Kate wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. “Maybe I’ll check it out when I’m there next month for work.”
Jonah studied her a moment, looking thoughtful. “Why did you say that earlier about acting? About wising up and moving to the other side of the camera?”
Kate’s fingers tightened around the mug as her gut pinged with surprise at which detail he’d latched onto. Normally, everyone pumped her for details on filmmaking or television, eager to hear if she knew famous people or if they’d seen anything she’d worked on.
But that’s not what Jonah wanted to know. He was curious about the path not chosen. She took a sip of coffee and considered how much to share. “It didn’t seem practical,” she said. “Building a career in acting takes so much time and luck.”
“You miss it, though? Acting, I mean?”
Kate shrugged. “Sometimes. But it’s just not a good career choice for someone who wants stability, a family—things like that.”
As her brain caught up to the words tumbling out of her, she fought the urge to wince again.
Jesus, Kate. Why don’t you stand on the table and announce you’re a thirty-four-year-old single woman whose most exciting risk in the last decade was returning a library book two days late?