Authors: Melanie Jacobson
I heard a whoop, definitely Courtney’s, through the phone. Tanner grinned and said, “See you later. Or possibly not.”
“It was nice of you to ask
her
,” I said, my arms crossed over my chest.
“Didn’t want to worry her.”
That was it. That was all he said. I pointed out the small flaw in his thoughtfulness. “You didn’t ask
me
.”
He sighed again, but it sounded amused rather than annoyed. “Pepper, would you mind if we skipped the celebration with Courtney and headed somewhere else to talk?”
I paused to make him squirm. I saw no evidence that I had succeeded, but I hoped I made him worry for at least a small moment. “That might be my least favorite phrase in English,” I said.
He took his eyes off the road to shoot me a quick questioning glance, so I clarified.
“
We need to talk.
I hate that sentence.” But I knew my voice carried no heat.
“That’s not what I said,” he pointed out. “We don’t
need
to talk about anything. But I’d like to.”
“Curiosity will kill me if I don’t,” I said.
He smiled. “If that’s what it takes.” He drove us slightly northwest, and soon the graceful shape of the Mount Timpanogos temple rose in front of us, looming larger by the minute.
I shot him a sharp glance. Was he kidding? He says he wants to talk, cancels my plans with his sister, and then drives me to the temple? My stomach clenched, and I fought the urge to press my hand against it and reveal my distress.
It didn’t mean anything
, I argued.
He probably picked it because it’s quiet.
But when I felt the distinct sensation of acid churning somewhere near my gut, I knew my brain hadn’t sold my stomach on the argument. Well . . . maybe he wasn’t going to the temple. Maybe there was a nearby park or something . . . but that hope faded as he turned onto the road that would take us straight there.
“Is this okay with you?” he asked, pulling into the temple parking lot.
Don’t overreact
, I repeated about two thousand times in my head before I mustered my calmest voice to say, “Sure.”
He killed the engine and gave me a long, searching look. I tried not to show panic. A full minute must have passed as he stared at me earnestly, and I stayed frozen, a tragic smile on my face intended to communicate that I wasn’t at all freaked out. Then I saw it—the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth. I narrowed my eyes, and I saw it again, only this time it was nearly a tremor.
“You rat!” I cuffed his arm, and he burst out laughing, the first time I’d ever heard him let loose without any hint of irony or detached amusement. I smacked him again.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, wiping at an eye. “But you looked so terrified at the idea of talking that I couldn’t resist. Did you think I was going to propose?” And that set him off again, laughing so hard he clutched his side.
At first, I glared at him, my arms crossed and my jaw clenched. But then I realized how completely ridiculous the situation was, and a smile threatened to ruin my scowl. “It happens all the time, you know.”
He subsided into a grin and turned to face me, resettling himself in his seat without the restriction of his seat belt. “What does?”
“Proposals. You can’t be too careful when you’re a prize like me.”
He sobered. “I believe it. How many proposals do you figure you’ve gotten just in the last year?”
I paused to count. “Forty-seven.”
He considered that with a nod. “I would have guessed more, to be honest.”
“It’s hard to be me.”
He leaned his head against his headrest and smiled again. “I think it would be interesting to be you. It would be nice to have access to the way your brain works.”
Taken aback, I stared at him. “I promise you, it’s pretty boring.”
“Nah,” he said.
I waited for more, but that was it. I guess I should have learned from reading his articles every day that Tanner believed in the efficient use of words. Fine. “You wanted to talk? Talk,” I said, with a sweep of my hand to suggest that the floor was his.
“Yeah.” He paused like he was collecting his thoughts. “I’m not great at doublespeak, Pepper. I pretty much say what I mean.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Then I’m going to be blunt, if that’s okay.”
“Um, sure?” What was going on here?
“This double date with Courtney and Josh. When is that going to happen?”
I shrugged. “Probably next week, if it works with everyone’s schedule.” It hadn’t been at the top of my list since I had so many other things demanding my time, but quitting Handy’s opened a bunch of slots in my schedule.
“I know you think I invited myself so I could babysit Courtney, but I didn’t.” He rustled a little in his seat, finally situating himself the exact same way he’d been sitting before, except for his head was no longer resting on the back of the seat, and his fingers drummed the console between us in a fast staccato. I doubted he realized he was doing it. His uneasiness fascinated me.
He cleared his throat. “I want that to be a real date.”
There it was again, that efficiency with words.
No “I was thinking maybe . . .”
No “How would you feel about . . . ?”
I realized I was letting his delivery distract me from his message because no part of my brain could process that statement at the moment. It wasn’t a surprise, exactly. But I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Did I want to go on a “real” date with Tanner? I’d long gotten over the interview. And I’d had time over the last couple months to get a sense of him through his writing and watching him interact with his family. I’d progressed from feeling stressed the first time I’d seen him to not minding when he showed up to . . . looking forward to it, honestly. But this announcement. What did I think? What did I want? The drum of his fingers stopped, and I glanced up to find him watching me, his expression wary.
“Sometimes I think better if I’m busy,” I said.
“Let’s walk.” He didn’t sound annoyed. He climbed out of the car and came around to open my door. I stood and found myself with my nose nearly nestled at the base of his neck, the closest I’d ever been to him, and another spark leapt between us. He rested his hands on my shoulders, and a split second before I could panic about why, he shifted me to the side and shut my car door, his movements calm and deliberate. But I wasn’t fooled. I caught the tiniest twitch of his lips again.
“You’re trying to throw me off balance,” I said.
“I was trying to help you keep your balance while I closed your door,” he said.
“No, you weren’t. Admit it. You wanted to freak me out a little.”
“How?” he asked, amused.
Making me think you were going to kiss me.
No way would I give him the satisfaction of saying it out loud. “You know.”
“I know you’re playing pot to my kettle. You’re the one keeping me off balance.”
I flushed, knowing it was true because I hadn’t answered him. “I’m not doing it on purpose,” I muttered.
“No,” he agreed. “
This
would be on purpose.” And he took a step forward, which caused me to take a step back, putting me right up against the car. My pulse accelerated.
“Big difference,” I agreed, struggling to keep my voice even.
He leaned in until only a whisper separated our lips. “Off balance yet?”
I swallowed. “I would be, if the car weren’t keeping me from falling over.”
“Wouldn’t want you to fall,” he said.
“Falling would be bad,” I said, and this time a whisper was the most I could force out of my throat. Every part of me was frozen, but not the icy kind of frozen. It was like the stillness of a photograph where you witness a perfect moment captured in time. In the same way that a scene changes in the instant the camera captures a shot, whether you notice the difference or not, everything changed between us too. But the change was in the tiny fraction of space that Tanner closed between us, when his mouth touched mine and the gentle brush of his lips drew a sigh from me I didn’t know I was holding. He smiled against my mouth and then kissed me again. I clutched a fistful of his shirt because suddenly his Honda didn’t offer nearly enough support.
His hands rose to rest against the car on either side of my head, and the kiss grew more intense, shifting from a mischievous hello to an exploration that buckled my knees beneath me. I tightened my hold on his shirt, the only anchor I had in the crazy flood trying to sweep me away. When he lifted his head, my hand slipped around to his bicep because I was still trying to find my balance, and he cupped my elbow to steady me. I’d have felt stupid, but I could see by the dazed look in his eyes that he might need the help as much as I needed it.
I drew one long breath and then another before I let go of his arm, regretfully, since it was a well-formed bicep, and straightened. He took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets. Neither of us said anything for a moment.
I cleared my throat. “We were going to walk?”
He nodded, and we took the few steps to the sidewalk and several beyond that in silence.
“How’s your thinker?” he asked after awhile.
“Muddled,” I said.
“Is it such a hard question? You can feel free to answer with just a yes or no,” he said, a note of humor in his tone.
“Remind me of the question again.”
“What do you think about going on a real date?”
“I was afraid that was still the question,” I said with a sigh.
“So that’s a no?”
“Unfortunately, it’s not a yes or no question.”
I wanted to say yes. There were a lot of reasons to say no. But I still wanted to say yes—and that was a problem. His kiss—that crazy, knee-weakening kiss—begged for me to yell, “Yes, and more kissing, please!” I didn’t, but it was close.
“I didn’t realize you were an overthinker.” He sounded relaxed, which surprised me. I’d be feeling foolish and defensive if our roles were reversed.
“I never used to be,” I said. “I’ve always been a go-with-the-flow kind of girl. But life happens, and now I’m more of a once-burned-twice-shy kind of girl.”
A handful of patrons carrying small suitcases wandered between the parking lot and the temple doors, but the grounds were empty of other visitors. We ambled along a little farther, now rounding the front entrance to the temple, and I peered at the edges of blossoms barely visible as they lay curled up for the night. Tanner’s expression stayed thoughtful, and he didn’t seem bent on trying to change my mind.
“Is this coming a little out of left field?” he asked.
“A little.” On the one hand, he’d confirmed the chemistry I sensed between us. On the other, it surprised me that he would see us as a good fit, considering our rocky history.
“What do you think we should do?” he asked. “Be buddies and wave hello when we bump into each other at my parents’ house?”
Wait. Was he withdrawing his date invitation? I might not be totally sure of our next step, but I definitely didn’t like
that
idea.
“No,” I said.
Look who was practicing efficiency with words now.
“No? You don’t want to be buddies?” For the first time, he sounded confused.
“No.”
I walked another couple steps before I realized he’d stopped, and I turned around to stare at him. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, looking exasperated but highly amused. “You’re not making any sense,” he said. “Is that no, you don’t want to be buddies; no, you do want to be buddies; or no, you don’t want to go out. Help, please.”
I grinned. “It feels good to turn the tables. I should do this more often.”
“And I still have no idea what you’re rejecting me for.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Between my nerves, the aftereffects of his kiss, and my own confusion, the laugh felt like the safety release on a pressure cooker blowing off a jet of steam.
“I’m not rejecting you. I’m rejecting being rejected.”
“I take back everything I said. That was perfectly clear.” He sounded like he was trying not to laugh.
“I ended a pretty intense relationship last year,” I said. “I don’t know that I’m ready to dive into another one.”
He studied me, puzzled. “Who said anything about a relationship? I was talking about a date.”
“But that’s where dates lead,” I said.
He started walking again. “Some dates do. And some don’t. And if this one doesn’t, it’s not such a big deal, right?”
It was my turn to stop. “If this is not such a big deal, then why are we having a talk about it?”
And what was that kiss back there?!
He hesitated for a long moment and then said, “You got me. This is a slightly more loaded situation than a casual date.”
“Yeah.”
“That doesn’t mean it has to be a relationship,” he said. “I’m not really in a market for one either.”
I started walking again. “Then what’s the point of a date? If neither of us is looking for a relationship, I’m not sure I get it.”
“I guess it’s so I can feel like making out with you is sanctioned if we’re officially dating.”
“Tanner!”
He laughed. “I’m kidding.”
We reached the large circular planter in front of the temple, and I took a seat. He joined me, his shoulder grazing mine as he sat. “Pepper, honestly, I find this whole situation pretty confusing too. I’m not thrilled at the idea of a relationship, but I like the idea of spending more time with you. I’m willing to risk that turning into something more. It seems crazy to waste exploring this connection we have. Maybe it’s my reporter’s curiosity, but I want to pursue this thing between us just to figure out what it is.”
I stared at my shoes, conflicted, a typical reaction to Tanner. Did I feel flattered and validated? Or did I feel insulted that he wanted to explore our connection out of a sense of curiosity? I tried to guess what my dad would say to me, imagining his voice in my head. It would probably sound something like, “People who take offense to things have usually been looking for an excuse to be offended.” To be fair, that about summed up my dynamic with Tanner up to this point. If I didn’t rely on being prickly to keep him at a safe arm’s length, what would happen? Did I want to find out?