Page 26 of Snowflakes Over Starr's Fall
Jenna’s eyes widened and the moment spun out. His fingers were still on her wrist, his thumb touching her pulse which was beating hard. Finally, after what seemed like a very pleasant, veryexpectanteternity, Jenna let out a shaky laugh and gently withdrew her wrist.
“Well, in that case…” she said. “I suppose you can pour me another glass.”
Jack did.
He was hoping the mood would melt into something relaxed and languorous, spin out a little more as they saw where this might take them, but before Jenna had even taken a sip of her wine, he saw her expression tense and he felt the atmosphere shift to something uneasy and far less pleasant, like a chilling of the air.
“I probably should call Annie or Maggie,” she said a little unsteadily. “Just to give them a heads up.”
“All right,” Jack replied, because what else could he say? He wasn’t going to make her stay, even if he wanted her to… and he’d just told her so.
Jenna rose from the table to get her phone from her bag, while Jack sipped his wine and tried to regroup. For a few seconds there, it had felt like something might happen between them. Now it no longer did.
Jenna went out into the hall to make her call, which stung, stupidly, because of course she’d want some privacy. Still, Jack suddenly felt like an interloper in his own empty home. He sighed and put down his wineglass. His head was feeling muddled enough already; if he hadn’t had a couple of glasses himself, he would have offered her a ride, so she didn’t have to call a friend.
It was all starting to feel kind of teenaged andawkward, he reflected glumly, which was not the vibe he’d been going for at all.
The minutes stretched on with Jenna still in the hallway, so Jack decided to clear their plates and get out the dessert—a raspberry mousse hehadbought in Litchfield. His culinary skills extended only so far. As he scraped plates into the garbage disposal, he wondered what he’d been hoping for, from the evening. To help Jenna with the store, or get to know her better, even alotbetter?
Maybe, he mused, it would be better for both of them if he just focused on the store. If she really was willing to start changing things, he knew he’d like to help her. He’d like to have a project to sink his teeth into, after six months of kicking around as he’d tried to get his health back. But would Jenna be open to accepting his help?
* * *
Shoot. Jenna stared at her phone as if it had the answers to the universe, or at least to how she was going to get home tonight. This could become seriously awkward. In fact, it probably already was, because she’d been standing out in the hallway for about fifteen minutes, trying to figure out what to do.
Briefly, Jenna closed her eyes—and remembered how Jack’s fingers had felt on her wrist. Warm and strong and sure. That little touch had shaken her far more than she was comfortable admitting, even to herself. Had Jack seen how she’d been affected? Probably.
Which was why she needed to figure out how she was getting home. She’d enjoyed the little bit of light flirting, but this wasn’t going anywhere, and she wasn’t willing to entertain the notion that it might. Ten years on, you’d think she’d be able to risk her heart again, and she thought she might be, but not with a self-assured city slicker like Jack Wexler. What did they say the definition of insanity was? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
Once was enough for her. It had to be.
She could hear Jack moving around in the kitchen, and she knew it was time to go back in and face the music. She just wished she had a plan.
Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Jenna slipped her phone back in her bag and rounded the corner. Jack smiled as she came in, but she saw a question in his eyes and knew he must be wondering why she was acting so weird.
“Hey, sorry about that,” she said.
“Everything all right?” He gestured to the table, on which he’d set two dishes of what looked like raspberry mousse, garnished with a sprig of mint and a single, jewel-like raspberry. “Full disclosure, I did buy these in Litchfield.”
“I’ll forgive you,” Jenna teased as she sat down, and Jack joined her at the table.
“So did you find a ride?” he asked, and Jenna managed a wry smile.
“Um, no. That is, not yet. Annie’s with her mom and I forgot Maggie and Zach are out at the movies tonight. Laurie doesn’t have a car.” She paused as she picked up her spoon. “There are other people I could ask, but… let’s just say they’d be a little nosier about it all than I’m comfortable with.” She didn’t want Liz Cranbury or Zoe Wilkinson peppering her with questions or rubbernecking to get a good look at Jack’s house. But it was looking like she might have to put up with that, if she wanted to get home.
Jack’s eyes glinted with humor. “Understood. I’d drive you myself, but I had as much wine as you did.”
“I know.” She smiled at him, abashed. “This is a problem of living in the country.”
“It’s certainly not an issue I encountered in New York.” He paused, his gaze on his untouched mousse before offering in a cautious kind of voice, “You know, there is a solution to this problem that doesn’t mean involving the whole town with all the ensuing gossip?”
Intrigued, Jenna laid down her spoon. “And that is?”
Jack lifted his gaze to hers. He looked as cautious as his tone had been, but with a gleam in his eyes that made Jenna’s stomach give a little flip. “You could stay the night,” he said, and her stomach flipped again, like she’d just crested a rollercoaster. “In one of the guest bedrooms,” he continued hurriedly. “Obviously.”
Obviously?Jenna didn’t know if she was offended or relieved.
Jack must have sensed how that sounded because he continued quickly, “I just meant… I have the space. Unless you have a burning need to sleep in your own bed, you’re welcome to choose any one of the five spare bedrooms.”
