Page 10 of Second Act
“I’ve never known a hog to be impressed by a badge,” Pete said, deadpan.
“So they called in the vo-ag teacher and he said to get Jess,” Aidan said, nodding to his sister. “I was jealous because you got out of class.”
“I didn’t understand why Mr. Hansen thought I could move a pig, but I wasn’t going to argue with missing trigonometry.”
“Everyone knew you were amazing with animals, even when you were a kid,” Aidan said. “And you did manage to get her off the road.”
“You used some kind of exotic food, didn’t you?” Pete asked.
“Exotic only to a sow in Iowa,” Jessica said. “Pigs like fresh fruit, and I figured oranges were something she wouldn’t usually get fed. Also, oranges have a strong aroma, to get her salivating. I fed her one orange to hook her on the taste and then laid a trail of fruit from the sow to the side of the highway.”
“And so was born the legend of Jessica the Sow Whisperer,” Aidan intoned.
“Maybe we should talk about some ofyourescapades,” Jessica said to her brother, as she remembered she was annoyed with him.
“Pete’s already heard them all,” Aidan said with an airy wave of dismissal.
“In that case, how did you end up in New York, Pete?” Jessica asked.
“Work,” he said with a shrug.
“He’s being too modest,” Aidan said. “He got headhunted from a tech firm in Silicon Valley. Now he’s the CFO of a hot start-up.”
“What kind of tech?” Jessica asked.
“Capturing, packaging, and selling data exhaust,” Pete said with a twinkle in his eye. “Aren’t you glad you asked?”
She laughed. “It sounds like a cross between hard drives and automobile engines.”
“You’re not too far off,” Pete said. “Why don’t you have dinner with me Saturday, and I’ll explain it more fully? Or not, depending on your preference.” His tone was wry.
Jessica rocked back in her chair. She hadn’t had—or wanted—a date in months, and all of a sudden two men had asked her out within the same day. The memory of Hugh’s intense blue eyes flitted through her brain.
She caught sight of her brother’s face and realized he looked like a cat that had dunked its head into the cream pitcher.
“Thanks, Pete, but I’m tied up at the clinic on Saturday. I appreciate the offer, though.”
“What night would work better for you?” he asked without any hesitation.
Something about how unfazed he sounded in the face of her rejection made her look at him again. He wasn’t the fifteen-year-old boy she had kissed and dumped. Pete Larson was a broad-shouldered, full-grown, very attractive man with his pale blue eyes, corn-silk hair, and big, square hands. He wore his khakis and his blue button-down shirt with the ease of someone who didn’t need clothes to prove his worth.He waited for her answer without rushing her, his patience showing a confidence that piqued her interest even more.
She decided she deserved some fun, even if she paid for it by being exhausted the next day. “How about Sunday? But I turn into a pumpkin at nine.”
“I hear you,” Pete said. “Monday mornings are rough. We’ll start early, then. I’ll pick you up at six.” He pulled out a cell phone that was far more utilitarian than Hugh’s. “What’s your number?”
Jessica reeled it off and heard her phone ping with a text notification. It reminded her that she’d never read Hugh’s text message.
“You’ve got my number now, too,” Pete said, rising from the couch to his impressive height. He came around the table and took her hand, enveloping it in the warmth of his. “I’m looking forward to Sunday,” he said with that perfect smile.
A little shiver of attraction ran through her. Pete was so different from Hugh—so down-to-earth, solid, and Iowan, without any of her ex’s dark intensity—that her reaction surprised her. But maybe Pete would be exactly the right counterbalance to Hugh.
While Aidan walked his friend to the door, Jessica picked up the empty beer bottles and carried them into the kitchen. She had plunked them in the sink to rinse when she heard Aidan’s footsteps heading up the stairs.
“Aidan,” she called. He wasn’t going to get away without explaining his sudden unemployment—and his plans to remedy it.
The speed of his steps accelerated.
“Aidan James Quillen, get back down here right now,” she shouted as she marched into the living room.
