“What do you mean? What bed?” What was he trying to pull here?
He nodded his head to the door next to the kitchen area. “My bedroom’s in there. Complete with bed and everything.”
“Your bedroom? Like, this is your apartment? You live here?” My voice was rising in pitch and volume.
He nodded, looking wary, like he was gauging my reaction. My reaction was that I was not pleased at all.
“You invited me to look at your practice space, but it turns out it’s your apartment. That seems a little bait-and-switchy to me, Jack.”
“I didn’t do that. I promised you practice space. I showed you practice space. The offer of the bedroom is just bonus.” He splayed his hands, to show innocence.
Suddenly it hit me. “You called this our third date. Is this the ‘three date rule’? You think we should be having sex just because of an arbitrary number of dates? I think that rule is disgusting, and you are disgusting if you think I’m going to hop in bed with you just because of someone else’s idea of when it’s right to have sex!”
I turned to go in a fury, grabbing my bag from the couch where I’d dropped it. Jack caught at my sleeve. “No, Eve, that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t saying that at all. I mean, if you were offering, I wouldn’t say no, but I’m not trying to pressure you into anything. I’ll take you home now, if that’s what you want.”
I practically shouted at him, “Take me home? You’re already home! You’d go all the way to Manhattan to take me home and then all the way back? That’s insane Jack.”
He dropped my sleeve and looked down. “I just wanted you to have fun tonight, Eve.”
My heart sank. I was being a jerk. Assuming ill intentions when he hadn’t given me any reason for that assumption.
I took his hand, and he lifted his face, hopeful. “I’m sorry for blowing up at you, Jack. That was rude.” He shrugged, as if generously excusing my bad behavior.
“I’m not going to stay, though. I’ll get a cab. I did have fun tonight. I had an amazing time. I loved the stargazing. I loved seeing your practice space. I even like seeing your apartment, although I wish you’d been upfront with me that you were taking me to your apartment.”
He nodded, a small smile on his lips. “I’m sorry, Eve. I really wasn’t trying to pull one over on you. Let me call you a cab.”
While we waited for the cab, he did make me hot cocoa. It wasn’t nearly as good as Grandmère’s hot chocolate, but I didn’t tell him that. It was sweet of him to try.
When the cab came, he walked me out, his arm wrapped around my waist. He hoisted my bag into the cab then turned to me. I reached up to kiss his cheek and he wrapped his arms around me. Oh, those arms. I was going to have to put Jack Garcia arm pillows on my Christmas list. His hugs were warmer and sweeter than the hot cocoa.
I pulled back and looked into his eyes, feeling an electric current between us. His eyes dropped to my lips. They tingled, anticipating a kiss. He lowered his head toward mine. And then the cabbie honked his horn. Jack gave a sigh, opened the door for me, then dug in his pocket. He extracted a wad of bills from his wallet and handed them to the cabbie, who, eyes wide, counted the money. “This should cover it.”
“Buddy, unless she wants to go to LA, we’re good.”
Jack pulled out his phone and took the cabbie’s startled picture. “Make sure she gets safely inside her door.” The cabbie nodded happily and pulled away from the curb.
I leaned back against the seat and thought about the evening. The night of surprises. The rooftop, the stars, the music studio, and…I guess I wasn’t surprised that Jack wasn’t the kind of guy who paid attention to rules.
Chapter 14
I slept in the next morning. I’d been out so late the night before that I’d only paused long enough to text Jack that I was home safe and sound before I stripped out of my clothes and fell into bed. I was stunned when I looked at my clock and realized I’d slept in till ten-thirty!
I made myself coffee and an omelette, then put on my workout clothes and went to the gym. I needed to have the time on the treadmill to process my thoughts about the night before. Several sweaty miles later I still didn’t have a firm grasp on where I stood with Jack. I always felt so off balance with him. One minute he was making me want to throw myself at him and the next I wanted to throttle him.
Sunday’s call to Grandmère went long as I had much to tell her. She oohed and aaahed about the stargazing (“Oh, this one is a romantic! That counts for a lot.”) and was impressed with my description of his studio. I think Grandmère might have been developing a small Jack Garcia crush herself. Then she told me an amusing story about Bernard trying his hand at making marshmallows, ending up with a giant sticky mess, and then we parted with our usual kisses and “love you’s”.
Monday, I promised Diane that we could lunch together in the break room, and I would give her all the details of my date. It still felt odd to say “date.” Was I really dating Jack? It felt too unreal, like at any moment someone would reveal that I’d been caught on hidden camera, and I’d been punked.
We had hot deli sandwiches and hot gossip for lunch. Diane was practically vibrating with excitement as I described lying together in a sleeping bag, looking up at the stars.
“How romantic, Eve! I’ve always wanted a guy who would do a big romantic gesture for me.”
“What about Nigel? Is he romantic?”
“Pffff,” she said and waved her hand, as if waving away the Brit.
“What pffff? What does that mean?” I asked.
