Her mouth opened and closed. “I didn’t…I mean, that’s your business.”
“I know. But I want you to understand my position.”
“Your position?”
“I’m not dating her or anyone else, because there’s someone I’m interested in.”
Her pulse picked up speed. She needed to get out. She needed a freaking bullet train out of here. “Well, that’s, um, that’s lovely for you. And totally your business.” She stepped back, and her legs hit the counter behind her. “I—”
“Here you go.”
Thank God. She paid for her food and grabbed the bag. She actually held it in front of her like a shield; any small barrier between her and Jesse had to be a good thing. “I should go. You enjoy your…not date.”
“Did you walk?”
“What?”
“Did you walk here?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll drive you home.”
“No.” Well, that came out way too fast. But really, even a two-minute drive in such close quarters with him felt too much. “I mean, I really enjoyed the walk and it’s still light outside.” Kind of light.
“Aspen—”
“Really. I’m fine. You finish your…whatever it is, and I’ll see you at home.”
Then she ran out of there like the place was on freaking fire.
CHAPTER 9
Aspen stared at her blank laptop screen, her tea cooling beside her. It was so blank that the white was blinding her.
Maybe she needed to change genre. Maybe romance just wasn’t her jam anymore. She could try horror. That would be a nice one-eighty from romance. Or maybe a good crime mystery where the woman murders her ex for doing something really terrible. She’d get away with it, of course. In fact, she’d outsmart everyone and live off his life insurance on a beach in Hawaii.
A small smile played at Aspen’s lips. Nowthatwas a story she felt motivated to write.
Although she’d need to find an entirely new reader base because she wasn’t sure her current romance-loving fans would want to read about a murderous feminist. And she didn’t actually know a lot about the genre, so she’d need a whole new marketing plan.
She dropped her head onto the table. This sucked. Big gonna-need-to-find-a-new-job-soon kind of suck.
“Still having trouble with the story, honey?”
She shot up to see Mrs. Gerald beside the table. God, she’d complained so much to the café owner, the woman was basically her therapist. “I think I’m having a midlife crisis.”
“You’re too young for that.” She set a slice of pie beside Aspen’s laptop. “I brought you some apple pie, on the house, because you look like you need it.”
Oh, she definitely needed pie. It smelled good too. And that lightly browned pastry with the side of cream kind of made her salivate. She’d been meaning to try the pie since first stepping into this place.
“Thank you. But I’m not even sure pie can fix this one.”
“If there’s anything I’ve learned in my seventy years, it’s that very few things are so dire they can’t be fixed with pie. Maybe the sugar hit will help you get some words on the page.”
“Good words?”
“The best ones you’ve written.”
