The ride back to the station was quiet. Jake spent the drive picturing all the things that could develop that weekend and hoping like hell that Mabel was too.
Nine
Mabel couldn’t pick an outfit on Saturday, which wasn’t at all like her. Usually she was dress and go, but tonight she tried on basically everything in her closest, waffling over which ensemble was best before settling on the first thing she’d put on twenty minutes earlier: a short black skirt and a loose-fitting sparkly silver top that draped over one shoulder. It required a strapless bra, but the effect was worth it.
She started to tug on flats, then reconsidered and reached for a pair of impractically tall, impractically red heels. She almost never wore them, but if not now, when? She slid them on and checked herself out in the mirror.
“You’re dressing for yourself,” she told her reflection sternly. Her reflection didn’t look 100 percent convinced though, so to shut that hussy up, she dug into the back of her makeup drawer for the tube of candy-apple red that she used sparingly. But tonight cried out for red—for herself and no one else.Certainlynot for Jake.
But when she smiled at her ruby-lipped reflection, it was Jake she was picturing, trying to blend in with the dressed-down Beaucoeurians in his usual suit and perfectly knotted tie. She absolutely shouldn’t be imagining him getting a good look at her in this eye-popping outfit, but making safe, smart decisions where he was concerned had become impossible. Something between them had shifted during their shopping trip. His usual warmth and good humor were still there, but it had all been overlaid with a sharp intensity that she’d never seen from him before. It left her breathless with anticipation and desperate to know what was going on in his orderly brain.
Maybe those flats were the smarter choice after all. They’d keep her grounded, remind her that she was a practical woman who didn’t throw caution to the wind with any guy who caught her fancy. Then again, Jake wasn’t justanyguy. He was her friend and her biggest temptation, and she still wasn’t sure what to expect tonight.
The crunch of Ana’s tires in the driveway brought an end to her shoe debate. Looked like she was headed out in the killer heels.
“Va-va-voom.” Ana winked as Mabel climbed into the van.
“Thanks!” she said, buckling her seat belt. “And thanks again for the ride.”
When the Moo Daddies played a show, Dave generally caught a ride with Skip so they could set up early, and Ana picked up Mabel so the Chiltons could escort her home at the end of the night—never a bad idea when she was going to be surrounded by fans and alcohol.
“My pleasure.” Ana glanced at her once more before reversing out of the driveway. “You all dressed up for Jake?”
Mabel crossed her arms over her admittedly generous neckline. “Can’t a woman look good for herself?”
“Of course.” Ana smiled a Sphinx smile and let the subject drop until they were a block from the bar. “So let me just say, if all that”—she circled her hand over Mabel’s body—“doesn’t convince Jake to sneak you away for a quickie tonight, he’s legally dead.”
Heat twisted low in Mabel’s belly, but she forced out a flat laugh. “Hardly. He touched my hand on Thursday, and I almost hyperventilated. We’re not… I mean, I’m not…” She groaned. “Okay, I like him, Ana. Really like him. Like,a lot.” As her best girlfriend, Ana would understand how significant that was.
“Nothing wrong with that,” Ana said as she wedged her car into a spot in the back corner of the overflowing parking lot.
“It’s not that easy,” Mabel protested. “You of all people know that. I mean, did youwantto move away from Florida?”
“I love you,” Ana said with a sigh, resting her fingers on the door handle, “but you’ve got to stop using that as an excuse to keep yourself shut down.”
She slid out of the van, forcing Mabel to scramble after her. “I don’t!”
“You do.” Ana eyed her under the buzzing fluorescent lights illuminating the outside of the squat bar. “Jake’s just working here short-term, right? And then he’s back to Chicago?” Mabel grudgingly nodded, and she laughed. “Well, that’s perfect. Get your beak wet,chica!”
“Beak?Yuck.”
Her friend patted her shoulder. “Stop overthinking it and stay open to new possibilities.” Then she turned and headed toward the bar.
Mabel took a moment to collect herself. She’d been veering between elation and indecision since she’d impulsively asked Jake to meet her tonight, and she still wasn’t sure how she wanted the evening to end. It couldn’t possibly be as simple as “not technically coworkers, so remove clothes immediately,” right? The thought heated her cheeks despite the early-autumn chill in the air. Weeks and weeks of lunches and laughter and chemistry for miles, and here she was contemplating that forbidden leap.
It was madness. And itthrilledher.
“You coming?” Ana asked from the entrance, and Mabel scurried after her, no closer to making up her mind.
Once they were inside, Ana headed off to find Dave and the band in a room at the back where they were fidgeting and tuning up while Mabel walked to the bar to see if Jake had arrived yet. The Moo Daddies had become a popular local cover band since they formed a few years ago, so she wasn’t surprised to find the Elephant already packed with fans of all ages. Her eyes swept over the groups of Rayman College kids, the middle-aged couples on dates, and the clusters of gimlet-eyed women near the stage, vying to be the chosen lady of the night for the Moo Daddy’s famously beautiful drummer, Aiden. No Jake to be seen, although she had no idea what his civilian clothes looked like. Maybe all he owned was suits.
She leaned against the bar and traced her fingers over the mosaic of broken pottery as she waited for the three women next to her to scoop up what looked like two dozen bottles of beer for their table.
Once the crowd had thinned, Tammy the bartender shot her a gap-toothed grin. “Hey, Miss Mae. The usual?”
“Absolutely!” she chirped. She needed to sand down the edges of her nerves.
Tammy, a tan, leathery woman who could be anywhere between forty and seventy, owned the Elephant with her wife, Joanne, the free spirit responsible for the bar’s weird, artsy vibe, from the mismatched vintage-kitsch glassware to the Jackson Pollock-esque walls in the bathrooms. Tammy flipped her graying-brown ponytail out of the way as she set to work on Mabel’s favorite drink, a Harvey Wallbanger. She knew it was a silly thing to pick as her usual, but the vitamin C in the orange juice always made her feel virtuous about the vodka.
