Page 74 of Rare Blend
I’m so gone for this girl. And I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to keep it to myself, seeing as I can barely look away from her. I knew this trip was going to test me, but I didn’t realize it was going to push me over the edge and down a free fall.
I don’t stand a chance against those deep-brown eyes and sweet, sunshine smile. I never did. I was a fool for thinking pushing her away would diffuse my feelings for her. If anything, it made them stronger, and now, I’m aptly in the friend zone.
She reaches for the door, and I give her hand one final squeeze before letting her go.
“Break a leg.”
Woodinville, a small, destination wine town, is a quick, thirty-minute drive north of Seattle. The meeting goes smoothly. Andtruthfully, I could’ve done it over video chat. I won’t tell Marisa that, though.
When I get back to Seattle, I wait in the loading zone for her to come out. I already sent her a text explaining where I was. A few minutes later, she emerges from the building with a beaming smile.
She slides into the truck, her wide smile still splitting her face.
“I take it the interview went well.”
She throws her head back, sinking into the seat, and sighs. “It was amazing. I mean everything is mountains above the last company I was at, and their benefits package was amazing, and everyone seemed so nice. I couldn’t ask for a better work environment. Plus, Zoe, my former coworker, works there, so I know it wasn’t a bunch of smoke and mirrors.”
As happy as I am for her, I can’t help but feel the seed of anxiety plant and take root. If she gets this job, then that’s it. She’s gone. It’s everything she wants, and I want that for her, but selfishly, I don’t want her to leave before we have a chance to explore what this is. Right now, it’s friendship, but I’ve caught her giving me the same longing stares I give her when she thinks I’m not paying attention. I hope to hell my feelings aren’t one-sided. Maybe I was imagining the way she practically drooled watching me take off my shirt. Did I do it purposefully slow? Yes. But I also thought she wouldn’t have a reaction to me. Still, a physical attraction and real feelings are completely different.
“That’s great. I bet they’ll give you an offer.”
“I hope so. It’s the waiting that’s going to be torture. They also said the position wouldn’t start until after the holidays. So, even if I get the job, I’ll still be waiting around for a bit.”
My blood pressure spikes. Two months. I have two months to explore if there actually is something between us. Or at least attempt to. I fully expect to be shot down the second I movepast a line she isn’t ready to cross. She hasn’t spoken about it much, but I know her breakup is fresh, and she’s probably not interested in getting involved with someone else so quickly. Least of all a guy still working toward earning her forgiveness.
“What time are we meeting up with your friends?”
“In thirty minutes. We’re meeting them at Buckley’s. And just to warn you, the place is a dive bar and incredibly loud. They’re usually playing some sports game on the TVs and the crowd chants loudly. So, if it gets to be too much, let me know and we can go take a breather or walk around the block.”
She busies herself, typing in the address for me on the screen, but I can hardly focus on that when I feel shocked by her consideration for me. She seems to know I get anxious in large crowds despite never having spoken about it. Rather than making me feel small for it, she weaves it into the conversation, offering me solutions if my anxiety gets to be too much. She really is pure sunshine. She has no idea that what she said means so much to me, and I have no way to truly express it.
CHAPTER 29
Marisa
GOOD ON PAPER
As I predicted, Buckley’s is bustling with large groups and loud conversations despite it being two o’clock in the afternoon. Since my plans to stay with Hillary got squashed, we compromised and made plans to meet up for lunch before Ethan and I drive back to Red Mountain.
Ethan paid an exorbitant amount for parking, so we didn’t have to walk further than a block. When we get in, Hillary and Archie are already at a booth waiting for us. I’ve only gone a little over a month without seeing Hillary in person, and her belly looks like its tripled in size, which I didn’t think was possible.
“Yes, I look like a whale,” she says, as she pulls me in for a hug. “I feel like Regina George.” She releases me and sits back down.
“Why’s that?”
“Because sweatpants are all that fit me right now.” She points to her outfit as if that explains why she’s in a cashmere lounge set instead of something dressier. She focuses her attention on Ethan. “Oh, gosh. I’m being rude.” She extends her hand out to him. “I’m Hillary. You must be Ethan.”
They introduce themselves, and then Archie and Ethan shake hands.
Archie is quick to warm up to Ethan, and the two end up in a riveting conversation about pickleball. Well, riveting for them. Hillary and I couldn’t care less.
The entire meal, Hillary darts her eyes between me and Ethan with a curious look on her face. I’m not sure why, since we’re doing an exceptional job of sharing one side of the booth without so much as touching our shoulders. It’s a lot harder than it looks.
Our late lunch goes by way too quickly, but I know we can’t linger because a ton of snow could easily dump on the pass again and leave us trapped for another night.
Ethan and Archie head to the bar to pay the bill, but before they do, I try to slip Ethan some cash. He refuses, like he has every other time I’ve tried to pay for something on this trip. Hillary watches our interaction with a knowing smile.
“You like him.” Her smile is so self-satisfied, if she weren’t pregnant, I’d kick her under the table. “And he doesn’t seem anything like the serial killer I was expecting. In fact, he’s stupid good-looking.”
