Paper Hearts (26 page)

Abigail shifted things around on the table, avoiding his eyes. Maybe if she stayed busy, he’d keep walking.

No such luck.

“Mind if I join you?”

Did she look lonely? She needed to work on her I’m-eating-alone-and-I’m-fine face. She glanced up and shrugged, suddenly feeling guilty she’d let him fork over seven hundred dollars for that buffet.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” she said. “This doesn’t seem like your scene.”

He set his tented plastic number in the center of the table and folded his hands. “It’s not, but Kelly’s my ride. She’s insisting on decorating the office in this weird old style.”

“Vintage.”

“Something like that.”

The waiter set his food down.

“You didn’t get tuna fish, did you?”

He laughed. “No, pulled pork.”

“Oh, that’s good.” She bit into her sandwich. “Where’s Kelly?” She refrained from calling her the dragon lady, but that didn’t stop her from thinking it.

Jacob waved his hand. “Over there somewhere.” He took a bite. “I can only take so much.”

“Of Kelly?”

He laughed, covering his mouth with his napkin. “Of shopping, but maybe her too.”

Her face flushed and she sipped her soda. “I do some vintage decorating myself, you know.”

It burned her a little that Kelly probably had gotten her vintage ideas from Abigail’s store in the first place. Nothing about The Book Nook was fancy or modern, and it just so happened that Abigail had a knack for breathing life into the old pieces everyone else had decided to cast off. She was still pleasantly surprised by how happy it made her to take castoffs and give them a second chance.

Jacob crunched a couple of potato chips. “Really? So what would you think of it in the office?”

Abigail cringed. Did he really expect her to tell him what she thought of his decorating plans for the office that would put her out of business?

She liked the idea of a doctor’s office that felt comfortable. She liked the idea of the buffet holding literature about chicken pox and vaccinations. She liked the idea of the waiting area being filled with pretty things that instantly calmed people. She liked all of that and hated herself for it.

“Sounds fine.” She bit carelessly into her sandwich.

“I thought maybe you had some ideas for the space.”

Abigail frowned, remembering the night he’d asked her what she would do with the building. Kate’s car accident had prevented her from telling him much of anything, but maybe that was for the best. “Yeah, when I thought it was going to be mine.”

“Sorry,” he said, then looked away. “Never mind. That was insensitive of me.”

At least they agreed on that.

“I’m just out of my depth here. I’m kind of tired of Kelly calling all the shots. Not usually my style.”

She searched his gaze for a deeper meaning but came up empty. He had no intention of revealing his secrets. In spite of that, she felt close to him all over again.

“I heard you on the news last night,” he said, brow raised.

She could tell by the heat in her cheeks that her whole face had
turned crimson. “I’m really sorry about that. I had no idea Celeste was recording me.”

He sat back in his chair. “I believe you.”

“I mean, I meant what I said. I just shouldn’t have said it like that.”
Stop talking, Abigail.

“I want you to know I’ve never sent Kelly to say anything to you,” Jacob said, holding her gaze. “That’s not my style either. I let her take over the renovations for now, but just until things are okay with Kate and Junie again.”

Now Abigail leaned back. “I actually believe you too.”

“Good.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, each of them finishing their lunches. Abigail searched for something else to say, wondering how awkward it would be to ask him why he’d grabbed her hand in his kitchen.

“You can’t let her take out the old mercantile counter,” she said when her search came up empty.

“You really love that counter, don’t you?” He laughed and took a sip of his drink.

“It’s too beautiful to just toss away.” She thought so anyway.

Jacob folded his hands. “It is a shame when people toss away beautiful things.”

She cleared her throat. “I’d carve out a reception area right where people walk in. And make sure to hire somebody local as the receptionist.”

He popped a chip in his mouth. “Agreed.”

“I have a few pieces that might look really nice in there, actually.” What was she saying? She wasn’t going to actually
help
him make the clinic less clinical, was she?

He seemed taken aback too.

“I like to refinish furniture in my spare time.” She looked away. “Selling it was supposed to be part of my expansion.”

He cleared his throat, but before he could respond, something
behind Abigail caught his attention. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard him groan.

“There you are.” Kelly was not within appropriate distance to be talking to him yet, which meant she practically yelled across the café. Abigail tried not to roll her eyes.

She failed.

“I’ve been looking for you. I’m starv
 
—” Kelly paused beside the table as if she’d just that second noticed Abigail sitting across from him. “Oh.”

“Abigail and I were talking about the clinic,” Jacob said. “She has some great ideas about the decorating.”

“I see.”

“I’ll come look at those pieces we talked about, Abigail,” he said. “And I’d love to get your input on the rest of the project.”

“Jacob,” Kelly said, “won’t that be a conflict of interest?”

“What, do you think I’m going to make it ugly out of spite?” Abigail laughed. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

She caught Jacob stifling a smile.

“We’ll pay you for your time, of course,” he said. “If there’s anyone who knows how to capture the feel we’re going for, it’s you.”

He stood and picked up his tray.

“Thanks,” Abigail said, unsure of Jacob’s angle.

He met her eyes. “Maybe we can still be friends after all.”

After he walked away, Kelly stood there for a long moment, befuddled. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but don’t think this changes anything.”

Abigail didn’t respond, but when she glanced at the door, she found Jacob standing there, watching her, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. She let her eyes settle on his for a few seconds that felt like very long minutes, and she stayed that way until he pushed open the door and disappeared.

M
ONDAY MORNING,
Jacob had begun to rethink his kindness toward Abigail Pressman. The sidewalk had filled with a small crowd of good old-fashioned picketers, and it seemed his tenant was keeping them well caffeinated.

“I was being generous giving book girl three months,” Kelly said, slamming her notebook on the counter. “I can’t wait until she’s gone and we can knock this whole wall out. I guess your superhero status was short-lived.”

“Perhaps you just underestimated her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This woman is no match for me.” Kelly had taken the demonstration as a personal insult, and knowing her, she’d likely have a rebuttal tactic worked up before lunch.

He knew helping Avery on Friday night had won him some loyal followers; however, Abigail still had pull in this town. It was almost as if a line had been drawn and people felt they had to choose sides.

He looked around the future clinic space. He’d been working
whenever he had a free moment, and it felt good to throw himself into the project. Every time he started to feel guilty about needing Abigail’s space, he remembered Junie
 
—his main priority.

Why the main things he wanted seemed to be in direct conflict with everything else he wanted, he didn’t understand.

Two of the workers they’d hired strolled in through the back door. Kelly spun around. “You’re late.”

The men looked at each other. “It’s just now eight,” one of them said.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you five minutes early is on time? On time is late.”

Both men stood frozen.

“Well? Get to work! You’re wasting our money!” Kelly huffed and turned her attention back to her notebook. The men glanced at Jacob, who gave them a slight head shake before they disappeared into the back room.

“Was that necessary?” Jacob asked, forcing himself to be patient.

Kelly waved him off. “Don’t question the way I do things, Jacob. They need to know they can’t get away with that.”

Jacob drew in a deep breath. The fresh-start idea had sounded so good, but the price he was paying to work with Kelly was starting to wear on his nerves. “They were on time. I don’t want to hear you talking to them like that again.”

She looked up, eyes narrowed. “If it weren’t for you trying to make Abigail Pressman your
friend
, none of this would be happening in the first place. How do you expect to open a practice with picketers on the sidewalk?” She pointed toward the crowd that had gathered outside The Book Nook. They carried signs with slogans like
Reading Is the Best Medicine
and
Save Our Book Nook
.

“I think maybe we should’ve thought about that before we made an appearance on the news,” Jacob said.

She scoffed. “I am trying to build your business for you. That’s what you hired me to do.”

He glanced back at the crowd. “The way I see it, making nice with Abigail Pressman is the only thing we can do.”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “You’ve certainly been doing your share of that, haven’t you?” She clicked a button on her phone and started sliding things around on the screen.

“I’m sorry if I don’t see the point in picking fights with innocent people.”

She motioned to the sidewalk again. “You call
that
innocent?” Kelly set her phone down and took a few steps toward him. “She wants you to feel sorry for her, so now she’s being nice
 
—maybe even trying to get you to like her. What else is she supposed to do?”

Kelly had no idea what she was talking about.

“Why else would she pretend to offer her help decorating this place?” Her gaze traveled beyond him, over to The Book Nook, where now even more people had gathered. Thankfully his door was locked, though he wondered how long until the picket signs became more hostile.

“She’s pretending to be all sweet and innocent to your face, but how much do you want to bet she called these people and asked them to come down here? She probably painted all the signs herself. Don’t forget the things she said on the news. She’s not as nice as you think she is.” Kelly turned her back to the mess of picketers outside.

Was Kelly right? Was this just some ploy his seemingly kind neighbor had cooked up in an effort to save her store?

No. That would be a complete contradiction to the Abigail he knew and respected.

The Abigail he couldn’t stop thinking about.

“Jacob, focus on what’s in front of you and get your head out of that cloud. That woman is not your concern. You have every right to take over this building that
you
own and do whatever you want with it. For your own family.”

She knew how to push his buttons. “It’s going to be awfully hard to launch this practice if all of these people hate me.”

She softened. “It’ll blow over. You know it will. This crowd would be a lot bigger if you hadn’t saved that girl the other night. As soon as one of them has a sick baby or a head cold, you’re going to see that they’ll buy in to your idea of what a doctor’s office should offer.” Kelly seemed so confident, he almost believed her.

“I hope you’re right.”

She smiled, easing the tension in the room. “Of course I am. This is what I do.” She stared at him for a few seconds and reached up to touch his cheek. “I’ve been wondering . . .”

His stomach lurched. No. He couldn’t go down this road. “I do appreciate your help, Kelly. You’re great with numbers, but I
 
—”

“I’m not asking about business, Jacob.” Her hand found his and she inched closer. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel what’s going on between us.”

Jacob started to respond, but before he could say a word, her body was pressed up against him, her mouth covering his. He held still for too many seconds before pulling away, her eyes still intent on his.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a very long time.”

He heard himself mumble something, but he couldn’t even decipher it. Had he kissed her back?

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered.” She smiled.

A crash at the back of the store pulled their attention, and Jacob’s mouth went dry. The horrified look on Abigail’s face told him she’d seen it all.

“Oh, look,” Kelly said. “Book girl brought you coffee.”

Abigail’s scorched face pulsed with embarrassment. Of all the times to trip over a metal paint tray, this was certainly the worst.

Jacob pulled himself from Kelly’s clutches, looking mortified.

But why? He didn’t need to explain himself to her. Clearly she’d misinterpreted his relationship with Kelly, but what did it matter? He and Abigail were the furthest thing from a couple.

“Abigail.”

“I’m so sorry. I never knock loud enough.” She held up the pathetic cup of coffee in her hand. “It’s a peace offering.”

Kelly’s heels clicked as she walked toward the counter and picked up her purse. “Really, Abby, you have the worst timing.” She whisked back toward Jacob, letting her hand drape across his shoulders as she whispered something to him about “finishing this later.” Then she strode toward Abigail, eyes fully on her face as she passed through the door.

Jacob drew in a deep breath and let it out over the course of the next several seconds. “I’m really sorry you had to see that.”

Abigail shook her head a little too feverishly. “Not at all. Perfectly normal. Two consenting adults and everything.”

Stop talking.

“I always thought maybe you two were together,” she said to her own horror.

A smile skittered across his face. “You thought about that, did you?”

Beet-red cheeks all over again, before she’d even had a chance to get them back to their normal pale pink.

He looked at her then
 
—the kind of look that prompted her to turn away
 
—and yet she couldn’t.

“We’re not,” he said.

“What?”

“A couple.” He still held her with his eyes.

She laughed, not because anything was funny but out of sheer nervousness. “It’s really none of my business, Jacob. You can kiss whoever you want.”

He smiled. “I wish that were true.”

For a split second, the air left her lungs and she thought she might have a panic attack over the possible implications of that comment, but she quickly reminded herself not to read anything into it.

He was not her friend, let alone her kissing buddy.

Just the idea of it sent her mind spinning. She cleared her throat, begging herself to keep it together. “I wanted to tell you I’ve asked them to leave twice now, but they’re quite persistent.” Abigail motioned toward the sidewalk. She’d purposely skulked over through the back door, hoping no one would see her, though her secrecy had only landed her smack in front of something much worse than overenthusiastic supporters.

Would she ever get the image of the dragon lady kissing Jacob out of her head?

She appreciated everyone coming out to rally behind her, but she hated some of the things she saw on the signs in front of her store.
We support LOCAL.
As if to say no one else was welcome here. That wasn’t the feeling she wanted to convey.

She truly didn’t want to destroy Jacob when she thought about it
 
—she simply wanted to save her own store.

“I thought I saw you handing out cups of coffee earlier,” he said, his tone teasing.

Some of the heat left her cheeks. “You were watching me?”

He started to respond but snapped his jaw shut, though she could tell he was trying not to smile. He took a drink of the coffee.

“Anyway,” she said. “I’m sorry, I guess. That’s really all I wanted to say.”

Jacob set the coffee down on the counter and leaned against it. He looked relaxed in his jeans and hooded sweatshirt. Her mind turned to the rows of dress clothes she’d seen in his closet. The ties. The nice shoes.

The man in front of her certainly didn’t look like a doctor. Sometimes she wondered if he did that on purpose.

“I think between the two of us, I’m the one who needs to apologize. I don’t even know how you got home from the hospital the other day.” Jacob ran a hand over his whiskered chin.

Was that regret she saw behind his eyes?

She looked away. “Mallory came and got me. It was fine.”
It was terrible.

He paused. “I was hoping I could come by your place tonight and look at the furniture,” he said. “If the offer still stands.”

She nodded. “Of course. I’ll be done at the store around six.”

“I’ll meet you then. Follow you home?”

This is business.
“Sounds good.” She started toward the door.

“Abigail?”

She turned to face him, trying not to memorize the way he said her name.

“Do you think we could maybe call a truce?”

She glanced outside. Ursula would tell her she’d gotten to him. Her plan was working. He needed to stay in her good graces if he had any hope of launching a successful practice.

And yet, looking at him, his eyes intent and unnerving and filled with something she could only describe as sorrow, she didn’t want to believe any of that.

She wanted to think that maybe he’d come to his senses and changed his mind about the three months. About the one year. About kicking her out at all.