Page 9 of Love and Leashes
“Oh, Kelly. You’ve got it bad for him. So why don’t you put yourself out of your misery, andtellhim?”
I stand up and busy myself with putting away cookie ingredients before I answer. “Because we’ve known each other for so long, and he’s never thought of me that way.”
“How do you know?” Mila asks pointedly, folding her arms across her waist to look at me.
“Because…” I trail off. The truth is, I don’t know with complete certainty that he isn’t into me. There was that one kiss we shared, but then he turned around and married Tatyana. So, sure, there’s a slim chance that the only reason nothing ever happened between us was a simple case of timing. But then again, I don’t want to give myself any false hope. And thinking of Jensen’s ex-wife only solidifies my resolve that there never was, and never will be, anything between him and me. “Because he married the head cheerleader while I was the one getting sweaty and bruised and dirty out on the field. He’s into the pretty girls, not the tomboys who don’t know how to apply eyeliner without stabbing themselves with it. And if you think I sound crazy, I’m not. I just, I don’t know how to explain it, I just know he doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend.”
Mila stares at me steadily for a minute before shaking her head gently from side to side. “There are so many things wrong with what you just said, I don’t even know where to start. No, wait — yes, I do. If you honestly think you’re not a beautiful, amazing, interesting, charismatic woman thatanyman would be lucky to be with, you’re nuts. Eyeliner is the work of the devil, so that point is completely ridiculous. And he may have married the cheerleader, but where is she now, hmm?”
She raises a good point. But still, I squash down the small ray of hope budding inside of me.
Then my friend, my boss, the ultimate meddler, claps her hands. The look of excitement and anticipation in her eyes makes me nervous, to say nothing of what she says next.
“I’ve got it. You need to bring him to the café. I’ve got a good sense about these things; I’ll figure out if he’s into you!”
“No way. Not happening.” I put my hands up in defense. “Sorry, but I don’t need or want you getting involved in anything. Just…forget I ever told you about this.”
Mila’s smile turns into a pout. “Oh, come on, don’t be a spoilsport, Kell! I’ll be good, I swear. I just want to meet the guy who’s got you all twisted up. You’re so calm and chill most of the time.”
I wince because she’s not wrong. I’m definitely not acting myself right now, and Jensen is definitely the reason. “Can we drop it for now, please? I’m kind of freaking out here, and I need to figure out how to handle all of this without making it more complicated.”
“But how would him meeting your friends make things complicated? If anything, I’d think he’s expecting to meet us.”
“He is. But you’ve proven how transparent I apparently am about my feelings, and I don’t want him figuring it out until I’ve had a chance to, I don’t know, get control of myself.”
Thankfully, Mila must sense that I’m one step away from a panic attack because after a minute or two, she just nods. “Okay, fine. But could you just listen to me on one thing?”
I tilt my head in acquiescence.
“Don’t sell yourself short. And if the chance comes to let Jensen know how you feel, promise me you’ll take it.”
I don’t answer right away. And when I do, it probably isn’t what Mila wants me to say, but it’s the best I can do.
“I’ll try.”
Chapter six
Jensen
I’m in hell. Forget fire and brimstone, Satan himself prefers packed restaurants with poor acoustics, overpriced food, and a woman obsessed with yarn.
Yup, yarn.
“Then I decided to try a merino wool. Oh, my goodness gracious, you should see the colours I bought! I just couldn’t help myself.” Gail titters. Yep, titters. That’s the only word for the bizarre, artificial sounding laugh she just uttered. “But wouldn’t you know it? My Chrishell pulled that sweater right off and shook it in between her teeth like it was a chew toy.” There’s that obnoxious sound again, only this time she pats her lip delicately with her napkin before fluttering her eyelashes at me. “So, Jensen, tell me all about your Oliver. He is such a handsome boy, just like his owner.” Gail’s voice dips low at the end. I guess she’s trying to be suggestive, but it just makes me feel uncomfortable.
Goddamn Kelly and her dating bargain.I have no idea how to handle this, how to extricate myself politely from the situation — err,date— I find myself on.
“Yeah, ah, Ollie’s great,” I say lamely, my eyes darting everywhere except at Gail. Every time our eyes have met over dinner, she’s winked at me. I almost asked her if she had something in her eye before I caught on to the fact that she’s flirting. Or at least trying to, I think.
For the last hour, I have heard more about different types of yarn and wool than I ever thought possible. I’ve heard Gail go on and on about different needle gauges and yarn tension, patterns for clothes — for her dog, of course — and all of the different types of stitches. Rib stitch, garter stitch, cable stitch, seed stitch, moss stitch, seriously. Who knew there were so many? And whatever you do, don’t ask the difference between crochet and knitting. I made that mistake and had to sit through ten minutes of this woman going on about how knitting was superior in so many ways.
I’m not entirely sure if Gail honestly believes I am interested in the subject or if she just doesn’t have anything else to talk about. The fact is, I’ve barely managed to sneak a word in. Now, maybe that’s the way dating goes these days, a one-sided info dump, and if somehow the other person remains interested at the end of it, then you know it’s a match. How would I know? The last first date I went on was with my ex-wife in high school. We went to the movies and then to a local café for hot chocolate. Pretty sure we did nothing but hold hands and stare at each other, both of us too nervous to make the first move.
There certainly wasn’t much conversation, and when the date ended, Tatyana didn’t fling herself at me like a fucking spider monkey and try to molest my face.
Gail, on the other hand, did just that. Apparently, she thought our date was wonderful, and she seemed genuinely shocked when I carefully stepped away and told her thanks, but no thanks.
When I get back home, I’m grumpy. And for good reason, if you ask me. Not only was the date a total disaster, I didn’t even get to look at the dessert menu in my desperate attempt to end things. Thank fuck, I’m currently living with a pastry chef. Kelly’s guaranteed to have something chocolate in the house somewhere.
