Page 42 of The Dating Charade

Jett craned his neck as he pulled on his coat. “Hey, guys! Sarah brought you muffins.”

“Saaaraaaah!” The twins rounded the corner full speed. Both faces were covered in what he guessed was mayonnaise. Maybe whipped cream. The point was they weren’t crying.

Sarah took in the twins’ hugs and passed them each a muffin. Her eyes passed to the baby recliner still in its box in the corner. “Maybe when you get back we can put that together.”

He followed her eyes to the recliner. “Yeah. Definitely.”

“Good.” She gave a pleased smile. A smile that looked a whole lot like the kind Cassie gave just before their almost kiss.

Jett scratched the back of his neck, feeling very uncomfortable. If he was a wise man, he’d stop asking for Sarah’s help. But what were his options lately? Sarah had volunteered herself, every time, with no expectations. No spoken expectations, at least.

Still, with every kind word or deed, he felt the debt getting heavier and had a growing feeling he knew in what currency she dealt.

“You know, Sarah,” Jett began, “you have done so much for us. I know you’ve said no already, but really, let me pay you.”

Sunny perked up from the couch, several potato chips falling to the floor. “Her? What about me? I woke up to Drew in my bed this morning. You know how I knew he was in my bed? He peed in it. You know what it’s like to wake up to the growing sensation you’re in an ocean?”

Jett stepped toward Sarah, taking out his wallet.

Sarah’s basket, along with her body, backed up. “No, Jett. I couldn’t.”

“I insist.”

“No. I insist.”

Sunny waved his hands all over. “You heard her. She insists. I, on the other hand, am not insisting. I need the money. Drew ate one of my shoes yesterday. Ate it. Like a li’l puppy dog.”

Jett forced himself to overlook Sunny’s concerning statement, giving one last push for Sarah. He pulled out a couple of twenties. “Just enough to cover some food, then. You guys can order pizza.”

But Sarah put a hand over his, pushing the bills away. “No. This is what neighbors do. We are there for each other when they need help. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

“It depends on if your plight included kids.” Jett paused, feeling himself giving up. There would be no winning this battle. He pushed the wallet back into his pocket. “You set the bar pretty high for neighborly conduct, Sarah.”

“Yes, she does.” Out of nowhere, Sunny snatched the twenties from Jett’s hand. “You’re a very honorable neighbor, Sarah. We are in awe. But you and I will also need some pizza.”

“Well . . . oh.” Jett paused, then looked down at TJ in his arms. He had held him so much the past few days he was starting to forget when the kid was there. “Probably should take him before I go.”

“Probably.” Sarah grinned as she took TJ, waving his little arm as Jett closed the door behind him.

He would not feel guilty. He’d done his duty. He’d tried several times to pay her for her help.

Still, Jett couldn’t help wondering, as he drove downtown, what a bum deal it was for her. She was a nice woman, a beautiful woman. Friendly. Easygoing. Tidy—although what woman really wanted that as a top-five characteristic?

Perhaps that was what was wrong. He could write down plenty of good traits, but the missing piece was still missing. What would he call it? That gelling. Conversation unstifled, words and unspoken wishes mixing with laughter that came only too easily, breaking layers with each smile, digging deeper each time their eyes met. In two—and a tenth—dates (counting a failed one), he had already rooted himself too deep to move planters now.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with Sarah. Just that Cassie was everything right.

A light dusting of snow covered the sidewalks of downtown Gatlinburg. Shop windows decorated by the marketing savvy caught the eyes of pedestrians with their glittering merchandise beneath festive trees and waving snowmen. The town of Gatlinburg conspired together to create an even jollier atmosphere for potential shoppers, offering the siren call of conveniently placed speakers playing holiday songs. Jett gripped his lifeline of late—Guatemalan coffee, black—and moved along. The backside of his hand was already starting to stiffen in the cold.

He couldn’t remember a December in Tennessee this chilly. Georgia winters had been far more temperate, and if he recalled correctly, this time last year he’d been cruising along in a coworker’s speedboat on an unconventionally warm weekend day. Jett zipped up his jacket; just thinking about gliding through the lake at thirty miles an hour on a day like today made him shudder.

He let go of the zipper. His fingers felt oddly wet all of a sudden, which, as he was learning in his new state of life, was never a good sign.

He grimaced and with deep hesitation put his fingers to his nose for a quick whiff.

Not again.

One glance down confirmed TJ’s gift upon the brilliant green of his down jacket.