What the hell am I thinking right now? Opening this in my car has got to be one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done. But then again, going on a trip with Jack—alone—sounds even more reckless. It’s blatantly clear now, and I can see how saying yes all the time could lead to trouble, yet I somehow still convinced myself to do it.
My cheeks are flushed and I haven’t even done anything yet. I’m just holding it.
God, it’s so much larger than I thought it would be. This is what nine inches looks like. Huh. Why would I choose pink? Of all colors, did this really seem the ideal color for…ugh…I can’t even bring myself to say it.
I need to feel this thing in my hands. Am I really going to do this? I mean, obvs not here in my car just before I grab my coffee….but…you know…at some point this weekend. MySay Yes!weekend. It’s capitalized and everything, so it’s a thing now.
There’s an extraordinarily sticky sticker holding the package shut, but I’m on a mission now. What does a pink nine inches feel like in my hand?
Gah! That sticker…I shake it off my fingers and rip open the package. Yup. That’s thick. I never thought about girth before. Which is yet another reason why I’m doing this.
Even though I’m sitting in the driver’s seat, I jump when I hear a voice shouting on the sidewalk. They’re not even calling out to me. Oh my God, I'm so nervous. I shove the—thing back in the box and stuff it into my backpack. The bag I’ll need in about an hour. The bag I can’t believe I packed. But whatever, I’m here. I’m doing this. Yes, yes, and yes.
But first. Coffee.
I get out of my car and shut the door, but when I turn to take my first step toward Espresso Yourself Cafe, I’m jolted back. My butt hits the car and my bag tears. Papers fly out. Apparently when I slammed the door, my bag strap got caught in the door.
Oh, no. I scramble to grab those papers. Those secrets. Damn you, papers. I told you there’s nothing nice about being out in the world unprotected.
But I can’t scramble to reach them because of course I’m trapped by my messenger bag to my car. Yanking the strap over my head, I duck under it and am crawling around on all fours to grab my papers.
“Emmerson? Is that you? I didn’t know you were home.”
Damn it. Not Pastor Ray. Oh my God, of all the people.
“Here. Let me help you.”
“No!” When I shout, he just laughs and takes another step forward.
“It’s no problem. Let’s catch these papers before they fly away.”
Oh my God, someone unleashed a dinosaur on those horses in my ribcage because they are more than galloping. Is that even a thing? Note to self: Ask the Jensons if horses can move faster than a gallop.
My hands are moving so fast to grab the papers that I’ve scraped them against the asphalt.
A weird cough resounds from Pastor Ray. Not like the cough from Clark earlier. No, this is a throat clearing, I’m embarrassed for you type cough.
“Is this…Jack?”
Oh.
My.
God.
Of all the papers. Of all the people to find it. It could be worse. It could’ve been Jack.
Pastor Ray is staring at the cover of my new book because of course I printed it off. Like an idiot. I’m looking for inspiration this weekend, so I needed my cover, damn it. The cover to my steamy romance book. And whatever, so what if the guy on the cover resembles Jack. A teensy tiny little bit. It means nothing. A lot of guys have a jaw chiseled out of marble. Hair darker than the night. Blue eyes brighter than the sky that pierce my soul when…um…he looks at me…ya. It means nothing. (Okay, yes, we both know it means everything.)
And Pastor Ray, shit, he’s reading too much into it.
His brows are reaching to the heavens as he’s looking at me. He’s not judgmental. Never has been. But at this moment, he’s definitely analyzing everything.
“Uh no.” I hop to my feet. (No, I don’t hop. Who am I kidding? I use both of my hands to push myself up and then gradually straighten my spine.) “I’ll take that. Thanks for your help.”
I grab the paper, as nicely as I can from the Pastor’s hands, and crumple it up by shoving it into my bag. I’ll cry about those crinkles later.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I dash into the cafe, leaving Ray. But he calls out to me anyway, “If you ever need to talk…”
