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Beside me, Seth chokes on his own spit—or at least I assume so, since he hasn’t had anything to drink in the past ten seconds—my cheeks burn like they have their own built-in furnaces because it’s only seventy-five degrees outside, and Ella bursts out into a fit of giggles.
“Sorry, no,” Jess continues, smirking as she scoots closer to her husband’s side. “You’ll have to go fishing.”
“Thanks for spending your evening with me instead of at home,” Seth says as he leans his arm on the top of my vehicle. “I know you have a routine, and that I don’t typically celebrate my birthday, so I appreciate it. It was…nice.”
What’s nice is the way his fresh, masculine scent—something woodsy but also clean—drifts through my window on the late spring breeze. But I don’t say that because I don’t actually notice, nor do I see the way his biceps flex against the sleeves of his faded light gray T-shirt.
“Of course. I should be the one thanking you, though, considering you entertained my children for several hours.” I glance in the mirror at my sleeping kids. They started getting drowsy when we wrapped up the games, but the cake was the final straw. By the time we were ready to leave, Ella had fallen asleep curled up on Seth’s couch and, since Eli was attached to Seth for most of the evening, he fell asleep in his arms. Marshall carried Ella to the car, and Seth carried Eli, but now I’ll have to figure out how to not disturb them when we get home. It might be next to impossible, but we’ll figure it out. We have been for the past three years, haven’t we? I let my gaze wander back to Seth. “Oh, and happy birthday, again. I think I told you, but I can’t remember.”
A soft smile pulls at the corner of his lips, and I have to force myself not to let those butterflies unleash inside of me, because right now, all I want to do is soak up this moment. Whenever I’m around Seth, I feel protected. And it’s not because he wears a badge on his chest or drives a car with flashing lights on it for work. I’d like to tell myself that’s the case, but it’s not. It’s just Seth. I think he was a natural born protector, especially after the events of his childhood that put my own divorce and childhood to shame.
Sure, my relationship with Pete wasn’t the healthiest and my family has its own drama, part of it being my parents’ deaths when I was in college. But from the little I know about Seth and Jess’s childhood, it wasn’t pretty. He was eleven, Jess six, when their mother was in a fatal car accident, and only a short month later their father was arrested for drugs. They haven’t seen him since.
One glance at Seth now, and you wouldn’t even know, other than the guarded look in his eyes that can only come from painful memories. While his childhood could’ve easily led him to do nothing with his life other than the bare minimum, that’s not the case. He’s made something of himself; he’s built a career focused on helping others and keeping his community safe, even when I’m sure it transports him back to traumatic memories he’d rather not remember.
“I think I enjoy it as much as they do,” he says softly, his eyes moving to what he can see of the backseat. “I guess maybe celebrating my birthday isn’t so bad after all, if this is the result. You sure you’re good getting home?”
I almost laugh, because it’s still light out, but I know he means it, so I simply nod. “We’ll be fine. If I need to, I’ll bring out the big guns if they wake up: my kids almost always go to sleep without complaint if I tell them we’ll have chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.”
Seth’s dark brows raise, and that smile grows as a laugh rumbles his broad chest. I try my hardest, but I can’t help but use the opportunity to study him. He’s tall, at least ten inches taller than me when we’re both barefoot, and I can’t know if he was gangly as a teen, but he’s not anymore. His body is nothing but lean muscle, as evidenced by his broad chest and strong forearms. His square jaw is currently sporting a light five o’clock shadow, and there’s a tiny scar above his top lip on the right side for me, but his left side. I have no idea how he got it because he’s never told me and though it’s faint, I typically notice it every time he’s clean shaven. He has an almost perfectly proportioned nose that leads up to those ocean blue eyes of his. Dark brown, nearly black, hair completes the whole tall, dark, and handsome look he’s got going for him. It’s a little long-ish, styled with
a part not quite in the middle, and the ends barely brush the tops of his ears.
“…let you get going. Please let me know when you make it home, okay?”
His words force me to blink, and I cover myself by nodding like I wasn’t totally checking his face out. He says that every time I’m out later than eight, but because I like the fact that someone cares enough about us to request it, I never tell him he doesn’t need to worry about us. I know he will if I don’t text, and I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I let someone worry unnecessarily.
“I will,” I promise, then make myself turn the key. My gaze catches on an envelope tucked between my seat and the console as I do, so I give myself an internal slap and grab it. “Oops. In all the excitement of our surprise, I forgot about this. Ella probably won’t like it very much if she discovered we didn’t give it to youonyour birthday.”
“Oh, I’m sure her punctuality will come in handy someday,” Seth teases as he runs his finger under the lip of the envelope, and I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t find something like unsealing anenvelopeso fascinating, but I do. “And I’m not sure I would call what happened earlier a surprise so much as a full-out ambush on my sanity. You guys did realize that I was wearing a gun at the time, right?”
It’s comical of him to ask, consideringof coursewe knew that. I was sitting under that sheet mentally preparing myself for the sight of him in his uniform, for goodness’ sake. But I allow him to think we were oblivious to the fact because again, I’m a nice friend. “Shoot, we definitely did forget that. Geez, how brainless of us.”
Seth rolls his eyes, probably because he sees right through my façade, and pulls out the card Ella and Eli made several days ago. Ella insisted on putting it in a “real” envelope, though, so now I’ve got a masculine birthday card at home without an envelope companion, but maybe I’ll challenge Ella to learn how to make an envelope for it and give it to Jack for his sixty-fifth birthday in September. If there’s one thing my daughter inherited from her father (and, okay, even me) it’s the love of being challenged. That’s why I often find myself writing down math problems on a piece of pink construction paper or buying a new puzzle every couple weeks. She’s only four and she’s already a little problem-solver.
If it weren’t for the fact that she’s already attached to Seth, I wonder if she’d have an answer as to how I can pound the nameAlleninto my mind instead of seeing Seth’s serious-but-compassionate eyes and that hard earned by oh-so worth it smile every time I close my eyes. Obviously I won’t ask her that, but I wouldn’t be shocked if she had an answer.
The first idea would probably be to avoid situations like this one, where Seth and I are talking through my car window while the kids sleep like we’re something more than friends.
“I think this is probably the best card I’ve ever received.” Seth clears his throat as he meets my eyes, and I try not to let my heartrate increase at the sincerity looking back at me.Allen, Allen, ALLEN.“Please tell Ella thank you for me, will you?”
To prove I’m capable of actually leaving, I shift my vehicle into gear and nod. “I will. She’ll probably want to hearfromyou what you think of the picture. She was pretty proud of it when she brought it to me the other day. So, if you get a phone call after we get home, that’s probably why.”
“Well, you can tell her I love it, but I’m here if she wants me to actually say it to her.” He taps the edge of my window twice, then takes a couple steps back and slides his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Thanks again for tonight, Jen. Drive safe.”
My nickname on his lips never fails to make me just a little bit breathless, so I manage a “we will” and then back up, turn around, and head down the driveway, just a little too aware of the fact that Seth makes sure to watch until I’ve turned onto the main road.
Chapter Four
Seth
The moment I walk through the door of Cozy & Grounds, our town’s hottest coffee shop, I instantly regret it. Not because of the place itself—between its cement floors, retro lighting, wooden tables and accents, and chalkboard menu, Cozy & Grounds practically beckons people to take pictures of their hip little iced coffees in front of the new sign on the far wall that readsCoffee Pleasein hot pink neon letters that are lit up. I say this because there are three women, probably mid-twenties, doing exactly that. It’s not because I do so personally. I will wear Ella’s birthday hat from Tuesday into my office before I take a photo of that caliber.
Partly because that would require me to channel the inner female millennial Idon’tpossess, and partly because I’d have to have an iced coffee. Other than the occasional black coffee, my go-to order when I come here is lemonade, tea, or a smoothie. Yes, smoothies are definitely for men too. We’re just not as likely to buy it for its aesthetic. If I pay $4.75 for my mango smoothie, I will enjoy every single sip of it, thank you very much.
But that’s not my current problem. No, the dilemma I’m faced with is that Ember, Marshall’s little sister, is behind the counter and her expression this afternoon is downright mischievous. Remember how I said she described Jenna and I’s personalities? Yeah, that’s why I’m dragging my feet as I cross from the door to the order counter, thanking my lucky stars there’s one person ahead of me who is someone I don’t recognize. Likely a tourist.
Could I pretend to be a tourist?
