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“Shit.” Coffee burns be damned, I grabbed the cup, no baby was getting scalded on my watch. But, the adrenaline in my body must have given me super human strength because the lid popped off, flipping in the air above us as the fountain of coffee followed. Right onto Jack’s lap.
He dropped his head, but didn’t yelp or acknowledge the disaster.
“Oh my God. Jack, are you alright?” Charlotte jumped up.
I grabbed a handful of paper napkins from the counter and threw some on the medium roast lake that had formed on the table and then started dabbing at the coffee…on Jack’s lap.
He cleared his throat. “Ahem. I think I can handle that.” His eyes met mine and I realized that I had just been dabbing Jack’s legs, dangerously close to the zipper on his work pants.
“Are you alright Jack? Did it burn you?” Megan was right beside me, she set the tray of surviving coffees on the table.
Jack took the rest of the napkins from my hand and wiped at the front of his pants. “Nothing gets through these pants. I wouldn’t have known anything had happened if Henri here hadn’t come to my rescue.”
Was I blushing? Heat travelled along my jawbone and Mariah Carey’s voice came back into focus. Jack and I had just skipped first base and gone straight to second, kind of.
“I’m so sorry Jack.”
Jack cleared his throat and stood. “Like I said, don’t worry. These pants are bulletproof.”
I raised my eyebrows. What was he doing wearing bulletproof pants? I had special pants for my motorcycle, but they were nowhere near bulletproof.
As though sensing my confusion, the corners of his lips lifted into a whisper of a smile. “Not literally, they’re designed for cutting wood, so chainsaw and now, coffee proof.”
Feeling like an idiot, I searched the depths of my brain for a snappy comeback. “You’ll have to let the company know – maybe they can add coffee protection to their marketing.” I studied my boots, so thankful that in my rush to get out of the coffee shop, no innocent bystanders had been scalded, and the only casualty had been Jack’s oil-stained work pants.
“I’ll be sure to let them know.”
Charlotte reached to touch my forearm. “Are you alright?”
“I just need a little air.” And to get away from Jack, the man whose presence had turned me into someone who stammered, searching for the right words for a comeback.
Charlotte accompanied me to the front deck of the café and I took a seat on a pretty wrought iron bench with a plaque that read ‘Sharon’s Spot.’ I wondered who Sharon was and I was thankful for her, because I needed to sit. What was happening to me? Why was I so nervous around Jack?
“Feeling better?” Charlotte gestured to the door of the café with her thumb, “I could get you a glass of water.”
I held onto the seat of the bench and stretched tall, inhaling the crisp mountain air. “I’m fine now. Thank you.”
“You said you’re a journalist? Are you writing a story about someone in town?” She crossed her arms. Charlotte’s voice sounded protective, even a little leery, making me wonder if someone in Chance Rapids had a secret.
“Not a person. I’m writing a story about…”
From across the street the lights from the movie set clicked on, and all of a sudden, it felt like we were bathing on a beach in the mid-day sun. I shielded my eyes with my hand. “The Small-Town Christmas movie scene.” It wasn’t a complete lie.
Charlotte’s arms dropped from their protective cross and she put her fists on her hips. “It’s certainly brought a different feel to the town this year.” Charlotte’s tone told me that the different ‘feel’ wasn’t a good one.
“Would you be interested in telling me about your experience with the movie being shot in your town?”
Gnawing on her lip, contemplating, Charlotte stared across the street at the flurry of activity. “Sure. But I have a busy day.” She pulled her cashmere coat tight around her body as Jack joined us with a tray full of coffee. “I know...” She stretched her leather gloves over her fingers and then took the tray of coffee from Jack. “I’ve invited Jack to the Last Chance Tavern tonight to meet some of my friends, you should join us.”
The air seemed to freeze. I needed interviews, and Charlotte seemed to have the right edge for my story, she wasn’t all lollipops and sugar drop candies. Jack’s eyes were fixed on me and I knew he wanted me to decline.
“That sounds great.” I smiled at her and avoided looking at Jack. “I’ll bring my notebook.” I added, hoping to signal to Jack that it was business only. But, if I were being truthful, the comment was more for myself.
Jack grunted. “What’s the story with your car?” He pointed down the street to the garage.
I let out a relieved sigh. “It looks like it’s all done.” I shoved my hands into my mittens, thankful that I wasn’t going to be traipsing around town all day long.
With a renewed spring in my step. I hustled down the steps and waved. “See you tonight.”
