Plain Jayne (31 page)

Before I knew it I found myself driving to Levi's shop wearing my own jeans, a floral-print silk shell of Gemma's (I didn't know it was a shell—I would have called it a blouse, but she corrected me), and a coordinating black cardigan that was woolly enough to keep me warm.

I'd asked Gemma if she thought I looked as though I were trying too hard and didn't look like myself.

She assured me I looked casually beautiful, and she pointed out that Levi
had only really known me a couple weeks and wasn't likely to have pinned down my personal style during that time.

She had a point.

Spencer whistled when I walked into the shop office. “Look at you, all nice and cleaned up.”

“Yes. I traded in the apron,” I said, before I got an eyeful of his ensemble. “You wore a Star Trek uniform? To work?”

“Hey,” he said, smoothing the tunic or the shirt or whatever they call the part that covers your torso in space. “It's casual Saturday.”

“I thought casual day was Friday.”

“Saturday's casual too.”

“And casual is code for being ready to uphold the Prime Directive?”

“I used to think you were nice.”

“I am nice. Is your boss in?”

“He is, hard at work on a bookcase.” He clucked his tongue. “It's nice.”

I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “I'm sure it is.”

“Really
nice.”

“Am I going to get a chance to see it?”

“I'll page him.” Spencer lifted the phone, dialed a set of numbers, and set the receiver back down. “You been staying busy? Liked that piece about the urban garden.”

“You read it?”

“I did.”

“Did you get your copy of the paper from your onboard replicator?”

Scowling, he stood up, walked to the shop door, and threw it open. “Hurry up, man. She's killing me in here.”

The sound of power tools drowned him out.

“I don't think he heard you.”

“We have a connection, he and I. He heard.”

“You're telepathic? What does that make you…Beta-something? Beta-tape, Beta-version…”

“Betazoid,” he corrected through clenched teeth. “The Betazoids were telepathic.”

“Right. Betazoid. Tip of my tongue.”

Spencer opened his mouth for a comeback but found himself interrupted when Levi stepped through the door.

I'll admit my breath caught.

For just a teeny moment.

“Jayne,” Levi said with the most beautiful smile. “I see you've met Number One.”

Spence pantomimed stabbing himself with a knife. “Et tu, Brute?”

Levi gestured to me. “Wanna come see it? It's out here. I'll have the guys shut down the tools. They need to take lunch anyway.”

He made some sort of signal and the noise ceased. We stepped into the shop, Levi leading the way.

“I went with cherry,” he said as he walked. “I saw that you didn't get a lot of light in that room, so I figured a nice, bright wood with a sheer red stain would help to liven it up.”

I looked ahead. “Is that it?”

He beamed. “It is.”

I closed the distance in three more steps. “Wow,” I said, running a hand over one shelf. “It's beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

The sides, rather than being plain, had carved rectangles the same height as the shelf. I remembered now what he'd described before he started, how it had shorter shelves at the top and bottom and taller shelves in the middle. The top had a carved crown molding, and a divot ran along the center of the shelves' edge as well as all the way around the front edge.

And the wood…the wood glowed. “It's perfect.”

“Not quite perfect. I still need to do the finish.”

“You haven't? It's so smooth and pretty now!”

Levi chuckled. “It'll be even smoother and prettier when it's done. I'm planning on a hand-rubbed oil finish. It will prevent dust and water rings.”

“In case I set a drink down on a bookshelf in the office?”

“Or you have a vase of flowers and condensation leaks out.”

“Ah, true.” Not that I had a vase of flowers back there, either, but it was a pretty thought. Shane had never been much for flowers, and I never bought them for myself.

I crossed my arms, not knowing what to do with my hands anymore. “Well, it's absolutely perfect. And beautiful. I can't wait till it's done.”

“Glad you like it.”

All right. I'd done it. I'd looked at the bookcase. What next? I maintained eye contact with the bookcase and shoved another stray piece of hair behind my ear.

Levi checked his watch. “Wow. It's past lunchtime.”

If he meant fifteen minutes past noon, then yes.

“Hungry?”

My head snapped to look at him. “Hungry? Me?”

“Want to grab something to eat? I know a good spot for lunch.”

“I'm hungry.”

“Yeah?”

“Starved.”

He smiled. “Then let's get out of here.”

W
hen Levi and I pulled up to Pastini in Corvallis I began to wonder. Was this a date? Like, a real date? I mean, I knew we were sharing a meal together, but lunch isn't necessarily the “date meal.”

I changed my mind as we sat down. Levi held out my chair and pushed it in for me. Any lunch with chair assistance is a date.

All of a sudden, I wasn't hungry at all. In fact, I felt distinctly sick to my stomach.

“Are you all right?”

I looked up to face Levi, who had taken the chair opposite me. “Fine. Dandy. Why?”

“You started frowning and turned pale just now.”

“Oh.” I felt color rise to my cheeks, which was probably good. “I was just thinking about…work.”

“What's it like being back?”

“Good. Weird.” Almost as weird as my inability to form sentences. I put a little more thought into my next statement. “It's good to be back, but I definitely grew accustomed to a different pace.” I sucked in a breath. “Busier and quieter at the same time.”

“That is what it's like with the Amish, isn't it? More activity and less noise.”

“Less random noise. More people noise. I like people better.”

The waitress arrived at our table with a bright, if tired smile, asking for our drink orders. I asked for Sprite, Levi for coffee.

Big surprise.

He unrolled his silverware and placed his napkin in his lap after the waitress left. “You were talking about seeing your family. Did you?”

“I did.”

“How did it go?”

“They hated me less than I thought.” I unrolled my own silverware.

“Yeah?”

“My mom didn't hate me at all. My sister? I think she'll thaw. Things were…” I searched for the right word. “Satisfactory.”

“Glad to hear that.”

I shifted in my seat. “And I, um…” My mouth felt dry. I took a sip of my water. “Shane and I broke up.”

“Oh.” He ducked his head, rendering me unable to read his expression for a moment. “Are you…?”

I shrugged. “I'm fine with it. It was a mutual decision.” Didn't talking about your ex break all sorts of dating rules? “Anyway, it's over. I'm glad. I'm making a lot of life changes right now.”

“Like what?”

“I want a relationship with my family. I want…I want to like who I am.”

“You don't right now?”

“I've let myself get lost. I want to start going to church again.”

Levi gave a kind smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “You're always welcome to join me for church down here. I'm sure Spence's mom would be happy to have you for a weekend.”

“That's sweet,” I said, knowing I'd never take him up on it. Finding a church and attending was something I needed to do without a man. And who knew what the mother of Spencer would be like? “Have you heard anything from your family?”

“Ida drove Sara to the shop a couple days ago.”

“Really?” Ida was such a rebel.

“She—Sara—said everyone's well. The boys have picked up the slack around the farm, making up for Dad. The younger girls are doing fine. Sara says they miss you.”

“And Sara herself? How is she?”

“I think she'd like to leave, but Dad's health is stopping her. At least for the time being—”

I couldn't take it anymore. “Levi, are we on a date?”

“Technically, yes.”

“Technically?”

“I asked you to lunch, you said yes.” He spread his hands. “Ergo, date.”

“But what if you'd asked Spence to lunch?”

“I wouldn't. He tends to talk with his mouth full.”

“Or Grady. Or whomever. You get my point.”

“
My
point is that I didn't ask anyone else. I asked you.”

My shoulders sank. “Why?”

“You're good company.”

“So is Grady.”

“Jayne, you're funny, smart, and compassionate. I don't think I said it today, but you look,” he paused, his eyes taking in my carefully chosen ensemble, “really, really good.”

I felt my face flush. “Thanks.”

“I asked you to lunch because I wanted to spend time with you. I want to keep getting to know you.”

“I live in Portland.”

“I know.”

“Seventy miles away.”

“Right now, we're eighteen inches away.”

I sighed and sipped my water. “I'm not very good at dating.”

“Me neither. I don't know what to do when a buggy is out of the picture.”

I snorted. “And not climbing into girls' rooms through their windows?”

“Without windows and buggies, I'm out to sea.”

“Sorry. I'm fresh out of buggies.”

“What was that?” Just then, the waitress appeared at our table. “What did you say you were out of?”

I lifted my eyebrow, daring Levi to tell her “buggies.”

He didn't take the bait. “We may need another couple minutes to order.”

When she left, Levi reached across the table and took my hand. I almost yanked it back out of shock but thought better of it.

Having my hand held felt nice. Having Levi hold it—nearly divine.

“I think we should date.”

“How old are you?”

“Does that make a difference?”

I feigned indifference, pulling my hand away to toy with my napkin. “Maybe.”

“You tell me first.”

“I'm twenty-six.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Awfully young for a reporter in your position.”

I bristled. “It's not my fault I'm good. You haven't answered my question yet.”

“Thirty-two.”

“Wow.” I sat back. “You're old.”

He kicked my foot under the table. “Thanks.”

“Okay. Maybe not
that
old.”

“Do I pass? Will you go out with me?”

“I'm not in town anymore. I mean, I'm here now, Levi, but I can't be here every weekend. I don't know how—”

“Do you have to know?”

“Yes.”

He leaned forward. “I don't. I'm perfectly capable taking things a day at a time.”

“I'm a reporter. We're trained to think ahead of schedule.”

“What would happen if you let someone else do the worrying for a change?” He nodded toward my menu. “What sounds good?”

“What are you having?” I hated choosing something before the guy, preferring instead to match my order to his. If he ordered a sandwich, I'd order a sandwich. If he ordered a steak, I'd check out the menu's pricier items.

He folded his menu. “Rigatoni with meat sauce Bolognese.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Do you like artichoke dip?”

“I do.”

“Then we'll get artichoke dip. I got hooked on artichokes in college.”

“Artichokes not figured into Amish cuisine?”

“Not often.”

When the server came back, Levi recited his lunch order before gesturing to me.

I closed my menu. “I'll have the Rigatoni with chicken cacciatore.”

“That's my favorite,” the server said, as she scribbled on her order pad.

She probably said that to all her customers.

“So?” Levi said, bringing my attention back to the topic at hand.

As if I could think of much else.

“Do you want to be adventurous with me? Want to give it a shot?”

“Us dating?”

“No, us going deep-sea diving. Haven't you been paying attention?”

I gave him a playful smack on the arm. “You're high-maintenance. Fine. Let's give it a go.”

After lunch we walked around downtown Corvallis for a while. He didn't try to hold my hand, but he stayed close to my side as we walked and talked about his family, my family, our jobs, and whatever else came up. My feet were sore by the time we returned to the truck, but I didn't care. I couldn't remember the last time my heart felt so light.

“I need to get back to work after this,” Levi said as the familiar form of the shop came into view. “When do I get to see you next?”