JAKE STIRRED CREAMER into his steaming mug and glanced, yet again, toward the large windows at the front of the coffee shop. There was no reason to be so alert, but he couldn’t help it. Being aware of every little detail around him was hardwired into his brain.
Trying to act casual like a normal customer would, he picked up a copy of the Jackson Hole newspaper and settled at an empty table right next to the window. The street outside—West Broadway—was lined with parked cars. Pedestrians came and went from shops across the street, and Jake watched them as he sipped the coffee. None of them were Carolina, but then again, he hadn’t expected any of them to be. She was at the cabin hanging out with Courtney and Charming Charlie. Probably watching movies, or making lunch, or lying on the bed staring at the ceiling and cursing his very existence.
He voted for the latter.
Suffering through the weekend without her had been tough, but yesterday, as he’d observed all the people in Jackson going hurriedly about their Monday morning business, he’d felt even more out of sorts, like a statue—immobile, trapped, stone cold in a sea of warm bodies.
He didn’t know a soul, and they didn’t know him. Didn’t know that his emotions were raw, his nerve endings exposed. They had no clue that some moments he still wanted to throttle the daughter of the president of the United States for messing with his life, and other moments he wanted to kiss her all over for trying to help him make sense of his future.
Because of her, he could clearly see now that he needed to quit the Secret Service. More importantly, he wanted to. While he was at the cabin, he’d refused to entertain thoughts of coaching baseball, but the seed had been planted and now that he had the time to let his mind wander, he’d thought about it, whether he wanted to or not. He could do it. He’d be good at it—and hell, he’d be happy, wouldn’t he?
No. Not without her. And if he quit and went on without her, she’d never forgive him. Not that she was going to forgive him at all anyway.
With a silent sigh, he picked up the newspaper and flipped through it, not really caring which page he landed on. Settling on the real estate section, he perused the vacation properties as if he could actually afford one. Movement near his elbow made him look up and he smiled at the barista, who was very young with blue-streaked hair and a wicked-looking lip ring.
She smiled back, nearly stumbling into the table behind her. She righted herself giggling, and gave him a small wave. “I didn’t get a chance to make your coffee since I was on break but I wanted to say hi.” She paused, “Um. You’re back again.”
“Yeah. Same as yesterday.” He let the paper slide to the table, resigned to another chat with the girl.
“And the day before,” she added.
“Yeah.”
“Do you, um . . . live here now?”
He looked around. “Do you mean that ironically?”
He had been spending a lot of time in this place, but it was warm, it smelled good, and what else was he going to do? Besides leave, that is. He still hadn’t been able to bring himself to leave the area. He needed to work on that, because as far as vacation spots went, Jackson, Wyoming wasn’t exactly inexpensive.
“Ironically?” The girl chewed a black-polished thumbnail. “No, I meant for real. Did you just move to Jackson?”
“No. I’m on vacation.”
“Oh.” She looked disappointed, but then brightened. “You need any advice on stuff to do?”
Yeah, he did. He needed someone to tell him how to get out of bed in his hotel room before noon. He needed advice on how to make his mind stop churning. He needed to stop thinking of Carolina twenty-four hours a day.
He picked up his coffee and took a sip before answering. “I’m fine, thanks. But it was nice of you to offer.” Raising the mug, he saluted her.
She giggled again and then looked back toward the coffee bar. “Oh, crap. I’m busted. My boss hates it when I come out on the floor. Gotta go.”
“See ya.” He gave her another smile, one that he hoped wasn’t encouraging, and went back to the paper. He took another sip of his coffee and shook his head. Half a million dollars for a tiny two-bedroom ranch house? Damn. And he’d thought the Fulton property was fairly modest, considering that it belonged to the president of the United States.
He looked at another property, which was five hundred square feet more. It was $789,000.
“God, that’s insane,” he muttered to himself. Then—“location, location, location.”
Another shadow fell across his back, and Jake closed his eyes briefly. This time he didn’t turn around. “I don’t need a refill yet, thanks.”
“Like I would actually fetch you coffee.”
Jake jerked around in his chair to find Courtney standing there. She wore business clothes and a giant grin.
“Hey,” he said weakly.
She plunked down in a chair at the table opposite him and crossed her legs. “Hey, yourself.”
He smoothed the newspaper and nodded at her. “I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here.”
“I was going to ask that, but it took me all of five seconds—from the time I spotted you in the window until I walked through the door—to figure it out. You don’t want to leave.”
Jake glared at her. “Well this is a vacation town, isn’t it?”
“You hate the cold. You don’t ski. You don’t snowboard, and last time I checked, even though you spent time in Texas, cowboy stuff doesn’t interest you in the least, Baxter.”
He shrugged and stared at her. As he did, the realization dawned on him that if Courtney wasn’t at the cabin, Carolina might not be, either. Slowly, he broke eye contact and gazed out the window to scan for Charlie and Carolina.
“She’s not with me, Jake.”
“Who?”
Courtney’s chair scraped on the floor as she dragged it closer. “Oh give me a fucking break, man—it’s so obvious what’s going on. I’m insulted you think you can fool me.”
Jake gritted his teeth, but continued to stare out the window. “We spent every day together. It would have been rude not to get to know her.”
“Yeah, well, you did a lot more than that, I bet.” Courtney slid the newspaper toward herself. “Oh, holy shit. You’re looking at real estate here? Man, you’ve got it bad.”
“Shut up, Evans,” Jake retorted.
He turned around and glared at her. “What do you think I am—some kind of stalker? Of course I’m not actually looking at houses. I’m just reading the damned paper.”
She held up her hands. “Whatever. Look, I don’t know what you’re doing later this week, but Carolina is showing some of her photos at Regina’s gallery.”
Jake let the news sink in and as it did, hope began to rise in his heart. He tamped it down. “Why are you telling me?”
“Because I think you ought to go.”
“Why? You trying to get me fired?” He gave her a brittle smile.
“Yeah. That’s my mission in life, to get one of my best buddies shit-canned from the job.” She shoved the paper back onto the table. “I care about you, moron. And from observing our pretty princess as she put on a brave face the past few days, I’m completely sure that she cares, too.”
Jake rubbed his jaw. This was insane. He should just stay the hell away from Carolina, because if he saw her, he knew exactly what would happen. If he saw her, he’d take her into his arms and never let go. Damn the consequences for both of them.
And that was the problem. He could live with his own consequences, but hers? Hers were far-ranging. The news would spread like wildfire and eventually, probably pretty quickly, she would regret it.
“Look what happened with Roger,” he muttered to himself. “She ran.”
“Thank God you’re not Roger.” Courtney sighed. “So are you coming to the gallery on Saturday or what?”
He wanted to. He ached to see her again. But he had to fight his own desire, because she needed a man who knew what he wanted out of life. Who had more to offer than just . . . what? Undying devotion?
“Make up your mind, Jake. I’ve gotta get back to the gallery. It’s now or never.”
A wave of panic surged through him. “How would I even get into the event? Nobody knows I’m here and there’s probably a guest list.”
“Well . . . nobody . . .”—she pointed to herself—“is willing to ask Regina to put you on the list. Get there by seven p.m.”
He nodded. “Thanks for the information. But if I don’t show, don’t worry.”
“If you don’t show, you’re a bigger ass than Roger.”
With that parting shot, Courtney got up, walked out the door and jaywalked across the street. Turning around on the opposite side, she gave him an almost imperceptible wave and then opened the door to a place called “Hang Ups”.
In the window were blown-up photographs, very similar to ones he’d seen hanging in the living room area at Regina’s house. In fact—one of them was identical.
Jake put his head in his hands.
He’d been staring across that street for three days, and he hadn’t put two and two together. Well, if that didn’t prove that he wasn’t a weirdo stalker, then nothing did.
He was a normal man, perfectly normal. Except for the fact that he was desperately in love with Carolina Fulton, who just happened to have a father who was the leader of the free world.
With a self-deprecating chuckle, he picked up his mostly cold coffee and drained it. There were only two ways out of the hell he’d created for himself: go to the gallery on Saturday night and declare his love, or get out of town and go back to DC.
He got up, put a tip on the table and grabbed his coat. Two second later, the barista was skittering across the dining room.
“Leaving?”
He thought about a moment. “I don’t know.”
Then he walked toward the door, turning to wave at her.
She looked as confused as he felt.
“ARE YOU SURE you’ve thought this through?” Carolina asked as she emerged from the pantry with a box of microwave popcorn. “Because I’m not so sure about it.”
Regina looked up from Carolina’s laptop, which sat on the kitchen counter. “Extra-butter-flavored popcorn? What’s to decide? Bring it on.”
Carolina pressed her lips together and willed her voice to be patient. After all, she and Regina weren’t alone. Charlie was sitting on the sofa, studiously going over reports, and Courtney was within earshot, just upstairs. So instead of screaming at her beloved mentor, Carolina gave her a sunny smile.
“You know I’m talking about the gallery, Regina.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes.” Carolina slid a fingernail under a cardboard edge and eased the box open. “What qualifies me to give a lecture on photography?” She held up a finger. “No—that was too vague. You’ll wiggle out of answering the question.”
Regina smiled.
“What I meant to say was—if I was someone else, just some normal person, would you even consider having me as a guest lecturer?”
Shaking her head, Regina turned her attention back to the laptop. “I’d get over those delusions of grandeur if I were you.”
“Delusions of grandeur! Me?”
“Kidding,” Regina said. “Now look. Your photos are good and you have experience speaking in front of groups, right?”
Carolina unfolded a bag of popcorn and laid it inside the microwave. “In front of eight year olds, yes.”
“If you can do that, you can do anything. And besides . . .” Regina’s face screwed up in an apologetic grimace. “I booked you for amateur night.”
“Oh.”
“You are an amateur.”
Carolina nodded and punched her finger at the microwave timer. “That’s true.” She turned around and walked toward Regina. “And I’ll be going back to school and enrolling in a photography program. But don’t even amateurs prepare for more than . . . what? Three days?”
“Good to know about school, but I gave you a week. What the heck have you been doing?”
Biting her lip, Carolina bent and reached into a lower cabinet for a big bowl. She’d been thinking about Jake non-stop. Where was he? What was he doing? Did he even miss her, or had he used his Secret Service super powers and steeled his mind against her?
Probably. She knew him, and avoidance was like second nature to him. But hadn’t she been trying to do the same thing? After all, she knew her nature photos paled in comparison to the ones she’d taken of Jake, and yet she was blundering forward, preparing for her debut showing with inferior photos. On purpose. It was so not like her—she always gave one hundred percent to everything she attempted.
She’d given her all when she’d poured her heart and soul into getting Jake to embrace the future. And she’d failed. But maybe her nature photos wouldn’t fail. They were good . . . not great, but good.
“Carolina Fulton. What have you been doing?” Regina repeated, but this time her voice was softer.
“I’ve been choosing photos. And I’m finished. That batch you’re looking at has the ones I’ll use. If you approve, then we can e-mail them to the printing company you use in Jackson.”
Regina frowned. “We’re not using a printer. I told you this was casual . . . we just do a slide show, you talk, and sometimes people ask questions. The end.”
“Oh.” Carolina’s shoulder’s dropped in relief.
“But,” Regina said, her frown deepening, “This isn’t your best work.”
No shit.
Carolina almost said it aloud, but caught herself just in time. She glanced over toward the sofa where Charlie appeared to be deep in thought. She knew better. He was listening to every word.
The microwave dinged and Carolina turned to pull out the popcorn. “Maybe you’d like to choose, Regina. If you open the folder marked mountains, all of the photos I took outside are there.” She walked over to the counter next to the sink, ripped open the bag and half the bag of popcorn fell into the dishwater. She stared at it.
Regina chuckled. “I’m not about to choose your photos. You’ll have to determine which ones are best on your own.”
Sighing, Carolina dumped what was left of the popcorn into the bowl and carried it to Regina. “Here. And give me my laptop, please. I’ll go over the photos again.”
“I told you I was going to be a hard-ass,” Regina commented as she raised a handful of popcorn to her mouth. “Go on back to the bedroom where you can be alone and concentrate. I’ll wait . . . Charlie can entertain me.”
Charlie’s head jerked up. “Ma’am?”
In spite of herself, Carolina smiled. “Get ready for the third degree, Charles.”
“Seriously?” His eyes widened slightly.
“Oh, yeah.” Carolina took the laptop and walked down the hall, her heart squeezing tighter with each step. She’d avoided spending any time in the bedroom except for sleeping, since she couldn’t even walk into the room without memories of Jake flooding through her, painfully sweet, agonizing, and unbearable.
If only she could see him just one more time. If only she could talk to him—because even if he decided to go his own way, she could get some closure. And if he didn’t choose to be lonely, if he actually chose her, then the first words out of her mouth would be “I love you.”
She took a deep breath and then let it out slowly.
Walking to the bed, she set the laptop down and climbed up, sitting cross-legged. She opened the lid and then opened her files. There were several folders of photos, all neatly labeled. She stared down at the folder labeled “Jake.” God, she so desperately wanted to see him. If she could just see his face, maybe she could begin to make sense of everything that had happened over the past two weeks.
But she didn’t want to look. She just sat there, gazing at little yellow icons.
From the living room, Charlie and Regina’s conversation was low and constant. Occasionally, Regina laughed, and Charlie chuckled uncomfortably. Kind of like how Jake had reacted to Regina’s interrogation. With respectful caution. He’d displayed caution at every turn, except when it came to her. With her, he’d been wide open. Funny, warm, and loving.
Carolina smiled wistfully.
Unconsciously, she rubbed her bottom lip with her fingertips, the memory of his kisses tingling sharp and clear. Her eyes closed, and his devastatingly green eyes appeared in her mind, making her smile widen. His wicked grin came next, followed by his shoulders, then his broad chest. Heaven.
When she realized what she was doing, her eyes opened wide, and she snatched her hand away from her mouth. It hovered over the keyboard, and with only a moment’s hesitation, she clicked on the “Jake” folder, closing her eyes again just as the photos of him popped up.
Just look, you coward.
“No.” She set her mouth in a stubborn line. “I may be heartbroken, but I’m not a masochist. I’m not into self-mutilation.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she felt embarrassment crawl up her spine.
Ouch . . . melodramatic much?
She swallowed, about to open her eyes, when Courtney’s loud laugh sounded from the kitchen, followed by her equally loud voice.
“You should’ve seen him!” Courtney said.
Frowning, Carolina pushed the laptop away and slid off the bed to go shut the bedroom door, but then Regina let out a shrill “Shh!”
Courtney’s voice dropped several decibels. “Sorry. Where is she? Is she . . . okay today?”
Carolina shook her head in disgust.
I’m right back here, wounded bird that I am, and I’m going to make damn sure I hear every word you’re saying if you two are going to talk about me.
A few seconds later, footsteps echoed across the kitchen tile, and Carolina eased the door closed, waiting silently. The footsteps grew louder, paused outside the door, and then retreated. She opened the door a crack.
“Okay. So when I was outside your studio yesterday, I crossed the street to get an idea of sight lines,” Courtney said.
“Evans,” Charlie warned.
“Oh, loosen up, Charlie. It’s hardly classified information that the Secret Service stakes out places.”
Regina laughed. “So where was he?”
Where was who? What were they talking about? Carolina frowned.
“Sitting in that coffee shop, right by the window. It takes a lot to shock this girl, but I have to say, when I saw Jake—not two feet away from me on the other side of that glass—I was well and truly shocked,” Courtney answered.
Jake.
Slowly, Carolina’s hands went to her mouth. Jake. He was still here?
Oh, God. There was only one reason for that. He hadn’t given up. He hadn’t run. He hadn’t—
He hadn’t called. He hadn’t contacted her at all.
So what the hell was he doing?
“What the hell was he doing?” Regina asked.
“Sitting there. Drinking coffee. Moping.” Courtney sighed.
“Did you tell him about Saturday night?” There was a rustling noise as Regina’s slow footsteps resonated on the kitchen tile, coming closer.
Carolina drew back from the door, her hands still covering her mouth. Regina’s footsteps stopped. Slowly, Carolina dropped her hands and leaned forward again, straining to hear Courtney’s answer.
“Saturday night. I told him.”
“And?” Regina’s voice sounded closer.
“Don’t know,” Courtney muttered.
There was silence for a moment and finally Regina clucked her tongue.
“What a dumbass,” she said.
Courtney let out a cough. “I told him as much.”
Charlie gave a non-committal “Hmph.”
Nobody said anything else.
Heart galloping, Carolina finally drew in a long breath. This was good, right? Jake was nearby. Or was it bad—really, really, bad—because after coming so close, he might still walk away?
Regina’s sigh sounded in the hallway and startled, Carolina took a couple of steps back and sat on the bed. She grabbed the computer and slid it onto her lap, just as a knock sounded on the partially open door.
“Come in,” Carolina said calmly, and squinted down at the computer as if concentrating. Except there was no way she could actually concentrate—her mind was racing, her heart was sprinting and about thirty images of Jake were spread in front of her. She zeroed in on her favorite one—the one with the mysterious smile, and her fingers began to shake.
Regina walked in. “How’s it coming?” she asked.
“Great.” Carolina cradled the laptop so the screen couldn’t be seen. “I’ve almost decided.”
“You know what might help?”
Carolina looked up. “What’s that?”
“Give your presentation some focus. Think of a theme, the simpler the better. Try to narrow it down to one word.” Regina smiled.
Devotion.
The word popped into Carolina’s head immediately and she glanced back down at the photo of Jake’s beloved face. She nodded.
“I’ve got it.”
Regina’s eyebrows raised. “That was fast. But good, Carolina. Good. When you know, you know, right?”
Carolina smiled slowly. “Yes.”
With a wink, Regina walked out, shutting the door behind her.
Carolina did know, with complete certainty. The photos were of him, and the presentation would be for him. She’d fight for him, the best way she knew how.
So, now?
She just had to have faith that he would show up—she couldn’t allow herself to think the worst. She couldn’t allow herself to get scared. After all, getting up in front of a group of people, albeit a small group, who’d watched her on TV, seen her face on magazine covers, and who knew all about her crappy love life—getting up in front of them and wearing her heart on her sleeve?
She could do it.
For him . . . she would do it.