Anything For You

It was nearly dark outside, and they walked side by side, shoulders occasionally bumping. Connor racked his brain to ask an innocuous question, but everything seemed loaded. How’s your family, what have you been up to, how’s work, got any plans... Everything seemed wrong.

“Do you like going to school here?” she asked.

“I do. I love food.”

She laughed, and there it was again, that tugging sensation in his gut. “Most people do, I guess.” She looked up at him, her hair fluttering in the cold wind. “I would’ve guessed you’d end up in law school or medicine or something with your grades. Never saw you as a chef.”

“Neither did my parents.”

“Are they mad?”

“‘Extremely disappointed’ was the phrase my father used.”

She didn’t say anything at that.

“I wouldn’t think you’d need this class,” he said, more to keep the conversation going. “You must know a lot about wine.”

“I didn’t grow up in that part of Manningsport, Connor. Wine tastings in the trailer park were few and far between.”

“I meant working for Hugo’s all these years, Princess Defensive.”

She gave a half smile of acknowledgement. “I know a little. I don’t sell enough wine, though, so he thought this would help.”

They’d reached the hotel’s long driveway, which meant his time with her was winding down.

“How’s your brother?” he heard himself ask. Kind of hard to stay away from the subject, after all.

“He’s good.” Another pause. “How’s Colleen?”

“She’s good, too. Jessica...” He stopped walking. “I always felt so bad about your dog.”

She looked at the ground. “It wasn’t your fault. Actually, it was mine. I tied Chico up that day. I knew the railing was rusted.”

“You’re the one who got him off me. Probably saved my life.”

She looked up, her face unreadable. “Let’s not talk about it, okay? What’s that up there?” she asked, pointing ahead.

“Oh, that’s really cool. It’s an overlook. Want to see it? There’s a great view of the Hudson.”

He heard Colleen’s voice in his head. Trying too hard, idiot. Yep. And why would Jessica want to hang out with him? She was just being polite, letting him walk her back to her hotel, where some rich George Clooney older guy would ask her to have dinner with him, and he’d order a $500 bottle of wine, and by the end of dinner, he’d want to marry her and Jess would become his trophy wife, and who could blame her, she’d drive around in a little BMW and have a maid and go to Turks & Caicos and—

“Okay,” she said.

It was freezing now, and already the late October wind had gone from damp and raw to razor. She was only wearing a denim jacket. He should’ve noticed that before. He slipped off his peacoat and gave it to her.

“I’m fine.”

“Take it, Jess.”

She did. “You’re not cold?” she asked.

Not as long as he was looking at her. “Not at all.” He took her hand, which was cold and small in his, and rubbed it with both of his. Though it was hard to tell in the dim light, she might’ve blushed.

No one else was out on the hotel grounds, probably because their survival instincts had kicked in and they didn’t want to freeze to death.

But Jessica sure looked cute in his coat, which came down to her knees and past her hands. Her hand slipped out of his as she leaned her arms on the railing and gazed out at the mighty river. Lights winked from the opposite shore, and the wind gusted.

Say something, idiot, his brain instructed. He had nothing.

A barge passed beneath them, almost silent, the motor just a low growl.

“You ever wonder where they’re going?” Jessica asked. “What it’d be like to crew on one of those, where you’d sleep, the places you could see?”

“All the lives you could live,” he said.

She looked at him sharply then returned her gaze to the river. The barge kept going, downriver toward Manhattan, and from there, anyone’s guess.

“I’m sorry if I was rude before, when I first saw you,” she said, not looking at him. “I didn’t expect to see someone I knew.”

“You weren’t rude,” he said.

“It’s just... No one in the wine class knew my reputation, or that I’m just a waitress, or that I still live in a trailer park. For a second, I just got to be some good-looking chick from upstate, maybe a restaurant manager or sommelier or something.” She pushed some hair behind her ear. “When I saw you, I was Jessica Does again.”

There was a whole lot of history in that statement, and Connor was wise enough not to answer right away.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “you were always Jessica Doesn’t where I was concerned.”

She laughed, surprised, and looked at him. He smiled.

She shifted her gaze back to the river. “Do you remember the time you said I could punch you? After Chico bit you?”

He blinked. “Yes.”

“That...” She straightened up and looked at him. “That meant a lot to me.”

Hell’s bells. The wind howled down the river, gusting into the bridge.

She looked away. “I’m freezing.”

“Let me walk you back to the hotel,” he said. Nice going, he told himself. She gave you an opening and you stood there like a tree.

They didn’t hold hands on the way back, and though the wind was bitter and the smell of creosote from the railroad tracks was sharp, Connor was awfully sorry when they got to the lobby.

“I hope you have a good time tonight,” he said as she took off his coat and handed it to him.

“Thanks,” she said. She just looked at him for a long minute, her clear green eyes as mysterious as the dark side of the moon. For a second, he thought she might just turn and walk away.

But then she said, “Yes, by the way.”