Page 130 of Just for Tonight

Worse, it’s almost exactly a month since I saw Jake at the café. I’ve heard nothing about mountains moving or changes in the wind. I’ve heard nothing from him. The only glimpse I had of Jake was at Mike and Sylvia’s wedding the weekend before, but I was only able to attend the ceremony. Grapes were calling my name. I didn’t speak to him then. I’m not even sure he knew I was there. He was Mike’s best man and had things to do. I haven’t spotted him in town or even heard a rumor of his presence, and if it hadn’t been for him being alive and well (and gorgeous) at the wedding, I’d think he was a figment of my imagination.

What am I going to do if he doesn’t turn up by tomorrow?

I’ll call him. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll call him and ask. But I will give him through midnight tomorrow, even if it kills me.

It might.

If the grape harvest doesn’t get me first.

I’m walking out to the fields early Saturday morning when my phone rings. The caller display says it’s Jake. I answer, keeping my tone crisp and professional, even though my heart is leaping around like an Olympics gymnast.

“What are you doing?” he asks, sounding jubilant.

“Picking grapes, of course.”

“Can you take a day off?”

“Who are you and what have you done to my favourite workaholic?”

“Your favourite?” he echoes, so gleeful that I smile. “Still?”

“Yes, still. Even though you’ve been AWOL and it’s annoying as hell.”

“I had to make a plan, Mackenzie. I did give you a timeline.”

“I hope it was worth it.”

“Me, too.” He takes a breath and his voice drops low. “I had to be sure I won’t be fucking up your life. You can’t blame me for that.”

I can’t. “Are you?”

He chuckles. “Would I be calling you if I was planning to do that?”

“No. What’s the plan?”

“No cheating or looking ahead at the end of the book. Are you one of those people who reads the last chapter first?”

“No, but you must have called for a reason.”

“I did. I told you.”

“You told me your mountain would be moved in thirty days.”

“And so it is. Therefore, I am calling you, right on time. One day early. One day and a half, actually.”

“You’re not going to tell me how many hours and minutes?” I have to tease him a little.

“It was an imprecise deadline. Let’s call it a day and a half.”

“And you’ve called now to convince me to ditch work today?”

“That’s it exactly. Carpe diem and all that.” Jake laughs.

“Are you drunk?”

“No. Stone cold sober. But happy, which is sufficiently strange and unusual that it might be easily confused with the latter.”

I feel my eyes narrow. “Is this really Jake Cavendish?”