She gave me a friendly smile then moved to fill the two cups she’d laid out with hot water.
I studied her. She appeared to be at ease, which was a huge change from just two weeks ago. Her nail polish was now blue, and instead of pearls she wore a delicate gold chain with a cross.
“I know you’ve probably been too busy to think about my problem, but I’d appreciate your advice,” she said, stirring the tea.
“Which problem would that be?” I assumed she meant Jackson James, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.
That guy . . . what a little shit. The more I thought about him approaching Jennifer while she was on a date with Billy, the more I wanted to step up my armadillo infestation plans. Or maybe just beat the tar out of him. Granted, her date with Billy had been fake, but Jackson was ignorant of that fact.
Consequently, he was a shit.
My jacket felt too hot, so I unzipped it and placed it on the counter, claiming a stool and leaning my forearms on the butcher block.
“I guess you’re right.” She nodded, obviously reading more into my question than my intent. “It’s not really a problem. It’s what I wanted, actually.”
I had to clear my throat past an unexpected tightness. “Going on a date with Jackson is what you wanted?”
Jennifer leaned her hip against the counter and shrugged. “Not necessarily Jackson, but I think he’ll do. I know my father approves of him. He comes from a really nice family and he’s always seemed like a gentleman.”
Despite taking off my jacket, my neck was still hot. I was quite suddenly and forcefully . . . irritated. I resolved to keep this irritation to myself, partially because I didn’t understand it and partially because Jennifer hadn’t earned it. The irritation simply was.
She didn’t notice my struggle, her eyes were on her teacup as she said, “I guess,” she started, sighed, and started again, “I guess I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
My irritation eased enough at this statement for me to say, “You don’t have to go. If you don’t feel ready yet, or unprepared, just call it off.”
“No, I feel good about the date—prepared I mean—Billy gave me lots of tips.”
The irritation rose again, like a wave. “What kind of tips?”
“Things to talk about, and things not to talk about. He was really helpful, so thank you for arranging that.”
“No problem.” I would have to try drilling this information out of Billy later; thus far he’d been frustratingly tightlipped. “So why are you doubting whether you want to go on the date with Jackson?”
Jennifer eyes darted to mine, then away. She finally asked, “What if he wants to kiss me, Cletus?”
I responded with the truth before I could catch myself. “He’s definitely going to want to kiss you, Jenn.”
“That’s a problem.” Her eyes widened to their maximum diameter and she clasped her hands over the teacup.
“Why is that a problem, other than the obvious hardship of being forced to kiss Jackson James?”
She ignored the insult and answered the root of my question. “It’s a problem because I’m twenty-two and I don’t know how to do that.”
“Kiss?”
“Yep.”
I stared at her. Then my stare moved to her lips. “You’ve never been kissed?”
“Nope. Well, not really. Timothy King tried to kiss me once, but I didn’t want him to. He got his mouth on my chin before I was able to push him off.”
Note to self: maim Timothy King.
“And then there was that time I surprised Drew, but like I said, it was a lip-collision. Not a real kiss. It was so awful, I often wondered if I should send him a letter of apology.”
“No need for that.” I waved away her suggestion.
“I mean, I’m sure I could do it eventually. How hard can it be?”
I thought about her problem, because it was a problem. Once again, she’d caught me off guard. I knew she’d been sheltered, but clearly I had no idea how painstakingly her parents had been in isolating her.
The woman needed kissing.
But first, she needed to know about kissing.
“Well, academically speaking, it’s not difficult to kiss a person. Just like it’s not difficult to bake a cake. But it’s difficult to bake an excellent cake, right? Just so with kissing. The chances of you baking an excellent cake on your first try is—”
“Basically zero.”
“That’s true. But while I appreciate your realism, allow me to suggest we embrace optimism. Because kissing is more than just technique. It’s also about the chemistry you have with another person and his or her technique as well. So the difference between kissing and baking is that two people are involved, and that makes it both more and less complicated.”
“How is it more complicated?” She passed me my tea then took a sip of her own.
“If you had to bake with a partner, you’d have to rely on that partner and hope he or she was just as good as—or better than—you. Plus you hope the two of you have good chemistry. Plus, and I cannot stress this enough, that other person needs to keep a tidy kitchen.”