Ryan from high school? No, Brandon’s cousin works with him and would know immediately it’s a lie. Mike? Currently sulking over his pool game and would definitely contradict me. Tom from the hardware store? He’s literally sitting at a table with his wife right this second.
But my mind is completely blank. Every single man I know in this entire town, Brandon knows too. He’ll see right through any lie I try to tell. It’s not like Dark River is some massive city. Why did I say yes? I should have just told him to mind his own damn business, but no, I had to try to one-up him and now I’m drowning?—
“Me, actually.”
Wait,what?
I spin around so fast I nearly knock over a glass. Jack is walking toward us from the pool table, moving with purpose.
“She’s datingme,” he says.
Before I can even begin to process what’s happening, Jack walks confidently behind the bar like he owns the entire place, slipping smoothly around to stand directly beside me. His arm drapes casually over my shoulders, but there’s nothing casual about the possessiveness in the gesture. The warmth of his body next to mine sends an electric jolt through my entire system, and I have to actively remind myself how to breathe like a normal human.
“You bothering my girlfriend?” Jack’s voice is casual, but there’s steel underneath. “Because I’d really hate to have to break your fucking nose again, Brandon.”
I’ve never seen Brandon turn that particular shade of white before. It’s impressive how quickly every drop of blood drains from his face.
The high school fight. Oh my god.
Jack was just a freshman when he stood up to Brandon, who was a junior football star at the time. Brandon was beinga complete asshole about something or other—nothing unusual there—and Jack had made quick work of it, taken Brandon down almost instantly despite the age difference. They both got suspended, but Brandon’s ego never recovered from being humiliated by a freshman in front of half the school.
“Jack Midnight,” Brandon finally manages, his voice cracking slightly on the name.
“Brandon.” Jack’s arm tightens just slightly around my shoulders, the pressure both reassuring and thrilling in a way I don’t want to examine. His heart is maintaining a steady rhythm against my side while mine is doing the cha-cha at triple speed. “Didn’t expect to see you back in Dark River. Thought you’d moved on.”
Brandon’s eyes dart frantically between us, trying desperately to process this information, to make it make sense. “You two are…together?”
My brain is screaming at me. Say something. Anything. Nod. Blink. Do literally anything except stand here frozen like a deer in headlights. But my mouth won’t work. My vocal cords have abandoned me. I’m just standing here, probably looking like I’m having a stroke.
“Yeah.” Jack says it so simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like of course we’re together. “Problem with that?”
Right. Right. This is happening. We’re doing this. I lean back into Jack slightly, letting my body language sell it, and put my hand over his where it rests on my shoulder. His hand is warm and solid, and fourteen-year-old Lark would be absolutely hyperventilating right now. Though twenty-seven-year-old me honestly isn’t faring much better.
“We’ve been keeping it quiet,” I add, trying desperately to sound natural even though my heart is racing so fast I might pass out. “But yeah. We’re together.”
Kelly’s looking between all of us with her mouth hanging open, probably frantically recalculating everything she thought she knew about my life. Dating a Formula One driver definitely trumps dating a construction contractor in her shallow world. Actually, it trumps dating pretty much anyone in anyone’s world.
“We should go,” Brandon says abruptly, standing so fast his stool scrapes harshly against the floor. The sound cuts through the bar like a record scratch. “This place hasn’t gotten any better since I left.”
“Probably a good idea,” Jack agrees, his voice still carrying that dangerous casual tone. “Oh, and Brandon? Next time you feel like harassing my girlfriend about her career choices or her life?” His voice drops even lower, and I can hear the threat clear as day. “You’re going to have a serious problem with me. And trust me, that’s really not a problem you want to have.”
Brandon’s face does this absolutely fascinating journey from shock to anger to something that looks almost like fear. I’ve never seen him back down from anything or anyone before. And watching it happen is absolutely glorious.
Brandon doesn’t respond. He just throws cash on the bar with unnecessary force and storms toward the door like a child having a tantrum. Kelly scrambles to follow, pausing just long enough to shoot me a look that could probably peel paint off walls.
The door swings shut behind them with a decisive thud.
And scene. Someone please cue the credits because this cannot be real life.
My brain is cycling through approximately fifteen different emotions simultaneously, none of which I have time to properly process right now. Shit. I’m still leaning against Jack, my hand still on his, frozen in this position like my body has completely forgotten how to move independently.
“Oh, sorry.” I step back quickly, nearly tripping over my own feet in the process. “Thanks for the save. Really. That was… I wanted to show him up so badly that I kind of painted myself into a corner there.”
He waves it off easily, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Like a cat who just knocked a very expensive vase off a shelf on purpose and is proud of it. “Don’t mention it. Embarrassing Brandon is basically a hobby of mine. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”
“How chivalrous of you.” I nod, completely unsure where to direct my nervous energy. My hands are practically vibrating. Damn, I can’t wait to tell Maren absolutely everything about this. As the town’s number one Brandon hater, she’s going to absolutely love this story.
“That guy’s been asking for it since high school.” His smile turns slightly predatory, reminding me that beneath all the charm and the easy confidence, Jack Midnight has a definite edge to him. An edge that probably serves him well on the racetrack, but makes something flutter low in my stomach when it’s directed at me.
