“God, yes,” I agree. “He really is the absolute worst human.” I glance around the bar and spot Mrs. Henderson at her usual corner table, watching us with completely undisguised interest. She’s not even pretending to read her book anymore. Just openly staring at Jack and me, probably already mentally composing the text message she’ll send to her entire contact list. I stifle a groan. “Shit. Mrs. Henderson saw absolutely everything. This is going to be all over town by tomorrow morning. Possibly by tonight.”
“Is that really so bad?” Jack leans casually against the bar, completely unconcerned. Easy for him to say. He doesn’t even live here anymore. He’ll return to Europe within a month or two.
“Everyone’s going to think we’reactuallytogether,” I say, trying to convey the absolute severity of this situation. My reputation in this town has finally recovered from all the divorce drama. And now this.
“And?” He raises his eyebrows, seemingly not understanding the problem.
And you’re Jack Midnight, I want to say. Local celebrity turned international race car driver who dates models and actresses and probably actual princesses. Every woman in Dark River is going to want to murder me for apparently snagging the town’s most eligible bachelor. Jack Midnight is basically a walking fantasy—dangerous, successful, looks like he stepped directly out of a magazine spread.
“And I’ll never hear the end of it,” I say instead, wiping my hands on my jeans like I can physically wipe away the anxiety. “When we’re obviously not together next week, everyone will want to know exactly what happened. Did he dump me? Was I just another notch on the Jack Midnight bedpost? Did I do something wrong?” The thought of being town gossip again makes me want to relocate to another continent. Maybe Antarctica.
“Wow.” He’s fighting back a smile now, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Tell me how you really feel. Don’t hold back.”
“I mean, no offense intended.” I gesture vaguely at him, at all of him, at the whole overwhelming Jack Midnight experience. The face and the charm and the body and everything else that makes women do incredibly stupid things. Words are failing me, which is deeply inconvenient.
“None taken.” He’s definitely enjoying this now. His eyes are practically sparkling with amusement, and I have a sudden overwhelming urge to throw a bar rag at him.
“Youknowwhat you are,” I say, refusing to stroke his ego further. Like his ego needs any additional stroking. It’s probablyalready the size of Jupiter. “But your reputation kind of precedes you. The whole player thing. Different woman every week.”
“I prefer ‘romantically adventurous.’” He says it with such a straight face I almost laugh out loud.
“Sure, let’s go with that.” I can’t help but smile at the absolutely ridiculous phrase. “‘Romantically adventurous’ sounds like a euphemism someone would use on a dating profile to warn potential matches that they have serious commitment issues.”
“It’s more elegant than just saying ‘afraid of feelings,’” he says with this self-deprecating smile that feels more genuine than his usual confident smirk.
Fair enough. I reach for a clean glass and pull a fresh beer from the tap. “Here.” I set it on the bar directly in front of him. “This one’s on me. Payment for the Brandon intervention.”
“Payment for my excellent boyfriend performance?” He takes a sip, watching me. There’s something in his gaze that makes me feel like I’m the only person in the room, which is an extremely dangerous feeling to have around someone like Jack Midnight.
“Something like that.” I busy myself clearing away the glasses Brandon and Kelly left behind, needing something to do with my hands.
Mike calls out from the pool table, something about Jack owing him a rematch. His voice carries across the bar.
“You should probably get back before Mike has a complete meltdown,” I say, nodding toward where Mike is leaning dramatically on his pool cue like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “I think he secretly loves losing money to you. Glutton for punishment, that one.”
“He does look ready to flip the entire table,” Jack agrees, picking up his beer. “Better go let him lose another round.”
“And hey, thanks again,” I say. “Really. That was… you didn’t have to do that.”
He raises his glass to me in a small salute and heads back to the game, and I turn back to wiping down the bar, trying desperately to process what just happened. Jack Midnight just told my ex-husband we were dating. In front of witnesses. Multiple witnesses. This is going to be absolutely everywhere by morning. It’s probably already spreading through town like wildfire. Dark River’s rumor mill operates at approximately twice the speed of light.
CHAPTER 4
JACK
I’m still grinning when I get back to the pool table, satisfaction warming my chest from watching Brandon’s face drain of color. That fucking asshole.
I never could figure out how Brandon ever landed someone like Lark. Even back in high school she was sharp, funny, magnetic in a way that made everyone want to be around her. And she’s always been insanely beautiful, the kind of woman who could get any guy she wanted. How that douchebag ever convinced her to marryhimis one of the great mysteries of the universe.
Mike’s leaning against the table, chalking his cue with the energy of a man who’s already lost three games in a row, but is too stubborn to quit. Most of his solids are still scattered on the felt, along with a few of my stripes.
“What was that about?” he asks.
“Nothing important,” I say, grabbing my cue and eyeing the table. “Brandon needed a reminder that he’s still a piece of shit.”
“That was Brandon?” Mike’s eyebrows shoot up. “Damn, I thought he moved to Seattle after their divorce.”
“Apparently he’s back for the summer.” My eyes drift back to the bar, where Lark’s leaning through the kitchen window, laughing about something with the cook. She’s got this animated energy, lighting up the whole space, and I realize I’m staring.
