The urge to make myself smaller was nearly overwhelming. Some nervous creature living inside me was just waiting for thetown bad boy to poke fun. It put me on edge, kept me bracing for a well-placed jab or a stinging tease at my expense. This man turned me into an uneasy sophomore again, forcing all my adolescent insecurities back to the surface.
But Jack just watched me, that same solemn, handsome face of his, endlessly patient despite my continued awkwardness.
“Hello,” I finally managed and took the seat diagonal to him rather than the one to his immediate right.
I’d seen him less than twenty-four hours ago. If the somersaults in my stomach were any indication, I was still feeling weird about the blueberry muffin incident and our mini-argument at third base.
Leaving the Tupperware on his motorcycle with a snarky note hadn’t been my finest moment, but he’d made me so irritated, practically calling me a martyr and pushing all my buttons.
I’d just wanted to do something nice. I’d only wanted to say thank you. What was so wrong with that?
I hoped he wouldn’t bring the muffins up.
So naturally, the first words out of his mouth were “Those muffins were good. I had two for breakfast.”
I swallowed. “That’s ... nice.” I opened my mouth again to explain away my immature behavior the night before.
One dark eyebrow rose above the frame of his glasses. His expectant gaze practically dared me to apologize so he could call me on it.
I closed my mouth.
Jack grinned and then asked, “So, what are you in for?”
That startled a laugh out of me. “Just a background check for work. I’m a teacher,” I added.
He nodded like he knew that, but I couldn’t figure out why he would.
“Getting fingerprinted brings back memories,” he said passively.
I searched his face for a side of bitterness with that comment, but Jack mostly just looked amused, his grin toned down to something quiet and nostalgic. Maybe. What did I know?
I couldn’t help but notice he hadn’t offered up a reason for his presence in the sheriff’s office. What could he be getting a background check for? Starting a new job that required it? He’d been a bartender for a long time and seemed good at it. Admittedly, our interactions had been minimal, but he seemed to have the right combination of traits to tend bar successfully: aloof, personable, and hard to ruffle. I knew firsthand he could be a good listener. Then there was the whole contrast of a buttoned-up, fancy-dress-shirt-wearing employee with tattoos and longish hair. Upscale and rebellious at the same time. I bet theleafersloved him—the women at least.
“But,” he went on when I’d zoned out, “you’re a good girl, so you probably don’t know anything about that.”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “You’ve got me all figured out.”
Jack watched me calmly for a moment before admitting, “No, I don’t believe I do.”
He was right, though. I didn’t know why I felt disappointed about it.
Iwasa good girl. Always had been. Star student, responsible daughter and sister, reliable neighbor, model employee, and the furthest thing from a troublemaker you could get.
You couldn’t say the same about Jack. He’d adopted the bad-boy reputation in middle school and then backed it up with vandalism and grand theft auto before graduation. I’d never heard more than rumors, but the gossip seemed to indicate he’d gotten lucky being tried as a juvenile and luckier still with a grandmother who refused to turn her back on him.
Jack had disappeared from Kirby Falls for a time, but I’d been in college and focused on other things. The whispers ranged from forced military enlistment to an electronic ankle bracelet and home confinement.
Then he’d popped up a few years later, bartending at Magnolia. His hair had been longer, and there’d been new tattoos peeking out from beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his white dress shirt. After that, he’d joined the softball league with the Bar Hoppers, and our very limited interactions began.
I made myself ignore Jack’s teasing. I had my own clipboard to worry about. Soon, the only sounds aside from my rapid heartbeat were pens scratching across our paperwork. I filled in my name and address, and all the pertinent information. Before I realized it, I’d checked the box formarriedinstead ofdivorced.
Cursing myself inwardly, I quickly scribbled out the mark and then circled the correct option.
My eyes darted toward Jack, but he was focused on his own paper ... like a normal person. He hadn’t noticed my mistake because why would he?
I was being ridiculous.
Angling my clipboard higher, I forced myself to slow down, to read every question thoroughly. No more scribbles and ink blots. No more slipups.
