Page 25 of Second Chance Saloon

Their eyes linked and the weight of their shared pasts crushed against Jackie’s chest.

No, she wasn’t going to linger on the memories. It was all done and dusted.

“I’m glad to hear,” he whispered, his eyes keeping hers captive.

Jackie worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Awkwardly, she swung her hands in front of her, like she was warming up for a workout. She didn’t know what to do with herself, how to react to his presence so close to her. Like her worst nightmare and the best dream rolled into one, neither of which she’d ever shaken off.

She shrank back from his gaze, blinking at her clasped hands. Realizing Mitch wouldn’t walk away first, she opened her mouth on a sigh: “Right, well … Have a good day. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

Jackie turned to leave but stopped when he called her name. Cords pulled tight through her center; her pulse slowed its trek through her veins.

“Why did you leave?” Mitch’s voice was a hushed timbre, tight with emotion.

His question formed into a knife and sliced her heart in half. Slowly, Jackie whirled round to face him again. She tried to swallow but her mouth had dried up.

He’d asked her last night to tell him it wasn’t his fault; and it wasn’t. It had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with her. If she thought telling him that would bring him the comfort he was seeking, she’d have told him. But there was nothing healing waiting for him in the truth. He’d been left at the altar, by a woman he loved; fixating on her reason for leaving was probably easier than trying to process his actual, real heartbreak.

Ten years could dull even the deepest wound, couldn’t it?

She dragged her teeth across her bottom lip. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Mitch. We both moved on. You should enjoy your vacation and forget all about me.”

Hurt flashed deep in his eyes. “Do you really think I could?”

They looked at each other, the eye contact both familiar and foreign.

The water filters in the pools dampened the sound of Jackie’s heart. Memories swam in her mind, snapshots of the time they’d spent together. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear their laughter and see Mitch’s younger face right in front of hers. If she focused hard enough, she could almost taste his lips on hers. If she let herself go, her legs would buckle underneath her as she remembered how it felt when …

That jolted her back to the present. She backed away further, stopping only when she hit the stone wall. She crossed her arms over her chest, deluding herself she could put some physical barrier between Mitch and her malfunctioning heart.

“Because it’s impossible to forget you, Jackie. I don’t think anyone who’s ever met you would be able to do it.” His lips pressed into a thin line, the corners lifting in an unsuccessful attempt at a smile. “Besides, even if I could forget you, I’d never want to.”

Her gaze focused instead on her toes, peeking out from her flip-flops. “It might’ve been less painful.”

“Sure. But it’d mean not remembering the happiest years of my life. That isn’t really a price I’d ever be willing to pay.”

She wanted him to come closer, to touch her, to lift her chin and force her to drown in the mesmerizing depths of his emerald eyes.

And yet, she couldn’t let him anywhere near her.

All her wants and thoughts jumbled together in an incoherent mess. Contrary as fuck.

“I’ll tell you what. Have dinner with me tonight.”

Her head snapped up in time to catch him awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Dinner. With you,” she repeated, her brows riding up higher with every syllable. “Why?”

Mitch nodded, a resolute smile on his lips. He shrugged. “You told me you’re no longer the girl I knew in Texas. I told you I wanted to meet the woman you became. I meant it, Jackie. I want to hear what you’ve been up to for the past ten years. That’s it, no hidden motives. Just genuinely curious how you’ve been.”

She opened her mouth, ready to protest, but he cut her off before she had a chance to utter a single word.

“Oh, come on. I don’t bite. For old times’ sake.”

She glared at him.

He smirked, innocently enough, but his body language hadn’t changed much in the past ten years. The no-biting comment was also a lie, if she remembered correctly. A shiver kissed the top of her spine at the memory of his teeth scraping her skin …

Before her brain could rein in her heart, she blurted: “Fine. But I can’t today, I have work to do. Tomorrow?”