Page 82 of Don’t Go Stealing My Heart

She read Ray’s short note and punched the air. “Goddamn right, I got it. I swear, this place is destiny. I’m meant to be here.”

Everything was somehow, magically, falling into place. She’d get to work on cars and make an honest living. She wouldn’t be a lone tree on a bleak landscape. She couldn’t wait to tell Jack.

* * *

An hour later she stood in front of the town’s main stage, a bouncing Imelda at her side. Imelda’s husband and daughter jigged to their right. Alistair was on stage, and Clementine refused to dance. She glared at him.

“If you keep making that face,” Imelda hollered, “it’ll stay that way.”

“The guy’s an a—” Imelda’s daughter glanced her way, and Clementine had the good sense to switch tactics. “He’s a loser.”

“He won last year. And Lawson swears plenty, honey. Don’t worry about offending young sensibilities.”

Thanks to their spot near the stage, Alistair looked directly at Clementine. He gyrated his hips and winked at her. Yep. Total asshole. His voice maybe wasn’t half bad, and the cheering crowd was enthralled, but where Alistair was pomp and peacock, Jack was charisma and class. The two didn’t compare.

If the concert were outside, she’d give him the finger and wander through the stalls and stuff her face with candy during this impersonator’s—not tribute artist’s—two-song set. But this venue was indoors, affording fewer options.

The Maxwell David Arena had been funded by Jack’s father, the name less inventive than those of other local businesses. The space was used for ice hockey and skating year round, and hosted the odd concert and this festival. Pretty cool for a town of Whichway’s size, and another reason the David family was held in high regard. The space was packed, even at the sixty-dollar ticket price.

She touched her purse, prepared to tap through her phone, hoping Alistair noticed her lack of interest, then she remembered she’d left her cell at home. She’d need it to video Jack’s final performance tomorrow, but leaving it behind tonight had been a conscious choice. She no longer needed her link to Lucien. Disconnecting was therapeutic. The only connection she craved would be performing on stage shortly.

Instead of suffering through Alistair’s effusive hip thrusts, she nudged Imelda. “I’m gonna get a beer. You want anything?”

Imelda shook her head and shimmied her shoulders. “Too hard to dance with beer, but thanks for asking.”

She smacked a kiss on Clementine’s cheek, the upbeat drum line taking up song in Clementine’s chest. Love from Jack, affection from Imelda. She already felt tipsy on happiness, but a beer would hit the spot, too.

She pushed through the all-ages crowd and plucked at the front of her tank top, hoping to cool down. The material might have been thin and loose, but excessive dancing bodies created heat. And energy. She couldn’t fight her smile or the bop of her head. She shouldn’t bop. Not when Jack’s nemesis, who was maybe kind of awesome, was performing. His rendition of “Blue Suede Shoes” was infectious, dammit.

“Clementine!”

She searched for the source of her name and spotted Chloe. She waved to Jack’s sister and fought her way over. “What are you doing back here?”

Chloe’s goofy grin was aimed at a boy her age. The boy’s cool factor was more calculated than effortless, with a sweep of blond hair covering his eyes, but he was cute and smiled at Chloe while chatting with his friends.

Well done, girl. “Is that who I think it is?”

“He asked me out this morning. I was too frantic figuring out what to wear to text you.”

The combat boots, ripped black jeans, and vintage Goo Goo Dolls tank top were perfect. No micro-mini skirt that would send Jack into a panic. “He definitely likes you.”

“Really?” Her desperation was adorable. “How do you know?”

“When he looked over here, his eyes lingered. Plus you’re funny and smart and beautiful, and he’d be an idiot not to notice.”

Chloe’s cheeks blushed crimson. “He’s so cute.”

“You’re so cute. You should meet us by the stage, get a better view of your brother. Imelda’s holding my spot.”

Chloe’s gaze flitted to her boy of the moment. No doubt there would be others in the coming years. “Nah. We’ll stay back here.”

Away from her overprotective brother. Smart cookie. “Any chance you’ll hang with me tomorrow? I told Jack I’d video his final performance for your dad.”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds great!” Chloe moved as she talked, lured by the awe of newborn hormones, but her easy agreement turned Clementine’s tipsy happy into a drunk happy.

Two steps later, Tami caught Clementine’s eye through the crowd and hollered, “Heard you changed living arrangements. I need details.”

Tami was, thankfully, too far to ambush her for those details, but the yelling had turned heads. If the whole town hadn’t known she was living with Jack, they sure did now. She should be embarrassed, horrified these folks knew the minutia of her life. Instead, her drunk happy veered toward sloshed.