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I stare at Troy as if his sandy hair is a halo atop his head. This guy is handsome, smart, funny, understanding,andaltruistic? This is fate giving me a side of fries with the shit sandwich it’s dealt me thus far. A tasty little morsel to sink my teeth into when everything else is going wrong.
For the next several hours, we stand by the side, scooping heaps of food onto plate after plate. When the dishes dwindle, Troy trades serving for washing. By the end of the night, my legs are tired, but my heart is so full it could burst.
“That was an incredible experience. Thank you for including me,” I tell him as the car idles in front of my house.
A humble grin quirks his lips. “My pleasure.”
As I reach for the handle, he touches my leg. “Next time, I’ll take you out on a real date, okay?”
“Can’t wait.” My lips tremble, begging to be kissed, but when he leans in, my head turns as if pulled by an invisible string, and he catches my cheek instead. “Good night.”
I barely notice Jace hovering in the yellow porch light as I stroll up the walk. A cloud of smoke pirouettes around him anddances under the moon. He pulls in one last drag, then flicks his butt into the gravel at my feet. “Troy McNamara? You can’t be serious.”
His broody baritone pops my good mood like a balloon. My shoulders droop. “What’s your problem? He’s a nice guy.”
He stands, folding his arms across his chest. “Right. Where was your first date? Let me guess… orphanage? Animal hospital? Don’t be fooled. This is the kind of shit he does to impress girls.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to know what it means to be nice.”
“I didn’t expect you to be this dumb, but hey, you surprised me. You guys deserve each other—Barbie and Ken.” He turns on his heel and forces the door open with the butt of his palm, then slams it in my face.
Troy’s words instantly return to my mind. The world owes Jace Wilder nothing. I don’t care what he thinks. I’m not going to stop seeing Troy just because he has some weird childhood vendetta against him. I’m not afraid of him.
Yet the trembling in my hands as I sneak into the house like a coward says otherwise.
Chapter nine
Ilean closer to the tiny accessory mirror at Boots n’ Bangles to slather on a layer of gloss. Jolene counts the register tally and zippers the stack of cash into a leather satchel. “Gettin’ pretty for your new beau?”
My gaze flicks at her reflection behind me. “We have a date.”
“To be young again.”
I screw the top on my Dior lip gloss and throw it into my bag. “You’re not that old.”
“Tell that to my back.” She presses her hand to the small of her back and stretches. “I tell ya, this store is gonna kill me before it makes me rich.”
“You ever think of doing something wild in the window? It might draw in more customers.” I turn toward the front of the store, my imagination beginning to run. “I can put together some fresh new looks.”
Jolene purses her lips. “Welp, that might be somethin’ to talk about. Draw up a few ideas, and we’ll discuss them.”
My stomach flutters. “I will,” I say with a smile. The deep purr of Troy’s car vibrates within me. I crane my neck as he pulls in front of the store. I look over my shoulder at Jolene. “Do you need me to do anything else before I go?”
She flaps her hands as if shooing me away. “Go. Be young. I’ll finish up here.”
“See you tomorrow.” I exit the store and meet Troy out front. We’ve been going out together for a little over a month, and the comfort is starting to settle in like a warm blanket. Our last date was dinner at the country club—lobster and filet mignon, with a decadent soufflé for dessert. A taste of my old life I thought I’d missed. But going back was like trying to mend a round hole in my heart with a square plug. It felt wrong. I’m an outsider now, a poor player pretending to belong, but the sad truth is, I don’t belong anywhere. I’m torn between my old life and this new one that I’m slowly learning to navigate.
Troy offers a dimpled grin. “There she is.” Ever the gentleman, he drops a kiss on my cheek and opens the door for me. He rounds the car and slides in beside me. “I got you something. Open the glove box.”
My eyes widen. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” He sweeps his thumb over the pink warmth darkening my face. “Can’t a guy spoil his girlfriend if he wants to?”
He drops the ‘g’ word as if it's second nature. I should feel elated. A guy like Troy is every woman’s dream, but the word tightens my throat like a drawn taut collar. Our first date brought a single rose, a sweet gesture that made me blush. The second was an entire bouquet of crimson and baby’s breath, an embarrassing cliché I could have done without, yet tonight I see no flowers in sight. Instead, I find a small aqua cube in a dainty white bow. My stomach twists. “This is too much.”
“Nonsense.” He reaches for the box and unties the ribbon holding it together.
With trembling fingers, I pull off the lid and reveal a gorgeous pair of diamond studs. My jaw drops. “Troy … I …”
