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“You seem to have a lot of unanswered questions,” he says carefully. “Why is that?”
I sigh. “Thomas isn’t very helpful.”
Jacob stiffens. “And who is Thomas?”
The right answer is on the tip of my tongue—but then I look at Jacob. I mean, I really look. At his clenched jaw and the way he’s holding the steering wheel.
“Are you jealous?” Incredulity blooms in my tone.
“No.”
Uh-huh.
We get out of the parking garage and head for my cousin’s house. I didn’t expect Jacob Rhodes to show any sign of jealousy. Actually, I wouldn’t have expected him to go out of his way to get me to a game—or see me home safely afterward, either.
“I’m not telling you who he is to me until you answer some questions.”
His jaw tics. “Melody.”
I gesture. “You need to turn here.”
“Melody.”
“I don’t know you, Jacob Rhodes. You haven’t answered any question for me except my supposed drink of choice.”
He grunts.
“Why are you driving me home?”
He turns. There are mere moments left in our ride. We pass the station I use to get into the city and count the blocks we pass. One, two, three.
“I wanted to.” He glances at me. “Is that a problem?”
“It is if you’re jealousandwithholding information.”
He’s silent. Because I’m right?
Finally, the car coasts to a stop in front of my cousin’s house.
“You’re right. I just don’t want to overwhelm you.” He hits theunlockbutton.
“I need more,” I whisper.
When he doesn’t answer, I fish my keys from my purse and jump out of the car. I go up the porch steps, unlock the door and lock it behind me without once looking back.
I didn’t hear the car drive off, which means Jacob waited. Now, the rev of his engine as he pulls away is clear.
By all accounts, that’s gentlemanly. The romance movies say so. But he just admitted that he’s keeping things from me. Thingsaboutme that could help trigger my memory.
My stomach flips.
In a weird way, I kind of like his jealousy. I like that he thinks ofme, and any idea he has of me with another man sets him on edge. He’s got to be younger than me by a decade, he’s gorgeous, and I’m just…me. Plain. Too much weight on my frame. Scarred. And unable to remember my life before.
How could I ever compete with the women who throw themselves at hockey players successfully?
I guess I’ll just have to wait and see if Jacob Rhodes is true to his word.
6
