Page 47 of When Glitter Meets Gold

J subtly rolls his shoulders, because truthfully, he’s not entirely sure why he felt the need to settle her debt to the rental company. He can’t exactly tell her it’s because from the moment he pulled her from the Jeep, some primal urge wouldn’t allow him to leave her side unless he knew she was being looked after. “You seemed like you had enough to worry about that day, so I took care of it.”

“You took care of it?” Sara repeats back slowly. “Jack, you take care of someone’s dry cleaning bill, paying for a totaled Jeep is a little dramatic.”

“It wasn’t a big deal.” He shrugs.

Sara shakes her head before narrowing her eyes. “And what about the chopper? Does that belong to you?”

J groans internally.

Might as well keep going.

“Yes.”

Sara looks at her feet. Then to her left.

She’s not looking at anything in particular, it’s more likeshe’s waiting for the pieces to click together or trying to figure out the right thing to say next. Or perhaps she’s looking for the exit. After all, admitting to owning a chopper did verge toward pompous behavior.

Finally, she meets his gaze and does something unexpected. She grins broadly, then nudges his arm, causing his drink to slosh around in its glass.

“A chopper, huh? You must be doing pretty well for yourself.” She beams up at him. “Good for you.”

He freezes. As in, his insides turn to a barren land of ice and despair. He searches for the words, but none suffice because is it possible that the most patronizing phrase on the planet has just been directed at him?Good for you?

He’s livid. He’d built a thriving, global empire. He didn’t win a goldfish at a fairground for the love of God.Good for him?

“Hey,” Sara lowers her voice, which in turn makes him squirm. He’s afraid of what blow she’s about to deliver next. “Are you some sort of sneaky”—Don’t say assassin, he pleads silently, his eyes darting to a couple reporters to his right who’d gobble up such a statement. Sara looks up at him deviously from under her eyelashes—“millionaire?”

J breathes a sigh of relief, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards a degree or two.

He takes another gulp of scotch, thinking about how long it’s been since he wore that title. He’d soared past seven figures a long time ago. He’d marked the occasion by donating every drop of profit from that week to a charity close to his heart.

“Not anymore,” he answers in the humblest way he knows.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Her tone is apologetic as she plants her palm against her chest. “Did you lose all your money?”

He exhales slowly as he finally decides Sara has no idea who he is. Relief steadies him and an urge to pull her away from the crowds and prying stares takes over. In this moment, he can finally admit that leaving her at the watch tower had been harder than he thought. He’d fought the urge to go back, ask her if they could…what? Keep in touch? Share a tent again sometime soon? Fuck, he had no idea. The only thing he knew was that he wished they’d had more time together. And now he had the chance to make that happen.

“Listen Sara, I should probably tell you…”

He would’ve continued, he might’ve even laughed and given the reporters something to fill their notepads with, if a small entourage wasn’t currently marching toward them.

Sara’s song-like tones chirp in the background, something about paying him back for the Jeep, and fussing over his loss of fortune.

J zones out however, he’s too focused on the fast-approaching group.

One member stands out from the rest.

Someone he knows yet wishes he didn’t.

Thatsituationhe’s been dealing with.

A devil disguised as cotton candy. A woman who’d cost him a large sum of money once upon a time, and now threatened to do it again. She’s just one of a thousand reasons he continues to have trust issues.

Now, here she is athisparty. The woman has some nerve.

But the worst is yet to come.

She stalks up to them, her entourage following like geese at the back of the flock. She looks J straight in the eye, but then her gaze swoops to Sara instead.

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