Page 14 of The Jilted Lovers Club
“Enough,” Bec orders. “You, in the shower,” she says to Ashton. Then she turns to me, “and you, get some food in that belly of yours.”
She sets a bowl of applesauce in front of me, some rice, a half bananas, a piece of toast, and a large glass of cloudy water. “That’s electrolyte water, with lemon juice and salt. I expect you to drink all of that.”
“You better listen,” Ashton mocks, then leaps out of the way when Bec snaps a towel at him.
Just a Small Town Boy
Ashton
Let me tell you something. Jordy can make even the rattiest bathrobe look like lingerie. When I walk into the house, the first thing I see are her long legs peeking out from beneath Bec’s ancient robe, those tiny shorts riding high on her golden thighs. It’s hard to tear my eyes away—even after everything.
She’s wearing my ex’s clothes and my mother-in-law’s robe. I’d spent the evening dodging her puke, and still, she’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Too bad she’s completely off-limits.
I’m already in enough hot water with this town for selling The Till. If they find out I’m even thinking about Jordy this way, I might as well set myself on fire. But seeing her chatting with Bec, sitting next to my daughter at the breakfast table—it’s like catching a glimpse of a life I didn’t even realize I wanted.
Ridiculous.
Jordy’s a stranger, a corporate shark’s errand girl, and she lives on the other side of the country. And me? I’m a single dad, the town’s favorite topic of conversation, tied to a relationship that ended long ago. Dating anyone in Lahoma is impossible. As far as this place is concerned, I’ll always belong to Sasha, even if she’s gone. The town’s loyalties run deep, and as long as I stay here, I can kiss my dating life goodbye.
But Jordy? She isn’t from here. She has nothing to do with my past. She’s like fresh water in the desert, but I’d be an idiot to take a sip.
By the time I’m out of the shower, Jordy’s dressed in another of Sasha’s outfits, her damp hair smelling like chamomile shampoo. She’d swapped the bathrobe for a pair of old jeans with sunflower patches and an orange t-shirt that reads, “Cluck around and find out” with a cartoon chicken. The jeans hit just above her ankles, where Sasha used to have to roll them at the hem.
“Nice fashion choice,” I tease, immediately regretting it when she shoots me a stony glare.
“It’s not like I had a choice. My suitcase is in my car, and my clothes from last night are a mess. Bec offered to wash them, but they’re dry clean only.” She huffs. “But maybe it doesn’t matter.I don’t think puke and silk go well together. I’ll probably just throw them away.”
She glances down at the t-shirt, sighs again, and crosses her arms over her chest. I wonder if this is normal for her—jeans and a t-shirt—or if it feels as foreign as she looks wearing them.
“I can take you to the dry cleaners on the way to pick up your car,” I offer, scooping a happy Lottie out of her highchair.
“It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.”
Her gaze flickers to the bag on the counter—her ruined clothes, wrapped up and useless. A twinge of guilt hits me. I brush it aside and nod toward her empty plate.
“Do you feel any better?”
“Tons.” Jordy’s shoulders relax for the first time all morning. “I wasn’t sure I could stomach it, but Bec didn’t give me much choice. I guess she was right because I don’t feel nauseous anymore, and my head doesn’t hurt.”
She stands and carries her dishes to the sink, washing them and setting them on a towel to dry. Efficient. Like she doesn’t want to owe anyone anything.
“I really need to get going, though. Could you drive me into town?”
“Sure. Let me just get Lottie’s car seat out of Bec’s car. Do you mind watching her?”
I don’t wait for her answer, just hand Lottie over without thinking. But the second Jordy takes her, I see it—a flicker of something sharp in her expression, her whole body going stiff.
I frown. “Sorry. I just assumed—”
“No, I’m fine,” she cuts in, but her voice is tight.
She holds Lottie like she’s holding a live grenade, barely moving as my daughter grabs for her necklace. The expression on Jordy’s face is stuck in a grimace as she eyes Lottie.
“You can put her down,” I say. “She walks.”
“Oh. Right.”
