Page 17 of Safe With Me
How dare he?
I crumpled the paper, wishing I could shove it in his face. I’d make himeatthe words.
He was sorry.
He hadn’t been sorry when he’d been jumping down my throat, defending Elizabeth.
He hadn’t been sorry when he’d been letting her hug and kiss him in the middle of my space, in the middle of my store, where I had to work every day.
I was glad I’d blocked him. The last thing I needed was a friend who couldn’t see past his infatuation with my sister, who talked to me with the same ugliness as her fans.
And I really didn’t need a friend who didn’t see or know me until it was too late.
Know what? I didn’t need him, period.
I hadn’t gone out with anyone since Tick – not because I was pining for him – but because he’d brought up Tate’s name that night and plunged me right back into unrequited love. I should redownload the dating app to my phone and update my profile. If I had to find a new profession, might as well go all out and find a new love of my life as well.
Leaving the wreath on the table, I jumped in the shower and pulled on my snuggest Levis with one of those great sweaters and my never-worn hand-sewn boots from Oklahoma. Know what I was doing tonight? Taking back the Millhouse. Tomorrow, I’d talk to Sara and explain how there would be no more joint outings for me and Tate. We’d have to find a way to have joint custody of our friends.
Once I reached the Millhouse, I parked in the same spot as last night. I needed a new memory to cover over the last one. Even so, walking up the steps sent a sick twist through my stomach. This was like getting a shot – it hurt but would be better in the long run.
Instead of going outside to our regular table, I snagged a seat at the bar and ordered a beer. I could do one and drive. I scanned the other single occupants and found lots and lots of high school classmates. Okay, so I might have to branch out to other places in my search for my new love.
Why did that phrase make me so stinking sad?
A warm presence settled on the empty stool next to me, jostling my elbow. “Hey, sorry.”
I recognized that rich voice. With a tight smile, I lifted my beer at Scott Barlow, Coney’s youngest hotshot lawyer. “No problem.”
He asked the bartender for a draft and cut sharp blue eyes at me. “Hannah, right? You work at the feed store.”
A note of mocking amusement in his tone had me narrowing my eyes. “I did.”
“Yeah?” He nodded his thanks at the bartender and turned his attention on me. He had on a suit almost the same gray as Tick’s, a little lighter, with a white dress shirt, and a maroon tie. Funny how his didn’t fit quite as well. “What do you do now?”
“I don’t know.” I smirked on a sip of beer. “I’m reinventing myself. Looking for something new.”
Amusement, sans the mockery, lit his eyes. “Like?”
“I don’t know.” I waved my Blue Moon in a circle. “I’m Hester Prynne, finding my Able.”
Now, his eyes gleamed, and that looked like respect. He grinned, flashing his teeth in a way that made me think of a shark, predatory and deadly. “So what are you able to do?”
I shrugged. “Just about anything. Ordering, organizing, filling orders, customer service.”
He nodded, a slow, considering movement of his chin. “What about research?”
“I can use a search engine. Who can’t?”
“You’d be surprised. Ever considering being a personal assistant?” He lifted his mug for a slow swallow. “Mine quit today with no notice.”
“Why?”
“I’m an asshole.”
Had to admire his honesty. “I have experience with those.”
He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “Want to give it a try?”
