Page 23 of Fight for Me
“What’s to be concerned about?” Lexie snapped, her ego still stinging. “Colt is allowed to have opinions. He should be able to share them.”
Olivia stayed silent, snagging an onion ring from Lexie’s basket.
Lexie leaned back against the vinyl booth cushion, absentmindedly watching her friends jump and sway to the beat of the music. Her gaze drifted over their heads toward the pool tables at the opposite end of the restaurant, where she saw a familiar smile. Jake was leaning against a cue stick, one ankle crossed casually over the other as he watched a pretty girl line up her shot.
The knot in Lexie’s gut tightened instantly.
Their relationship had shifted dramatically over the past week. Where there had been a sense of camaraderie, there were now tense silences and awkward glances—that was, when Jake acknowledged her at all.
It was probably what she deserved, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
Jake’s date knocked one ball into a side pocket and a second into the far corner before throwing her hands into the air victoriously. Jake tossed his arm around her shoulders in a familiar sort of way, and Lexie could almost hear his laughter from where she sat, like a memory played on repeat. Whoever the girl was, she was soaking up his attention like a sponge, flipping her hair over one shoulder and standing with her hip popped to the side.
“What are you watching so intently?” Olivia asked, leaning against her friend’s shoulder to follow her gaze.
Lexie jerked her eyes back to their table and then rummaged through her basket as if trying to find the one perfect onion ring.
“Nothing in particular,” she said, trying to keep her voice neutral. What Jake did in his personal life was none of her business. Why should she care who he dated, or if he dated at all? But even so, something sharp pressed against her breastbone when she glanced up and saw the pretty girl bump Jake with her hip as he bent flat over the pool table. He pausedhis shot and turned his head, narrowing his eyes at the girl, who laughed.
“You know, if seeing him with someone else bothers you this much, that probably should tell you something,” Olivia teased, as though she’d found the answer to her own question.
Lexie dragged her attention back to her friend.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted, her grip tightening on her glass.
“Sure you don’t,” Olivia said. She rolled her eyes. “And I bet you don’t care at all that Miss Priss just planted a big one on your boy.”
“Shewhat?!” Lexie exclaimed, jerking her head up.
“Down girl! I was only teasing,” Olivia said with a satisfied smirk.
Lexie closed her eyes and fought the hot flush rising in her face.
“Although I think you’ve proven my point,” her friend added before crunching another onion ring.
Lexie ignored her and tried not to watch Jake prowl the edges of the pool table, studying his options. The girl didn’t take her eyes off him as he moved, her face full of challenge, and Lexie was struck by the sudden urge to yank her cue stick out of her stupid hands and beat her with it.
Which was ridiculous, because what did it matter if some floozy chick threw herself at Jake? Good for him. Maybe he’d take her home at the end of the night.
A wave of nausea washed over Lexie, and she put her last onion ring down. The fried food was obviously getting to her.
Jake drummed histhumbs against the steering wheel of his truck as he headed northwest along a series of back roads thatmight as well have been tattooed onto his skin. He could have driven this route between Cypress Valley and Copper Hill with his eyes closed, but instead, he watched the bean fields fly by and wondered what his mother might be cooking for dinner.
He wasnotgoing to think about Lexie. Enough was enough. She was with someone, and he was going to move on with his life. End of story.
And yet the scrap of paper Conner had given him with Macy’s number on it still sat in the cup holder of his center console, untouched since he’d jammed it in there last week. He just couldn’t bring himself to call a girl he already knew he wasn’t interested in, even just to have fun; he wasn’t a “just have fun” kind of guy. Noah and Conner gave him endless grief for it, but Jake believed you could meet a person and instantly know whether or not they would fit into your life. He couldn’t explain exactlyhowyou could know, only that you could.
And Macy the watermelon girl just wasn’t the one.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled into a long, dusty driveway that wound across acres of soybean fields, finally parking in front of a two-story farmhouse, its green roof and shutters crisp against classic white siding. His truck had barely come to a stop before a brown basset hound stood up from his sunning spot on the wide front porch and threw his head back, baying as though to wake the dead.
Gomer trotted down the porch stairs, his ears flopping with every step, and made a circuit of the truck, stopping to smell all four tires. Jake descended from the driver’s seat and crouched to give the dog a good scratch behind his ears.
“Is that who I think it is?”
Jake looked up as a woman in blue jeans and a floral top pushed through the front door and stepped onto the porch, her white apron covered in streaks of bluish-black. “Hi, Mama,” hesaid, his voice taking on a softer quality that only came out here on the farm. This was where his roots grew deepest.
“Don’t you ‘Mama’ me,” the woman called. “I don’t know whoyouare! I sent my little boy to kindergarten just this morning.”
