Page 3 of Man of the Month Club: January
Leaning down near her ear, I ask, “Are you Maggie?”
“Yes, but you don’t have to go out with me.” Her voice is so quiet I can barely make out her words.
She’s still staring down at the table when I answer sincerely, “It’s not a matter of having to do anything. Iwantto go out with you. Very much.”
“Right,” she mutters.
It’s obvious that she doesn’t believe herself to be worthy of attention or affection. I’m desperate to make her see that she is. Deciding there’s only one way to show my fervency, I lean down and crush my lips to hers.
3
Maggie
Iam stunned by the audacity of this jerk. I whip my head back and shove him away from me before asking, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He seems startled by my furious reaction. “I’m sorry. I know that was inappropriate. I’m just so attracted to you.”
My gaze darts to Ciara, the only woman I know well at the table. Glaring at her, I ask, “Is this some kind of sick joke? Are you making fun of me?”
I hate it that my voice comes out sounding so screechy, but I’m on the verge of breaking down in tears right here in front of all of these people as they gawk at me.
Ciara shakes her head as she says, “No, it’s nothing like that at all. I promise.” After glancing up at Jett, she adds, “I think he’s just legitimately crazy about you. Maybe Phoebe’s app works way better than we ever dreamed it would.”
“Hey,” Phoebe says, pretending to be offended, but unable to hide her smile.
I’ve heard enough. These loony women are not going to convince me that a digital application can decide who I’ll fall in love with, and this man appears to be the craziest of them all. For a stranger to walk up and kiss me is absolutely outlandish. I should have slapped him for being so presumptuous, but I’d been too surprised and secretly thrilled.
I grab my handbag and hop down from my chair before saying, “Look, I don’t believe in all of this instant love or soul mate malarkey. Have him go out with his next closest match, and count me out.”
Phoebe immediately responds, “His next nearest match wasn’t even close enough to be considered compatible. You are the one for him.”
“I didn’t even fill out the questionnaire, so I’m not Jett’s match. Evidently, Ciara is his true match, so she can go out with him and have two handsome men fighting over her,” I grouch, knowing that I sound bitter, but unable to stop myself.
Ciara shakes her head. “I’m already perfectly matched with Gabe. Besides, I completed the questions with the responses I thoughtyouwould give, not my answers. You have to admit, I know you pretty well.”
She lifts a brow in my direction, practically daring me to object. The kindhearted woman had spent countless hours at my bedside in the burn ward. There is no denying that she has seen me at my worst and still somehow sticks by my side. She is a true friend, and I owe her. But I can’t do this.
“I appreciate the effort, but I’m not ready for this. I doubt if I ever will be,” I add the last part in a quiet tone, but Ciara’s concerned expression makes it obvious she hears me.
When I turn to leave, I expect her to try to stop me and am relieved when she doesn’t. What surprises me is the heavy footsteps that hurry after me. When Jett touches my arm, I yank it away and whirl around to face him.
“What do you think you’re doing? I just want to be left alone.” My fiery gaze shoots eye daggers in his direction because he is so handsome it hurts me to look at him. He’s physical perfection, and I am anything but.
“I don’t believe that,” he murmurs in a voice that is just loud enough for me to hear in the noisy bar.
“Well, it’s true.” I tilt my chin up stubbornly, practically daring him to argue with me.
“You maythinkyou want to be left alone, but I’ve spent a large portion of my life being alone and very lonely. It’s a nightmare that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.”
The raw sincerity rings through in his tone and has me blinking up at him. I’m startled by his openness and vulnerability. My eyes rake over him as I take a long, full look at him for the first time. He has dark, swooping hair that is just a smidge too long, his gorgeous eyes are framed by lush lashes, his chiseled jaw is covered in a layer of scruff that keeps him from being too pretty, his shoulders are broad and strong, his waist tapers into a vee, and the bulge in his jeans appears to be hefty.Yep, he’s absolutely perfect. And all wrong for me.
“What could someone who looks like you possibly know about being lonely?” I ask.
“Quite a bit, actually. Some of us wear our scars on the inside and chase people off as soon as they get to know the real person inside the handsome outer shell.”
A tiny portion of my heart wants to latch on to the truthfulness in his tone and comfort him, but the larger part is annoyed that someone this gorgeous has the audacity to complain about scars. “I guess you’re implying that I should consider myself lucky that my scars scare everyone away before they get too close.”
If my angry tone bothers him, he gives no indication of it. “Our scars show that we have lived through something difficult and come out on the other side of it. We are flawed, but we are better, stronger people for it.”
