Page 16 of Comeback
And he looked so genuine, I almost believed him. But then I heard Nicole’s warning in my head:Fuckboy. Be careful.
“And why do you want to see me?” I asked, standoffish.
“I dunno,” he said, a confident twinkle in his eye. “Maybe I wanna get to know you?”
I rolled my eyes. “I bet you say that to all the other girls.”
“What other girls?”
“I know about you,” I said coyly, folding my arms.
His eyebrow quirked. “I doubt that.”
“Well, I know enough—how’s that?”
“Look, dinner is all I ask. Or a drink. Or hell, coffee. You pick. Or you can tell me no and I’ll be on my way.”
He’d given me an out, and all I had to do was take it. But then I had to wonder—if he was really as crazy as Nicole said, wouldn’t it show? Some part of me desperately wanted Nicole to bewrongabout him.
Oh, hell.
“Fine. Coffee,” I said. “ButI’mpaying. And I can’t stay for long because I have to get home to my daughter.”
“Deal.”
Chapter 8
Jack
It was obvious that something had changed since the last time I saw Emma. The electricity between us was gone, the sparkle in her eye missing. Instead, she seemed guarded. She kept a safe distance from me, her arms folded.
The stone on her left hand glinted, almost as if it were taunting me.
It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened. Yesterday, she’d met a stranger, flirted a little, felt some tingles in her tummy, and then she went home to her husband. She’d had her excitement, but she didn’t want it to actually go anywhere. Maybe, deep down, she felt a tinge of guilt.
I knew Emma only agreed to the coffee because she wanted to get rid of me.
Honestly? I didn’t mind. In fact, that made me happy for her. I wanted this one to be good—I wanted her to stay loyal. Even if I wasn’t the man she was being loyal to.
She excused herself to the employee break room. When she returned a few minutes later, she’d ditched her button-down dress shirt, wearing a comfortable-looking cashmere sweater instead.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Ready,” she said, halfheartedly.
I could tell she’d had a long day—not because she looked tired or bad, because she still looked good. Rather, shemovedlike someone who’d been standing on their feet all day. She probably couldn’t wait to get home, kick off those bulky work shoes, shake her long hair out of that tight bun, and relax. But then I’d showed up at the last minute. I knew the last thing she wanted to do was spend time with me.
She chose the cafe next door. I let her pay for the coffee like she wanted, but it wasn’t easy. We sat in a booth by the window, overlooking Main Street.
I tried to strike up some conversation. “So how long have you lived in Bayfield?”
She drew a breath. “Two months.”
“Oh, you’re new. What brought you here?”
“A better life, I guess.”
“Have you found it yet?” I asked, smiling. I hoped she had.
