“Says who?”
Her brows puckered. “It’s only a hobby. I’ve never taken any classes or studied photography. I don’t know any fancy techniques, or even the proper names for half the stuff I do on my camera.”
“So? Your work speaks for itself. At least put yourself out there before you decide you’re not good enough.”
“I guess.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “It’s just not very practical. I can’t see how I’d make enough money to support myself.”
“Says who?” he repeated. “Because you’re sounding a lot like your parents right now.”
He tried to mask his anger, but it was difficult when he remembered the condescending way her parents had spoken about her photographs. Or the way they’d treated Jen—like she was a failure, a disappointment to them.
“I…” She swallowed. “It’s…a hobby, Cash. And I’m not good with rejection—what if I send work out and everyone hates it?”
“Then everyone hates it.” He shrugged. “At least you’ll know that you tried.”
“And failed,” she muttered.
“That kind of attitude isn’t conducive to success, babe. See, you’ve got yourself failing before you’ve even given it a shot. Coming up with excuses not to go after what you want won’t achieve a damn thing.”
“Excuses? I’m not—”
“Yes you are,” he interrupted, his tone coming out harsher than he’d intended. “You’re scared to put yourself out there. I get it. And I’m not surprised it never occurred to you to turn your hobby into a career. I think your parents commented on your silly pictures half a dozen times when we went over there. Don’t tell me that didn’t annoy you.”
Her shoulders drooped. “Of course it did, but—”
“But nothing. Your parents act like you’re disappointing them because you aren’t doing what they want you to do, and all that criticism can’t be good for your self-esteem. But I’ve seen your photographs, and trust me, they are good enough. So man up and go after what you want, Jen.”
His speech was rewarded by a deafening silence.
Jen stared at him, visibly shocked and confused.
Fuck. Had he really just told her to man up?
His tendency not to sugarcoat was the reason so many of his past relationships had failed. He’d discovered long ago that women didn’t want the truth—they wanted a man who’d shower them with compliments and tell them everything was fine and dandy. But Jen was so open and honest with him that he’d let down his guard. He’d stopped carefully weighing every word and started openly speaking his mind.
Cash cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. That might have come out a little harsh.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but then her cell phone rang.
“Um, I’ll just…get that.”
He winced as she bulldozed past him. He knew he’d screwed up, but damn it, she was too talented to let her parents’ criticism deter her from doing what she loved.
Too bad he hadn’t been able to convey that with a little more tact.
Jen answered the phone with an overly cheerful, “Hey Tessa, what’s up?” Then she paused, listened, and said, “What?”
Foreboding crawled through him. Cash went to her side and made out a tinny female voice on the extension, talking a million miles a minute.
“Speakerphone,” he said.
Jen clicked a button, and the panicked voice became audible.
“—I gave him your number. I’m so sorry. I panicked, and he was so angry I thought he might hurt me. I’ve—”
“It’s okay,” Jen interrupted. “I understand—”
“—never seen anyone look so crazy. I know I shouldn’t have given him your new number, but you should’ve seen his face. He had crazy eyes and he was breathing hard, like he’d just run a marathon or something. It was the freakiest thing—”
Jen cut in again. “Tessa…Tessa…calm down.”
A heavy breath sounded on the line.
“You were scared,” Jen said gently. “I totally understand. Where are you now?”
“Back at the office. I ran all the way here from the restaurant. My boss will never invite me to lunch again, that’s for sure.”
A beep cut through Tessa’s last sentence. Call waiting.
Squaring his jaw, Cash signaled for Jen to ignore it, then leaned into the mouthpiece to address her friend. “Tessa? This is Cash McCoy. Jen’s staying with me until Brendan leaves town. Do you feel like he might come after you again?”
“No,” came the wobbly response. “He was adamant about getting Jen’s number, that’s all. He also demanded to know where she was staying, but I pretended I didn’t know. I made up a story about her brother whisking her off and how none of her friends have had contact with her for a week.”
“Good,” Cash said. “Stick to that story if he bothers you again. Your office has security?”
“Yes.”
“If he shows up there, get security involved. If he approaches you outside of work, call the police. I don’t want him making a habit of hitting you up for information.”