“Or he’s lying,” said Joey. “You girls are way too trusting of men. Guys often just want one thing and will say anything to get it.”
“Us girls are too trusting? Or girls in general?” Jazz snapped at Joey. “And guys in general say anything to get it, or guys like you?”
Whoa.
Jazz slumped back against her kitchen chair then hissed a breath through her teeth as her burned back made contact. “Ow.”
Joey stepped forward and caught himself. “What’s the matter?”
I smirked.
“I got burned, it’s nothing.” Jazz winced.
Joey went around behind her. “Shit, that’s not good. When did this happen?”
“Yesterday afternoon. I fell asleep in the sun,” Jazz muttered. “It’s fine really. The Lidocaine I sprayed on earlier before the drive up must be wearing off.”
“What the hell? Wasn’t your … wasn’t Bradford, or whatever, supposed to be with you?” I knew full well he knew the name of Jazz’s boyfriend.
“Brandon!” Jazz and I yelled. And looked at each other. “Of the chocolate-brown eyes!” we chorused and busted out laughing again.
“Have you all been drinking?” Joey asked.
Still chuckling, I went to the pantry cupboard and pulled the first-aid basket down. I rummaged around and found more Lidocaine and some Soothing Aloe. “Catch,” I called to Joey and tossed the items at him.
Joey caught them, flawlessly, one after the other. “I’m not—”
“He’s not—”
“Yep, you are. I’m going to shower the Grill off me. Then, let’s order pizza and watch a movie.”
I headed for the stairs and heard Jazz murmur as if bored, “Fine, let’s see what you’ve got Doctor Butler.”
“You did always make me want to play Doctor, Miss Fraser,” Joey returned, and I almost tripped on the stairs in surprise. It was usually Jazz teasing and trying to goad him, and I’d never heard him playing along. I’d have given anything to see Jazz’s face right then. Perhaps Colt was right, a bit of healthy competition did work wonders.
The first thing that struck me upon waking the next morning was that I’d made a mistake with Jack. I knew it down to the depths of my Carolina girl soul. The same way I knew it was time to look for sea turtle nests without checking the calendar.
Struggling to pull myself from the arms of slumber, as it seduced me with the promise of going back to emotion-less oblivion, sounds and smells from downstairs penetrated my consciousness. Coffee, bacon, and something sweet promised me a reward for facing these complicated emotions.
How could I possibly feel guilt at hurting Jack after what he put me through? But there it was clear as day. I felt guilt when I thought back to his expression, his beautiful eyes that looked so shattered. Twice since he’d come back only days ago, I’d taken his declarations and carelessly thrown them back in his face. God, but I was right to do it. Right to protect myself. What if I gave him a chance and ended up back where I’d been months ago?
And seriously, that whole stunt with Devon and him hanging out at the Grill signing autographs … was that what my future looked like? Being in the spotlight was hard enough with my art, imagine being photographed as Jack Eversea’s girlfriend? Being judged as to whether I was good enough for him, what I had that others didn’t? I shuddered. No, thank you.
And then when we fell apart again, I’d get pitying looks from the whole world, not just those who knew the first time. Of course it wouldn’t last, they’d say. She wasn’t cut out for his life. What did he see in her anyway?
Abruptly, I sat up. Dammit.
Breakfast smelled really good. I quickly dressed in cargo pants and a lightweight black tee and trotted downstairs.
Mrs. Weaton, my elderly tenant, who I might add had her own kitchen in her own cottage, was bustling about my kitchen clucking and muttering under her breath. She caught sight of me, and her lined face creased up in a smile. “Hi, Love!” she crowed and gave me a quick one-armed squeeze as she held the spatula in the other.
I looked over and saw Joey at the kitchen table bent over a laptop and papers, deep in concentration.
“Uh, hi.” I hugged her back, her lavender scent comforting me, and smiled at her eccentric make-up. “Not that I don’t love being woken with the smell of coffee and bacon, but what are you doing here?”
“Aw, sugar, you just sit your cute bee-hind down on that there seat, and I’ll tell you all about it. First grab yourself a coffee.” She motioned to the pot.
“Morning, Joey,” I greeted.
“Morning,” he mumbled but didn’t look up. The movie last night had been awkwardly tense between my brother and Jazz. Eventually, Jazz had begged tiredness from her drive and said goodnight. Joey watched her leaving, a brooding expression on his face, his thumb brushing his bottom lip over and over.
I’d refrained from saying a word.
I headed to the coffee. There was a large white envelope with Keri Ann scrawled on the front of it propped up against the sugar bowl. “What’s this,” I asked Mrs. Weaton, picking it up.