“You’re telling me that if a girl showed up at your house on Monday morning with a table, essential oils, and a jar of mud, you wouldn’t lie down then and there and let her get to work?” April took a sip of her chai green tea latte—something she had never ordered before but made herself choose under some weird sort of coffee shop duress—and set it on the table between them.
“Well, of course I would if it was free and she had nothing better to do. I just wouldn’t let her show up every morning for the same reason.” Jack folded his hands in front of him and looked around the room before settling his gaze back on April. “I would, however, draw the line at the mud. Seems like such a strange thing to spread over a person’s body, and I’m not buying the stupid health benefits.”
April raised an eyebrow. “So you’ve heard of them?”
“Of course I’ve heard of them. I just wouldn’t pay for it, not when this entire state is made of red clay. That works just as well. And it, my friend, is free.”
Once again, April’s stupid heart gave a stupid flip in her chest. This was Jack Vaughn. So why was it getting harder and harder to remember all the reasons she was mad at him? It was time to give her brain a little refresher course. Time to step up the put-downs.
“At least we’ve established that you’re cheap.”
“Sweetheart, I grew up in a single-wide trailer. You have no idea.”
Again with the flip, and this time it added a little thud. The term sweetheart certainly wasn’t helping matters. She picked up her mug just to have something to do with her hands. “I forgot about that. Does your mom still live there?”
Jack picked up his napkin and tore a piece from the end. He smiled, a small amount of wonderment filling his expression.
“No, I bought my mom a house in Franklin last year. She objected until we unpacked the last box, but I’m glad she lives in a better place now. I owed it to her after all she sacrificed to raise me.”
So much for stepping up her game. The thought of him taking care of his mother lost her a few dozen anger points. “How does she like it?”
He set the napkin down and looked at her. “She likes it fine, but she won’t willingly spend a dime of my money unless I force her to. Like last month, I offered to take her to get a pedicure and buy her some new clothes. She told me she owned a perfectly good pair of nail clippers and what was wrong with her new Vanderbilt sweatshirt?” He shifted in his seat and pulled the white mug to his lips, but April saw the way he grinned. The mug wasn’t big enough to hide it.
April laughed. It surprised her, but it felt good. “I suppose you should count your blessings.”
“Why?” His eyebrow came up.
“You could have a line of family members only interested in your money. Your mom could be the type who asks for a monthly stipend to fund trips to Rodeo Drive and the plastic surgeon.”
Jack set his cup down. “Those family members exist. Believe me, they exist.”
“Uh-oh. Long-lost uncles?”
“And aunts and cousins and best friends from high school I supposedly hung out with whose names I don’t even remember.”
April shrugged. “Sucks to be you.”
The sentence held steady in the space between them, both of them aware of the words left unspoken. April would love to be him, would in fact be him if he’d been more of an honest person a few years back. Thankfully, she smiled.
“New subject,” she said.
Jack barely suppressed a sigh of relief. “Back to the seaweed wraps,” he said. “Are you telling me you would regularly subject yourself to that awfulness just because some idiot says it’s good for you?”
April smiled up at him over the rim of her cup. “Not only would I subject myself to it, I would gladly pay the fee no matter how much it costs. Every single day. Because that’s the difference between you and me, Jack.” She leaned forward and looked him in the eye, well aware it was a flirtatious move but suddenly not in the mood to care. She was having fun. She was having fun with a man. She was twenty-two years old, available, and maybe it was the late hour or the fact that she was tired or the idea that going home alone to an empty apartment right now sounded more depressing than going to her sister’s wedding dateless—which was her current plan. But for now, April was having fun with a man.
She wished the man wasn’t Jack Vaughn, but that seemed to be just the way her life worked.
He blinked at her. “What’s the difference?”
She blinked back. “The difference of what?”
He gave her a curious look. “You didn’t finish your sentence. You said, that’s the difference between us, Jack. But you never said what those differences are. And unless you want me to start guessing—”