A knot of defensiveness settles in the center of my chest. “Yeah, why?”
He leans across the bar so I can hear him. “You sure?”
The eagerness to ask about her, to demand he give me clarity instead of confusion, irritates me. “If you have something to say, just spit it out.”
“You should talk to her.” At his words, a pulse of soothing warmth washes over me.
The need to go to her, take her by the arm, and demand she talk to me is so loud, my fingers tighten around my glass, but I can’t give in. Can’t reveal how much she means to me. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He glances over my head. “Jessica Moore. Talk to her.”
“I talk to her almost every day at work.” An exaggeration. I’ve mainly avoided her whenever possible.
“Sam!” A voice rings out from the other end of the bar.
He nods in the direction of the customer before saying, “I’ve got to run, but trust me. Talk to her.”
As he takes his leave, my gaze slides over to the table where Hailey Moore now sits in a chair, but I don’t see Jessica. Will she go to Cole when she comes back?
I think of him taking her by the hand and pulling her toward the front door.
Of watching them leave together.
Yeah. Fuck that.
I drain my bourbon in one big gulp, put the glass on the counter, and duck out without saying goodbye.
Chapter 15
Jessica
The sun is out and shining, the day warm and mild. It’s one of those perfect, pre-fall days we sometimes get in September. I’m standing in our kitchen in my workout gear, arms crossed. “I’m sorry, but I insist. It’s for your own good.”
Hailey’s hair is in a messy bun. She glowers at me, her hands wrapped around her favorite coffee mug that reads: the blood of my enemies. “I don’t want to. I have stuff to do.”
I’m prepared for her refusal. I think she’d disappear into her computer if it weren’t for me. I sigh. “It can wait a few hours. You’ve holed up all week, and it’s time to get out there and move your body before it atrophies.”
“I moved my body plenty,” she grumbles, looking disgruntled and adorable.
“When I’ve made you, yes, you have. And I’m making you today. We’re going to take a nice bike ride and enjoy the fresh air. Then we’ll head into town and get treats at the bakery. Deal?”
She rises from the table. “Fine. But I’m only going because you’re making me.”
“I can live with that.” I flash her a smile. “I won’t even expect a thank-you.”
Fifteen minutes later, we’re on our bikes, riding down our tree-lined street. We ride past the residential section of the river, stop and check out the land designated for the tourist project, before riding into the wooded forest preserve and picking up the trail. When we come to a very cool wooden bridge, we cross over and circle back into town, where we stop at Gracie’s Bakery for the promised reward of pastries to make up for the calories we expended.
Luckily, we’re on the tail end of the morning rush, so when Gracie Donovan brings over an assortment of breakfast fare, she plops down in the open seat, making herself right at home.
“Thank you for sitting in the window.” She props her chin on her open palm, and her curls bounce. “You two are like a celebrity sighting, and that’s bound to be good for business.”
I laugh. “I’d love to say it’s been an entire week and I’m sure we’re old news, but since we grew up in a small town, I’ll settle for, I hope you take advantage of your additional profits.”
She shifts to look at Hailey and puffs out her bottom lip. “My husband is trying to make me jealous because he finally found a hot blonde who actually wants to read his work.”
A flush creeps up Hailey’s neck, and it blushes her cheeks. “Oh, um…” She glances at me, her expression helpless.
“Hailey’s not used to being a femme fatale. It’s more of a fiction-only type of thing,” I explain.