his jaw appears to be unhinged and nearly hitting the bridge.
With a broad smile for me, Dash says, “Kat, this is my best friend Jared Beckett.” Best friend? For how long? Since high school? It figures that Dash Calder’s best friend is Jared Beckett. What a small, damn world.
“We know each other.” My smile grows as I witness Jared’s unanticipated and swift unraveling.
Jared’s greenish-hazel eyes blaze from me to Dash. As he glares at Dash, his mouth closes with a loud snap to his teeth. Is he mad at me for reappearing in his life? Is he angry at Dash for knowing me?
Most likely, he’s pissed about the salt I dumped into his coffee.
Juvenile, but it made me feel better.
For a minute.
When Jared looks back to me, his eyes fly over me with recognition anew. I haven’t changed that much. Slightly different nose, contacts, some purple in my hair, and boobs.
Oh, and telling him my married name. Yeah, I did that, too.
Jared opens his mouth to talk, but then shuts it again. While adjusting his Colts cap, he shakes his head and looks over the side of the bridge, out to the sailboats. With the harbor breeze whipping the air around us into a frenzy, his throat muscles tighten several times, and his chest heaves weighty breaths before his tense gaze finds mine once more.
What happened to him during these past 12 years?
Why does he seem so perturbed about me? He didn’t remember me in the first place. What makes it so different now?
What the hell is going on with Jared Beckett?
CHAPTER 6
“Jared, you okay, buddy?” Dash knocks my arm with his when it’s clear I’m not into talking.
Whipping my head to face him, I expeditiously string my words together. “I didn’t tell you about her. Is this a joke? How’d you know about her? Are you shitting me, Calder?”
Dash laughs, of course. “What are you talking about? Kat is a friend of mine. I didn’t know you two had met before. We went to Bowie together.”
Kat says, “When my mom was out of town visiting my aunt last fall, her house caught fire. It was a total loss. Jared and his dad are helping with the rebuild.” She shakes her head, darting her eyes to me, before saying to Dash, “He didn’t realize who I was. I thought he forgot about me.”
I never forgot about her.
I’m just an imperceptive moron, proving that I can be fucking slow on the uptake when it comes to seeing something right in front of my face.
Even more, I never wanted to reopen this particular old wound, even if I had my suspicions, fears, and hope that it was her.
I must be a fucking masochist.
Damn it.
Here goes ripping off the bandage that has been fused to my skin for over a decade.
In high school, my dad wouldn’t let me get my driver’s license until I took driver’s ed., since he could get a discount on his insurance policy if I passed the newly offered class, and seeing that I would also be helping to pay for insurance, I needed to take it. Anything to make my damn life harder.
I was 16 years old when I met 15-year-old Katriona Merrick. As soon as I saw her in that afterschool class, it became apparent that something was different about the way she made me feel, and she had yet to even look my way. I was enthralled with her. She was so pretty, but she was one of those girls who didn’t see it, flaunting it to anyone for praise. She wore small, gold-rimmed glasses that complemented her chocolate brown eyes, and as much as I liked her chin-length, dark brown hair, it often hid her face, which irritated me. I wanted to move it out of the way, running my fingers through the silkiness. Whatever lip-gloss it was that she wore, made her lips an iridescent, cherry red. Once, I caught her licking her lips while we were taking notes, and I automatically gripped the edge of my desk. Damn it to Hell and back if she didn’t almost drive me to groan out loud.
I was thinking about her to no end: during class and everything in between, the ride home
With a broad smile for me, Dash says, “Kat, this is my best friend Jared Beckett.” Best friend? For how long? Since high school? It figures that Dash Calder’s best friend is Jared Beckett. What a small, damn world.
“We know each other.” My smile grows as I witness Jared’s unanticipated and swift unraveling.
Jared’s greenish-hazel eyes blaze from me to Dash. As he glares at Dash, his mouth closes with a loud snap to his teeth. Is he mad at me for reappearing in his life? Is he angry at Dash for knowing me?
Most likely, he’s pissed about the salt I dumped into his coffee.
Juvenile, but it made me feel better.
For a minute.
When Jared looks back to me, his eyes fly over me with recognition anew. I haven’t changed that much. Slightly different nose, contacts, some purple in my hair, and boobs.
Oh, and telling him my married name. Yeah, I did that, too.
Jared opens his mouth to talk, but then shuts it again. While adjusting his Colts cap, he shakes his head and looks over the side of the bridge, out to the sailboats. With the harbor breeze whipping the air around us into a frenzy, his throat muscles tighten several times, and his chest heaves weighty breaths before his tense gaze finds mine once more.
What happened to him during these past 12 years?
Why does he seem so perturbed about me? He didn’t remember me in the first place. What makes it so different now?
What the hell is going on with Jared Beckett?
CHAPTER 6
“Jared, you okay, buddy?” Dash knocks my arm with his when it’s clear I’m not into talking.
Whipping my head to face him, I expeditiously string my words together. “I didn’t tell you about her. Is this a joke? How’d you know about her? Are you shitting me, Calder?”
Dash laughs, of course. “What are you talking about? Kat is a friend of mine. I didn’t know you two had met before. We went to Bowie together.”
Kat says, “When my mom was out of town visiting my aunt last fall, her house caught fire. It was a total loss. Jared and his dad are helping with the rebuild.” She shakes her head, darting her eyes to me, before saying to Dash, “He didn’t realize who I was. I thought he forgot about me.”
I never forgot about her.
I’m just an imperceptive moron, proving that I can be fucking slow on the uptake when it comes to seeing something right in front of my face.
Even more, I never wanted to reopen this particular old wound, even if I had my suspicions, fears, and hope that it was her.
I must be a fucking masochist.
Damn it.
Here goes ripping off the bandage that has been fused to my skin for over a decade.
In high school, my dad wouldn’t let me get my driver’s license until I took driver’s ed., since he could get a discount on his insurance policy if I passed the newly offered class, and seeing that I would also be helping to pay for insurance, I needed to take it. Anything to make my damn life harder.
I was 16 years old when I met 15-year-old Katriona Merrick. As soon as I saw her in that afterschool class, it became apparent that something was different about the way she made me feel, and she had yet to even look my way. I was enthralled with her. She was so pretty, but she was one of those girls who didn’t see it, flaunting it to anyone for praise. She wore small, gold-rimmed glasses that complemented her chocolate brown eyes, and as much as I liked her chin-length, dark brown hair, it often hid her face, which irritated me. I wanted to move it out of the way, running my fingers through the silkiness. Whatever lip-gloss it was that she wore, made her lips an iridescent, cherry red. Once, I caught her licking her lips while we were taking notes, and I automatically gripped the edge of my desk. Damn it to Hell and back if she didn’t almost drive me to groan out loud.
I was thinking about her to no end: during class and everything in between, the ride home
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