Chapter 6
Jessica
“I don’t know why she refuses to explain herself.” I remain moot while my older brother relays the entire debacle to his fiancée and their friend Darcy Strong. A woman who—because I’m really paying for all my sins—happens to be my boss’s wife.
The smart move would have been to ditch Ryder and Charlie once I got back into Hailey’s jeep. But I’m not about to let the sheriff think he has me on the run.
So here I am. Once again, I’m sitting in a dive bar next to the man of my nightmares. Only this time, we have company, and I’m forced to be on my best behavior, which is exactly what I’d been trying to avoid.
Hailey warned me. She’d told me my plan was stupid, but I didn’t listen. The ulterior motives she’d warned me about, that I swore I didn’t have, were there all along.
I wanted to get Sheriff Charlie Radcliffe alone.
Ryder, Sophie, and Darcy all stare at me, the questions clear.
Charlie has played dumb and hung me out to dry.
I’d be annoyed, but I can’t blame him. If the situations were reversed, I’d do the same.
I could have made him my cohort in crime, but I’d panicked when Ryder pulled up and my mind went blank.
I hadn’t been able to think of one reasonable, plausible story as to why I’d been stalking the sheriff.
I blame Charlie for the failure. He deliberately antagonized me with his stupid remarks about being quick on my feet and taking his lead.
Like I’d trust a mere man with my fate.
So, when all else failed, I went with obstruction.
Some people might disagree with my strategy, but those people would be wrong.
In the face of the unexplainable, I decided on a lawyer’s response by refusing to reveal evidence that would incriminate me.
It’s not like my brother can force me to talk.
The worst he can do is grumble and annoy me with questions to which I will provide no answer.
It’s the best of both worlds. I don’t have to lie, which means there will be no threads to tie up. There is no way Ryder will guess the truth.
The way I figure it, there are two eventual outcomes. He’ll either stumble on to a reason his mind can make sense of, or he’ll get bored, and I’ll never hear about it again.
Sophie’s pretty brown eyes dart in Charlie’s direction. “You know nothing about this?”
“If I’d known, we wouldn’t be sitting here.” His voice is smooth, that hint of Southern peeking through again.
If he’d known, I wonder what we’d be doing right now.
Talking. Surely we’d be talking.
I notice, like me, he’s careful not to lie outright, telling me the sheriff cares about his relationship with Ryder. Which makes this whole situation that much more unfortunate.
If only we’d met before I sat down next to him in that bar, but we didn’t.
Ryder hasn’t lived in Revival long and has been busy establishing a new life.
Our hometown is far enough away that drop-ins and after-work dinners aren’t the norm.
The few times our paths potentially could have crossed, something got in the way.
That’s fate for you, always fucking you over when you least expect it.
Sophie shifts back to me. “And you have nothing to say?”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss the situation.” I pick up my glass of bourbon and lean back in my stool, crossing my legs.
As the fabric slides up my thighs, Charlie tenses.
Even though we sit a reasonable distance apart and aren’t looking in each other’s direction, our chemistry feels like it has a seat at the table.
It’s probably a good thing Ryder won’t let us out of his sight.
To help the cause, I tug my hem back to my knees.
The first lady of Revival, a stunner with blue eyes and raven-black hair, points a finger back and forth between us. “How do you two know each other?”
“We don’t,” Charlie and I say at the exact same time.
Technically, it’s the truth. Not counting sex, orgasms, and all those things I told him in the dark, we hardly know each other. I’m sure, in real life, we’re completely incompatible.
Darcy nods slowly. “I see.”
Ryder’s features turn downright suspicious.
I go on the offensive. “Look, I understand this seems strange and you have a lot of questions, but I’m going to plead the Fifth here. So let’s move on and talk about something more interesting.”
There’s nothing but silence I don’t bother to fill in. I don’t owe them an explanation. They can want one, but that doesn’t mean I have to provide it. Besides, I still can’t think of one good reason as to why I was following Charlie.
This wasn’t anything I prepared for. Truth is, it never crossed my mind he’d spot me. Or that, as the sheriff, he’d call in backup.
Was it stupid? Yes.
Should I have known better as an attorney who deals with law enforcement on the regular? Also, yes.
I don’t have an excuse.
Well, I do, but it’s not a valid one for a thirty-two-year-old woman.
Instead of the practical details of a plan, my focus had been on what outfit would make him sweat the most. Getting ready for work this morning, I’d tried on ten dresses and picked the one Hailey said was too sexy.
Maybe I’m ovulating and my hormones have clouded my judgment.
Anyway, this mess is on me, and now, I’ve got to get through it with as little drama as possible.
I down the rest of the drink, putting it on the table before folding my hands in front of myself. “So, I’m guessing it’s been a crazy day with the dead politician. Has the mistress woken up yet?”
Silence.
They all continue to stare at me.
Except for Charlie, who makes an exasperated scoffing sound.
Well, I tried. I pick up my purse hanging off the chair and dig around. I’d like to be dramatic, pull out my keys and whisk myself out of here, but who am I kidding? I’m not going anywhere.
Charlie and I still need a conversation that’s proving impossible, but I’m nothing if not determined.
So, instead of dramatics, I opt for alcohol. “Who’s ready for another one?”
When there’s no answer, I hop off my stool, wallet in hand. “I’ll be back.”
Then I saunter to the bar. And I do mean saunter. I walk slowly and deliberately, with a sway in my hips that would make Shakira proud.
Look, obviously, I can’t sleep with the guy again, but I can’t be expected not to torture him. If I act meek and scared, he’ll think he has power over me. Which he does not.
I sidle up to the bar, put one nude heel on the floor railing and lean over, giving the hot, blond bartender a smile. Sam Roberts, the owner of this dark, shabby around the edges establishment is also another of my brother’s close personal friends. Which means he’s probably a friend of Charlie’s.
But since he’d been busy when we’d arrived, we haven’t exchanged more than a cursory introduction, and I don’t have to worry about questions.
He ambles over, looking like an angel with sky-blue eyes fringed with dark lashes. He’s all long and lanky, his body fine in a long-sleeved gray pullover that’s pushed up to his elbows and faded jeans.
He puts his hands on the counter, smiling in welcome. “Jessica.”
“Sam.” I push my glass in his direction. “I’ll take another.”
“Sure thing.” He doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans in and looks straight into my eyes. Only, his expression isn’t one of seduction; it’s worse.
It’s like he’s searching for the truth of me.
For a second, I get trapped by his gaze, stilling like a deer in headlights, but then I snap out of it. “Do I have something on my face?”
“Nope, just getting a good look at you.”
“I see.” I straighten and take a step back. “Do you need a better view?”
“You’re making quite the impression.” He flashes a grin so charming it’s almost blinding. “But something tells me you’re used to that.”
It doesn’t hit like a line, but it makes my stomach dip all the same. I smooth a hand over my hip. “It’s part of my charm.”
“I bet.” He makes no move to leave.
I flutter my lashes. “Come Thursday, you’ll be seeing me all the time. I assume you’ll get used to it.”
“You and your sister will be good for Revival.” He swipes the glass from the counter. “Town needs a little shake-up every now and then, don’t you think?”
I wave a hand in the air. “No one will even know I’m here.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” He laughs and walks away.
He’s wrong. I’m done with drama. I just have to deal with this Charlie situation, and then it will be smooth sailing from here on out.
Charlie
I have never in my entire life worked so hard to keep my eyes off a woman. It is actually difficult. It’s requiring effort. It should not be work; it should be easy, like it always is.
She’s driving me goddamn crazy. I swear she’s doing it on purpose.
And I really, really want to rectify that.
But instead of being able to take her in hand and control that attitude, I’m forced to sit next to her, impassive.
Like she has zero effect on me. Like I barely notice she’s alive.
My temples give a pulse of pain. I relax my jaw, giving my teeth a rest from grinding. Whatever I do, I cannot look over at her.
In my periphery, her red dress beckons. It’s made of a stretchy, swirly jersey fabric that drapes but doesn’t cling. Unlike the tight skirt she was wearing the first time I met her, this dress is made for easy access.
And she’s just standing over there, daring me with it.
She laughs at something Sam says.
I turn away to quell the desire to rip out Sam’s throat.
So this is jealousy.
It’s as irrational and ridiculous as I suspected it to be. I mean, sure, it’s not like I’ve never felt it. Once upon a time, I used to hook up with Sam’s sister Gracie, and when she’d fallen hard for her now-husband, I’d experienced a twinge.
Like the loss of what could have been if we’d been different people.
But it had been easy. We’d stopped having sex and slipped right into friendship. I’ve never had a single violent thought about James. I like the guy. We’re friends, even though I used to sleep with his wife.
The whole thing had been completely drama-free.
The exact opposite of this nightmare with Jessica.