his back pockets, stretching that tee so nicely across his chest. “You going to be around for a few days? Maybe we can get together or something.”
I’m momentarily startled. Is he asking me out? Do I want that?
Focus, Daisy.
“Ah… I’ve got to finish up this job. Then I’m hoping to get on with Antiques Today.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s this company that has like a magazine and a podcast and they do like antiques shows and appraisals.” I realize I sound like a total amateur right now. “I have a friend who works with them. I’m hoping he can help me get a job.”
Scout’s chin lifts, and he studies me a moment. The way his blue eyes move around my face is distinctly different from how it feels when Spencer does it.
When Scout looks at me with that mixture of curiosity and interest, every hair on my body rises. Heat sparkles beneath my skin.
Which is ridiculous. I have no chance with someone like him, and even if there was the remotest possibility I did, I’m not staying here to find out. Neither is he for that matter.
“Okay. Maybe I’ll see you around.” He crosses the kitchen, returning to the door where he entered. “Maybe I’ll stop by and see if you need any help moving shit. Keep you from getting any more injuries.”
“I think sometimes injuries are part of the process.”
“They don’t have to be.”
One last grin, a last flash of that impossible dimple, and he slips out the door as fast as he appeared. I collapse against the wall, doing my best to remember how to breathe. My heart is beating so fast, and it’s so silly.
I’m smart. I’m focused, and I’m not getting sidetracked. Or distracted, no matter how tempting Scout Dunne might be. I don’t need his help.
Two
Scout
“You turned down the Chiefs?” My brother leans against the bar, and I watch as he picks at the label on his Imperial lager.
J.R. is only a year older than me, but he’s darker, quieter. He keeps to himself, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only person he talks to when he needs to get something off his chest, which is rare. He’s not in that mood tonight, even though it’s been a while since we’ve talked.
A live band is playing behind us, and we’re at the Tuna Tiki, an old-school beach hangout in Oceanside, about fifteen minutes from home. It’s early May, a month before the tourists will start jamming up the place, getting drunk, and making it too obnoxious to hang.
I’m not hating. I’m just saying tonight I prefer it like this, when we’re pretty much the only people here.
I take a pull of my Corona. “I didn’t like their offer.”
“Didn’t like it?” He glances up at me with those blue eyes, same as mine. “I heard they offered you starting quarterback.”
“Quarterback.” I exhale a bitter laugh as I look towards the stage. “You’re the quarterback. I’m the receiver.”
“You could play whatever you wanted. Hell, you probably still sleep with a football under your head.”
“You turned them down first. Why are you busting my balls?”
“I turned them down because Becky got pregnant.” He adjusts the cap on his head, but he’s still not smiling. “I didn’t want to be gone all the time. I wanted to be a dad.”
“Yeah, that’s what you said.”
Becky St. John was the bitchy head cheerleader when we were in high school, and now she’s a bitchy sister-in-law. I’m pretty sure she only wanted to be with my brother because he was the star quarterback. She’s a walking cliché.
Still, she held onto him through college, even though I know he would’ve ended things if she hadn’t turned up pregnant last year, his senior year at Clemson. Everybody said she did it to hold onto him because she thought he was going pro. I only know it takes two to tango, and nobody was holding a gun to his head.
He’s a damn good dad, though. Works hard, takes Jesse everywhere, while Princess Becky lounges around the house or complains if he wants to do anything like hang out with me for an hour or two on a Tuesday night.
Jesse James Dunne makes up for everything, my brother likes to say. I’m happy for him being a dad and all, but they don’t look like a happily ever after to me. Not that it’s my business—unless he wants it to be.
He’s looking dark, so I shove his shoulder. “Well, I’m not interested in your sloppy