Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk #3) - Samantha Young Page 0,97
reason for his change in behavior. Bailey was even more forgiving than me because she thought she witnessed a spark between him and Emery and had all these romantic notions of Emery redeeming him.
I loved Emery.
Emery apparently had no experience with men.
I did not want her near Jack Devlin.
That would be like pushing a baby panda into a tiger cage. The thought brought out the hotheaded mama bear in me.
No Jack Devlin for Emery Saunders.
Nope!
Jack was standing in line at a temporary burger hut while a short, cute brunette who had to be a tourist stood by his side, chatting away. Only he wasn’t paying attention to the brunette. Jack was around six four with a lean build and broad shoulders. He kept his dark-blond hair thick and slightly disheveled so he always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. His broody, too-handsome-for-his-own-good, blue-gray gaze was locked on Emery.
That look was so intense, it made me hot.
This was not good.
Not good at all.
The woman with him pulled on his elbow, and he jerked out of his Emery daze to turn to his date.
“What are we looking at?” Vaughn asked.
“Nothing.” Bailey was near squirming with excitement in her seat. I nudged her with my elbow, hard, and she glared at me. I glowered back.
“I … uh … I think I’m going to call it a day,” Emery said. She refused to meet anyone’s eyes.
“Oh, don’t go,” Bailey begged.
“She can go if she wants to,” I said through gritted teeth.
My best friend narrowed her eyes on me. “I don’t want her to go.”
“It doesn’t matter what you want, especially when your head is in cloud-cuckoo-land.”
“I feel like we’re missing something,” Vaughn said to Cooper.
He nodded. “Agreed.”
Bailey huffed. “You’re making it sound like you don’t want Emery here.”
“I love Emery—of course I want her here—but I want her here. You want something else entirely.” I leaned into her and hissed, “And it’s insane.”
“Uh … ladies.” Michael stepped closer to the stall, drawing our attention upward. “Your friend is already gone.”
With a sigh of frustration, I noted the spot next to Jess was now empty, and Jess was staring at us like a disappointed schoolteacher.
“See what you did?” Bailey grumbled.
I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “If you don’t back off Emery, I will tell Cooper and Vaughn about the madness swirling in your head, and they’ll guard her ass so fast from Jack Devlin, your hopes will be crushed for good.”
“Princess.” I moved back to see Vaughn leaning over the stall table, his hands flat to it, his face inches from Bailey’s. “What is going on?”
“Nothing.” She gave him a bright smile, leaned forward, and pecked him on the lips. “All good.”
“Then why does Dahlia, a woman who would usually throw herself in front of a bus for you, look like she wants to kill you? What are you up to and what does it have to do with Emery?”
Bailey crossed her arms defensively and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t talk to me like that. Ever.”
I gave my head a little shake. Bailey Hartwell was a master at deflection. Vaughn blinked in surprise at her snappish tone and she pushed back her chair. “I need a coffee.”
Suspicion deepened in Vaughn’s expression as he watched Bailey walk away. “Excuse me,” he muttered before striding after her.
I lost them in the crowds and shot a look at Jessica.
“She’s not genuinely annoyed at Vaughn?”
I rolled my eyes. “More like worried how well he knows her.”
“Is this about who I think it’s about?” Cooper was not amused.
Did Cooper know about Jack and Emery?
Oh boy.
“Why do I feel like I’m in high school?” Michael asked, perturbed.
Jess laughed. “Welcome to small-town life. Everyone is in everyone else’s business.”
“Speaking of …” Cooper frowned into the distance. “Who is that guy with my sister? And where’s Joey?” He marched away, his hand tight in Jess’s so she had no choice but to follow. She threw me a little wave, and I nodded back, feeling more than a flutter of butterflies at being left alone with Michael.
“Joey is Cooper’s nephew, right?” Michael moved closer to the stall.
“Yeah.” I nodded, straining back against my stool, even though there was a table between us. “He’s almost ten, kind of a musical genius, and Cooper is more like a dad to him than an uncle.”
“I get that impression.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and studied him. “You seem to be making fast friends with him.”