I excused myself from the line of customers waiting for coffee and hurried from behind the counter to grab a spoon for the guy. He didn’t even say thank you.
Asshat.
Not that I’d ever dare call him that to his face.
Even Bailey, the most forthright, ballsy woman I’d ever met, wouldn’t call a customer an asshat. To his face.
As I rounded the counter again, the bell above my door tinkled and I looked over at it. My stomach dipped like I was on a roller coaster.
Jack Devlin.
I wrenched my gaze from his intense expression, my heart skipping a beat, and tried to concentrate on my other customers. Still, I knew I was blushing, and I knew he’d know he was the cause.
Always the cause of the damn blushing!
I cursed my fair complexion on a daily—no, strike that—hourly basis.
What was he doing here?
Jack hadn’t come in for coffee since last summer, since “the incident.”
That’s what I was calling it.
It was better to call it that than the hottest—and most humiliating—moment of my life thus far. I bet you didn’t know those two sentiments could go hand in hand.
Respectful of my request to leave me alone, Jack had avoided me since then. He’d even given up my coffee, which I knew he loved since he used to come in every morning for an Americano.
But last summer wasn’t the last time we’d interacted.
I hurt for him as I remembered that moment between us.
“I gave you ten dollars.”
The aggravated voice brought me out of the memory. Christine Rothwell, the chair of the board of licenses in Hartwell, glowered.
“Excuse me?”
She pursed her lips before replying. “I gave you ten dollars.” She spoke obnoxiously slow, as though I was too stupid to understand. “The coffee”—she pointed to her cup—“was four dollars. Are you with me?”
Must not insult customers to their faces. Must not insult customers to their faces.
“Yes.”
“You gave me back a dollar.”
“I’m sorry.” My cheeks bloomed even redder knowing Jack was witnessing my fumble. I handed over a five-dollar bill, which she snapped from my hand before marching out of the store. The bell above the door tinkled aggressively with the force of her departure.
My next customer gave me a sympathetic smile. “Someone forgot her manners today.”
I returned the smile, relaxing a little. Well, as much as I could relax with Jack in the room.
Which wasn’t a whole heck of a lot.
My hands trembled as my line depleted and Jack grew closer. No new customers had come in after him.
Pulse racing, I threw back my shoulders to face him as he stepped up to the counter. What was he doing here?
One of the most confusing things about Jack’s decision to go work with his father and be involved in the nefarious plotting of the Devlin family was his obvious disgust of them. You only had to look into Jack’s eyes to know he wasn’t a rotten person. In fact, he had the kindest eyes I’d ever seen.
And when he looked at me … he looked at me. Jack stared so intently at my face, as though he didn’t want to gaze at anything else. It was hard to resist that kind of open intensity.
And I couldn’t.
Consequently, he’d broken my heart last summer. And not for the first time.
It was something I’d kept to myself. Not even the girls knew about the secret interactions between me and Jack Devlin.
However, those kind eyes that could morph into a smoldering gaze, and the tortured, brooding hero thing he had going on would no longer appeal to me. Jack had a dreadful habit of pulling me in and then pushing me away. It wasn’t deliberate. I knew that.
But I was over it.
I’d offered him support on the beach three months ago because, no matter what, I hated to see him hurting.
That’s as far as it went.
I wrenched my eyes from his, determined not to be pulled in. “What can I get you?”
He hesitated a moment. “The usual, Emery.”
I loved Jack’s voice. It was deep and smooth. Like whisky-flavored caramel. And it caused a physical reaction in me.
Dammit.
Turning away, I started on his coffee and kept my back to him.
I could feel his eyes all over me and tried not to hunch my shoulders against his perusal.
“Busy today,” he noted.
I shrugged.
“Anyone buying books or just your coffee?”
Stop trying to make idle chitchat.
“Yeah,” I answered vaguely.
Jack let out a huff of irritated laughter. “Was that an answer?”
I didn’t respond.
By the time I returned to the counter with his coffee, his expression