Trouble (B-Squad 2.75)

One night a couple years ago, driven by Brooklyn egging her on and just enough tequila to drown out common sense, she’d searched him out on Facebook. His profile was only half private, so she was able to see a few pictures of him, but nothing else. He had looked even better at twenty-six than he had at eighteen, and that he still had his annual fishing trip with the boys, but she had no idea if he was married or had kids.

The thought made her sick to her stomach.

She pressed a hand there, as if the pain was a physical thing she could combat. “I don’t know.”

“Too late.”

Jessica spun to face Brooklyn so fast, she almost fell on her ass. “What did you say?”

Her friend didn’t look up from her phone. “You’re booked. It’s paid for. You can assist me on a couple stakeouts to pay me back.”

She grabbed the phone from Brooklyn’s hand and read with dawning horror. All American guy, blond, painfully hot. Needs to be able to deal with the fact that I was a bitch in high school and so most of these people are going to hate me and be dicks. “Are you kidding me?”

“What? It’s the truth.” Brooklyn snatched the phone back. “You can thank me later.”

Jessica stood there as the truth came crashing down around her. She was going back to Catfish Creek. She could cancel the date, but it wouldn’t change anything because Cora and Brooklyn were right—she needed to face her past. Her hand itched with the need to call her therapist or pop a Xanax, but she resisted both urges. She’d been using crutches for far too long. Maybe it was time for her to do what was necessary to finally move on.

She just hoped it wouldn’t kill her in the process.

Jake Davis stared at the computer, wondering if he was hallucinating. That would explain seeing goddamn Jessica fucking Jackson’s name on the newest batch of requests for Diamond Dates. He sat back and took a long drink of his coffee, but nothing changed.

She was coming back for the reunion.

More than that, she was obviously single if she was looking for a fake date to bring with her.

Of course she was. If she was single, she wouldn’t want to face Catfish Creek—face him—alone.

Jake couldn’t begin to count the number of times he’d shown up for events around town since high school and been party to pitying looks and barely concealed whispers. Nothing people loved more than a good scandal, and his ex was nothing if not a good scandal.

It was when he ran into Rae Evans that things started to come together. They’d both been invited to one of their graduating class’s wedding, and agreed to go together just to avoid dealing with the nonsense.

It worked.

No one bothered them. There were looks, of course, but neither of them had to answer any uncomfortable questions about being single—or what their exes were up to.

And so Diamond Dates was born.

He sat back in his chair and looked around, trying to get some distance on this. His office was exactly the same as it had been since the day he moved the company here—dark gray walls, a generic sofa that could double as a bed in a pinch, and a single window overlooking the street. It wasn’t fancy, but he didn’t need fancy. Diamond Dates didn’t meet its clients face to face. They handled everything online or over the phone. In the event that a meeting was required, he set it up in a public place.

In the years since he’d started the company, he’d only had to deal with one over-zealous client, but one was more than enough. His guys trusted him to keep their personal information locked down and to keep things professional. The best way to do that was to confine the entire encounter to whatever event they were contracted for.

None of that made a damn bit of difference when it came to Jessica Jackson. There would be no distance for him. Even trying for it was fucking impossible.

If he was a petty asshole, he could use this application to humiliate the hell out of her. They might have graduated ten years ago, but there were still people walking around Catfish Creek with emotional scars from shit she’d pulled back in the day. They’d be like sharks scenting blood in the water, glorying in seeing her brought to her knees with them standing witness.

He stopped and really thought about it. What was the point? Hurting her now wouldn’t take them back in time and erase the pain he’d felt. Would he like to see her with some egg on her face? Sure. He wasn’t a damn saint. But that didn’t mean he could be the one to pull the trigger.

She might have ripped his still-beating heart of out of his chest and ground it beneath one of her spike heels, but she’d been his first love. Fuck, she’d been his only love—being burned so spectacularly created a whole hell of a lot of trust issues, and he hadn’t bothered to get past most of them.

Fuck, I’m depressing.

He brought up the information that Jessica had sent in. Jake did background checks on all his potential clients. Just because the majority of them were women didn’t mean his guys were safe. It paid to be safe and to have his shit together before sending them out.

He’d thought about checking up on her over the years, but Jake had never crossed that line. She was his ex for a reason, and she’d made it abundantly clear that she was better off without him after the injury that killed all his college and NFL plans. It had been hard enough recovering while dealing with a broken heart. He didn’t need to get kicked in the teeth of his own volition.

Now, he was practically required to look her up.

Jake plugged her information into his program and then pulled up the photo she’d sent while it worked on the search. He set his coffee on the desk so he didn’t spill it on himself. She looks good. Better than good. The Jessica he knew had been all angles as harsh and unforgiving as the personality she showed the world. Whoever had taken this picture had captured the softer side of her that she’d only ever shown Jake…right up until she didn’t.