Every Little Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 2)

After a phone call to Sheriff King, in which he said he did want photos of my injury, and was more than a little mad now that I had refused medical attention because it harmed my case if we managed to get Devlin to court, Jess wrapped up my wrist. She also checked me over for other injuries, and except for more bruises on my arms and back, I didn’t have any to write home about. Jess had a full day of appointments, so there was no time for me to linger and be subjected to the curiosity that was blazing in her eyes as she fixed me up.

She wanted to know what had happened in my own words, and I was pretty sure she wanted to know why the hell Vaughn had been at the inn to come to my rescue.

And I didn’t want to talk about that.

Not. At. All.

I was just leaving the doctor’s office when I got a hankering for Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. I kind of craved chocolate and candy when I was particularly stressed and right now was definitely one of those occasions. So instead of heading back to the inn, I headed to the market on Main Street.

It wasn’t a good idea.

It wasn’t a good idea because I binge-ate Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and always felt sick afterward. But it also wasn’t a good idea in hindsight.

Of course, I didn’t know I would bump into a Devlin.

I was musing over the candy selection, wondering if I should add peanut M&M’s to my stash, when I caught sight of him out of the corner of my eye. Looking up, the usual awful regret I felt in my chest flared at the sight of Jack Devlin.

Once upon a time I thought Jack Devlin hung the moon. He and Cooper were once a hot good-guy package deal and I loved them both.

I stared into Jack’s dark blue-gray eyes wishing the devil weren’t so handsome, wishing those eyes of his weren’t fathomless with secrets. Secretive though they were, I’d always thought Jack had kind eyes. His mother’s eyes.

Tall, taller even than Cooper, Jack was strong—lean but muscular. He had thick dark blond hair that he wore swept off his face, and these days his style was more Vaughn than Cooper. I missed his jeans and plaid shirts. The shirt-and-trousers look made him seem more distant. So did the whole cheating on his best friend thing and hanging out with a dad and brothers he used to look down on with contempt.

I didn’t like unsolved mysteries. I didn’t like the mystery of Jack’s turnabout. And in my fragile state of rejection and fury, I looked into those soulful eyes of his and saw red.

Before he could pass me with his stoic nod of hello, I got in his face. His brows drew together as he stared down at me, standing mere inches from his body, but that was the only reaction he gave to my crowding his personal space.

“You and your goddamn family!” I yelled, more than likely drawi

ng the attention of everyone else in the store. “I am done. Do you hear me, Jack Devlin? You tell Stu I don’t care if he paid a dozen whores to give him an alibi last night, I know it was him who broke into my inn and attacked me in my office!” I waved my sprained, wrapped up wrist in Jack’s face. “I’m not stupid! I’ve known the little prick my whole life and wearing a ski mask didn’t hide his identity from me while he jumped me, broke my phone, and he would have broken my face if it hadn’t been for Tremaine!” I screeched, barely paying attention to the fact that Jack’s gaze was focused on my injured wrist. “And I don’t like being rescued by Tremaine, Jack! I don’t like it one little bit,” I seethed. “So you tell that asshole brother of yours, and that swine you call a father, that if they want a fight, I’m ready for them, because Stu just took this one step too far. If there are no longer any lines, if the lines cease to exist, it goes both ways! Come at me, and I will sure as hell come back at you twice as hard!” My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath.

I was pretty sure my face was scarlet red.

But Jack . . . well . . . Jack didn’t even flinch. Instead he lowered the basket of food he’d been carrying, walked calmly around me, and strode right out of the grocery store.

“It was nice talking to you, too!” I yelled after him.

And that was when I became aware of the other customers staring at me. Thankfully, all of them in concern and not in a I’m terrified of this crazy lady, get me out of here way.

Huffing in annoyance at myself for my little outburst, I grabbed my Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

The cashier, Annie, stared at me wide-eyed. “God, Bailey, did Stu Devlin really attack you?”

Oh, damn.

“Look, I really shouldn’t have said anything.”

“That family.” She tutted, shaking her head. “They go too far.”

And now so had I, because I’d bet everything I owned that it would be all over town that Stu Devlin had attacked Bailey Hartwell in her inn.

Sheriff King was going to kill me.

“Annie.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you sell a hole in the ground?”