Jack had waited outside that building for an hour for me.
Why? I didn’t know.
I knew I had every reason to be mad at him … but when he looked at me with those soulful, sad eyes, a voice inside told me something was not right. Iris had said it months ago, before Jack cheated with Dana.
But I’d let my hurt control my response outside the building.
Now, seeing his expression in my mind over and over again, the guilt ate at me.
What if something had happened? What if Jack needed someone to talk to?
Was I a fool to even offer him that kind of compassion or benefit of the doubt?
All questions fled as soon as I saw him running past my house.
I moved.
I slid my coffee cup onto the porch table, kicked off my fuzzy slippers, and hurried down the steps and through the private gate that offered beach access. It was winter in Delaware, so I was wearing thermal pajamas and an oversized knit sweater.
It mildly concerned me that Jack wore only a T-shirt and jogging pants.
But he was running, so I guess he was warm.
“Jack!” I called, struggling through the sand in my cold, bare feet.
He kept going.
Dammit.
“Jack!” I yelled louder.
This time he glanced back over his shoulder. Catching sight of me, he stopped and turned to me. I hurried as fast as I could, despite the obstructive sand.
“How do you do this every day?” I huffed as I approached him.
Although his eyes moved over my face, there was a cool blankness in them I didn’t like.
Moreover, his hair was beautifully disheveled, a flush rested high on his cheeks, and I was desperately trying not to stare at his corded throat or muscular forearms or basically any part of his profoundly attractive physique.
Which meant there was nowhere I could look that didn’t make me blush.
And quite abruptly, the blankness melted from his expression and something warm moved through him.
I relaxed a little.
“Em, what are you doing out here in your pajamas?”
I ignored the flutter in my belly at the nickname. “I came to apologize.”
Just like that, his expression grew stony. “Not necessary.”
“But I was—”
“Em, leave it.” He turned to go.
And even more abruptly, I was mad. I’d trusted him enough to approach him despite his past behavior. “You know how hard this is for me?”
Jack halted and heaved a sigh. He glanced back, frowning. “Em, you don’t owe me anything.”
“No, but you owe me.” I surprised myself.
I think I surprised him too.
Jack wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm, and I tried not to notice the way his T-shirt rose, revealing a flash of hard abs. My eyes darted upward and my cheeks prickled with heat against the icy ocean breeze.
Jack’s lips twitched with amusement, which was better than the coldness, so I’d take it.
“I’m sorry I was rude to you in Millton.”
He shrugged. “I understood why.”
“It doesn’t excuse my behavior.”
“It actually does.” He shook his head at me. “Em, you’re too good for your own good.”
Despite what sounded like a warning in his words, I took another step toward him. A flicker of wariness crossed his face, but I boldly took another step until we were almost touching.
“Will you tell me why you stood me up?” This man made me inexplicably brave. I wished whatever it was about him that made me feel stronger could be bottled so I could have it with me through the rest of my life.
Jack’s eyes searched mine before moving down my face to my lips and then back to my eyes. “I wish I could, sunrise.”
There was that endearment again.
I reminded him of the sunrise. It was probably the best compliment anyone had ever given me. Sweet and surprisingly poetic from Jack.
“You can’t tell me or you won’t tell me?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Hmm. What on earth had happened?
“You can always talk to me, Jack,” I offered. “I’m a vault.”
He chuckled unhappily, and the sound hurt my heart. “Why do you assume I have anything I need to talk about?”
“Because I don’t believe you just decided to join your father’s company and betray your best friend for the hell of it.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Well, you’d be the only one.”
“I don’t think that’s true. But”—I bravely placed a hand on his arm, feeling a tingle in my fingers at the connection—“the longer this goes on, the less likely people are to forgive you.”
Jack abruptly stepped away from me, his expression shutting down. “I’m not asking for forgiveness.”
I deflated.
Embarrassment held me frozen as he turned and walked away.
What a stupid woman I was to assume that I could coax the truth out of Jack when no one else could.
I was about to retreat to my house when Jack stopped and spun back around. He marched through the sand, a fierce expression on his face. And my heart leapt into my throat when I realized he wasn’t slowing down as he came at me.