The Truest Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 4)

Hague had dealt with him but had warned me to avoid Devlin. He said he was an unscrupulous businessman, and he’d used private investigators to discover my true identity. It made me uncomfortable that someone here knew who I was, but Hague seemed convinced it wouldn’t be in Devlin’s best interest to tell the entire town about me.

From Iris’s account, his eldest sons Stu and Kerr worked for Ian and were just as disliked around town. She said the exceptions were his daughter Rebecca and his second youngest son Jack. They took after their mother, Rosalie, who’d been well liked until she became more and more reclusive. Jamie, the youngest Devlin, was a late baby and it was too soon to tell which way he’d go.

As for Jack, Iris had nothing but good to say. But she’d warned me that he was the town player and only “dated” tourists.

He wasn’t for me.

Even if I wasn’t a shy, bumbling twenty-year-old with trust issues.

“Yes, thank you,” I replied to his question, studying his strong profile.

He turned to me and I blushed harder for being caught staring at him.

Jack’s lips quirked into that mischievous smirk. “How are you liking Hartwell?”

Small talk.

I was awful at small talk.

I nodded. “I like it.”

This made Jack grin. And just like that, it knocked the breath out of me.

Oh boy.

He had the best smile I’d ever seen. It gave him these sexy crinkles at the corner of his eyes. It was a boyishly naughty smile, the smile of someone up to no good and at complete odds with the kindness in his eyes. The overall effect was detrimental to my heart.

A person could melt a marshmallow on my cheeks.

His eyes actually twinkled. “We’re glad to have you here, Emery.”

The sound of his deep voice saying my name caused another swooping sensation in my belly. I exhaled and stammered as I turned to point at the price board behind me. “C-coffee?”

At his silence, I glanced back at him.

He was looking at the silver bangles on my wrist.

Strange.

His eyes flew to my face and his voice sounded rougher when he replied, “Americano.”

Grateful to have something to do, I turned from him and made his coffee. Neither of us spoke again.

When he handed over cash, I touched the five-dollar bill by the tip of it so our fingers wouldn’t brush. I slid his change across the counter.

“Thanks.”

I forced myself to meet his gaze again. “You’re welcome.”

“See you around.”

I nodded.

Jack tipped the to-go cup toward me and turned to stride out of the store. I held my breath

the entire time. The bell tinkled above the door and then he was gone.

I let out air like a deflating balloon and sagged against my counter.