Jack trusted his instincts. He knew he’d never meet a purer heart than the one that belonged to this beautiful woman.
Her goodness shone out of her.
She was an angel.
She was a beautiful sunrise dawning on a hope-filled new day.
Christ, this woman was turning him into a fucking poet. And a bad one at that. He smirked inwardly to himself.
Jack squeezed her hand and gently released it. “Friday night. I’ll pick you up from your beach house at 7:00 p.m. There’s this great seafood place about twenty minutes down the coast. We’ll have more privacy there. That work for you?”
She bit her bottom lip, looking so shy and adorable he wanted to kiss the shyness right out of her. She nodded, seemingly trying not to smile too hard.
Jack smiled hard enough for the two of them. “Good. Great. It’s a date.”
Emery nodded again.
“Have I stolen your ability to speak?” he teased.
She nodded.
Jack laughed, disbelieving she could make him feel this good when his gut was in turmoil.
Emery smiled.
They studied one another for a tension-filled time.
Jack regretfully took a step back. “I better go. I need to go talk to Cooper.”
“Good luck, Jack. And remember …” She started walking backward in the direction of her house. “Trust in him.”
“I will, sunrise.” The endearment slipped out before he could think on the wisdom of being so familiar with her.
“Sorry?” she squinted at him in confusion.
“Sunrise,” he repeated. “That’s what you remind me of.”
To his relief, Emery seemed to understand his sentiment without explanation. The surprised but soft expression on her face suggested she liked it. As did the way she ducked her head bashfully before giving him a little wave. Jack watched her turn on her heel to walk home.
He watched her for a while.
Then, with a shuddering sigh, he made his way up the beach to the boardwalk. At least he knew he had something to look forward to beyond the gut-wrenching task of telling Cooper about Dana.
Feeling more nauseated the closer he grew to the bar, Jack’s irritation increased as his cell rang in the back pocket of his jeans. He took it out and saw it was Rebecca.
It was late for a call from his little sister.
“Becs, what’s up?” he asked, coming to a stop outside the bar.
“It’s not your sister. It’s your father.” Ian’s brittle voice sent an icy shiver down Jack’s spine.
“Where’s Becs?”
“Something’s happened. Your sister is in serious trouble. I need you at the house.”
Trepidation filled him. “Is she okay?”
“Just get to the house.” Ian hung up.