If It's Only Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 6)

I’m not surprised to see her when I step out of the cold and into Jackson Brews. I am surprised to see that she’s working—not tapping away at her laptop, but pouring beers behind the bar, taking orders, and mixing drinks like a pro.

I’m already high on her list of Least Favorite People, and I secured my place on that list years ago by sharing information she probably would’ve been happier never knowing. It was a mistake and I regret it to this day, but this is different, isn’t it?

No matter how many times I think it over and plan my words, I know she’s going to hate the messenger for what I have to tell her, but what if I didn’t tell her and she found out I withheld that her boyfriend was screwing around with at least one other woman? There’s no doubt in my mind that she’d consider that a much worse crime.

I slide onto a stool and am all too aware of the way she stiffens when she registers my presence. “Hello, Shayleigh.”

She flicks her gaze over me quickly. And hell, if their coolers break, Jake can just have Shay keep the beer cold with her attitude toward me. “What can I get you?” Ice cold.

She already hates me. Might as well make myself public enemy number one by being the bearer of bad news. Fuck. Not just bad news. The shittiest news. “Can we talk?” I’m starting to sound like a broken record with this question.

She sighs, but she sounds more tired than annoyed. “Not right now, Easton.”

I spot her brother pushing out of the kitchen. “Hey, Jake.”

He lifts his chin at me and serves a basket of fried something to the couple at the end of the bar before heading down to our end. “What’s up?”

“Can I steal Shay for a few minutes? I need to talk to her about something important. It has to do with . . . her dissertation committee.”

He nods eagerly. “Please do. She’s not even supposed to be here.” I didn’t notice, but now that he mentions it, Shay’s not even dressed for work. Everyone who serves here wears jeans or a skirt and a Jackson Brews T-shirt, but Shay is dressed in a sweater dress that hugs her curves like whoever designed it was on a mission to torture me. “Cindy’s pissed that she’s going to make fewer tips because she has to work back here with Shay.”

“I told her she can have the tips.”

“And I told you that you aren’t needed,” Jake says. He turns back to me. “The only reason she’s here is because she’s procrastinating.”

“Luckily, I can help with that,” I say, smiling at Shay. “Why don’t you grab a drink and meet me back there?” I point a thumb toward the back of the bar and head that way without another word. I’m better off not giving her the opportunity to deny me.

I slide into a booth, knowing there’s a good chance she won’t follow.

When she does, she doesn’t take the seat across from me. She stands at the foot of the table like she’s my fucking waitress or something. “What?”

Fine. We’ll do it her way. I take a breath. “I just got back from Chicago.”

“Obviously.”

“I saw Professor D—George while I was there.”

She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “His daughter lives in Chicago. He spends half his week there.”

George has a daughter. Didn’t think Professor Douche had it in him. I wonder if the blonde knows. Or maybe the daughter is a convenient lie that allows him to lead a double life. “Shay, he was with somebody else.”

She folds her arms and frowns. “Were you spying on him?”

It’s official. She thinks I’m a psycho. Can I blame her? “It was a total coincidence that we were at the same restaurant, but it was a lucky one, if you think about it. I know it’s not my business. I know you want me to stay out of your relationship—”

“And yet here we are.”

“He was all over this woman.”

She just stares at me.

Jesus. Was I wrong about this? Does she have some sort of open relationship with this guy? It seems so out of character. “That doesn’t bother you at all?”

I swear hurt flashes in her eyes before she cuts her eyes away from me. “It doesn’t matter.”

How the fuck does that not matter? “Because you broke up?”

“Because we’re . . . seeing other people.”

“Clearly he is seeing other people. What other people are you seeing?”

She drops her arms. “Have a nice night, Easton. I have shit to do. And for the record, I don’t need you barging into my life and trying to fix everything.”

“When are you going to stop pretending we don’t have anything to talk about?”

“When I’m feeling up for the conversation.”

“How can I make you feel up for it, Shay? Tell me.” I lower my voice. “If you’ll listen to nothing else I have to say, at least let me apologize for your dad’s funeral. I never should’ve told you. It was wrong, and it was selfish. I wish I could take it back.”