Author: Jill Shalvis

And suddenly he went from slightly chilled to very overheated. Good Christ, she was…beautiful. It should’ve assuaged his simmering temper just looking at her, but instead it stoked it, making him tense as hell.

Leah, on the other hand, was looking pretty carefree as she lifted her arms and shoved back her hair.

At the sight, his brain utterly clicked off.

She saw him then. He could tell because, from one blink of an eye to the next, she froze every single muscle. It’d have been fascinating to watch, except for the fact that she was freezing up over him. She’d never reacted this way before. He didn’t like it. And besides, he was the wronged party here. He was the one who got to be pissy.

“You’re still here,” she said flatly.

Kevin, who clearly hadn’t received the temper memo, bounded over to her, his paws going straight to her shoulders as he gave her the universal Kevin greeting—a lick from chin to forehead.

“You big oaf,” she said, and then hugged him before pushing him off her.

Kevin sat happily at her feet, panting, looking up at her adoringly.

“Nice,” she said. “But I don’t have any doggie treats on me.”

With a sigh, Kevin flopped all the way down.

Leah met Jack’s gaze. “You scared me.”

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings.”

Dripping water everywhere, she crossed her arms over herself. “It’s Lucky Harbor.”

He rose to his feet. “Bad shit can happen anywhere.”

She met his gaze for one brief beat and then looked away. “What are you doing here, Jack?”

“I figured as your ‘almost fiancé,’ I should see how you’re doing.”

She winced but didn’t respond.

“What the hell is this all about, Leah?”

“You know what it’s about,” she said, hugging herself a little tighter.

She always got defensive when she screwed up, and since she’d screwed up a lot, she had a lot of practice.

“My mom has enough going on,” he said. “She doesn’t need to be lied to.”

“Maybe not. But she does need to be happy to heal. And this made her happy. All week she’s been glowing.”

He knew it was true, and a stab of guilt hit him that he hadn’t been able to make her happy without help.

Leah didn’t say anything more, but she didn’t have to. Yeah, she’d gotten them into this mess, but he knew damn well it’d been out of the goodness of her heart. Jack knew that she thought she owed him for all those years ago, when he’d done his best to protect her, the chivalry having been deeply ingrained by his dad.

But they were even.

In the dark, Leah shivered, and that chivalry made him feel torn between enjoying the sight of her cold and wanting to wrap her up in his arms. “Where’s your towel?”

“In the car.”

He pulled off his sweatshirt and tugged it over her head.

“I’ll get it wet,” she said.

“It’ll dry.”

“I’m—”

“Just wear the damn sweatshirt, Leah.”

There was an awkward silence while they stared at each other as behind her the water pounded the shore.

“I realize that this is really hard for you,” she finally said, pulling on his sweatshirt. “Having everyone think you like me that way. You’ll just have to pretend.”

He narrowed his eyes. Had that been sarcasm? Or…

Hurt?

“There was a time when I wouldn’t have had to pretend anything,” he said. “But you flaked out, remember? You pretended, and then you left.”

She grimaced, swallowed hard, and looked away. “We were just kids.”

Was that how it played in her head? Seriously? “Does it make you feel better?” he asked quietly. “To downplay what we were to each other?”

She closed her eyes. “We were friends, Jack. Friends who’d made a quick, knee-jerk, stupid decision to become naked friends and sleep together.”

“Yeah. And then one of the friends didn’t show,” he said, much more mildly than he felt.

“It was a bad idea. I was leaving.”

“Which you forgot to mention.”

She dropped her head back and stared up at the sky. “I couldn’t stay, Jack.”

He took in her expression, filled with memories, and nodded. “I know. But you should have told me you were going.”

“You had another girl in your bed by the following weekend.”

Had he? Hell, probably. But she wouldn’t have meant anything to him. Not like Leah had. His chest tightened at the memory of the hole she’d left in his life. He didn’t want to go through that again. “I missed you.”

She said nothing, and he shook his head. Fuck it. He started to walk away, and then she spoke.

“Brandi Metcalf.”

He stopped. “What?”

“Brandi Metcalf was the one in your bed by the next weekend.” She turned her head and glared at him. “Pretty, blond Brandi with the perfect boobs.” She emphasized this by cupping her hands out in front of her own breasts. “So don’t even try to tell me you missed me.”

He shook his head. Apparently he wasn’t the only pissed-off one tonight. “How about the women I’m dating now?” he asked. “What am I supposed to tell them?”

She hunched her shoulders a little bit, clearly getting irritated on top of defensive. “You’re the one who taught me how to dump someone, back in high school. You said”—she affected a lower voice, presumably imitating him—“just look him in the eyes, Leah, with your own gaze all carefully dialed in to sad and regretful. And then you say, ‘I’m sorry, I just really need to work on myself right now.’” She went back to her own voice and gave him an eye roll. “You said that no one could argue with that.”

Had he said that? Jesus. “I was an asshole, Leah.”

She gave him a look that said he was still an asshole. So he proved it. “And who says I’m dumping anyone?”

She faltered for the first time, taking a minute to choose her words. “I guess I thought that for the sake of your mom, you’d do yourself in the shower like all the rest of us sex-deprived people.” At that, she started to stride past him, but he caught her arm.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s have it.”

“Let’s have what?”

“Well, I know why I’m pissed. Why the hell are you pissed?”

“It’s not like it’s going to be a walk in the park for me either,” she said, giving him a little shot to the chest. “Pretending to like you.”

“Me?” he asked, flabbergasted. “What the hell is there not to like about me?”

The sound she made assured him that she had volumes on the subject. “Don’t get me started.”

“I want to know,” he said.

“Fine. You watch that stupid ice fishing show like it’s a religion, you’re a horrible backseat driver, you drink out of the milk carton—and FYI, so does Ben—you don’t put the cap on your toothpaste, or put the lid down on the toilet, and you shush me when you’re watching sports.”

He stared at her. “That’s quite a list of shortcomings,” he eventually said. “Is that all?”

“No.” She shoved her wet hair from her face, though she managed to keep her regal stance, nose firmly in the air at nose-bleed height. “I held back because I didn’t want to be overly rude.”

He laughed softly. “Don’t hold back, Leah. Let’s hear all of it.”

“Well, your truck has more sporting goods than a store, you never say you’re sorry, and your girlfriends look like supermodels. I mean, what is that? There’s nothing wrong with real boobs, you know!”

He took it all in and had to admit that he couldn’t say she was wrong, about any of it. “And yet you call me The Picker.”

She ignored this. “And your mom told me that you need knee surgery again. You’re just too stubborn to get it done. So you can add ornery to the list.”

He blew out a slow breath. “It’s not ice fishing,” he said. “It’s crabbing. And sometimes I lose the cap on the toothpaste, or Kevin eats it. And I don’t need knee surgery; I’m fine.”

Leah snorted. “You’re always fine. Your knee could be falling off and you’d say you were fine.”

“I fail to see the problem.”

She snorted again, and he was starting to feel greatly insulted. “You’re not exactly a walk in the park, Leah.”

“No?”

“No. You’re flighty, you live for your every whim, you downplay any real emotion you feel.”

She hugged herself tight. “Good thing this is all pretend then, isn’t it,” she said softly.

“Yeah.”

She was freezing. And hauntingly gorgeous, so damn gorgeous standing there wet and silvery by the moon’s glow, like a goddess. It’s Leah, he had to keep reminding himself. Leah, who’d once beaten him in a marshmallow-eating contest, only to puke all over him. Leah, whose dark-green eyes had a way of telling the world to bite her. Leah, who’d run off on him and left him heartbroken. He took a step into her—for what exactly, he had no idea—and she poked a finger into his chest.

“God,” she said. “You’re so…” Words apparently failed her, but she let out a sound that managed to perfectly convey how annoying he was.

“Ditto,” he said, and then grabbed the finger drilling a hole between his pecs and tugged her hard enough that she lost her balance and fell against him.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, entangling a hand in her wet hair.

She went still as stone and stared into his eyes. And then lowered her gaze to his mouth.

Yeah, they were in sync there. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe. Hers caught audibly in her throat, a good sign, he decided. Maybe she wouldn’t knee him in the balls. Testing the waters, he grazed her jawline with his teeth.