it, to see if it was still as soft as he
remembered. Instead of falling to her shoulders, the pale, almost white strands
barely reached her chin now and her thick, straight bangs skimmed her
eyebrows.
She was unique, so different from all the other girls with her
light hair and blue eyes, her lush curves and go-to-hell attitude. She was
beautiful. Smart. Funny and sarcastic and jaded. It was the combination of her
looks and her world-weary attitude—as if she’d seen and done it all and found
each experience boring as hell—that made her seem older. More mature.
Except she was neither. She was sixteen.
He’d kissed her, touched her and she was just a kid, five years
younger than he was, two years too young for him.
When he looked at her, when his stomach tightened with
attraction, he felt like a creep. Like a loser who couldn’t get a girl his own
age or worse, some pedophile preying on young girls. He hadn’t known the truth
about her age until after they were involved. But he knew now. It should be
enough, he thought desperately, her age and the fact that she lied, should be
more than enough reason for him to hate her.
He didn’t. Couldn’t.
Anthony turned away. His movements unsteady, he grabbed his
full cup with too much force and coffee sloshed over the side and burned his
fingers. Swearing under his breath, he jerked his hand back.
Jessica reached for him, frowning in concern. “You okay?”
Wiping his hand on the side of his leg, he stepped back. If she
touched him, he’d be lost. Wrapped up in her again, unable to get her out of his
head when he’d finally, finally, stopped thinking about her every day. Stopped
dreaming about her.
“I’m fine,” he said, more harshly than he’d intended.
She dropped her arm. Swallowed and then licked her lips. “Uh,
are you on fall break?”
“Brandon’s first game is tomorrow.” Anthony dug his wallet out
of his back pocket. “I promised him I’d go.”
“Oh, right. He’s really excited.”
Anthony rubbed his thumb across his wallet with enough force to
wear a hole in the soft leather. Brandon was his cousin, his family. Not hers.
But she’d managed to infiltrate even that part of his life. Ross Taylor, her
uncle and guardian, practically lived with Anthony’s cousin Layne. As long as
Layne and Ross were together, Jess would be there, at Brandon’s games, at family
celebrations and holidays.
“How’s school?” she asked, just like everybody else who didn’t
know what to say to him.
He sipped his coffee, glanced over her head. “Same as
always.”
“Good. That’s…good.”
She paused, looking at him expectantly, but he wasn’t about to
ask her how she was, what she’d been doing lately. She picked up a candy bar and
turned it in her hands.
He’d teased her about the candy bars when they’d first met. Had
flirted and practically begged for her number. He didn’t usually go to so much
effort. If a girl wasn’t interested, he moved on, no harm, no foul. But he’d
seen a vulnerability in her eyes, a softness and hopefulness that intrigued him.
He’d wanted to break down her walls, see who she really was behind her cynical
smirk.
It’d taken time and patience but he’d done just that. He’d
gotten to know her, the intelligent, wounded girl who’d so quickly stolen his
heart. He’d trusted her, had told her things he’d never told anyone else. His
doubts about going to law school, how pressured he felt to follow in his
father’s footsteps. He’d thought what they had was real but it was all some sort
of joke on her part.
“Well,” she said, sounding disappointed he wasn’t willing to
pretend everything was okay between them. That he forgave her. “I guess I’ll see
you around sometime.”
He shrugged. Sent her a cool look as he took another sip of his
coffee, the hot liquid scalding the roof of his mouth. “Probably.”
Only way he could figure to avoid it was to never set foot in
Mystic Point.
It might be worth
remembered. Instead of falling to her shoulders, the pale, almost white strands
barely reached her chin now and her thick, straight bangs skimmed her
eyebrows.
She was unique, so different from all the other girls with her
light hair and blue eyes, her lush curves and go-to-hell attitude. She was
beautiful. Smart. Funny and sarcastic and jaded. It was the combination of her
looks and her world-weary attitude—as if she’d seen and done it all and found
each experience boring as hell—that made her seem older. More mature.
Except she was neither. She was sixteen.
He’d kissed her, touched her and she was just a kid, five years
younger than he was, two years too young for him.
When he looked at her, when his stomach tightened with
attraction, he felt like a creep. Like a loser who couldn’t get a girl his own
age or worse, some pedophile preying on young girls. He hadn’t known the truth
about her age until after they were involved. But he knew now. It should be
enough, he thought desperately, her age and the fact that she lied, should be
more than enough reason for him to hate her.
He didn’t. Couldn’t.
Anthony turned away. His movements unsteady, he grabbed his
full cup with too much force and coffee sloshed over the side and burned his
fingers. Swearing under his breath, he jerked his hand back.
Jessica reached for him, frowning in concern. “You okay?”
Wiping his hand on the side of his leg, he stepped back. If she
touched him, he’d be lost. Wrapped up in her again, unable to get her out of his
head when he’d finally, finally, stopped thinking about her every day. Stopped
dreaming about her.
“I’m fine,” he said, more harshly than he’d intended.
She dropped her arm. Swallowed and then licked her lips. “Uh,
are you on fall break?”
“Brandon’s first game is tomorrow.” Anthony dug his wallet out
of his back pocket. “I promised him I’d go.”
“Oh, right. He’s really excited.”
Anthony rubbed his thumb across his wallet with enough force to
wear a hole in the soft leather. Brandon was his cousin, his family. Not hers.
But she’d managed to infiltrate even that part of his life. Ross Taylor, her
uncle and guardian, practically lived with Anthony’s cousin Layne. As long as
Layne and Ross were together, Jess would be there, at Brandon’s games, at family
celebrations and holidays.
“How’s school?” she asked, just like everybody else who didn’t
know what to say to him.
He sipped his coffee, glanced over her head. “Same as
always.”
“Good. That’s…good.”
She paused, looking at him expectantly, but he wasn’t about to
ask her how she was, what she’d been doing lately. She picked up a candy bar and
turned it in her hands.
He’d teased her about the candy bars when they’d first met. Had
flirted and practically begged for her number. He didn’t usually go to so much
effort. If a girl wasn’t interested, he moved on, no harm, no foul. But he’d
seen a vulnerability in her eyes, a softness and hopefulness that intrigued him.
He’d wanted to break down her walls, see who she really was behind her cynical
smirk.
It’d taken time and patience but he’d done just that. He’d
gotten to know her, the intelligent, wounded girl who’d so quickly stolen his
heart. He’d trusted her, had told her things he’d never told anyone else. His
doubts about going to law school, how pressured he felt to follow in his
father’s footsteps. He’d thought what they had was real but it was all some sort
of joke on her part.
“Well,” she said, sounding disappointed he wasn’t willing to
pretend everything was okay between them. That he forgave her. “I guess I’ll see
you around sometime.”
He shrugged. Sent her a cool look as he took another sip of his
coffee, the hot liquid scalding the roof of his mouth. “Probably.”
Only way he could figure to avoid it was to never set foot in
Mystic Point.
It might be worth
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