Read Online Smooth Talking Stranger by Lisa Kleypas - Free Book Online Page B

gaze at me.
    I made a face, disliking the implication of arrogance in that. “I would never claim to know all the answers. I just want to help other people find answers, if possible.”
    We talked about my column, and then discovered that we had both graduated from UT, although Jack’s class had been six years ahead of mine. We also found that we shared an appreciation for Austin jazz.
    “I used to go listen to the Crying Monkeys whenever they played the Elephant Room,” Jack said, referring to the famous basement room on
Congress Street
, where some of the top musicians in the world performed. “My friends and I would sit there for hours, taking in that easy-sprawl jazz and drinking straight Jim Beam . . .”
    “And picking up women left and right.”
    His mouth tightened. “I date a lot of women. But I don’t have sex with everyone I go out with.”
    “That’s a relief,” I said. “Because if you did, you should probably get more than your inner cheek cells tested at the doctor’s office.”
    “I have other interests besides chasing women.”
    “Yes, I know. You also chase terrified deer.”
    “And again, for the record, I did not sleep with your sister.”
    I sent him a skeptical look. “She said you did. Your word against hers. And you wouldn’t be the first guy to duck and dodge a situation like this.”
    “She wouldn’t be the first woman to lie about who knocked her up.”
    “You took her out. You can’t deny that you were interested in her.”
    “Sure, I was interested. At first. But five minutes after the date started, I knew I wasn’t going to sleep with her. There were warning signals.”
    “Such as?”
    His gaze turned contemplative. “It was like she was trying too hard. Laughing too loud. Constantly nervous. The questions and answers didn’t connect.”
    I understood what he was trying to express. “Hyper-vigilant,” I said. “Manic. Like any little thing might make her jump out of her skin. Like she was always trying to think two steps ahead.”
    “Exactly.”
    I nodded as I sorted through memories that were never far below the surface. “It’s because of how we were raised. My parents divorced when I was five and Tara was three, and after that Dad was out of the picture. So we were left alone with my mother, who makes everyone around her crazy. Explosions. Drama. There was no such thing as a normal day. Living with her all those years trained Tara and me to expect disaster at any moment. We both developed a lot of coping mechanisms, including hyper-vigilance. It’s a hard habit to get rid of.”
    Jack watched me intently. “You did, though.”
    “I had a lot of counseling in college. But mostly I’m okay because of Dane. He taught me that living with another person doesn’t have to mean daily chaos and drama. I don’t think Tara has ever had someone stable like Dane in her life.” I nudged my wineglass toward him, and he obligingly refilled it. Staring moodily into the inky depths of cabernet, I continued. “I feel guilty for not staying in touch with her the past couple of years. But I was tired of trying to save her. It was all I could do to save myself.”
    “No one could blame you for that,” he murmured. “You’re not your sister’s keeper. Let it go, Ella.”
    I was puzzled by a sense of connection, of being understood, that made no sense at all. He was a stranger. And I was telling him far too much. I decided I must have been even more tired than I’d thought. I tried to summon a casual smile. “I have to work up my daily quota of guilt over something. Today it might as well be Tara.” Picking up my wine, I took a swallow. “So,” I said, “what’s a guy from a family of financial gurus doing in property management? Are you the black sheep?”
    “No, just the middle sheep. I can’t stand talking about investment strategies, leveraging, buying on margin. . . . None of it interests me. I like building things. Fixing things. I’m a nuts-and-bolts