Jace watched her, and he kept watching. She’d responded to that diversion in exactly the same way he would have. Recognizing it for what it was in a heartbeat, looking for the reason, and dealing with it on the spot. He’d swear, in fact, that she’d made the blonde as soon as she’d walked into the shop. But then, she was a retailer who sold expensive goods small enough to vanish into a bag the moment her back was turned. The awareness probably came with the territory.
Still, though. Still. This woman was heaps more complicated than she’d seemed.
He could have left when the girls had. He could have left anytime since. He hadn’t. Partly because he’d come here to see Lily and he wasn’t done seeing her, and partly because he’d wanted the other bloke to leave first.
People said life wasn’t a competition. They were wrong.
The thin woman, whom he vaguely recognized—around the gym, he thought—was still standing near the register, all but forgotten. As he watched, Lily shook off the harder persona she’d been showing, smiled at her, and said, “I’m sorry. You had something you were saying to me.”
The woman looked rattled, and no wonder. Jace recognized that tactic, too. Classic de-escalation. “If you don’t want to listen,” the woman said after a moment, her anger lowered a notch, “if you don’t care, what else can I say? Maybe I was too… but I can’t see why you don’t get how much it matters to us. It’s like you really don’t care. Like you want us to go under. Why? Why would you want that?”
She looked near tears now, if angry ones, and the other woman, the assistant, made a sympathetic noise, but Lily didn’t. If anything, she stiffened. “Maybe I care,” she said, “but I still don’t want to move from someplace I love, that’s mine. Maybe I don’t like feeling pushed to do it, either. Maybe I think people don’t get what matters to me. And whatever the problem is for you, or for anybody else, maybe there’s another answer to it. Maybe you should look for that.”
The woman gasped. Actually gasped. “Whatever the problem is? Whatever?” She threw up a hand. “Never mind. I’m going. No point. I tried. I can say I tried.”
Jace held the door for her, too. You’d think life in an American small town would be uncomplicated. No gangs, no wars, and a “crime wave” was when a moose started hanging around the school bus stop. He hadn’t counted on the undercurrents.
Now it was just him, the shop assistant, and Lily. Who glanced at him, lifted her chin, and said, “If you’re here to tell me to sell, too, go ahead. I’m ready to go three-for-three.”
She was still dressed soft, although that dress was sexier than anything he’d seen her wearing in the past, what with being able to see straight through it to at least four inches of thigh. Her hair was still golden blonde and wavy, her eyes were still a liquid brown, and her lips were still pink. Looking barely painted, like they came that way. And she still had dimples when she smiled. Soft all the way, except when she wasn’t. There was toughness under those clothes of hers.
He liked brunettes. He always had. Blondes could look too obvious, somehow, even if their color was natural. Shallow of him, he was sure, and unfair, too, but your taste was your taste. So what was going on?
He got the memory then, the kind that came to you out of nowhere. Of a training exercise years ago, storming a squatty cinderblock house with his squad. He’d gone in first, had seen the shadowy figure in black to his left, had fired, and had seen the wall go black even as he’d felt the hard sting as the paintball hit the back of his neck.
He’d fallen, knowing he was dead. He’d done it right, but he was dead all the same.
The instructor had said afterwards, “All the senses. All of them. Not just what you see. So what was that?”
“A mirror,” Jace had said, still feeling the throb of the bruise. “A mirror I should have noticed.”
“Why?”
He’d considered. “The light. Something wrong there. The…” Another pause. “The smell, maybe. The feeling. Can’t tell. Something off.”
“That’s right. Sometimes you know what you’re seeing. Other times, you can’t trust your eyes. You have to feel it. A twitch of your nose, the hair rising at the back of your neck. It’s coming from somewhere, and it keeps you alive. Keeps your mates alive, too. Pay attention to it.”
What confused him now wasn’t that something was wrong. It was that something was right. Her new haircut, maybe. Or maybe that he was paying attention instead of assuming he knew who she was and what she was all about. He’d been looking in the mirror, reacting to what he’d expected to see instead of what was there.
All of that took a couple seconds to process, and then the shop assistant was glancing at him and saying, “I’m sorry, I’ve been ignoring you. May I help you?”
“No, thanks.” When she looked even more curious, he went on, “Stopped in to say hello to Lily and got myself fascinated along the way, you could say.”
Lily looked wary. Again. Still. The assistant, on the other hand, looked decidedly interested. Jace held out a hand to her and said, “Jace Blackstone.” Always good to have an ally.
“Oh,” she said with a little laugh, her plump hand soft in his, “I know who you are. And it’s Hailey.”
“You know who I am?” Bloody hell. He was reclusive. He’d worked at it.
“It’s the accent,” she said. “My daughter’s waited on you at the Red Rooster.” Ah. Jace’s café of choice. “She mentioned that there’s a guy from England who’s always working on his laptop, writing books. That’s you, isn’t it?”
“Australia,” Jace said at the same time Lily did. Jace glanced at her, then back at Hailey, and said, “We don’t sound anything like the same to ourselves, sorry. I didn’t realize your daughter knew I wrote books.”
“You’ll have to move to Missoula if you want to keep that a secret,” Hailey said with a smile, as if Missoula were New York City. “I guess somebody peeked.”
“Oh.” So much for narrowing down his admirer that way, if half the town already knew who he was. But maybe it didn’t matter. It had to be somebody twisted, and most people weren’t twisted. When they were, you could smell it on them if you paid attention. The flatness, like there was nobody home behind their eyes, or the opposite. Too much intensity, that sweaty nervousness that said “IED” or “suicide mission.”
Or it could be something entirely different. Simply a hopeful writer, trying to get Jace’s attention anyway she—he—could? That wasn’t how it had felt, though. It had felt sexual, and it had felt twisted. Of course, the person might have assumed that “sexual” would get his attention, and they probably weren’t wrong.
Time to focus on the mission, on the here-and-now. He told Lily, “You surprised me. With your shoplifter.”
“Is that why you came in?” she asked, halfway between sweet and not. “You sensed an imminent takedown and wanted to observe? Funny, seeing that the girls weren’t even here at the time.”
She always made him want to smile, even as she disconcerted him. Maybe because she disconcerted him. “No,” he said. “I came in because I realized you were telling the truth about hurting your hand and your leg. And probably because I liked watching you work out, even though that was more than you should’ve been doing.”
“You realized I was telling the truth? And you’re giving me your opinion on my workout plan?”
Those brown eyes weren’t soft anymore, and he thought back over what he’d said. What had been wrong with it? It was the truth. Caroline had said, during that final disastrous week, that he didn’t share, that he shut down. Which was probably true, but he was sharing now, and this was what he copped? What was the point, then? “What?” he said. “I’d never seen you in the gym before, and I was interested. And no, I wasn’t going to tell you not to strain muscles you’d already strained, even though I’d have been right to say it.”
Wait. There was no way that sounded better. Especially that last bit. Lily seemed to agree, because she said too-sweetly, “It’s a good thing you’ve told me now. Thank you. I might not know what to do otherwise. I’m a little slow. Has that approach been working well for you so far with the ladies?” Not quite so sweet now. “I could say something myself, I suppose. Maybe that you rowed for too long. That you already ran this morning, so all you needed was to loosen up before you lifted, if you were only going to work out for half an hour. Would that be helpful? I’m guessing not, and it’s none of my business anyway, so I won’t say it.”
He shouldn’t answer. He should walk out and forget it. Did he do that? Of course not. “You won’t? You just did. And you’re right. I rowed that long because I was watching you. Reckon you know that, too. But I was right as well. You were wrenching those muscles. Doing no favors to your ligaments, either. You were limping before, and you’re limping worse now, and it hurts. Fitness is all good, and good on ya for starting a program, but what you need today is RICE. Rest, ice—”
“I know what RICE is.” There was a spot of color in each cheek, and however cool she’d been while dealing with everything else, however soft she’d looked every single time he’d seen her before today, she’d lost all of it with him. As if he’d been looking into that mirror, but today, he’d whirled in time to see the real thing. “And I know what my body needs, too. So thank you for milking my goats this morning. I appreciate it. I’ll be better tomorrow, and I’ll take care of it. Feel free to walk around the store, though, as you’re here. And to comment on my choice of profession, of course, and what it says about me. That can’t be far behind.”
The assistant, Hailey, literally had her mouth open like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Jace may have been a bit gobsmacked himself, and getting hot, too, but as he stared at Lily, at the way she was poised in those heels, bad leg or no, as if she were about to jump him, something changed. His grin started slow, and then it grew.
“Well, bugger me blind,” he said. “That was good. You’ve got me well and truly backed into a corner. Can’t have a casual wander round, buy a present for my mum, and chat you up. Can’t storm out, and definitely can’t kiss you. I’m trying to think of another option, and I’m not coming up with a thing. I could use some help here.”
She froze. One second. Two. And then he saw it. A softening in her shoulders, and he thought those dimples might be trying to turn up. She said, “I could have gone a little far myself. It hasn’t been my easiest day. You could apologize. We could try that.”
“We could.” He picked up her left hand, the uninjured one. Her nails were shorter than he’d have expected, but painted a pretty, pale blue-gray. He liked it. She tensed again at his touch, but not in the same way as before. Like what she felt surprised her, and maybe like everything else had faded away. Exactly as it had for him. He looked down—a good long way down, and he liked that, too—into those brown eyes, and said, “I apologize. Could be I’m not at my best with fierce, pretty women, much as I like them. Or I could say that better, too. Could be I’m not at my best with you. Could be you’ve crossed my wires.” And then, because he had her hand, and it was soft, but it was strong, too, he lifted it higher and kissed the back of it. A thing he’d never done in his life.
A moment where they both hung there, suspended, as if they were floating in a bubble. Then the bells on the door chimed behind him, and the moment was gone. He lowered her hand, let her go with some effort, and said, “Tobias and I will be by in the morning, ready and willing to help with your goats. If you don’t want us, you can tell us so.”
He nodded at the two thirty-something women—too glossy to be anything but tourists—who’d come into the shop. They looked back at him with all the interest Lily hadn’t shown, like his recent grooming worked for them. He thought, You could be doing this easier, mate.
Pity he’d never wanted easy.