CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Jack
This reunion is a train wreck. A colossal train wreck of epic proportions. I knew it would be, but I think even I underestimated how narrow-minded and caught up in the past people can actually be.
The one major plus is that I have Sarah by my side. She looks so fucking gorgeous that when she opened her apartment door, I nearly swallowed my tongue. Sure, she’d told me earlier that she was pulling out all the stops, but hell. She’s wearing this long-sleeve burgundy dress with a hem that ends just above her knee. The top part is nude, and consists of a deep V-neckline which has a lace overlay.
“You’re the most beautiful woman here, Sunshine,” I murmur against her temple before pressing a soft kiss to it.
Her lips twitch with a sexy smirk. “It can’t be because I’m the only one without oversized breasts,” she whispers back.
Tipping my head back, I can’t hold in my laugh at the truth in her observation. It’s as though the bulk of my female classmates had taken advantage of a two-for-one breast implant offer and had gone the “make them as large as possible” route. Many of the women appeared far too top-heavy and unnatural.
Sarah’s lips part in response, but she’s interrupted by a blonde I still recognize even after ten years have passed; Naomi, who pronounces her name “Nay-oh-mee,” Salinas.
Naomi and her high school boyfriend, Timmy Collier, enjoyed making fun of me and the fact that my father—a single dad, struggling to make ends meet—drove a beat-up Honda Civic and normally chauffeured me to and from school each day.
In Saratoga Springs, where it seems everyone has money coming out their ears, my accountant father tried his best to give me what I needed. However, he could never afford the latest fashions, let alone afford to buy me my own car.
I was the stereotypical nerd who had big, thick glasses, wore pants that were always a little too short, and was never great at socializing. I had a paper route for extra money to help at home and often watched our high school’s football games on the local TV station at home on Friday nights. Make no mistake; I was an outcast to the nth degree. The guy who didn’t come from a wealthy family, the guy whose family didn’t own a large business or profitable restaurant in the area. The guy who couldn’t get a girl to look twice at him.
Luckily, that all changed when Ry took me under his wing in college.
Naomi, in a black miniskirt paired with a ridiculously low-cut pink shirt, swoops in and snags me and Sarah approximately thirty seconds after we enter the banquet room where the reunion is being held. This time, however, instead of staring at me with utter disdain, Naomi’s eyeing me like a starving dog eyes a thick, juicy steak.
The moment she catches sight of my name tag is the best, though.
“Hello there, you two. Be sure to sign the—” She abruptly stops once my name registers. Her eyes flicker from the tag to my face, back to the tag, then up to my face as if trying to determine whether it’s a joke.
“Jack Westbrook? Is that really you?”
I muster up a polite smile. “The one and only.”
“Wow,” Naomi remarks slowly. Then she turns to call out to a balding man standing a few feet away. “Honey, get over here and say hi to Jack!” There’s no mistaking the false cheerfulness in her tone.
The guy strolls over with one hand in the pocket of his ill-fitting pants, name tag declaring him “Timmy.” Huh. Why am I not entirely surprised?
His eyes pass over me, landing on Sarah, and I watch with growing irritation as his gaze travels to her chest, pausing for far longer than acceptable before dropping down the rest of her body. When his eyes drift back up her legs, eyes widening in obvious appreciation, and he licks his lips and grins lasciviously, I feel my entire body grow taut. The fierce possessiveness that washes over me is potent.
The fingers of the hand I have at Sarah’s waist flex, and she puts her hand over the top of mine immediately in response.
I reach out my other hand to Timmy, fake smile in place. “Hey, man. Good to see you.”
The man shakes my hand, and I catch sight of the wince, barely able to hide my satisfied smile at the result of my punishing handshake.
“Wait a minute.” It seems Timmy has finally made the connection. Good to see he’s still as sharp as he was in high school. “You’re Jack Westbrook? The one we—”
“Made fun of every chance you got back in high school? Yep.” I release Timmy’s hand.
“Wow.” The other man gapes. “You look different.”
“Doesn’t he, though?” Naomi chimes in. “Who knew you were hiding this handsome guy beneath that horribly dressed nerd?”
I feel Sarah stiffen beside me as I answer in monotone. “Yeah, it’s crazy.”
“Hey, remember that time I stuffed you into a locker freshman year?” Timmy laughs boisterously. “God, that was hilarious.”
Great. Exactly what I wanted to do; take a stroll down memory lane with this asshole.
My voice is flat. “Hilarious.” Shifting my attention—and hopefully the conversation, as well—to Sarah, I introduce her. “This is Sarah Matthews.”
If I’m not mistaken, there’s a glint in her eyes, which means I’m almost certain she’s out for blood.
Time to sit back and watch my woman do her thing.