Page 24 of The Quit List
“Exactly.”
“Why?!” I exclaim.
A shrug. “He’s a rescue. Wanted him to know he was in his forever home.”
Well. I’ll be damned, if that isn’t the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.
I give Rick Astley the Rescue Dog one last pet, then straighten to look at his owner, who’s only slightly red-faced at this admission he just made. He’s clearly a lot softer on the inside than his rugged, bearded exterior lets on.
And rugged, it really is.
His black t-shirt isn’t tight, but it hugs his broad chest and strains over his biceps, one of which appears to be decorated with a large tattoo that’s half-covered by the t-shirt sleeve so I can’t work out what it is.
It’s only then that I notice his bare forearms are covered with deep, red, angry scratches.
What on earth?
He looks like he’s been dragged through a holly bush backwards. Twice.
Unfortunately for me, he catches me staring, and in an instant, his bashfulness is gone, and the smirk is back. “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”
“Hmm. Not so much a guard dog then?”
“Hell, I’m the one guarding Rick.”
This makes me laugh.
“So what brings you to the park this afternoon all dressed up?” He changes the topic swiftly, folding his arms to hide the scratches. “Haven’t seen you around Full Moon for the past couple weeks, so I assume you’ve been taking my advice on expanding your dates to other locations?”
I summon what I hope is a flippant smile. “Can’t a girl spend an afternoon alone in the park for fun?”
“Not when she keeps glancing around like she’s expecting someone to show up at any moment.”
I blink at Jax. “How did you?—”
“I saw you from across the park.” His lips twist up a little as he nods towards my bum-numbing bench. “That’s why we came over. Gotta say, you seemed more than a little lost in a place with literal maps and signs all around. I figured you were looking for someone rather than something.”
I peer at him quizzically for a moment. “You really do read people.”
“It’s a skill.”
“It’s a touch creepy.”
Jax bursts out a laugh and I can’t help but notice the tendons in his neck as he throws his head back, his smile wide and genuine. I get the sudden sense that he doesn't laugh like this often, and it makes me feel somewhat warm that I elicited this reaction in him.
“Whatever you say, Holly,” he says. “Guess I read this situation wrong.”
I hesitate for a moment, chewing on my lower lip. And then, for some reason, I say, “Maybe not all wrong. I was expecting someone, a date actually… but I’m not anymore.”
Jax’s expression twitches slightly. “Damn. That sucks. But hey, it happens to the best of us.”
“Has it ever happened to you?” I reply wryly.
“Well, no,” he admits, and for some reason, his laughing expression doesn’t irk me. In fact, it almost makes me want to laugh it off along with him. “Not to me, personally. But I see it happen all the time at the bar. People are assholes, remember?”
I trace my finger around my now-dripping popsicle, lick the strawberry flavor off my fingertip. It doesn’t taste like much of anything. I’m frowning, going back once again—as I have so many times in the last hour—over my conversations with Emmett. “He seemed so interested… he was messaging me tons today. I just don’t get it.”
“I’ll bet he has a girlfriend.”
