Page 3 of Secondhand Secrets

A man is not a plan. A man is NOT a plan!

Was it possible for her heart to clench so hard it might actually pop? Either way, maybe it was best to do as her psyche ordered and leave.

But she didn’t want to do that. Didn’t want a man to dictate what she did, ever again. And quick relief came at the stiffening of his smile, as though he read her doubts before pushing his attention from her to the on-field ode to Dean and Sarah.

Crisis averted. New breath refreshed her lungs, and she crossed her arms against any future man-attacks. Since she and Sarah had grown up together and, therefore, knew the same people, maybe this guy was connected to Dean in some way?

“Well, that’s a chilling thought.” Her quip was loud enough to gain a raised brow from Emilia, but Ally gave her a dismissive shrug.

“Right. Well, Blaine and I are leaving to get drinks. Want anything?”

Ally shook her head and went on pondering, her stare pinned to Emilia’s back as she left.

Hopefully this new man differed from Dean in that he had no connection to the Syndicate, a crime ring that kept finding new reasons to unleash terror on Harlow.

But she had to give Dean some credit. He was a bright man. Cautious, too. He wouldn’t allow an active Syndicate member into town. Besides, if stereotypes were in any way true, this new guy looked way too clean-cut for a career criminal. Come to think of it, he was also way too young to be one of Dean’s former army buddies.

“Ally?”

She jolted at the male voice calling her name, only to turn and find Mr. Dreamy squeezing past the people in her row and his undeniably brilliant gaze pinned her way.

Oh, no.

No. No. No!

“Ally Egan, is that you?”

Two

Ally’s heart sank before taking on a wild beat, Mr. Dreamy’s smile growing to reveal two predictably perfect rows of shiny, white teeth. And his eyes. They were hazel. And even more heartbreakingly beautiful up close.

Though her previous self would have literally fallen over at his attention, the hard pounding in her chest told a different story, one conceivably not too dissimilar to the time-halting seconds one experienced before their car hit a pole.

Still, she took a sharp breath and blocked out the crisp scent of cologne wafting from his general direction. “How do you know my name?”

More than the man before her, she wanted to dance at her new ability to maintain an even tone; but then, in a sign this battle wasn’t won yet, the golden flecks in his eyes flared like fanned embers in a low fire.

To add insult to injury, he shuffled past and claimed the empty seat beside her, her mouth drying at his sudden close proximity.

“You don’t recognize me”—the skin at his cheekbones crinkled above his grin, like he held some revolutionary secret—“do you?”

Her insides flipped. Nausea or anticipation? She couldn’t tell. But then, attraction wasn’t clear like that. Not for a quick-to-fall woman like her. A woman now at the center of this gorgeous man’s focus.

Think, girl. Think!

He’s with Sarah… He seems to know you… So, how do YOU know him?

Her heart lost its solid beat, seeming to plunge lower into her body right along with the rest of her insides.

“No.” She shook her head through her splintered and hollow whisper, the inside of her throat suddenly prickly. Maybe she did know him. “No way…”

His soft lines eased some more, a man both concerned and pleased with the outcome of his surprise or, in this case, her shock.

A brittle creak worked its way up her throat before she finally succeeded to speak his name. “Chip?”

His eyes lit up, and he gave a quick nod, forcing her to hastily tuck her trembling bottom lip between her teeth as well as fight the sting behind her eyes.

“Chip?” Her voice pitched upward, the sound akin to a confused parrot. Though he gave a quick laugh, his swift confirmation of his name solidified his identity.

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