Page 24 of His Jersey

Jack’s eyes harden as he comes to an abrupt stop in the sand. “He hurt you?”

“Inadvertently sprained my ring finger when he slammed the door in my face after telling me it was over.”

“I’ll break his face.”

Bark Wahlburger echoes the sentiment with a low growl.

“Since I do my best to avoid him, that won’t be necessary.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?” Jack grinds out.

I balk. “No, absolutely not. I may have fibbed about my name, but that’s the truth. The guy is garbage.”

Jack’s nostrils flare and the muscle in his jaw twitches like he’s about to take out a bag of trash that personally offended him. My heart does a little somersault. I remind myself that although Slater was charming and cunning, flirty and fake, I’m never going to be fooled by a guy again, and certainly not abillionaire. Dating one is off the table. I’ll settle for a union guy, a tradesman, a regular Joe.

I don’t know much about Jack, but if he can afford to come here at least once a year, he does not fit into any of those categories.

However, to distract myself from the way his concern makes my tummy tumble, I add, “And now I’m stuck here.”

“Stuck? Like stuck on Slater?”

“No! Definitely not. Stuck like stranded.”

His eyebrows dip together.

I elaborate then say, “I didn’t ask my friends for help after everything with Slater because they’d both already bailed me out. More than once after the accident. Also, I was ashamed that I didn’t see through Slater and find a better way to earn money and support my father and myself. I’m a Hibbert. We’re resilient, determined, DIY-ers.”

Jack’s expression softens. “Ella, you don’t have to be ashamed of that. Sounds like the guy was a complete con artist. A professional by the sound of it. Probably deceived a lot of women.”

It feels good to ride the truth train, but Jack doesn’t understand. I lower my voice. “It’s just that his father owns this place. The whole island. Probably.”

Jack goes still and his jaw hangs open, then he laughs loudly, clutching his stomach.

“Yeah. It’s really funny. I go from riches to rags. Well, if you count having a thousand dollars in savings as being rich, which many people do, thank you very much.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. I’m just incredulous.”

Feeling vulnerable, I glance around. “Slater is probably on his yacht, spending the winter in Europe. Majorca or something. I’m just trying to get by, send my checks up north forDad’s care, and eventually be able to go home. Not everyone can afford annual trips to a fancy resort in real life.”

Jack takes a steadying breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That wasn’t funny, exactly.”

I’m not quite sure how to gauge his response, but he’s smiling and gestures that we walk toward the harbor.

My mind rushes with everything I just relayed, wondering why he had such a strong, yet odd response when we reach the docks.

Jack taps a code into the entry for the longest one. We walk for what feels like a mile before stopping in front of a very large boat.

My knees turn wobbly. Actually, it’s the same yacht that sailed into the harbor when Slater told me about where he winters and that he couldn’t wait to show me that part of the world. Then, of course, after our fight, he disappeared after I told him I wasn’t about to be the sidepiece of a billionaire playboy, even if access to the money he offered could’ve helped.

Jack leads us around to the aft side and points to the name emblazoned across the back. The dog spins in circles as if we’re going for a ride. To prison, maybe. If Slater finds me here …

Jack points to the yacht and reads the boat’s name painted in blue letters across the stern, “Jack Be Quick.”

I’d better quickly get out of here.

He says, “My mother thought it was befitting for the aluminum-hulled speed demon with twin eighteen hundred horsepower engines and a gas turbine that can reach sixty knots.”

Looking over my shoulder in case security is on its way, I say, “I don’t know what that means.”

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