Page 26 of Beg, Borrow, or Steal

But then that feeling is replaced with an entirely different one when I notice that he turns with me.

Ohmygod.

Is he following me?

Maybe I shouldn’t have flirted so hard with a stranger like that. Oh lord, what if he’s a murderer? What’s the protocol here? Do I keep driving so he doesn’t know my location? But…I don’t get the feeling he’s a creep. Then again maybe I’m once again experiencing the Helmet Effect.

I’m trying to decide what to do as I approach my driveway, but he makes up my mind for me when he suddenly slows way down, dropping back. But then he turns the bike sharply. Right into…Jack’s driveway.

Oh my god, please no. This can’t be what I think it is. Please please please tell me that Jackson is not the man beneath that helmet! Why can’t he just be a serial killer? I’d like to go back to that option, please!

I’m still holding out hope that maybe this is simply someone coming to visit Jack as I steer into my driveway too and we ride parallel to each other up the gravel until we’re both parked. He turns his head, black visor pointed in my direction, and I watch with a sinking feeling as he lifts that damn visor and reveals Jackson’s face.

Son of a bitch.

I’m out of my truck in two seconds flat without even shutting the door. He sees the fury in my eyes and pulls his helmet off while putting down the kickstand and jumping off the bike. I’m around my truck in record time aiming for my house.

“Emily, wait!”

“No!” I yell without looking back at him. I hear him toss his helmet to the ground and rip off his gloves, and then the crunch of gravel as he runs to me. I walk even faster, trying to make it into the house before he can reach me, but I’m out of luck. His long legs eat up the ground, and he’s racing behind me on the stairs.

“Go away, you asshole!”

“Emily, please. Let me—”

“No!” I shove my key into the front door lock and frantically jiggle it, willing it to open on the first try for once. I don’t like change and this sticky lock has always been like a little decadent morsel of familiarity. This is the first time I’ve wished it was a properly functioning lock. “You catfished me! I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

Embarrassment is clawing at me from under the surface of my anger. Jack has done some annoying things, but this is maybe the lowest.

“Yes, I did.” His voice is firm behind me. I feel him at my back. I see his shadow at my feet, and I want to stomp it.

And the key won’t turn in the damn lock! I should have replaced it ages ago. All I want is to get inside my house where I can shut the door in his face. I feel so tricked. So vulnerable.

“Will you turn around, please?” he asks with urgency.

“No. You purposely misled me so you could humiliate me! Congratulations—you accomplished what you wanted.” The lock finally gives way and I sigh with relief as I wrench the door open.

I fly inside and try to immediately shut the door, but his hand catches it before I can, holding it open a few inches. “I didnotset out to humiliate you. I’m sorry if that was the result.”

“What a half-assed apology.”

His eyes burn. “Itwashalf-assed. Because that’s the only part I’m sorry for.”

I laugh once and without humor. “That’s low, Jack, even for you.”

“And I would do it all over again.”

“Thanks. I’ve heard enough.” I try to force the door closed, but he holds it firm, his face leaning closer to catch my gaze through the opening.

“I’m not sorry you thought I was someone else because for once I got a taste of what it’s like to be a person you don’t hate, and I…” He stops, his chest heaving. He seems to think better of whatever he was going to say, but I’ve played enoughJeopardy!to solve the puzzle.He liked it.“I can’t bring myself to regret that.”

He’s breathing heavily but I don’t think I’m breathing at all.

“Please don’t feel embarrassed.” His voice is softening. “There was nothing to be embarrassed about. You were having fun, and…” A sad sort of smile tugs at his mouth. “I had fun too. I’m sorry, Emily. I’m so sorry I humiliated you—thatwas never what I meant to happen.”

“Then whatwasyour intention?”

“When I pulled up behind you, I forgot you didn’t know I owned a bike. And then when you smiled at me so openly, I realized you didn’t know who I was. And I just wanted to see if…” Again he stops, but I’m not sure of how he was going to finish it this time.

---