Page 38 of Jett in Jeopardy

I gripped the door handle, but hesitated before opening it. I’d been right about the snow melting. It was gone now, as if it had never been there at all.

Inside Jett had cleared away the breakfast items I’d left on the counter, and he was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone and watching me warily.

“Hey,” I began, my voice scraping like I hadn’t used it in years. “We need to talk.”

Jett tensed, almost curling into himself. “You want me to go.”

I shook my head. “No, not that. I just… Have you had any luck finding a job?”

Jett frowned. “Not yet, but if you need me to chip in more, I can get money.”

I held up my hand, stopping him. “No, that’s not why I’m asking. I need to hire another server because it’s been so busy with the holidays coming up, and I was thinking you might want the job.”

His eyes widened, a smile lighting his face. My chest ached. “Really? You’d want me to work with you? I worked at a restaurant before, but never at a bar. Don’t worry, I pick things up fast, though.”

“I know you do.” I shoved my fingers through my hair, pushing the tangled strands back from my face. “The thing is, if you work for me, all the other shit we’re doing would have to stop. You could still stay here until we figure out who’s stalking you, but no more sex. You can have the bed. I’ll sleep out here.”

Over the last two weeks, since I’d really gotten to know Jett, I learned there was nothing inscrutable about him. He wore his emotions on his face for everyone to see. So, I saw the flash of hurt, followed by anger tightening his jaw and darkening his eyes.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said, his tone flat. “I’m not an idiot. If you’re done, and you want me to go, you just had to say so. You didn’t need to make up some bullshit job.” He stood up from the couch. “I’ll get my shit and I’ll go.”

Panic suddenly squeezed my chest. “That’s not it. I don’t want you to go, and I think you would dogreatworking at the bar. But when it comes to us, I don’t want either of us to start turning what we’re doing into something it’s not.”

“Believe me,” he said. “I know what this is, what you want from me.”

I hated the way he said that. The uncharacteristic bitterness in his voice. But I also hated that he wasn’t wrong. His words were as true as they were ugly, and I hated myself for it. Unfortunately, I just didn’t have the capacity for more than a casual fuck between friends, and the fact that some 24-year-old college student had me feeling more than that was terrifying.

“I’m sorry,” I said, but what I was apologizing for, I wasn’t sure. For trying to put a wall between us? For hurting him? For not being capable of giving him what he deserved? All three, probably.

“I’m not going to take your job,” Jett said. “If you’re not comfortable with me staying here, I can go. It’s fine. You’ve already done a lot for me, and I appreciate it. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I don’t want you to go. I overreacted, and I’m sorry.” I reached out and cupped his face with one hand. He tensed under my touch, and I felt a little sick. “Can we just forget this conversation ever happened?”

He nodded “Sure.”

“Are we good?”

He flashed me the same fake coy smile used to use before we got to know each other. “I’malwaysgood.”

Chapter Sixteen

Jett

Isatatoneof the tables near the window in the cafe, my hands wrapped around the coffee cup in front of me so I could absorb the warmth through the palms of my hands. From where I sat, I could see the property where our old house used to be. The lot looked bleak and depressing under the dull gray sky. So much had changed over the past six months. Before the fire, things had been good. Now, everything was different, and I felt like I didn’t belong again.

If someone had told me last year, I would be living in Oliver Mackenzie’s house because mine had burned down, likely at the hands of my invisible stalker, I would have thought they were going nuts. Yet, here I was, looking at the empty lot where our house once stood, while I was staying with a man who didn’t want me and trying to figure out who this invisible stalker really was.

Actually, that last bit about staying with a man who didn’t want me was kind of on brand. I probably shouldn’t have been all that surprised.

“Are you okay?” Lana asked, standing next to my table and pulling me from my depressing thoughts. “You look down.”

“Me?” I asked, which must have sounded stupid since I was the only one in the cafe. Between the early morning and lunchtime rush, the cafe was pretty much empty except for me.

“I’m fine. Just warming up,” I told her, nodding at the mostly full cup of coffee in front of me.

“If you want to talk about anything, I’m here,” she offered, giving my shoulder a light squeeze.

I shook my head and lied. “I’m fine, thanks.”

---