Page 23 of If Tomorrow Never Comes

He shook the thought away, vowing to deal with that bridge when he came to it.

He arrived at his apartment just as unsettled as when he’d left The Patriarch and walked up to the second-floor apartment. His yellow Lab, Hank, immediately jumped on him in greeting before going straight to the leash hanging by the door, tail wagging.

“Need to go out, buddy?” He tossed his wallet and phone on the kitchen table. “A long walk sounds like a good idea.”

Jamie’s mood was still shit the next morning. He hadn’t slept well and sat at his kitchen table for a good half hour, nursing a cup of coffee, before he finally decided he’d better at least let Hank out to pee and run around a bit.

He pulled on athletic shorts, and soon they were weaving between apartment buildings toward the dog park at the center of the complex. The fenced-in area with a section for large dogs and another for small ones was the biggest selling point for this place. That and the running path that circled the large development, giving him a multi-mile loop when he wasn’t in the mood to drive to one of the lakes or trails.

Hank’s pull on the leash strengthened the closer they got, and once Jamie slipped him through the fence and unclipped his leash, he was off like a shot toward a group of dogs in the corner. Jamie propped his arms on the fence and grinned. It was impossible to be in a bad mood while watching dogs play.

When he’d run circles to his heart’s content, Hank loped back to Jamie, and they made their way back across the grass. A mere ten yards from the dog park, Hank paused and plopped down onto the grass, panting happily with his tongue lolling from his mouth.

Jamie arched a brow. “It’s a lie-in-the-sun day, huh? Fine. But just for ten minutes, okay? We’ve gotta run some errands later.”

Jamie sat down beside Hank, propping his forearms across his raised knees. He took a deep breath of the fresh morning air and exhaled, his gaze aimlessly passing around the apartment buildings bordering the park.

That’s when he saw her.

On a second floor balcony, not ten yards from where he sat, stood Elliott.

She didn’t return his shocked stare, so she didn’t appear to have seen him. Her hair was pulled up into a tiny, messy ponytail, not something she’d have been able to do the last time he saw her, and she brushed away a few strands that had escaped in the breeze. She wore a white tank top and jeans, her slender arms resting on the railing. Her face angled toward the sun, and she closed her eyes for a beat, a small smile spread across her lips.

Unbidden, his brain conjured her scent that had surrounded him last night, and the subsequent crackle in his chest made him uneasy. He was in a committed relationship and had never been even remotely tempted by another woman when he had a girlfriend. He’d always figured if he was, something wasn’t right.

He wasn’t so susceptible that a single reunion with Elliott made him question what he had with Carly, but that tug beneath his sternum, plusthe lingering lie he’d told about not knowing Elliott, turned over like hot stones in his gut.

As if he’d called out her name, her eyes suddenly popped open, and her gaze collided with his.

Shit.It had just been a few seconds, but it probably looked like he’d been sitting here staring at her like a total creeper. Reflexively he dropped his attention to the ground, but that made it even worse. He looked back up at her, his face heating, and raised a single hand in an awkward wave.

She straightened, blinking, and though he was a little far away to be sure, her brow furrowed. “Jamie?”

Hank lifted his head at her voice.

“That’s me,” came out of his mouth, like a complete dumbass.

She said something just as a cacophony of barking chorused from the park, and she repeated herself, louder. “Do ... do you live here?”

“Yeah.” He stood and jerked a thumb behind him. “On the other side, but I bring my dog here all the time.”

“Oh. I do, too. Live here, I mean. Obviously?” It came out like a question, and she rolled her lips between her teeth as if telling herself to stop talking.

They regarded each other in silence for a beat, and he wished for something else to say. He hadn’t expected to see her again so soon, and definitely hadn’t expected to practically be neighbors. There were things he wanted to tell her—things best said without a group of friends or strangers around to overhear.

Should he, though? Was there any point in clearing the air, or was it best to leave her thinking the worst of him, which might encourage her to keep her distance?

A beat of silence stretched for what felt like minutes, and she removed her hands from the railing and took a step back, as if to head back into her apartment.

“Can we talk?” he blurted. “Could you, I mean ... Do you mind coming down for a minute?”

Her eyes shifted to the sidewalk. “Okay.”

Jamie shifted on his feet while he waited, folding his arms and then thinking better of it, eventually sliding his hands in his pockets. Hank, still panting on the bright-green grass, eyed him with curiosity. Or maybe it was pity.

A few minutes later, she appeared around the corner and walked toward them. As soon as Hank realized she was headed his way, he leaped up and took off in her direction. Jamie barely reacted in enough time to grip the leash and avoid his dog bowling her over. He tugged Hank back a few steps, his spinning tail now swatting Jamie on the legs.

She crouched down on her knees and scratched Hank’s ears, grinning, and Jamie had never been happier to have this dog as a buffer. “Well, hi.”

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