Page 82 of Capri

“Hey, man. I’m Noah,” Noah interrupts, offering Jones a handshake.

Jones pauses, now noticing the man to my left before extending a hand. “Jones Archer.”

He takes a seat to my right and continues where we left off. “Been coming here for years,” Jones says and orders himself a beer from the bartender. “Need a refill?” he asks me.

I shake my head. “No, thank you. Wait, have you always lived here?”

“Grew up here. When my father started Archer Chartering in Italy, we traveled more, but Timber Heights has always been our home base. It’s where my mom grew up.”

That’s wild. Jones and I have essentially lived in the same small town for most of our lives and never crossed paths. It only took traveling across the world for us to meet.

Add in the coincidence of the number of times we’ve run into each other lately.

It seems important that people are placed in our lives at the time we least expect it. Who am I to argue with fate?

“I can’t believe we’ve lived in the same city all this time.”

“It’s a small town. But to be fair, I’ve only lived here for three months out of the year in the last ten. You were what, sixteen?”

I smack him playfully. “Your age is showing, old man.”

“Jones!” Collie charges us, securing him in a big hug. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” She looks around our section of the bar. “You here alone?”

Jones nods. “Yeah, just me. Bruce and I go way back,” he says, nodding to the bartender.

“Well, damn,” Collie gasps. “You know Bruce, too? It’s as if it were meant to be.” She winks at me a little too dramatically, her point relayed clearly.

“You do karaoke, Jones?” Noah asks, placing his hand on my thigh.

What is he doing?

Jones doesn’t miss it. His eyes dart to Noah’s hand on my bare skin, and I hear his breathing intensify. The hand holding his beer clenches tight, threatening to break the glass. Jones stays silent, and I make it a point to slide Noah’s hand off, sending him a look of repulsion.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Jones leaves his seat and exits toward the bathroom.

I waste no time turning to Noah. “What the fuck, Noah?”

He looks surprised by my reaction. “What? Who is that guy anyway, Capri?”

“He’s my friend. Which I thought you were too. Friends don’t mark territories like that, Noah.”

“Capri…I…I…”

“Exactly. I’ve never given you any reason to think we would ever be more than friends. So, don’t piss on me like a goddamn dog.”

He nods in silence, and I take that as my sign to get up.

Time to pick what I’m singing tonight.

I’m almost to the stage, waiting in line to draft my song, when a strong arm pulls me to the side, spinning me to face him.

“Jones? What the hell?”

With my back against the wall, he cages me in. His mouth ghosts the slender curve of my neck, heating my slick skin with his breath.

“Is he the reason?” he exhales deeply.

His large frame leans into me like he can’t get close enough, and my betraying body refuses to fight it. The fire that’s always burning between us is hard to miss.

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