Page 39 of Yes No Maybe

I feign disappointment. “Aw, I like cordially volatile.”

Her soft giggle is downright addictive.

“Jack, you should visit her class.” Tom draws our attention back to the group to find them all staring at us—I’d forgotten they were there. “If Rowan’s students will be reading contemporary novels, then wouldn’t they want to meet a contemporary author?”

“A best-selling one at that!” Marcy says. “They’d love you!”

Rowan’s eyes light up again as her gaze lands on me.

Shit.

“Oh, do it, Jack. It’s not really a public appearance. More like community service,” Rose argues.

“It would mean a lot to the kids… and me,” she says.

“Fine.”

The table erupts with cheers. Rowan practically beams. There’s no getting out of it.

Rowan looks puzzled. “Why do you hate public appearances?”

“I’m lucky enough not to have to sell myself in the media. People appreciate the mystery. Besides, I cuss too much for TV interviews, and book signings are overwhelming.”

“Too many women hitting on him at once,” Marcy laughs.

“Well, he won’t have that problem at school… I hope. I’ll make sure it’s low-key.”

“Then, I’m in your hands,” I say, flashing a coy grin.

Her cheeks turn pink, and it feels like another win.

Damn.

Thirteen

Rowan

WalkinghomefromJack’splace, I feel befuddled. The same man I slammed the door on after the oyster roast is now something like a friend. How did that happen?

His book certainly altered my opinion of contemporary romance novels, but that’s not why I’m warming up to him.

I smile over his charm with Mom. Hearing her say she believes in love again thanks to his books fills me with gratitude. I never wanted her to stop believing in love, but she hasn’t dated since my injury, perhaps in solidarity with me. It’s amazing to see her so hopeful… and giggly.

Besides that, he charmed me, too. His intense focus on my thoughts about his book sent tingles down my spine—I still feel them like tiny aftershocks. Jack-shocks. Jack-tingles. Ugh. I don’t know what to call them, but neither should’ve happened. He shouldn’t care about my opinion—the world loves him. Still, his touch, his rapt attention, his eyes burrowing into mine, I felt valued in a way that I haven’t in ages. It’s beautifully strange to think I might matter to him.

Equally exhilarating and scary is our deal. It forced a mental debate with two drastically different sides. I thought of Trent and how open I was with him, just for it to be used against me in his wicked manipulations. On the flip side, Dean knows so little about my past that it’s almost laughable, and it’s only hurt us for the added distance it’s caused.

But neither applies to Jack—it’s literature, not love. A simple favor between neighbors. He’s a hot book nerd and author, soof course, I’ll have Jack-tingle-shocks on occasion. But I’m aware of the fleeting nature of such things and entirely capable of ignoring them.

Weeks go by, and not much changes.

At random, Jack pops over with a bottle of wine. He’s a Magic 8-Ball of questions, seeming to snatch them from a cluttered, nonsensical list. A benign list—I’m grateful to discover.

Why do women apologize so much?

What clubs were you in in high school?

How many places have you lived?

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