Page 22 of Hot for the Jerk

What the fuck was wrong with me?

Thankfully—maybe?—he didn’t seem to mind.Nor did he tease me mercilessly for my out of the blue compliment.He probably would later though.However—in my vulnerable, sad, sockless state—he took pity on me, and even went so far as to compliment my feet too.It only made the mortification slightly less debilitating.But it was enough that I was able to peel my sad sack of a sockless body out into the bedroom and consciously avoid making eye contact with him as I donned my jacket and slid my bare feet into my Blundstones.They were still a little damp from yesterday and my toes squished and squidged against the insoles, making me cringe.

“We’ll take my car,” I said as we exited the B&B, feigning nonchalance and confidence I absolutely did not possess.“You have that massive cube truck to try to navigate.”

For once, Jagger didn’t disagree with me, and with just a nod, he made his way around the SUV to the passenger door.“You ever been to Wayman Island before?”he asked, buckling himself in.

I shook my head.“No.You?”

“Loads of times.There are two restaurants, one grocery store that also sells liquor, and the cruise-up liquor store down in the marina for boaters.We stock them all with beer.Even sell some to a few hotels and B&Bs.Though, Lenora doesn’t seem to offer booze at her kitschy little establishment.”

“Not too many people drink beer with breakfast,” I pointed out, pressing the “start” button and turning the heat on full blast.

He nodded in agreement, but didn’t say anything.

“Just give me directions,” I said flatly, backing out of the parking space and flipping on the wipers.

“You’ll want to make a right at the first fork, then a left at the three-way.”

My head bobbed and other than him giving me directions, we drove in silence.Silence that was absolutely not companionable.It was silence laden with tension.With frustration.With something unnameable sizzling just beneath the surface.

I was a bitch to Jagger, and when he could have been a jerk back to me, he showed me tenderness—albeitafterhe was a jerk.But he showed me tenderness nonetheless.A voice in the back of my head kept telling me that he wouldn’t actually kick me out of the room, that he was just being a dick.Because even though he was a jerk, deep down, I knew he wasn’t abadguy.I knewbadguys.I knewbadmen.I’d been married to one.My cousins had all been married to them too, and we all got out.Some of us had an easier time than others, but we all managed to escape, with our children, and restart our lives.

Jagger McEvoy might be a pain in the ass, but he wasn’t a walking red flag.I felt safe with him.I knew that sharing a room with him wouldn’t result in me being forced to have sex against my will.Or locked out of the room if I refused.And that little voice in my head that told me he wouldn’t actually kick me out of the room and make me sleep in my car, was also what told me I didn’t need to lock the bathroom door when I retreated in there to cry.

I made a left at the three-way and glanced over at him.He was cleaning his glasses on the hem of his tight, black T-shirt, which subsequently revealed a patch of his midriff in all its chiseled, treasure-trail glory.

The car took a hard swerve because I wasn’t watching the road and I had to overcorrect to get us back in the lane and stop us from going in the ditch.

“Jesus Christ, Elsa,” Jagger said, gripping the “oh shit handle” above him.“What the hell?Eyes on the road!”There was no malice in his voice though, no real threat.If anything, amusement tickled the edges as he slid his blue gaze sideways at me and one corner of his mouth lifted.“You want me to drive?”

“I’m fine,” I muttered, gripping the wheel at ten and two.“Just tell me where to go.”

“You’ll want to take the next left, then the grocery store is up ahead on the right.”He fixed his glasses back on his face and cracked his neck from side to side.

Why, oh why, was that so hot?

Silence settled between us again, as pulsating and tenuous as before, probably more so now because I nearly spilled us into the ditch while I was too busy ogling his abs.

We reached the mud and pothole riddled gravel parking lot for the tiny Wayman Island grocery store and I found a stall.

Between when we left the B&B and now, the rain and wind had both picked up and the hood of my jacket got blown back the moment I stepped out of the SUV.My twin braids were soaked before we made it to the automatic doors leading into the store.

I shivered in my boots and followed Jagger and his droplet-covered glasses and dripping beard.

“Jagger!”a man behind the checkout greeted with a big smile.

Jagger approached the barrel-chested man with a red beard even lusher than Jaggers, and a long red braid down his back.I didn’t think it was possible, but this man was bigger and taller than Jagger.He looked like a highlander or a ginger Viking.“Malachai, how are you, brother?”The two men shook hands, then hauled each other in for a chest bump-hug, both of them grinning.

“Can’t complain …” He glanced sideways, then brought his voice down.“The missus won’t let me.”His blue eyes crinkled at the corners as twin dimples revealed themselves beneath his thick, rusty beard.“What brings you here?”Then a curious expression filled his gaze.“Wait, how’d you get here anyway?No boats are moving today.Not with this wind.”

“We’ve been here since last night,” Jagger said, glancing at me.“Got stuck on the ferry, then rerouted here when the terminal on San Camanez was damaged.Staying at Octopus Point.”

Malachai’s gaze slid to me and one thick, ruddy brow lifted.

“This is Raina Aaronson.She and her cousins own and run Westhaven Winery on the island.We were both at the Winter Wine and Beer Fest over the weekend.”

I extended my hand, and Malachai took it, then understanding lit up his eyes.“Wait a sec, you’re related to Naomi?”

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