Page 10 of Hard To Leave

Damn it!

My first thought was,Why did he have to go and look so damn sexy?He was wearing a long sleeve, black Henley that was so tight I could see the shape of his toned muscles underneath, and a pair of light blue designer jeans that looked like they were designed just to torture me.

He grinned as I approached. “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this.” I stuck my arm out, trying to give him back the small business card.

He took a sip of his coffee and studied me. “Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t date customers. I apologize if I had you thinking otherwise.”

He looked at me as if he could see right through my bullshit. “Fine, then I’ll stop eating here. Now I’m not a customer. Problem solved.”

I closed my eyes. I didn’t need his playfulness this morning. Not when I was trying hard to stay composed and in control.

“I’m sorry Jack, but I don’t want your number. You seem like a nice guy and all, but my answer is still no.”

I told myself that this was for the best, but by the way his eyes raked over me, it didn’t feel that way at all.

“Is this because of last night?”

“Kind of,” I told him honestly. “I’m not your type of girl.”

“Really? What exactly is my type?” he asked, knowing I didn’t have the guts to answer him.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.” His stare was taunting me to the point of weakness, and all I wanted to do was shake off these unwanted feelings. “I don’t know what your type is, but I know it’s not me.”

Jack Jenson was nothing more than a rich playboy. As charming as he was, I had nothing to offer him, and as far as I was concerned, I was doing us both a favor.

After watching him last night at the bar, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy in my stomach every time I glanced over at his date. I wanted to ask him if he went home with her or if he planned on seeing her again. Which was crazy, because I barely knew him. We weren’t friends. Hell, I had only met him twice, but there was a connection there that I couldn’t deny. And it bugged me that I spent the whole night thinking about him when he was giving his time to someone else.

He sat back in his seat—his broad chest and thick biceps practically took up the entire space. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

“I’m sorry, the answer is still no.” He watched me closely. My body felt trapped in a strange limbo. I was torn between giving in and running as far away from this man as I could. “Kristen can take your order if you still want to stay.” I forced a smile and walked away to get ready for my shift.

This was for the best, I reminded myself.

By the time I made it to my locker, I was perplexed. Jack made me nervous. My life needed too much focus and structure to let a man like Jack Jenson rattle it. He probably swept through bedrooms like Santa dropped presents off on Christmas Eve. He was all about the challenge. Men like him only wanted things they couldn’t have. If I were a little younger, with less responsibility, I might have entertained the idea. But that wasn’t my reality.

I was a twenty-six-year-old single mom, with a seven-year-old son, working at a diner in a small town. My free time consisted of cooking, cleaning, and helping Tanner with school work. Jack, on the other hand, had the world at his fingertips. He probably treated it as his own personal playground.

When I walked back out into the dining room, I should have felt relief when I saw that he was gone. Yet, a sense of sadness swept over me. I wondered if I would ever see him again.

My feet moved on autopilot for the next eight hours as I greeted customers and delivered food. I found myself looking at the door every time someone would walk through.

I brought the change to my last customer. “Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

I walked over to the counter and reached for my purse, pulling out my phone. My hands flew over the keyboard, letting Donna know that I would be on my way to pick up Tanner. She was a neighbor who lived on the end of my street and offered to watch him while I worked. It helped that her son Anthony was the same age.

I pushed open the door and walked across the parking lot and stopped dead in my tracks.

Jack was leaning against a Jeep Wrangler that probably cost more than I made in two years. He had his hands shoved in the front pockets of his jeans, and his long legs stretched out in front of him like he didn’t have a care in the world. I bet he never had a moment in his life where he doubted how he looked. Unlike me who stood there staring at him in my wrinkled uniform after coming off an eight-hour shift.

He pushed himself off the jeep. “Hey there.”

“Hello again.” I tried to keep my voice neutral. My heart, however, was thundering in my chest. His blue eyes held mine, almost willing me to look away.

“I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression of me at the bar last night.” I kept my eyes trained on his. Surely he understood flirting with a woman while out on a date with another was not only rude and disrespectful to both women, but a douchebag thing to do.

I played with the strap of my purse around my shoulder, needing something to focus on. “Your personal life is your business, Jack.”

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