Page 6 of Snowflakes Over Starr's Fall
“And will you give me a one-star rating if it is?” Rhonda returned in the same aggressive tone, and Jenna closed her eyes. Rhonda was known for refusing customers service, it was true, but she usually waited until they’d first done something objectionable.
Sensing someone’s gaze on her, Jenna opened her eyes to find Jack Wexler staring right at her, his narrowed gaze like a laser, freezing her in place. Jenna felt as if her heart had stopped beating, the whole world had stopped moving, as they stared straight at each other for several long beats.
Then Jack snapped his gaze back to Rhonda, and Jenna tried to remember how to breathe.
“I don’t think I’ll bother,” Jack replied, his cut-glass tone carrying through the whole diner, and then he turned on his heel and walked out, the door banging behind him.
“Well,” Rhonda announced, like his behavior proved everything she’d thought about him and more.
There were only a handful of customers in The Starr Light, but they were all buzzing with speculation about the scene. Jack Wexler had clearly made his name in the town, and not in a good way. The question was, Jenna wondered morosely, how much of it was her fault?
She didn’t want to be the kind of person who created drama. She’d had enough in her life, heaven knew, and she was trying to keep things on a more even keel, especially since she and Zach had had a falling out. They’d managed to recover their relationship, and Jenna hoped it was on its way to being stronger than ever, but this…? She really didn’t need a Jack Wexler in her life.
Jenna glanced once more at the diner’s door, firmly closed, dusk settling over Main Street. It seemed, she reflected, she didn’t have one. Jack Wexler was nowhere to be seen.
3
Jack strode down Starr’s Fall’s Main Street, his heart pounding with fury as he reflexively clenched and unclenched his fists. It was so obvious what that woman had done back there. She’d gone and badmouthed him to everyone in this town, and all becauseshe’dbeen rude tohim.
All right, he might have been alittlerude to her, but she’d been downright annoying, and she’d deserved that review. Mostly.Maybe.
Jack let out a long breath, doing his best to get his heart rate to slow. God help him, he didn’t needanotherheart attack three months after the first one. And he certainly didn’t need people like Jenna Miller—he’d learned her name when he’d searched the store up online—making his life even more miserable than it already was.
Why had he moved here again? For the rest and relaxation, a chance to recover after losing not just his health, but his business, his life, his whole purpose?
And the trouble was, thatwasn’tan exaggeration, which had been a major part of the problem.
Jack let out another long, low breath as he came to a stop in front of his car. Jenna Miller had nailed that—it was this year’s Porsche Spyder, definitely a boy-toy kind of car, but he’d needed the pick-me-up after his endless hospital stay, and hell, he could afford it. Why not? Although, it had to be said, when parked between a battered sedan and a rusty pickup truck, his flashy convertible was looking a little showy and ridiculous… but so what? He wouldn’t apologize for having made money. Alotof money.
Even if it had nearly killed him.
With a groan, he pressed the key fob, causing the beep of the Porsche unlocking to echo up and down the empty street, its headlights flashing. He slid inside, resting his hands on the leather steering wheel as he took a few more deep breaths. His heart rate was beginning to slow, but now his stomach hurt, both because he was hungry—the food options in Starr’s Fall wereseverelylimited—and because he suspected his damned ulcer was flaring up. Again.
Just another symptom of the high-stress life he’d reveled in for nearly twenty years. All gone, in one literally heart-stopping second, when he’d collapsed in the middle of the most important business meeting of his life, with the biggest and riskiest company he’d ever invested in about to go public. He’d reaped a multimillion-dollar profit, not that he’d been able to enjoy that moment of triumph. He’d been in Beth Israel Hospital, getting a stent put in and fighting for his life.
Sighing, Jack pressed the ignition, and the Porsche roared to life. He wasn’t going to waste another second of his time fuming over Jenna Miller. She’d looked like some kind of crazy cat lady, with her patched overalls and sleeveless plaid shirt, her hair in two long auburn braids like she was sixteen instead of probably pushing forty. Not that she’d looked middle-aged; there had been something youthful about her golden-green eyes, the spattering of freckles across her cheek and nose. And even the overalls hadn’t been able to hide her curvy but athletic figure.
Jeez, why was he thinking like this? Aboutthatwoman? Clearly it had been a while since romance or anything like it had been a possibility in his life, if he was checking out women like Jenna Miller.
Jack pulled away in the car with a pleasingly loud roar, an effectivescrew youto the good people of Starr’s Fall who had already decided to kick him to the curb, although unfortunately he didn’t really have anywhere to go besides home. He’d just bought a three-million-dollar property on Bantam Lake, a few miles outside of town. But from now on he wouldn’t be going into Starr’s Fall; judging from what Jenna Miller had said, Litchfield was more his vibe. Even if it was half an hour away.
But that didn’t solve his problemnow, which was that he was hungry. He wasn’t about to drive all the way to Litchfield, but he did remember passing a pizza place on the edge of town. Pizza was definitely something he wasn’t supposed to eat; his doctor had given him a strict diet to deal with the effects of the ulcer and the heart attack, and Jack had not liked the look of it. It involved a lot of leafy greens and not nearly enough to disguise them with.
Besides, he’d been so good for the last three months, sticking to the boring diet, filtering out every temptation and enjoyment in life. One slice of pizza wasn’t going to kill him. Hopefully.
He pulled into the strip mall outside of Starr’s Fall, noting the two empty storefronts as well as the pizza place, which was a hole-in-the-wall joint with bright halogen lighting and a depressing lack of atmosphere. Hopefully he wouldn’t get food poisoning.
“Wow,” the guy behind the counter greeted him as Jack strode into the place. “Nice ride.”
“Thanks,” Jack said shortly. “I’ll take…” He scanned the offerings and then, feeling reckless, said, “One large pepperoni pizza.”
“Spicy or extra spicy?”
“Spicy, please.” He didn’t have a death wish, despite how much this day had sucked. After his unpleasant encounter at Miller’s Mercantile, he’d visited his mother—always a painful occasion—and then gone for a gentle hike—as per the doctor’s orders—and ended up getting blisters from his new hiking boots. He’d had to hobble his way to The Starr Light, where he’d beenhopingfor a decent meal. Instead his day had gone from bad to worse. Well, maybe the pizza would make it better.
“You on vacation?” the pizza guy asked.
It was a valid assumption, Jack knew, but it still irritated him. “No,” he replied, trying for a reasonable tone. “I live here.”
