Page 67 of Star-Crossed
Instead of the object of her errant thoughts hard at work, she spotted Cy’s handsome sometimes-employee Jack—tall and well-built, his sandy hair tousled—bent over in front of the store. He vigorously wrestled with the gnarled tree roots that had taken up residence beneath the cobblestone walkway.
“Hey there, Lyra!” he called out cheerfully, wiping sweat from his brow and leaving a streak of soil in its place. His streaked t-shirt clung to him like an enthusiastic groupie, revealing the contours of his I-work-outsidemuscles. “How you holding up?”
It was a question she’d heard a lot lately, and she was getting fucking tired of it.
Of course all of Townsend Harbor knew she’d broken up with an asswad of a fiancé recently, but you’d think the pitying questions would become less prevalent, rather than increasing in frequency.
“Doing, um…doing awesome, Jack, thanks.” She flashed him a grin that she hoped didn’t show too many teeth before gathering up her bag and travel mug of coffee from the car.
“Good to hear!” Wiping his hands on his torn jeans, he loped toward her with all the bright-eyed enthusiasm of a Labrador. “Can I help you carry anything inside?”
“This is all I brought.” She presented her mug and took a sip. “But I appreciate the offer.”
“Of course. I’m here for anything you might need…or want.” His lopsided grin produced attractive lines around blue eyes sparkling with—nope, she wasn’t imagining it—interest.
Like sexual interest.
Uh-oh.
A world did not exist where she flirted with an employee of Cy’s. Or a friend. Or even an amicable associate.
Which…if she thought of it, probably included the entire town.
Ugh.
“Well, um, thanks for your work on the tree situation…” she managed, crunching her heels over the sand and gravel that made its way onto every blacktop this close to the water.
Jack nearly tripped over himself to reach the back entrance to her building and hold it open for her. “You know, the local music store is having their fiddle jam-fest on the balcony at Sirens if you’re feeling well enough to go with me tonight.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed you for a fan of fiddle music.” Lyra didn’t know Jack enough to remember his last name, but she had seen his garage band perform at several local venues, and the vibe was closer toscreamothanstrings.
“Yeah, well, Cy said you’d be into that sort of thing,” he said, looking at his boots, then flicking her a smolder from beneath his lashes. “Mentioned you were a pretty good musician in high school.”
Lyra narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “He did, did he?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light. Her mind churned like butter, a mix of irritation and curiosity. “What else did Cy mention about me?”
“That you were in the market for somethingcasual.” Jack shrugged, clearly oblivious to the storm brewing inside her. “I told him I was—you know—freshly single and looking for a little fun on the rebound. Nothing serious, and he said he knew for a fact you were in the same boat and suggested I should ask you out.”
“Did he now?” Lyra crossed her arms, tapping her foot on the ground. Her heart raced like a caffeinated squirrel, but she reined in her frustration. Frustration that was underscored by hurt she didn’t know how to identify, let alone define.
She forced a polite smile, struggling to hide the sting.
“I thought a lady as pretty as you wouldn’t be solo for long, so I’d better ask tonight… Besides, a fiddle festival is pretty low impact if you’re not feeling up to much.” Jack’s gaze was hopeful and curious, and if Lyra hadn’t been pissed about two entirely separate things, she might have even considered the offer.
“Look, Jack,” she began, then immediately gentled her tone. None of this was the poor guy’s fault. “I appreciate the invitation, but—despite what your boss led you to believe—I’m a little too underwater with everything to see anyone, however casual, at the moment.”
Or ever. In his case.
“Aw, no worries,” Jack replied, his grin unwavering. He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I understand. It’s all good. I’ll just focus on these tree roots and let you get back to your day.”
“Thank you,” Lyra said, softening her tone further. She watched as Jack returned to his battle with the roots, his admittedly impressive biceps flexing rhythmically. It was a sight that could’ve coaxed a blush from a stone statue.
But not from her heart of stone—at least, not today.
As she entered Star-Crossed, her thoughts swirled like the entire cluster of prismatic wind catchers that sprang to life as she rushed past.
What in the everlasting sake of fuck had possessed Cy to send his employee to ask her out? Was he playing some sort of game, or had he simply misread her intentions?
Her heels clicked angrily against the wooden floor, mirroring the rapid-fire beat of her thoughts.
