Page 8 of Entangled

“And what the hell is a girl from LA doing in Landing Point?” he asks, open curiosity filling his face.

I briefly consider lying to him before discarding the idea and letting out a weary sigh of resignation to my fate. Unfortunately for me, if any of the Netflix shows about small towns I’ve watched are correct… The entire town of Landing Point will know a Delacroix is back in town by the lights on at my gram’s place before my head hits the pillow tonight. Plus, withholding information from a guy I met in a bar didn’t turn out so well for me last time.

“Looking for the answers to secrets that are probably better left buried for questions that should never be asked,” I finally tell him, noting the way his eyes brim with curiosity at my response. I can practically see him turn each of my words over in his head before he responds.

“That sounds a little dark for a coed, Blondie.”

A humorless laugh escapes me. “You have no idea.”

“So you’re going to be in town for a while then?”

I give a half shrug. “As long as it takes to get the answers I’m looking for, I guess.”

“Well, in that case.” He grins wickedly, holding a hand out across the bar to me. “Jace Dawson, at your service. Hopefully that is.”

My lips twitch up at his ridiculous charm and I pause for just a moment, relishing the moment, the spark in his eyes. There’s a good chance that once he learns who I am, he won’t be quite so interested anymore… but I don’t shy away from the judgments of others. Even after everything last summer, that part of me has remained the same.

“Eleanor Delacroix,” I tell him confidently, raising my hand to his. “But the people I actually like call me El.”

I see the moment he puts two and two together. The shift in his open expression from playful to shocked. His eyes roam over my face, searching every corner of it as if he’s looking for something he lost. But when his gaze finally returns to mine, I find nothing but warm affection in it.

Huh. Maybe he really does shit unicorns.

“Well then.” He clears his throat. “You’re definitely a little more than just a coed.”

A genuine laugh bursts from me at his response and I feel the eyes of a few nearby patrons land on us.

“Just a bit,” I tease, not pulling my hand from his despite the fact that this handshake has stretched far past the point of what’s socially acceptable.

“I’m sorry.” He cringes as his thumb begins to lightly brush over the back of my hand in a soothing gesture. “That was rude of me.”

“Not nearly as rude as I’ve encountered before,” I tell him honestly, amused at watching his charm momentarily falter.

“Jace!” a harsh voice calls from the other end of the bar, jolting us both and causing our hands to drop away from one another. I turn my head to see the middle-aged bartender tapping the watch on her wrist with a firm expression. “Quit your flirtin’ and get up on that stage before we have a riot on our hands, boy! It’s damn near nine o’clock.”

“Stage?” I cock a brow in question as the man in question groans. There are few things I love more than a good live performance.

“Yeah.” He sighs. “I got up once like five years ago on my twenty-first birthday and ever since then they’ve insisted it’s a weekend tradition whenever I’m in town. Which, for the past few years, has been pretty much every weekend.”

“You must be good then.”

“I’m not bad,” he admits with a small grin.

“You must be really good then.” I roll my eyes at him, calling him out on his bullshit.

His eyes turn playful and he grabs the vodka bottle to pour me another shot.

“I’ll make you a deal then.” He slides the shot to me from across the bar. Charm back in full force. “Stay, watch me play and afterward I’ll let you be the judge of just how good I am.”

I narrow my eyes at him and pause in faux consideration just to keep him on his toes.

Surprise though… I’m definitely staying.

He just launched himself right through the stratosphere with that music bit in my book.

“I’ll even sweeten the pot,” he barters, leaning toward me across the bar again. On the edge of invading my personal space again and drenching the air with his sea and spring scent. “You can pick the first song.”

I meet his firework eyes and smirk. “And where would be the fun in that?” I muse, cocking my head to the side. “No, I think I’ll let you decide.”

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