LEO
I held out my arms, making sure to twist the right one so she wouldn't immediately notice the latticework of scars running across my skin. If only she wasn't wearing sunglasses, because I wanted to see her eyes. I'd never forgotten the way they pierced my hormonal teenage heart.
"Nice tattoos."
Was she being sarcastic?
She dropped a bucket of tools on the sand and slipped her sunglasses atop her head. Her sea-glass green eyes were every bit as flawless as I remembered. My stomach clenched.
"You look amazing."
I immediately regretted blurting those words when I saw the disgust on her face. Or, was it something else? I couldn't tell. With no makeup she was fresh-faced and young-looking—or maybe it was just that I felt old next to her—but her eyes, and the way her mouth quirked into a droop, revealed a hint of sadness. There were dark circles underneath her long bottom eyelashes.
"Thanks." Her eyes skittered around the beach, toward the water, and I noticed she didn't return his compliment. "What...are you doing here?"
"My family's business bought the Daily Bread. I'm opening a bakery here in the next month or so. I've entered the sculpture contest. Thought I'd do a little early advertising while I waited for contractors to do some work."
I studied her as she inhaled a long breath, then exhaled for just as long. She said nothing, so I decided to fill the silence.
"I've been wondering what happened to you."
I hoped to came off as casual, as if it was no big deal that we'd just run into each other on the beach after five years apart. After I'd spent time in hell. After...
She smirked. "Have you, now?"
"Yeah, 'cuz we're practically neighbors. The bakery's only two blocks from your hotel." I flashed her a big grin. "Does your family still own it? I was thinking of stopping by."
Jess nodded, but she still wasn't smiling. "Right. You're a big thinker. Had a lot of plans five years ago if I remember right."
I nervously ran my palm back and forth over my short hair. God, her tone was brittle. I knew we'd have to eventually talk about our past, which meant I'd have to tell her what had happened since we last spoke.
That meant opening up. Revealing secrets.
No. I definitely didn't feel like talking, especially not here or now. Ever since Afghanistan I tried to avoid discussing anything bad or confrontational. I didn't feel like explaining anything to anyone. These days I wanted compromise and smooth conversation.
Hearts and puppies, rainbows and unicorns.
What a joke. Like any of those were appropriate to my shit-show of a life—which was so sad, because Jessica had been the one person in my teenage years that I felt comfortable talking with, maybe because she hadn't gone to my private school back in New Orleans where I never seemed to fit in.
Or because she was a girl and more in touch with her feelings. I'd thought about this over the years, why conversation had been so easy around her. Now that we were adults it sure wasn't.
"It's been that long? Wow. I feel ancient." I barked out a sharp laugh. "I probably look it."
The corner of Jessica's mouth quirked up enough to bring out the dimple in her cheek. I ached to press my lips there.
"A lot has happened since."
"Don't I know it," I muttered, then nodded my head in the direction of her bucket. "You a contestant?"
The smile she tossed my way made my heart flip. "Yeah. I am. In the spot next to yours. Actually, I'm usually the winner. The other business owners don't put too much effort into their sculptures. I'm a little different."
I grinned, glad that we weren't talking about the past. "Really? So I've got competition?"
"I'm afraid so. But I don't expect much out of you. You're from New Orleans. A city boy."
What was that look in her eye? Was she was flirting with me? Was everything forgiven and forgotten? Something inside me soared. God, her voice was so sexy, with just enough of a Southern drawl to make me want to listen to her all day and all night—preferably in bed. It had been so long. For all of it.
I tried to remember if I'd ever told her that I spent summers as a boy on the Florida Panhandle with mom's family, watching and helping sand sculptors at a festival there. "What are you planning on carving?"
"I'm keeping that a secret for now. You?"
"I was thinking of a cluster of starfish. But I'm not sure yet."
Jessica's eyes narrowed, and she pressed her lips together. Had I said something wrong?
Oh. Shit. The first time we were alone together I'd given her a starfish I found on the beach.
"I think we have a lot of catching up to do. Why don't we have dinner together? Or drinks? I'd love to clean up and take you out, baby." I stepped closer. "How's tonight?"
What the hell was I doing? Why I had just called her "baby" like I used to? It was a New Orleans term of endearment that I'd only ever used with her. We'd joked about it when we were kids, and now the word just slipped free.
Dammit. And why had I been so quick to ask her out? This couldn't happen, no matter how much I wanted it. We couldn't happen. I was here to hide. To sort out my life. To make some tough decisions. Definitely not to get back together with my teenage crush.
Jessica pressed her palms together and interwove her fingers hard enough that her knuckles turned white. Her gaze, suddenly rabbit-like and frightened, dropped to the sand, and she bit her bottom lip and shook her head.
"I'm sorry. I...I have to go now. I'll, uh, see you around, okay?"
She grabbed her bucket, turned, and half-walked, half-ran over the sand toward the parking lot.
My heart tore as I watched her leave.
Run. Run far, Jessica Clarke. That's exactly what I deserve.