understand that the name Amy Wilson came with built-in context. “You might want to be careful expressing that opinion,” she replied. “Because Rhys has definitely got his eye on your sister.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like him. I’m just saying that you deserve someone who wants to be with you. Only you. Who can’t go on another day without you. Now, are you going to come out of there or not?”
Amy’s heart gave an odd thump. What Jack was cavalierly explaining was something she’d felt deep down for a long, long time. She’d always believed it—true love—was out there. She’d kept faith that not all guys were losers and deadbeats like her dad. That faith was what kept her from swearing off men. What kept her hoping each time she went on a date. Somewhere out there was someone who would care about her enough to stay.
Problem was, she was starting to think that true love existed all right—but just not for her. That she was somehow inherently flawed. There had to be some reason why things never worked out...why all the princes turned out to be frogs. Every relationship attempt had been a disaster. And through it all she’d smiled and tried to pretend it was no big deal. Tried to hide her hurt feelings by moving on....
God, that sounded so desperate.
“I’ll come out,” she conceded. She stood up and smoothed her dress, a little black number that skimmed her curves and made her feel pretty. Or at least it had. She gave her hair a shake, pasted on a smile. Then and only then did she click back the latch and open the door.
Jack was waiting, looking ridiculously handsome in his tuxedo and boots, the footwear a concession made to a wedding party filled with cowboys. Not a hair on his head was out of place. Jack’s features were nearly perfect, except for a small scar just in front of his right ear. He was, she realized, quite dreamy. Except she was giving up all the dreamy nonsense. Especially since Jack was a “here today, gone tomorrow” guy. As soon as the wedding was over it was back to the United States for him, back to running his empire.
“Put some cold water on your face. Touch up your makeup.”
She curled her lip at him, taken aback by the blunt orders. “My, aren’t we the bossy one.”
He shrugged as if he didn’t care at all what she thought. “You want to go back out there looking like that?” He pointed at the mirror.
She took a look at herself and frowned. Her eyes were rimmed red, and a bit of mascara had run, leaving black smudges around her lids. Plus she’d either licked or bitten off any remnants of her lipstick.
“Okay, good point.” She pulled a piece of paper towel out of the dispenser and turned on the cold water. Jack waited while she dabbed at her eyes, then made short work with a bit of concealer, a touch of mascara and a fresh swipe of gloss across her lips. Not quite flawless, but better.
She turned away from the mirror and faced him. “How’s that?”
“Much better.”
“Okay. Now I’ll go get my coat.”
“Really? You’re seriously going to run away?”
She raised an eyebrow. What else did he expect her to do? Right now all she wanted was a pint of chocolate fudge ice cream and her fuzzy pajamas. “Yeah, I am. Because I’m sick and tired of being the butt of everyone’s...whatever in this town.”
“Isn’t that a bit overstated?” He gave her a lopsided grin, looking absurdly boyish as he did so.
“Not a bit. I know what people say about me. I can do without a repeat tonight. What Rhys said was quite enough, thanks.”
Jack rested his hip on the edge of the counter. “Okay, so help me out here. I don’t get it. You’re nice, and funny, and pretty easy on the eyes,” he said. “Why the gossip?”
She looked away from his intense gaze, touched once more by his compliments. He’d just said she was pretty. Or at least...attractive. “I just don’t have a good dating track record. And this damned town is too small. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. You screw up once and they remember it forever.” And sure, she’d screwed up more than once, but had she ever done anything so very bad? No. Still, she was Mary Wilson’s daughter. Like mother like daughter, the gossipmongers said.
He nodded. “So every date, every failed relationship, every everything is cataloged and talked about?”
She felt her cheeks heat. “In the past I haven’t always been...ahem...as discreet as I should have been with my love-life woes.”
“You’re very self-aware.”
Somehow she got the feeling he was teasing her. “I can admit when I make a mistake. For example, I dated Sam Diamond for a while. You’ve met Sam.” Sam was also in the wedding party, along with his brother Tyson. Everyone in Cadence Creek knew Sam Diamond. He headed up Diamondback Ranch now. He was confident and successful and now married to Angela Beck. Even when they’d been dating, Amy had felt he was out of her league.
“Slight age difference?”
She blushed again. “We were both adults. Anyway, when he broke it off I wasn’t exactly complimentary about his, er, behavior. I’ve grown up a bit since then. Doesn’t matter, though. I’m painted with a certain brush and that’s how I’ll always be seen. It’s pathetic, really.”
“And so you rush off to public bathrooms when your feelings get hurt.”
She zipped up her little purse and avoided his eyes. “Ouch, Jack. And I thought you were here to help.”
“I am. All I’m saying is that you running in here caused a different sort of scene that put the focus on you and not Rhys.”
It bugged her that he was constantly right.
“So what’s your brilliant solution?”
He smiled and leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. “The moment I leave this bathroom people are going to think...” He let the thought hang, but it didn’t take her long to understand his meaning. They would think that the two of them were locked in there together, doing God knows what.
Her cheeks heated. They would think that she and Jack...that they were... As if her reputation weren’t tarnished enough! She pulled back, putting several more inches between them. “Oh, God. They are, aren’t they?”
“There’s not exactly a back exit or a window to crawl through.”
To illustrate his point, the door rattled, and a muffled voice outside said, “It’s locked.”
“Why did you have to come in here?” She paced in front of the mirror. “I could have just licked my wounds and snuck away.” That was her usual M.O., after all.
“Because I was worried about you.”
His answer stopped her short. When had anyone really cared about her feelings? “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Why should you care? You hardly know me.”
He nodded. “That’s true. But the few times we’ve been thrown together over the past few weeks,
