A woman breezes out of the restaurant, getting our attention. Even the people on the street do a double take. Tall and willowy with honey-colored hair, she struts to us wearing a baby-blue sweater dress and thigh-high heeled boots. In her midtwenties, she checks me out witharched brows as she sweeps over my attire. She sniffs, her nose wrinkling as if I’m a dead fish. She hands over the bags of food to Jasper, and he takes them with an eye roll.
She places her hand on Tuck’s arm possessively and tilts her face up.
“You left me alone to get the food, darling,” she says.
“I assumed you could handle it, Courtney,” he says. “It’s already paid for.”
Her hands brush at his hair, arranging the strands around his face as if she’s done it a million times. “Of course.” She glances at me, then back to him. “I just worry about you chasing after a random stranger. You never know what they’re after. The city is full of crazy people.”
She thinks I’m, what, going to mug him? Rub my stink on him? I’m barely functioning here.
She leans into him. “This girl, who is she? She threw something at you and verbally abused you. She could havehurtyou—or me. Remember Lollipop? Stalkers can be anyone and anywhere.”
I let out a huff. “I’m not a stalker. Hello, I left the restaurant. He followedme.”
“Courtney—” Tuck starts, but I cut him off as I step back from the couple.
“Trust me,” I say with an unladylike grunt. “Your boyfriend is safe from me.”
Tuck scowls at me, takes her elbow, and leads her several feet away from us and back toward the restaurant. They lean their heads together, whispering.
“Forget her,” Jasper says as he sidles up next to me.
“Who is she?”
“His ex. They’ve been on and off, and she’s trying to hook him again.”
“No, I mean where have I seen her?”
He grunts. “She’s the Calvin Klein girl.”
“Oh.” That’s it. I’ve seen her on billboards.
He pauses, peering at me. “Have we met before? It might be Wickham, but I’ve only lived there a few months.”
I shake my head. “You like tattoos? I used to work at East Coast Ink.”
He replies that he’s never been as I glance over at Tuck and Courtney. She’s thrown her arms around his neck, and they’re kissing. My gaze is drawn to him, the golden color of his hair, the breadth of his shoulders ...
He puts a hand on her shoulder, making the arm of his sweatshirt move. A black leather cuff with gold stitching on his wrist catches my eye.
I frown. It reminds me of—
My body stiffens.
Player has a black leather cuff ...
Nah, nah. No freaking way.
Player had longer hair and heavy scruff!
Player is a construction worker in my head. He works with his hands.
Not Tuck.
Still ...
That zap of awareness under the umbrella.