“Valid point.” These words came from the depths of the kitchen, confirming Buster’s status as Jake’s best friend.
“Still, please accept my apology anyway.”
He did that other disturbing thing he’d done in school then: looking at her as if he could read every thought spinning around in her head.
“Accepted. It’s not like I wasn’t prepared anyway.”
“Prepared?” Branna questioned.
“You weren’t up for Miss Congeniality in school, Rosebud, so I figured, unless you’d had a personality transplant, not much had changed.”
“I was fifteen!” Branna literally spluttered out the word. “You show me any kids of that age who are congenial! And, furthermore, I didn’t have the compulsion that you had back then to have everyone fall at my feet. You went through your days flashing that smile at any unsuspecting female, or male for that matter, and being bloody accommodating to everyone but me. It was enough to bring up a person’s lunch!”
Buster’s laughter sounded like a rusty hinge.
“And there was me thinking you hadn’t noticed me in school. Warms my heart to see how wrong I was,” Jake drawled. “And, for the record”—he leaned closer to Branna—“I tried to be accommodating. You just didn’t reciprocate.”
He was deliberately taunting her, and yes, she should laugh and brush it off, but the cold look in his eyes told her that to him there was no humor involved. His mood was dark, and he wasn’t about to sugarcoat anything, especially not to her. In fact, if she got up and left, Branna was fairly certain it would just about make his day.
“Hard to believe the man before me is the same boy I once knew,” Branna said, hitting back at him. She didn’t understand what had happened to Jake McBride, but something had, and it had shaved off all his light edges and replaced them with dark ones. “You sure grew up different from what I imagined.”
“Well, I guess shit happens to all of us, Rosebud, even the golden boys.”
He was angry, even though his voice sounded like he was messing with her, and it wasn’t recent anger either. This was deep-seated. Branna understood what she was seeing in him, because she’d battled it for years herself.
“I never said I thought of you as a golden boy.”
“It was implied.”
“Like hell,” Branna snapped.
“Well, at least you stayed the same. Belligerent, rude, and you still got that flower-child look going.” Shards of black ice ran over her from top to bottom as he took in her loose flowing top, faded cutoffs, and leather sandals.
Branna had taken years to put the emotions from her past in a place that could no longer hurt her, but looking at this man, she felt them return; she felt the helpless anger and confusion of her time at Howling resurface. Swallowing a large mouthful of coffee, she took a few seconds to get herself back under control. There was no way she would allow Jake McBride to provoke that kind of reaction in her again… ever.
“Listen, McBride, I think we’ve established we weren’t buddies in school, and I’m fairly confident that’s not going to change any time soon, even with your new hot, bad boy, ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude.” Branna kept her voice level. “So, here’s the thing, thanks for looking after my head and putting on the polite act that day, but in the interest of us both finding some peace in this town, how about we agree to stay the hell away from each other?”
“And there was me thinking we were hitting it off just fine.”
His lazy smile made her hands twitch to slap him. Pushing back her chair instead, she walked out of the café without another word.
Jake watchedthe door close behind Branna, then slowly took another bite of his pie. The action was a reflex, and the pie that he loved so much now tasted like dust. His eyes followed her long, angry strides along the path until she disappeared from his sight.
When had he become an asshole?
“That went well.” Buster sat in the seat Branna had just left.
“Not one of my finest moments,” Jake said. “She used to annoy me in school, and it looks like not much has changed, especially as I’ve lost my ability to sugarcoat things.”
“The thing is, Jake, I like her. She’s sure not a talker, and when she comes in here, we’ve not passed more than a few words, but she’s a comfortable person, and I don’t want to see her hurt, especially as it’s my belief that girl has suffered a whole world of hurt already.”
“Jesus, did you just string an entire sentence together unprovoked?”
Buster’s look told Jake he knew that he was deflecting the conversation away from himself.
“You’re going through shit, Jake, but you have the support of your friends and family to help you through the hell you’re battling. That little girl has no one and never did have.” Buster’s eyes were somber as he looked at Jake. “Her daddy, according to my Aunt Vi, was a cold, unfeeling asshole, and if memory serves, Branna O’Donnell only had Annabelle and Georgie as friends, while you pretty much claimed everyone else in Howling.”
Jake ran a hand over his face as shame washed over him. Not many people could pull emotion out of him these days, but Buster was one of them. He didn’t push or smother him, and usually when he spoke, Buster made a lot of sense, like now.
