I arched a brow at her. “What? You come to the bar to keep tabs on Jack? Does Chris know this?”
She waved off my comment with an airy hand. “In case this news hasn’t hit your radar yet, perhaps it was his grandfather’s illness that caused his change?”
A sigh escaped me. “Denise, I work at the bar, I see—” I broke off, my brow creasing. Yes, women hit on him all the time, but now, I wasn’t so sure. Mostly because I didn’t bother worrying about Jack and his slanks—a phrase Charli had coined while drunk when she tried to say slut and skank at the same time.
“Wait, his grandfather was sick? When was this?” Vaguely, I recalled Ila mentioning something, but when Jack’s name is attached to any conversation, my mind goes on hiatus.
She nodded. “A bad heart attack around Thanksgiving last year. He nearly died, or so the papers said.”
Hmm. About eight months ago, Jack had disappeared from the social and bar scene, and at the time, I’d thought he’d gone overseas to their offices there.
“You’re probably right,” Denise said. “It must be my overworked imagination, with me getting engaged. I know you dislike him.”
“I don’t dislike Jack. I have to be invested in someone to dislike them. He annoys me.”
“Still, that guy is built and damn gorgeous—perfect for a ONS. And those eyes of his…” She grinned. “He’s walking, breathing, sexy sin on two legs.”
“Really?” I glowered at her.
She burst out laughing. “Anyhoo, you going home now?”
“I have work, so…no. Wilbur will just have to wait for our scintillating late-night meeting.”
“I don’t know how you do it with your hectic schedule.” Denise shook her head. “You volunteer at the senior home, work at the bar, go to school doing a double major, and you’re now transcribing notes for that archaic Mr. Evans, who’s probably older than the digs he loves going on. Plus, taking care of Wilbur.”
I laughed. Mr. Evans, archeologist-slash-lecturer at my university, had gone off on another exploration, which worked for me since he paid me to type his notes. “I can’t stay still, so it helps. Besides, school is done for the year, and I have some time.” I shifted my backpack to my other shoulder, ready to hotfoot it when Denise looked behind me and grinned.
“Let me help with that.”
At the unexpected male voice, I pivoted and blinked in surprise as Calum reached for my backpack.
“Nah, I got it.” After last night, I was so sure he wouldn’t bother with me. Before he said anything about Jack and me—questions I wasn’t ready to answer, or wanted to explain to Denise, I said to my smirking friend, “I’ll call you.”
“You do that.” She winked, and I bit back a groan as I headed for the bus stop with Calum on my heels.
“I took a chance you’d be finishing your volunteer job around now,” he said. “Okay, I asked War.” He gave me a disarming grin. “He told me where you’d be.”
“You’re lucky you caught me. I usually leave at four.”
“Good fortune smiles on me again.” His smile grew. I wanted to roll my eyes. “Can I give you a ride somewhere?”
“I’m headed to work.”
“Mulligan’s in the Mission, right?”
I nodded, wishing Jack hadn’t turned up last night, then sighed and accepted that it was my fault.Ishouldn’t have opened my big mouth and told him the truth. But, deep down, I’d wanted to shock him out of his arrogant head. Now the damn kiss—one that still haunted me—had ruined what I was sure would have been a good experience.
“What was all that with you and Griffin?” he asked.
And there it was.
“Nothing.” My fingers tightened on my bag straps. “His best friend is engaged to my sister, so when Max isn’t around, Jack takes on the annoyingly protective role.”
“Right, Max Sinclair and Jack are friends,” Calum murmured, nodding his head. “When can I see you again?” And that cocky smile the camera often caught when he scored a goal appeared.
There was still a chance? I cheered silently.That’ll show you, Jack.
Maybe this would work out in my favor, after all. And that kiss would fade into obscurity. “Yeah, sure.”
