Relief sped through me when I slipped out the front door unnoticed, but just as I was about to head for my car in the driveway, I saw someone walking down the street toward a taxi. That dark hair was branded on my mind, and I went after her immediately, calling out her name. “Jacqueline?”
She stopped moving completely, her spine straightening. She turned to face me, obviously shocked to have been caught. I jogged over, wondering why the universe kept putting this woman in my path.
“What are you doing?” I asked when I reached her, desperately trying not to check out how long her legs looked in those heels. “I would have stayed if I knew you were coming.”
“I’m not,” she said flatly. “I was going to, for about a minute, but I changed my mind.”
“Right, so you’re not interested in going inside?”
“No.”
In that moment as we stared at each other, I knew the night could end here. She could get in her cab and I could drive back to my place. But I wasn’t ready to let go of her just yet. “Do you want to grab a drink with me instead? There’s a pretty cool bar a few blocks over. Dark, dingy, and not pretentious at all. So what do you say? Let me buy you a beer?”
CHAPTER 10
JACQUELINE
The bar was exactly what Jesse had promised, dim lighting, booths that looked like they hadn’t been redone since the sixties, and drinks that came out of a bottle or can. No fancy cocktails or elaborate garnishes here.
It felt very American, like I was on a bit of an adventure. It might have been perfect if there wasn’t a Westwood sitting across from me. Jesse and I had been tucked into a booth in the corner for at least an hour, a few drinks in and getting on slightly better than I had expected. He was far from the stuffy Westwoods of my childhood. He had a looseness to him I felt myself drawn to, despite his cursed last name.
Jesse had one arm draped lazily along the back of the booth, the other gesturing as he spoke like he couldn’t physically tell a story without involving his entire body. I’d been surprised to learn that he was loud, animated, and completely unfiltered in a way that felt wildly out of place for a man in his tax bracket. But it was even more of a surprise to have realized there was nothing fake about him.
Jesse Westwood didn’t seem to come with polished edges, nor did he carefully choose his words. He wasn’t ashamed ofanything, letting it all hang out—metaphorically, of course—and looking like he was having a blast doing it.
All of which had made me dreadfully curious to find out more. The cheap liquor we’d been drinking had softened my guard to the point that it was practically nonexistent by now.
“I find it odd that none of them know how to swim,” he said, his words just slightly slurred as we leaned in closer, nearly nose to nose over the table. “I mean, those models spend so much time on yachts and they can’t swim. Do you know how weird that is?”
I laughed, the sound slipping out easily. “It does seem dangerous.”
“I bought a yacht so I could jump off it,” he said, completely straight-faced. “What’s the point if all you’re going to do is sit there, all boring, pretending to be interested in—I don’t know—fashion week?”
I stared at him, the rest of what he’d said instantly fading into the haze of alcohol blanketing my mind, but I couldn’t ignore this part. “You jumped off your yacht? How tall is it?”
“Uh,” he said, pausing just long enough to make it seem like he was genuinely considering the question. “Pretty tall. I did get a concussion.”
“Well, I suppose as long as the experience was worth the concussion, I don’t really see a problem with it, but was it?”
“The first one definitely,” he said as a smirk crossed his full lips. “The other two might’ve been overkill.”
“Three times?” My hand flew to my mouth. “You’re lucky to be alive!”
“I have nine lives. Like a cat.” He grinned, his eyes bright but glassy enough to betray the alcohol. “I have three more to go, I think. I broke my leg in Belize a few years ago falling off an ATV. I rolled down a cliff. It was the most fun I’ve ever had.”
I gasped, horrified and impressed all at once. He absolutelythrivedon whenever he got a reaction like that out of me. I could see how his grin widened every time I gave him exactly what he wanted, either shock, amusement, or disbelief.
The worst part was that I was giving it to him willingly. Because this was fun. Ridiculously, unexpectedly, truly fun. I had almost forgotten what that was like.
“I like to travel too,” I offered, since it seemed only fair to contribute something of equal weight to the discussion, even if my stories leaned slightly less towardnear-death experiencesand more towardunfortunate decision-making in foreign countries.
“Really?” he asked, immediately interested.
Honestly, this guy knew exactly how to make a girl feel special. He had Olympic-level talent at making me feel like I’d offered him something valuable whenever I spoke and as if he was only bothering to talk himself so he could find out what I might think of his misadventures.
“Yes, really,” I said, feigning offense. “It’s remarkably easy and fast to get to and around Europe from London.”
Those blue eyes locked on mine, brimming with glassy excitement as he looked at me. “Okay, then. Tell me about it.”
