Reading His Mind (2 page)

Jace turned to the bar, his good mood fading by the second. “That poor guy. If you had a heart,” he muttered, “you’d go over there and tell him to run.”

“Oh, poor little Jasper. One little relationship disaster and you swear off marriage forever.” I rubbed a hand down his arm, my fingers tingling at the contact.

He rolled his eyes at me. “This is not my first broken heart, you know.” His melancholy seemed to ease enough to let a glimmer or two of his former happy self poke through. The twinkle reappeared in his bright-blue eyes.

Resting my chin on my fist, I leaned in. “Well, do tell.”

He pushed a piece of hair behind my ear. “So pretty.”

“Shut up and get on with the story.”

“I guess that wouldn’t be so impossible, would it? Not for you anyway?”

“What are you talking about?” I couldn’t help my confusion. He talked in circles.

“For me to shut up
and
tell you my story at the same time.” He spoke with over-enunciated precision, as though I had comprehension issues.

“Stop stalling and spill it, funny man.”

“Still so bossy.”

I slanted a glance his way.

“Fine. I was eighteen, and there was this pretty little neighbor girl. I could tell
without being able to read minds
she thought I hung the stars and the moon.”

I rolled my eyes. “So full of yourself.” But I wanted to hear his version of the story, since I shared this memory.

“Shh.” His thumb brushed over my lips.
Holy crap
. “Anyway, she thought I hung the stars and the moon and, for her, I probably would’ve tried.” His gaze pointed into mine causing a hitch in my breath. Turning blue seemed a small price to pay. “So, one night, I worked up the courage to kiss her.” He cupped my cheek. “It was everything I knew it would be.”

“What’s that?” My voice rasped, a throaty whisper I had trouble recognizing.

“Perfection.” His tangled his fingers in my hair as his gaze captured mine. After a few long seconds, he blinked, breaking the spell. His hand dropped. “So, the next day, I woke up so excited, I rushed over to her house. But her sister told me she was gone, left in the night without so much as a note. Just took my heart and blew out of town.”

“Jace—”

“You know”—he signaled for two more shots—“it’s probably her fault I’m so torn up now over her sister.”

I needed to turn this conversation around before I embarrassed myself. “I’m going to ignore that and ask how you could fall in love with Melody anyway.”

“She’s your sister. You tell me.”

I shook my head, angling my body away. “I don’t see it.”

“Why not?” He frowned, but I had no deep desire to know why so, instead of poking around inside his head, I searched my own mind for an answer to his question.

“She’s freaking weird.”

He looked surprised. “You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. I mean, you know how people say ‘Holy mother of’ insert God or Buddha or whoever they find religiously fitting?”

He nodded, a slow grin making its way across his lips.

“Not Mel. She says things like ‘Holy mother of mayonnaise’ and ‘Oh, for the love of ketchup.’” I shook my head then took my shot. “I mean, who does that?”

“I always thought it was cute. Kind of quirky.”

“That’s infatuation clouding your good judgment.” I shook my head. “You dodged a bullet there, pal. Did you really want to spend your life with someone who can, at best, be described as a condiment worshipper? Really?” In truth, aside from the horrible argument we’d had and the fact she had neglected to call to tell me about her wedding, I couldn’t find much about Mel that didn’t speak to her utter perfection. “She’d probably name your kids something like Mustard or Guacamole.”

“Well, it’s still all your fault I’m sitting here with a shattered heart and no faith whatsoever in my ability to find true love.”

“When did you get so needy?”

“Needy?” His eyes narrowed, his mouth dropped open, and his hand rubbed over his broken heart. While watching the path, I clenched a fist, holding it firmly on my lap to control the itch to touch him again.

“There are at least five chicks in this bar checking you out. If you play your cards right, you can have any one of them kissing it better tonight and sharing breakfast in bed in the morning.”

He spun his barstool to face the crowd. “Who?”

I sighed. “Well, the bartender is wondering if sneezing into my drink will make me leave.”

“That’s disgusting. Who else?”

“The girl in the red’s waiting for me to get up to go to the bathroom because not only does she want to rock your world, but she knows who you are. Baseball fanatic, I guess.” I waved my hand, deeming the fact insignificant.

“Nah. Too plastic for me. Who else?”

I skimmed the thoughts floating around the bar, but he looked at me, up then down then up again.

Jace Laugherty had developed standards. I would have never guessed. “Okay. That group of girls over there?” I pointed to where five women, all dressed in bachelorette T-shirts, gawked at Jace, not bothering to hide their interest. “Two of them are all lusted up over the idea of running their lovely new manicures through your silky-soft hair while you gaze into their eyes and realize you have not one, but two soul mates. They’re best friends. They share everything.” I laughed. “Very sister wives of them.”

“Two? Cool.”

I made a face at him. “Perv.”

As suddenly as he’d become playful, he turned the tables, gazing at me while holding my hand between both of his. “What about you, my little Lyric? Can you see yourself kissing it better?”

Hell, yes, I could. I cleared my throat, blinking away the stars in my eyes. “You’d better stick to the barflies and the bachelorettes, mean boy. Flirting with me is pretty useless.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded, pulling away.

“Why is that?” Jace had never met a challenge he didn’t like, and I’d just issued one by accident. Maybe.

If my hammering heart hadn’t been enough to set me on the run, the mischief written on his face would have had me searching out the nearest exit at warp speed. I hopped off the barstool and swayed, certain my next move would be to hit the floor.

Jace’s arms came around me, and a new kind of dizzy clouded my vision. “Where’re you going?”

“You’re too sexy and too pretty, and I’m weak. I should go before I do something stupid.”

His eyes, the exact color of the most comfy jeans I owned, half closed as he looked into mine. “You can’t say something like that then leave me here alone,” he whispered.

“I have to work tomorrow, Jace.” My pitiful excuse sounded weak, but spoke truth. I had to meet the attorney I’d been hired to assist the next day—hungover wouldn’t speak to the first impression I wanted to make. But the urge to stay with him held stronger than my itch to be on time for a work meeting eight hours later. “Bathroom, then?” I needed a minute, at least, to calm my racing heart.

He nodded, and even though my curiosity to know what ideas spun around his head niggled my mind, I kept my nose out of it. Others didn’t fare quite so lucky. The wing guy and his woman engaged in a mental battle of wills, telling me, as she brushed past me to the door, there would be no proposal coming any time soon. Behind them, all that remained was a cloud of perfume coupled with anger. As he followed her out, he remained clueless, having no idea what he’d done—or not done—to cause her hasty exit. Poor guy. His immediate future centered on a long night of groveling while he watched her cry.

A man alone at a table grieved the loss of his wife, lamenting how he would never again feel her arms around him. As I moved toward him, he thought I reminded him of her, and a wave of sadness slammed into me, taking my breath away. I smiled, a soft curve of my lips rather than my normal one of happiness. I said a quiet prayer that he would be able to find peace somewhere.

Once in the bathroom, I splashed water on my face then leaned against the sink, bracing one hand on each side of the porcelain.
Get a grip. It’s Jace, and he’s in love with your sister, dumbass
.

I blew out a breath, fogging the mirror, then looked at myself through the mist on the glass. I deserved better than being any man’s second choice, and Jace freaking Laugherty could just deal with it. There would be no hanky-panky or kissy face or any other kind of romantic notions going on. I strolled out, a new confidence in my step. Jace had a bachelorette on each side, vying for his attention.

His eyes caught mine. “Help,” he mouthed. I stopped in my tracks, crossing my arms. “Please?”

Nodding, I wrapped myself around him, slanting a coy glance his way. “Would you like to dance?”

“Yes.”

The girls stared at me, open mouthed.

Jace took the lead to the very tiny dance floor. “Pretend I’m asking you to marry me.”

“Um, no.” Maybe once upon a time, but at twenty-eight, that particular game of make-believe held no appeal—even with him. Especially with him.

His acquaintance with rejection lacked apparent frequency, and his frown deepened. “Why not?”

I didn’t have a reason other than drunken meanness. “Because.” I thought as fast as I could spin the lies in my mind. “There’s nothing in it for me. If you want me to pretend, tell me what you would really say to the girl you’d ask to spend her life with you.” I frowned, and our faces matched. “Pretend I’m Mel.” Adding insult to injury seemed to be my MO for the day.

“Why?”

“It amuses me.”

His big baby blues narrowed.

“Come on. And be serious, or I will say no. Then your little fan club won’t have any reason to think you’re taken, and it’ll be on all over again.”

“Lyric, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

I pulled away, taking a step before he grabbed my elbow and propelled me into his arms.

“Fine. Give me a minute.”

I waited, almost giving in to the urge to check his thoughts.

“Okay. Here goes. No laughing.”

I nodded my promise.

“A while ago, I started thinking about the kind of girl I wanted to spend my life with. I knew she would have to be smart and passionate. She would have to be loving, too, but I could never put a face to what I was looking for. I knew the woman I needed to find was already here.” He brought our linked hands up to cover his heart. “I always knew that when the time was right, I would know her, recognize her as a part of me.” He leaned his forehead against mine. “Now, I have a face to put with all I dreamed she would be—all you are.” He dropped down on one knee. “I want to be the guy you dream of because you’re the girl of my dreams. I want to be with someone who’s my beginning and my ending. You were my beginning before I knew it, and I don’t want a happy ending without you in it. Will you marry me?”

Snapping my jaw shut, I nodded. “Did you tell her that?” I squeaked. “She would have said yes.”
Well, she would have if she had half a brain
. I had to wonder.

He stood. “Don’t punch me,” he whispered a split second before his lips captured mine. The effect of the alcohol, his words, and our bodies pressed together square inch by square inch had me envisioning myself buying the gown, calling the preacher, and reserving the hall. My world tilted, and I glanced back in time at my sixteen-year-old self in the arms of the hot boy who had lived next door—the boy who’d watched me fall off my bike and, instead of laughing, worried I’d been hurt. The boy who’d thought it so cool I possessed the skills of a freak. The boy who’d stolen my heart when I’d been too young to appreciate the theft.

After drawing away with painful slowness, I blew out a long, steady breath. “Good speech.”

“I know.” Jace had never been the strong, silent type. His personality characterized the loud, confident guy who stole every glance in every room and knew it. I’d once found it part of his charm, though sometimes, it made me want to smack him around a little. I straddled the fence at the moment.

Every cell in my body scorched at his touch, clouding my ability to reason or recognize the decision to speak a bad idea. “Wanna get out of here?”

Jace nodded twice, an almost imperceptible motion.

“Where are you staying?”

“Melody has us all registered on the Strip.”

“Oh.” Of course she did. She would fit right in there. For her, the excitement would be unmarred by the thousands of voices wishing for their big payout. I laced my fingers through his while walking backward four steps, leading him toward the rear of the building. “Come on.”

“Should we get a cab?”

For one second, I poked around in his thoughts. He didn’t want to drive, and I had no business behind the wheel of anything.

I shook my head. “No, we aren’t going far.”

I turned around, leading the way. A set of stairs, hidden behind a cooler at the far end of the bar, led to my apartment. As we climbed, I brushed away the temptation to sneak into his mind. I wasn’t taking him upstairs to have my wicked way with him—although, I couldn’t rule out the possibility. I’d simply missed him, didn’t want the night to end, and couldn’t stand being in the bar anymore. When we reached the top of the steps, I pushed open the door and looked back at him before stepping inside.

“Come in,” I said, when he remained in the small hallway. “It’s okay. I own it.”

He cocked his head but followed. “You own it?”

“Whole building.” I shrugged. “My financial manager found it, and since I work here so often, he thought I should have a place of my own.” I shook my head. “I have a house in Savannah I bought last year. It’s big and historical. Have you ever seen the house in
The Notebook
?”

Jace’s confusion was comical as his eyebrows cinched together, his lids narrowed, and his mouth puckered in. I almost couldn’t hide my mirth. “The one he remodels?”

“No.”

“The one she lives in?”

“Not that one either.”

“Which one?”

“It doesn’t look like any house in the movie. I just wanted to see if you were a Ryan Gosling fan.” I chuckled.

“Cute.” He shook his head, the scent of his cologne traveling on the air to my delighted nose. “What do you do that you work here so often?” He stood in my living space, investigating the scarce bits of memorabilia I had collected over the years. He held a picture of me and my roommate, George, at a black-tie fundraiser for some foundation he had founded.