The Lucky Charm (The Portland Pioneers) (23 page)

And really, where had all that cowardly avoidance gotten her? She’d been horrifically miserable all week. Every text, every phone call, every pleading look he’d not-so-subtly sent her direction had made her feel even worse. She’d missed him even more than she’d anticipated.

Her cell phone vibrated on the desk next to her, and she glanced over at it, hoping against hope that it was Jack again, but he’d been silent for almost twenty-four hours now. Deep down, she was afraid he’d finally gotten sick of her games and had decided to give her a taste of her own medicine.

But it wasn’t Jack and the bitterness in the back of her throat grew. It was Jed Gonzalez, half of the play-by-play announcing duo for the Pioneers. Inwardly groaning, she clicked answer and held the phone to her ear.

“Dalton.”

“Hey kiddo, it’s Jed.” Jed was her favorite half, mainly because his nickname for her was the same as Charlie’s had been. Plus, she’d never actually seen him roll his eyes at her, which gave him huge bonus points in her book. “You busy tonight?”

Was she busy? Without Jack, she’d been dreading the night alone in her hotel room. Anything had to be better than staring at her email inbox.

“Nope, free as a bird,” she replied.

“Join Bart and me for dinner,” he offered charmingly. “We’re going to the Met Grill.”

“I’d love to,” Izzy said, feeling her spirits begin to perk a little. They were
including
her. This had to be the indication she’d been waiting for that they actually liked her a little bit—and they wouldn’t like her if she hadn’t gotten better.

“Great, we’re meeting downstairs in fifteen.”

“Best part about coming to San Francisco,” Jed confided to Izzy over the menu he held in his hands. “I look forward to this every year.”

“I can attest to that,” Bart chimed in.

“Like you’re complaining,” Jed chuckled. “The steak here is second to none.”

Izzy glanced at her own menu and tried to rationalize how any hunk of meat could be worth so much money. Clearly, she wasn’t a meat connoisseur on the level of Jed and Bart.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw someone from the team here tonight,” Bart added. “We’ve introduced nearly everyone to the Met over the years.”

“Well, I’m very glad I’m the latest inductee to the mania,” Izzy said with a smile. They were a lot more charming when they weren’t in the booth, spitting stats and anecdotes back and forth and generally scaring her to death with everything she didn’t know.

“Coming from someone who’s
extensively
sampled the menu, let me suggest the wagyu ribeye. Marbling to make you weep.”

She was debating the pork chop versus the ribeye when she heard the voice, and instinctively her head raised, eyes searching the patrons for the man she couldn’t get out of her head. Then Bart said, “Oh look, there’s Jack Bennett.”

She saw them at the same instant. Jack had actually put on a long-sleeved button-down and Noah was with him. Then her gaze drifted to the rest of the table, and her heart froze in her chest.

“Ah, they’re on a date,” Jed said with a knowing chuckle. “Those young bucks, they never quit.”

The girls at the table were both blonde, and both gorgeous, and as Jack laughed long and hard, throwing his head back in amusement, Izzy’s stomach roiled with nausea.

She should look away, because she was definitely staring and sooner, rather than later, Jed or Bart was definitely going to notice that she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Jack and the beautiful blonde currently laughing with him like he was Saturday Night Live material.

It could have been you
.
It
should
have been you.

The voice in her head was harsh and cruel, but she knew it was right. He’d given her every opportunity to voice her feelings, to tell him that she liked him as much as he liked her, but she’d stayed stupidly silent, pulling away instead of drawing closer.

This was all her fault.

Of course, that didn’t make her feel any better. Instead, as she pretended to study her menu, she felt wretched and a whole host of other things that she could barely identify. Disappointed. Sick. Teary. And so blindingly angry she could barely continue to sit and listen to him laughing only a few tables away.

Tonight was supposed to be an escape, but instead she’d been flung into hell, and of course, he’d see every bit of misery etched on her face—but only if he could look away from the stupid blonde bimbo he was currently leering over. Izzy’s fingers tightened around her water glass, and she unsatisfactorily imagined hurling it in his direction.

“Izzy, are you alright?”

She glanced up and saw Jed staring at the white-knuckled fist she’d made around the glass. He looked confused and concerned as he looked from her hand to her undoubtedly pale face.

All she had to do was say she was fine, but she couldn’t quite make her mouth form the words. Instead, she just nodded and continued to blindly stare at her menu.

“Is something wrong?” It was Bart this time, and that was really humiliating because he was pretty much totally oblivious to just about everything around him. If he’d noticed, she must look terrible.

She almost laughed bitterly. She
felt
terrible. There was practically a hurricane of feelings brewing inside her—hurt, anger, resentment, guilt, and so much regret she could barely stand it. She had to get out of here before the storm exploded out of her.

Decision made, she jerked upright, her knee hitting the edge of the table, but she felt nothing, not even the crack of bone against wood. “Excuse me,” she whispered and turned to flee, only to have her gaze settle on the only person she wanted to avoid. He was looking at her, blue eyes wide and shocked, and the guilt on his face nearly sent her spiraling out of control.

Izzy tore her eyes away from him. Panic tasted like ash against her tongue as she started for the entrance of the restaurant, her heart beating furiously and loudly in her own ears.

She’d just passed the host station when she heard the footsteps behind her. “Izzy, stop,” he called, and if she hadn’t been so humiliated, she might have been worried that most of the restaurant had just heard him.

S
he sped up, her heels clacking against the hardwood floor.

“Izzy, for the love of God, please wait.” He was close now; she could tell from the sound of his voice. She was three feet from freedom when he reached out, and grabbed her arm, whipping her around to face him.

Swallowing hard, she stared at the floor. His hand encircled her wrist and she hated the shiver she felt as his calloused palm grazed over her bare skin.

“Look at me,” he ordered, and it was the very first time he’d ever used that tone of voice on her. He’d never
told
before, he’d only asked, and something snapped inside of her.

“No,” she hissed, jerking her wrist away from his grip, and meeting his concerned gaze with anger. “
No
. You don’t get to do this.”

“Do what?” he asked, as if he was the innocent one in all this.

“
This
,” she snapped, gesturing between them.

“You’re going to have to explain what
this
means exactly,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m not following.”

This time she was the one who grabbed him, wrapping her fingers around his wrist like chains, and pulling him along behind her to the narrow corridor that led to the bathrooms. Opening the door to the women’s bathroom, she shoved him in and let it close behind her.

“You were on a
date
,” she sneered.

Jack closed his eyes and clamped his lips together. “I know that’s what it looked like,” he began to say, but she didn’t want to hear it. She felt like another, much angrier, woman had taken over and in this moment, the interloper was allowing her to indulge every bit of frustration that had boiled inside of her since she’d taken this damn job.

“No,” she interrupted with a sneer, “that’s what it was. You don’t have to lie to me. I’m not so fragile I’ll fall apart if you go on a date.”

“Is this you not falling apart, then?” Jack asked, and this time there was a whisper of heat in his voice.
Not so calm now
, that traitorous part of her murmured exultingly.

“I’m just fine,” she said through her teeth.

He took a step closer, boxing her in against a row of sinks. Her legs bumped the edge of the counter, and she could only stare at his face as he caught on fire.

“You’re not fucking fine. You lost it back there, and you have
no
right to do that. I told you what I wanted, and you liked my attention well enough for awhile, but then you pushed me away like we mean nothing to each other.”

Oh, you’re angry now,
the nasty woman inside of her crooned
, let’s see just how angry you can be.

“We
don’t
mean anything to each other,” Izzy retorted, and even though she’d known it was a lie in her head, the white lines bracketing his mouth would have told her all the same.

“That’s not true, and you know it,” he ranted, his voice rising again. “I’m fucking crazy about you. I saw you every single night during the road trip, even stayed in the hotel because you said that was what you wanted. I didn’t even try to kiss you, even though that was all I thought about some nights. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I see before I go to sleep.” Jack paused and took an unsteady breath, and she felt a terrible, blinding clarity.

“Are you finished?” she murmured.

He nodded jerkily and she lifted her hand back to his chest, to where his heart thumped solidly against her palm. “Good,” she said, leaning forward until she was nearly flush against him. His eyes widened and his heart accelerated, and Izzy felt drunk and dizzy with the knowledge she could affect him so strongly.

“Don’t tease,” he breathed out unsteadily. “That’s not nice.”

She smiled, a little bit evilly. “I told you before. I’m not nice.”

Leaning the last inch, she kissed him, her mouth soft and pliant against his. For a second, Izzy thought she must have surprised him, because he went totally slack, every muscle in his body relaxing into her, like ice cream melting on a hot day—but then he was kissing her back, his hands cupping her face, cradling it as his mouth nibbled hers like it was his new favorite treat.

It had all seemed so innocent at first, just a single graze of her lips against his, something simple and elemental that she couldn’t seem to resist anymore, not when he told her she was the first and the last thing that he thought about. Not when he’d taken up similar territory in her own mind. But then his tongue had slid hotly against hers, and her knees actually buckled.

They broke apart finally, mouths panting, foreheads nearly brushing. “I respectfully disagree. You’re very nice,” Jack whispered, and Izzy swore she felt her heart clench at his words. His blue eyes were practically glowing and the smile on his face widened, no doubt matching her own awestruck expression. She’d just kissed Jack Bennett and it had been even better than she’d fantasized it would be.

The bathroom door swung open and a tall brunette walked in. Jack sprang back and Izzy whirled toward the sink, catching sight of her flushed cheeks and dreamy eyes in the mirror. The brunette stopped in her tracks and eyed Jack up and down, like he was some kind of creep.

It took her fuzzy brain a half second to process the why, but then a surge of embarrassment crested through her.
She’d dragged Jack Bennett into…

“This is the
women’s
restroom, you know,” the brunette snapped, before locking herself into a stall with a decisive click.

Izzy turned to Jack with an apology on her lips, but she didn’t even get it out. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, pressing a finger to her mouth. “Don’t even apologize. I deserved it, and well, it was worth it. Now I’d better get out of here. I’ve got a
non date
to get back to.”

The
non date
. Flashes of their conversation before the kiss went through her mind, and she reached out for him. “No,
wait
,” she hissed.

He looked at her with amusement. “Do you think we could have this conversation someplace other than the little girl’s room?”

Izzy flushed bright red. She didn’t even have to glance in the mirror to see she was positively glowing. “It’s not a date?” she asked in a low voice.