“You okay?” Bethany’s hand went to Lucy’s forearm.
“I don’t think you’ve spoken or taken a breath in the past six minutes. I’m
beginning to get concerned that the lack of oxygen has cut off the supply to
your brain.”
Her best friend was hilarious.
“I just remembered that I forgot to leave food out
for Daisy-Mae. I need to go.”
Yes, she was being dramatic, and no, her cat did
not need to be fed, but she didn’t care. She lived a relatively drama-free
life, so she was allowing herself one tiny little freak-out.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Bethany narrowed those big
green eyes at Lucy. “I’m not letting you run just ’cause the mysterious Jack
has arrived.”
Jack Jones, the hottest man Lucy had ever seen in
real life, had indeed just entered the room. With floppy dark hair, piercing
blue-green eyes, and a ridiculously symmetrical face, he was darn right
dangerous. Throw in height, muscles, and a designer suit, and he was
practically a health hazard.
The sight of him alone was clearly enough to break
her. But the sight of him currently being introduced to his three-month-old
nephew? She wasn’t sure she’d ever recover.
Annnnnd … my ovaries just exploded.
Cool, cool.
Who was she kidding? There was nothing remotely
cool about her. Which was exactly why she needed to get out of there. Before
she melted into a puddle, in her friend’s living room, on her pretty abstract
rug.
That wouldn’t be a good look.
It wouldn’t be. Yet, she wouldn’t put it past her
traitorous body. Apparently, it had control issues around this man. Which was
stupid, because she’d only met him once for Pete’s sake. Three years ago. When
he’d shamelessly flirted with her at the diner where she worked.
Oh no. He’s coming over.
Abort! Abort! Get out of there now!
Only she couldn’t. Her so-called friend had
noticed Jack’s slow-motion swagger toward her, and amid Lucy’s internal panic,
Bethany had sneakily grabbed hold of Lucy’s arm and was keeping it hostage.
“I hate you,” she whispered to Bethany, her voice
full of the venom her friend deserved.
“You love me.” Bethany had the audacity to laugh.
As soon as their gazes locked, she felt it. That
same feeling she felt all those years ago, one she had started to believe she’d
imagined. Until now. The skin on the back of her neck prickled. Her body
flushed. And her stomach swooped. Deep down, a part of her accepted that this
was just her body enthusiastically reacting to an attractive man. But still,
the knowledge that she’d gone thirty years without ever feeling this
instantaneous chemistry before made it feel significant.
The closer he got, the hotter Lucy felt. It may be
January, and Woodvalley Pines may be under a blanket of ice outside, but under
her off-the-shoulder cream sweater, there were some questionable things
happening. She may even be forced to throw out her bra.
I love my bra.
Wow. That was a sucky thought. Great. Now she was
angry, flustered, and sad. Just in time for Jack to enter her space.
Close enough for her to see the fierce intensity in his eyes, giving her the
overwhelming urge to find the nearest blanket and crawl under it.
“It’s Lucy, isn’t it?” His voice was deep and
smoother than silk. Did she mention he had a British accent, too? Because … of
course he did. “We met a few years ago … at the diner.”
Don’t miss the rest
of the Love Burns series!
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Isobel was born and raised in London. While she’s a city
girl at heart, she loves daydreaming about running away to a charming small
town—though she’s not entirely sure her husband and son would share her
enthusiasm for the move. When she’s not writing small-town romantic comedies or
growing unhealthily attached to the characters in her books, you can find her
reading, chasing after her very active toddler, or attempting to channel her
inner domestic goddess in the kitchen (with varying degrees of success).
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