Page 26 of Jack

Her eyes widened.

“I didn’t mean?—”

She pushed past him, but he reached out, grabbed her arm, whirled her around. “I didn’t mean you were to blame. I was the older one. I should have thought before?—”

“You kissed me.” She yanked her arm out of his grasp. “Seriously. Listen.” She held up her hand, her voice shaking. “I did have a crush on you. Yep. Guilty. And maybe, yes, when I showed up in Grenada and you were on the team and you looked at me like you’d never seen me before, I thought . . . great. See. Maybe he won’t see Bee. He’ll see someone who . . . isn’t a twelve-year-old girl.”

“You most certainly did not look twelve,” he growled. “I did think you were . . .” He let out a shaky breath. “Older.”

“We aren’t that far apart in age, six years?—”

“It might have been adecade.Don’t you know the math? Half your age, plus seven. You were still at least a year too young for me—and what am I even saying? You were still in high school! You’reBrontë’s best friend. Off-limits. Full stop.”

She just stared at him. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. But don’t worry. I’m so over you, Jack Kingston. Like you said, adecadeover you. So thanks, apology accepted, but there’s no need.” She held up her hands as if to stop the crazy. “Let’s just get through this week, and then we can walk away and never talk to each other again.”

“Fine.”

“Perfect.” She swallowed, her jaw hardening, then whirled around and headed to the door.

He watched her go.

Wait.

Um.

“Harper, come back.” He took off after her. Because no way, no how was this what Boo wanted.No bloodshedmeant a truce. And the expression on Harper’s face looked like anything but armistice.

Harper had already stepped outside, so he pushed through, out into the cold.

He found her standing in the overhanging front entry, frowning.

“Harper?”

She looked at him, then back to the dark parking lot. “She left me.”

“What?”

“Penelope. She left me. Took the Uber and didn’t wait for me.”

He let the door close. Shivered. “Really?”

“Weird. I mean . . .” She shook her head, clearly flummoxed.

He could solve this. “Wait here. I’ll get my keys.”

She glanced at him. “You don’t have?—”

“No. I’m done with this party. Let me drive you back to the inn.”

Her shoulders rose and fell, and finally she nodded. “But no more apologizing for the past, okay?”

“I can live with that.” He held out his hand. “Truce?”

She considered it a moment, then took it. “For Boo’s sake, yes.”

At least that was a start.

* * *