Still wrapped in the jacket Keagan had just given her, Jasmyn sat down in the rocker and set it in motion. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.
It was a nervous reaction, of course. The two weeks of delightful bliss were over. Yes, they were definitely over.
Every day she crossed off a calendar date and thought of in-her-face tornado memories and cold shoulders and an ugly studio apartment. Most days she could bury those things and get lost in the bliss.
But now, today, Danno had called with his news. Valley Oaks would not be buried easily.
And then she confided in Keagan because—silly goose that she was—she thought of him as another Casa friend, one with a guy point of view. Like Danno or Zeb Swanson’s sons or Quinn’s little brother, who had often tagged along with them as kids.
But Keagan smiled, and she thought of knights and white steeds.
And then he gave her a jacket.
She stopped rocking, phoned Quinn again, and told her the story.
Quinn said, “Is Keagan the hot one?”
“There is no ‘hot one.’ ”
“Yeah, there is. You told me he could do men’s cologne ads.”
“That’s Chad. He’s super good looking and has a kid-brother personality.”
“So who’s Keagan?”
“The motorcycle guy.”
“Who can break boards with his bare hands and makes you feel safe and scared at the same time.”
“I didn’t exactly say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Quinn chuckled. “So what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know.”
“If he were the hot one, I’d say you might want to stay put.”
“Honestly, Quinn.”
“Okay, seriously. You’re attracted to the guy. Probably like all the women there are attracted to him. Angel, knight, Kung Fu Dude. And what was that about that snarly old actor—Clint Eastwood. Wow. Your guy has everyone’s attention.”
“Hey, you’re right. Then it’s not a huge deal.” She tried out her theory. “Maybe it just says I’m over Nick.”
“Definitely. Except it is kind of a huge deal if it means your heart is waking up again.”
Jasmyn leaned forward until her forehead rested on her knees and groaned.
“Is it mutual?”
“Mutual? No.”
“He gave you a jacket.”
“He’d give one to anyone who needed a jacket.” She sat up. “ ‘Angel’ and ‘knight’ suit him perfectly. He keeps to himself and then poof, appears when someone’s in trouble. And the whole time he’s so even-keeled, you have no idea what’s going on inside.”
“He’s probably hiding a broken heart.”
“Quinn, give it up.”
“Okay. Sorry. So, I’ve been thinking about running the Pig.”
Quinn distracted her. They spoke of wild changes they would make to the restaurant, beginning with a French-themed decor, which made no sense at all unless they convinced people that the Eiffel Tower and French fries were somehow connected.
Thoughts of Keagan faded away.