And he probably read the paper this morning. He hates you, just like everyone else in this town.

Fine, I could handle it.

I scowled right back.

Just then Natalie came through the door from the kitchen and grabbed the coffeepot behind the counter. “How about a warmup?” she asked him.

He kept staring at me without answering her question, and the tension was too much for me to bear. “For fuck’s sake, just say it!” I exploded. “Yes, I’m who you think I am. Yes, I’m that bitch on TV. Yes, I said shitty things about nice people, so just stop staring at me and tell me flat out that I deserve all the crap that’s happening to me today, including falling on my face!”

“Skylar!” Natalie glanced frantically back and forth from me to the guy. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. This is my sister, Skylar, and apparently she’s having a very bad day,” she said with a murderous look at me. “Otherwise I cannot imagine why she would come in here and scream obscenities at my customer.”

I looked at the guy again, but he was no longer focused on me. He was frantically closing his notebook and tucking it out of sight in his jacket.

Instantly I felt guilty. “Hey, don’t go. I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I’m done anyway.” He pulled out his wallet and threw a few bills on the counter.

“No, please stay. You just got here.” Natalie filled his cup with coffee and set down the pot. “And put your money away. Coffee’s on me.”

“Keep it as a tip then. See you around.” He picked up his keys from the counter, put his sunglasses back on, and moved toward the door.

I raced ahead of him, unable to bear the thought he would leave still thinking I was a horrible person, even though I felt like one. “Hey, don’t leave on my account. I really am sorry.” Leaning back against the glass door, I smiled. “Can I try again?”

Slowly, he lifted his head and met my eyes. Stared directly into them, so hard my breath caught in my chest, and I felt desire stir low in my belly. With the short hair and the aviator glasses, he looked like a fighter pilot or something. Even the stubborn set of his jaw turned me on. Rawr.

“I’m Skylar,” I said, extending my hand. Then I wrinkled my nose. “But I guess you already know that from the Save a Horse, right?”

His brow furrowed. “Save a what?”

“Save a Horse. The reality show.” The fact that his expression remained perplexed gave me hope. “You mean you haven’t seen it?”

“No. I don’t watch much TV.” He paused. “You don’t remember me.”

“I don’t think we’ve met.” I tilted my head coquettishly. “I’d remember you. Definitely.”

Although, wait a second—there was something familiar there. Had we met? Why couldn’t I place him? Was he an actor I’d been introduced to in New York? And why wouldn’t he shake my hand, which was still extended between us?

It took him forever, but finally he reached for it.

“And you are?” I prompted. Man, this guy was gorgeous but a bit lacking in social niceties.

“Sebastian Pryce.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, enjoying the cozy fit of my hand inside his. “Are you—”

And then it hit me.

I did know him.

At least, I’d known a Sebastian Pryce. We’d gone to school together for years. But this couldn’t be that Sebastian…could it? I looked down at our hands. The Sebastian I’d known wouldn’t have shaken hands because he was always so paranoid about germs. Kids used to tease him by touching his shoulders and saying, Better go wash your hands, Sebastian. I gave you cooties. And even though it was ridiculous and we all knew there was no such thing as cooties, he always asked to go wash his hands after that. Once, in fifth grade, our teacher had said no because we were getting ready to take a test, and he’d completely flipped out and started tapping on his head and counting out loud. It was awful.

He let go of my hand and I continued to stare at him. Now I saw it, but talk about duckling to swan. I swallowed. “Wow. Sebastian. You look…different.”

“You look exactly the same.”

Was that a compliment? Hard to tell from the way he said it. “Thanks,” I said uncertainly.

“You’re welcome.”

Wow, this was awkward. Like trying to flirt with a tree. I wasn’t usually tongue-tied around men but I had no idea what to say to Sebastian Pryce after all these years. And why did he seem so angry? Was it because of the way he’d been treated in school? I’d never teased him myself—wait, I’d actually been kind to him, hadn’t I? Although he’d probably been bullied a lot, and I hadn’t exactly stood up for him. Was it possible he held a grudge?

“Could I get by please?” he asked tersely. “You’re blocking the door.”

“Oh. Right, sorry.” Flustered, I watched him push it open and bolt out like the building was on fire.

Off kilter, I turned to Natalie and put my fingtertips to my temples. “That was weird.”

“It was, kind of.” She shrugged. “But he’s not your average guy.”

I looked out the door again, recalling the punch-in-the-gut feeling I’d had when he’d turned to look at me. Then I noticed the notebook on the sidewalk—the red spiral one I’d seen earlier at the beach. “Hey, he dropped something.”

Hurrying out the door to pick it up, I looked down the street in the direction he’d gone. There was no sign of him, so I took it back into the shop.

“He’ll probably be back for it in a minute,” Natalie said. “He’s always carrying that thing around.”

“It’s soggy,” I said, holding it by one corner. “What the hell does he do with it?”

“Writes in it, I assume.”

I slapped the thing onto the counter next to the dollar bills he’d left and sat down, eyeing it curiously. “I wonder what he writes about.”

“No clue. Now tell me how you two know each other. Was it school?” Natalie picked up a rag and began wiping the counter, moving the notebook aside. “He’s not much of a talker but he did say he grew up around here.”

“Yes, you don’t remember him? He was in my class, so a few years ahead of you, but he looked totally different back then.”

“What did he look like?”

“He had this long shaggy hair he used to hide behind and he wore really baggy clothing all the time.” I thought for a second. “Or at least it seemed baggy. Maybe he was just really skinny.”

Natalie’s eyebrows shot up. “Not anymore. One time he took off his jacket and he was wearing this really fitted t-shirt. That guy is ripped now—his arms and chest are amazing.”

“Seriously?” Spinning on the stool, I glanced out the door again, wondering where he’d rushed off to. “Does he ever come in with anyone else? I don’t remember him having friends in school.”

“That’s sad.”

I frowned. “Yeah, but he was a pretty odd duck. He used to be obsessed with germs, like total OCD. People used to tease him about it.”

She nodded. “That makes sense. The first time he came in here, he brought his own cup.”

My jaw dropped. “He did? That’s weird.”

“It was weird,” she admitted, “but also kind of pitiful. And at first he just said he preferred to use his own cup, but after he came here a few times, he told me about the germ fear and said he was working on it. And then one day, he didn’t bring it.”

“Did you, like, congratulate him?”

“Nope, I didn’t even mention it. I just poured his coffee and went about my business. Like I said, he’s not really a talker, and I didn’t want to embarrass him. And I think…” Her voice trailed off and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

“What?” I asked, suddenly eager for any scrap of information on him.

“Nothing. I shouldn’t spread gossip.” She focused extra hard on her cleaning rag.

I rolled my eyes and put a hand over her wrist, stopping her frantic motion. “Nat, please. Who the hell would I tell? No one is even speaking to me around here!”

She sighed and stopped wiping. “Well, after he left here one day, I heard these women talking about him, something about his having a nervous breakdown last year and moving back home to recover. One of them might have been a relative of his.”