Oh, crap. Crap, crap. He’s our waiter?

At this rate I expect everyone I met at that damn party to make an appearance. Resisting the urge to check if the rest of them are hiding under the table or behind my back, I sit ramrod-straight, duck my head and school my face into a blank mask.

Draw no attention. I’m not here. You can’t see me.

“Embers,” Jesse says, his grin widening, his gaze zooming in on my face. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, “fancy that.”

The whole gang is here, but I all I see is him. Dammit.

He’s dressed in a soft gray shirt that molds over his chest and shoulders, and black pants. His hair is so short it’s just a shadow on his head, making his luminous eyes look huge.

Crap. Why can’t I look away?

“How’s the new job, J?” Micah nods at him. “Is Meg bossing you around?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Jesse chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that makes me shiver.

“Hey, Jesse James.” Ocean lifts his coffee cup in a salute. “Bold, bad, and brave.”

Why do I keep feeling everyone around me is speaking Chinese? “Jesse James? Not Lee?”

“Wait. You don’t know who Jesse James is?” Ocean lifts his brows.

“He was a criminal,” Jesse says, “who robbed trains.”

“He stole from the rich and gave to the poor,” Micah says. “He was kind.”

“I know who he was,” I interject, but I’m overruled.

“He was killed,” Jesse mutters, looking away and shifting on his feet, “shot and buried.”

A shadow passes over his face, and it sends a pang through me. The others fall silent, shifting awkwardly in their seats. I have no clue what the dark undercurrent of their jokes could mean.

This is a dangerous game.

“All right,” I say into the stretch of silence. “How about some coffee, then, JJ?”

He lifts his head, a shadow behind his eyes. Then his dark brows lift, and his brilliant gaze lights up like a sunny morning. “You gave me a nickname!”

Why does he look so pleased? “No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you damn well did.” He winks at me. “I’ll be JJ for you, babe.”

I sputter. “What? Everyone calls you something.”

“But not what you called me.” He bends over the table, braced with one hand on the surface, so that he looks straight into my eyes. His grin flashes again, blinding. “And you’re not everyone.”

I’m caught in his gaze, a moth in a web. My heart races. Goosebumps run over my skin. My nipples pebble, and fire fills my veins.

I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“Well, I’d love a latte,” Ev says, shattering the web, breaking the spell, and I fall back in my chair, sucking in much needed air.

“A latte it is,” he says, his voice a bit rough, and he straightens, pulling out his order pad. “And for you, Embers?”

“Embers?” Micah frowns. “What sort of name is that?”

“Exactly my thoughts,” I mutter.

Jesse sighs, shakes his head, bites his lip on a smile. He’s unnervingly cute like that, and so sexy I ache deep inside from wanting him so much.

Holy crap. Not good. “A latte for me, too,” I say quickly and push my chair back with a screech. “Be back in a bit.”

“I’ll come with you,” Ev says and grabs her purse, but I shake my head.

“Need a minute,” I whisper, and she stills, her eyes narrowing. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Jesse is staring hard at me, his gaze almost tangible, and I know everyone is looking, wondering why I’m taking off like that.

“She just needs the restroom,” Ev says, turning to Jesse, and he blinks, as if coming out of a daydream.

“Of course. That way.” He turns and points, muscles flexing on his bare arm, making his colorful tattoos dance. “If you want, I can show you, I’m going that—”

“No, it’s fine,” I snap and stride past him in the indicated direction. “No need.”

“Jesse, stay,” I hear Micah bark, and I have a weird urge to laugh as I bolt between tables, spot the ladies toilets and run to hide inside.

***

Someone taps on the restroom door as I wash my hands, stalling. It’s a quaint little restroom, like the café that houses it, with flowery wallpaper and a wrought-iron mirror. A vase with dried flowers stands on a low table.

The knocking comes again. The handle starts to turn.

“Just a minute!” I shout and turn off the faucet, then reach for the paper towels. “Don’t—”

A bass voice rumbles through, startling me so badly I let the paper towels fall to the floor. “Hey, Embers, just making sure you’re okay.”

The handle turns again, this time all the way—because of course the lock wouldn’t work, typical of quaint little places—and the door opens.

“Wait!”

Too late. Jesse is standing in the opening, filling it from side to side and bottom to top, one muscular arm casually braced on the frame. “So are you?”

Unconsciously I step back, retreating until I hit the toilet. “Am I what?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Okay. Are you okay?”

He’s blocking the door, and I feel cornered, trapped. My heart is trying to climb up my throat. “I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“Why are you scared of me?” He gives me his easy grin, and I want to scream. “I told you, I—”

“Back off, Jesse.”

“Sure thing.” A dark flash goes through his bright eyes, and his mouth twists briefly. Then he nods and gives me a ghost of a smile. “No problem.”

He retreats, lifting his hands, and then he’s gone, leaving the doorway empty, my escape route free.

I have a sudden, strange yearning to call him back, tell him why I’m acting this way. Antisocial by default, made worse by past events. Retreating into my shell when people are around. Hiding.

A yearning to tell him where my terrors crawl out from, where they are born, in that black pit of the past on which I tried to put a lid and failed.

But I can’t. I can’t open up, lay myself wide to anyone, much less him. Someone I don’t know, someone who’s so beautiful and arrogant he scares me to death. Truth is, I don’t do people. I don’t get close. Distance is necessary for safety.

Experience tells me not to give away anything, not even a shred of myself, or they’ll tear me apart. Not to let anyone in or they’ll eat me up from the inside and spit me out where everyone can see.

So I wrap myself up in my past, the memories I tried to bury for so long and failed, and sit down on the closed toilet lid. Damn, they’re still inside of me, pieces of me, mind scars, fear grooves running straight to my nightmares.

Get yourself together, Amber. You’re free. The bullies aren’t here. It’s been a while. They wouldn’t even know you if they saw you. And you know how to defend yourself now.

Okay. There’s a stitch in my side, as if I’ve been running. I suck in a deep breath and almost choke on it. All right. I can do this.

I’m stronger than this. I’ve fought it and beat it once before. I can do it again. So I sit and struggle to calm my pounding pulse and erratic breathing, try to calm my mind before I go out there and face the world once more.

Chapter Four

Jesse

The one chance I got to talk to Amber, and I scared the shit out of her.

Great job, J. No idea how I frightened her, but it’s left a sour taste in my mouth and no frigging clue why I care. Girl only just arrived to town, never missed a chance to tell me off and make clear she doesn’t want me around, and I just can’t keep away from her.

Goddammit.

I’ve been out of sorts since the party. I can’t stop thinking of her, and now I have a pissed-off Micah on my back, unhappy because he told me to leave her alone and I didn’t. But hey, she ran off to the restroom, and she looked pale. What’s a guy to do but check on her, right? God knows I’ve seen my fair share of breakdowns and panic attacks. Just wanted to make sure she was okay.