I started jumping again. “Never.”
“Okay, then, Stumpy. Kiss this fun little rattly thing goodbye.” He drew his fist back behind his head, like he was about to pitch my safety pin off into the pasture.
He wouldn’t. Of course he wouldn’t. But the threat of it was enough.
I sighed. I stopped jumping. I looked into Jack’s eyes. “Fine. But don’t call me Stumpy.”
“‘Fine’ what?”
“Fine, I’ll tell you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Are you lying?”
“No.”
“Are you going to make something else up so you can take the pain of whatever that jackass actually said to your lonely grave?”
That got my attention. “No. But that’s a great idea.”
Jack brought his fist down, with an expression on his face like Okay, I’m trusting you.
Then he leaned down so close I could feel his breath against my skin, lifted the necklace around my neck, and fastened the clasp.
When he let go and stepped back, I reached up and touched the beads, awestruck that they were really there. He’d found them. He’d looked and looked until he’d found them. And now he was giving them back to me—something so precious of mine, along with something so precious of his own.
What was he doing?
He stepped back. I could have run off right then so I’d never have to tell him what Robby had said.
But I didn’t.
I blame the moonshine. Or maybe it was Jack Stapleton’s irresistible gaze. Or maybe it was the way he had chosen me tonight—in front of his folks, my coworkers, and Kennedy Monroe, herself. But I took a second to appreciate my safety pin, now back safe and sound, and then … I told him.
I still can’t believe I said the words out loud. Maybe moonshine magically removes inhibitions. Or maybe I knew all too well how unspoken secrets can fester. Or maybe, just maybe, I was daring to hope that Jack might try to prove me wrong.
The point is, I did it.
“Bobby said…” I began, taking a long breath. “He said … that I … was a bad kisser.”
The minute the words were out, I regretted them.
Because what did Jack do?
He burst out laughing.
I’d just shared the most humiliating thing I knew about myself—and he laughed.
“Forget it,” I said, turning away.
“Wait—” Jack said.
But I didn’t wait. I might be too tipsy to drive home, but I was more than sober enough to go inside and lock myself in the bathroom until I could escape in the morning.
Jack followed me. “I’m sorry I laughed. I’m sorry!”
“It’s not funny,” I said, my voice wobbly.
At the side porch, just as I reached the door to the house, he caught up with me and spun me around by the shoulder. “It is funny. It’s hilarious. But only because it’s so wrong.”
“Don’t make fun of me,” I said. And now I could feel tears in my eyes. How humiliating.
“I’m not making fun of you. He’s a liar.”
“Of course he is. But he’s gotten more than a few things right.”
“Well, he’s not right about the kissing.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I definitely can.”
“How? When he’s kissed me for real tons of times and you’ve only ever kissed me for pretend?”
“Just trust me.”
“Trust you?”
“I can tell, okay?”
“How? How can you tell?”
“I just know. I’ve kissed a lot of people, all right?”
“Look, you’re sweet—”
“I am hardly sweet.”
“—But I can’t take your word over somebody who has actually kissed me.”
“A thousand dollars,” Jack said.
“What?”
“I’ll bet you a thousand dollars. He’s the bad kisser, but he’s blaming you.”
“That’s ridiculous, Jack. You think I have a thousand dollars just lying around?”
“I’ll lend it to you.”
“Jesus, man. Just let it go.”
“No.”
“We can’t all be great kissers, Jack. It’s fine. I’m good at other things.”
“He doesn’t get to lie you. And you don’t get to just … believe him.”
Great. Self-esteem tips from the Sexiest Man Alive. “Thanks for the advice. I’m going to bed.”