A Cross-Country Christmas(11)

Will grinned. “Are you asking me out?”

Lauren’s face heated. “I’m talking about that woman. Our waitress.”

“Melinda?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Melinda. She has no idea what our relationship is, and she’s been flirting with you since we walked in.” Was it that obvious there was no way the two of them were a couple?

He stuffed a giant bite of French toast into his mouth. “Are you jealous?”

Before she could even fully register his food-muffled words, he’d shoveled in yet another bite before the first one was even chewed.

“Hardly.”

Liar.

“C’mon.” He opened his mouth to show off the half-chewed food. “I’m a catch.”

She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

Darn him.

The truth was she was a little jealous that women like Melinda had such an easy time talking to men. Even men who looked like Will. Why wasn’t Melinda nervous around him? Why didn’t she worry about what he would think of her? She supposed it was easy when you looked like a Barbie doll.

By contrast, Lauren looked like Barbie’s librarian.

“I’m sure she’d be happy to flirt with you too if you’re feeling left out.” The corners of his mouth turned down like he was talking to a puppy.

She considered flicking a French fry at him, but instead shot an “oh, please,” look, then went back to her plate and her phone. No sense trying to make conversation with Will—she didn’t have big enough boobs for him to pay attention to anyway. If this were an episode of Bridgerton, he’d be the “rake.”

How many years had she watched him flirt with every girl who gave him a second look? How many times did she notice a group of girls huddle up and whisper while keeping their eyes on him? How many times did he talk to those girls one-on-one, like they were the only one in the room? He did this with every girl. Every girl, that is, except her. Mostly, she was as invisible to him as she was to their waitress.

No, not invisible. Just not worth his time.

“It bothers you.” He set down his fork.

“No, it doesn’t,” she lied. “You’re just proving my point.”

“Your point?”

“That you’re predictable. A cliché. You haven’t changed a bit since the last time I saw you.”

For a split-second, it almost looked like her words affected him—and not in a good way.

Will narrowed his eyes, and it turned her insides upside-down. “Explain, please.”

But she was still hung up on his eyes. Why did they have to be such a bright blue? They looked photoshopped. And why did they have to be on that face?

For her part, she knew she was plain. She didn’t make herself up or pay a whole lot of attention to how she looked. It didn’t seem worth her time. After all, she had no real interest in dating. Maddie said she only dated “placeholders,” and Lauren thought maybe she had a point. After all, her main criteria for going out with someone was knowing that she was in no danger of falling for them.

She had Will to thank for that.

“I’m waiting.” He raised his eyebrows to make his point.

She straightened her shoulders and leveled her gaze. “Okay. Here goes. You love the attention. You want women to like you, and when they notice you, you kick it up a notch. But none of them really means anything; it’s just a game to you. See how many women you can string along. Never mind how they feel, as long as you get what you want.”

As she talked, she wanted to stop. She read on his face how her words affected him. But she didn’t stop, and she didn’t know why.

Will Sinclair had feelings?

He slowly sat back in his chair, looking down and away. He glanced up for a moment, chuckled a small laugh, then looked away again.

“I, uh...I guess you nailed me there, Lo.” Then he quickly held up both hands in apology, “I mean, Lauren.”

Something niggled at her conscience. She’d been too harsh. In her effort to protect herself from falling back under the Will Sinclair spell, she’d acted like a jerk.

“Will, I’m sorry, I—”

But Melinda was back with a refill for Will. She topped off Lauren’s cup as an afterthought and didn’t look at her once. But Will barely thanked her. Just asked for the check.

“You ready?” He stood and set his tip money on the table.

“I can pay my half.” She reached for her purse.

“I got it,” he said, his tone clipped.

She’d struck a nerve, and she felt terrible. He walked toward the cash register, toward Melinda, toward someone who was a lot nicer to him than Lauren. She watched the easy way he interacted with her, and jealousy heated her face and furrowed her brow again.

Why did I do that?

Will glanced at her, and she looked away. Why did she care who he flirted with—or who he didn’t flirt with? She had her own life. She was an adult—a successful adult at that. On her way to a promotion. And she hadn’t so much as thought about Will, at all, for years.

It wasn’t like she was dwelling on her silly little crush. She’d moved on.

Why linger? Why care? Why not remain wholly indifferent to him?

She used the restroom and met Will in the car, expecting an icy reception. But he waited for her to buckle her seatbelt, then flashed her a smile. A genuine one. “You ready?”