Pocketful of Sand(55)

She watches me suspiciously, her hazel gray eyes searching mine for answers that I’m unwilling to give. “Just curious.”

I open the menu and pretend to peruse it. I’ve got the whole thing memorized and I already know what I want. I just need a few minutes to collect myself, to conceal the growing agitation that must be reflected on my face.

“Hiya, sweetie,” Jordan slurs when she approaches the table to take our order. She leans down to hug Eden. “I’ve been meaning to get out to your place, but it looks like you’ve been plenty busy without my company,” she says loudly as she nods in my direction.

I scowl at her.

“Oh come on, Cole! You know there’s no keeping secrets in this town. Everything comes out eventually.”

I grit my teeth.

“Maybe people should just mind their own business,” I say mildly, holding her brown eyes until her smile dies.

“Well,” Jordan says, clearing her throat and turning to Eden. “What can I get you two tonight?”

Eden orders Emmy’s meal and then her own. After I order and Jordan leaves, she announces, “Emmy and I are going to check out the jukebox.” She says it with a smile, but I can see the tightness in her face.

She doesn’t give me time to respond, just gets up, waits for Emmy to slide out and then they walk off.

I’m screwing this up. I know I am. But damn! I feel kind of crazy today. I’m used to feeling one of two emotions–pain or numbness. Not all this other stuff.

I watch Eden as she walks away. Her ass looks amazing in the jeans she’s wearing and her pink sweater fits her upper body to perfection. Nearly every head turns as she passes. Even the women look, although they’re probably either jealous because she’s so incredibly beautiful or appreciative of her relationship with her daughter. It’s plain to see that she adores Emmy and that she’s a good mother. It’s there in the way Emmy looks up at her and the way Eden never lets go of her hand.

The longer I watch her, the more I realize that she’s the perfect woman. And the more I think about it, the more it eats at me that everyone else wants her, too.

She avoids my eyes as she walks back to the booth, making me feel even more like a shitheel for ruining her night out with Emmy.

I wait until they’re both situated back in the booth and Emmy is coloring before I speak. “I’m sorry,” I tell her quietly.

That draws her stormy eyes back to mine. “For what?”

She’s not playing dumb. She’s asking me what’s been up my ass.

I sigh. “I’ve never been jealous before.”

Her brows draw together. “Jealous? Of what?”

“Of all these men looking at you.”

She glances around. “What men looking at me?”

“You really don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?” She’s genuinely perplexed.

“See the way your hair pours down your back like a waterfall made of ink. See the way your eyes sparkle when you look at Emmy. See the way your laugh makes other people smile. See the way everybody wants you.”

Pink spots bloom on her cheeks and she looks away from me, shy all of a sudden.

“Or the way you blush when someone tells you you’re beautiful.”

“Well, if that’s what’s wrong with you, then maybe you shouldn’t apologize,” she teases with a grin.

“Yes, I should. You don’t deserve my mood. And neither does Emmy.”

Eden glances over at her daughter, who is coloring pretty damn well for someone her age. Eden looks back at me and shrugs. “We’re okay now that you’re okay.”

“I’m trying to be.”

She smiles. “Now you know how I feel when Jordan is so friendly with you.”

I scoff. “Please. There’s not a woman in a ten state radius that holds a candle to you.”

I can tell my comment pleases her. “You’re gonna give me a big head.”

I tilt my head and consider her. “Nah. You’re not the type to get conceited.”

“Oh really? Then what type am I?”

I pause, debating how truthful to be. In the end, I tell her exactly what I’m thinking. “The perfect type.”

Her smile widens and her cheeks turn pinker, and just like that, I feel more relaxed than I have all day.

“You two going to be able to eat around all that flirting and smiling?” Jordan asks when she returns with a tray of our food. “If not, princess and I will eat it, won’t we, little Emmy?” She winks at Emmy and Emmy leans her head against Eden’s arm to hide her face. “That must be a ‘no’.”