Page 77 of Tempted Hearts
She studied the chalkboard menu that covered the entire wall behind the bar. “I like light beer. Sliders. Definitely a tasting. I like to have a little bit of everything.”
I could say something to that, but it wouldn’t be appropriate.
“Got it.”
I headed to the bar and chatted with Marco for a bit. Taking Jules’s cue, I ordered a tasting for her—and one for myself, though our beers couldn’t have been more different.
“You getting hungry?” I asked when I returned. “Limited menu, but I hear the food’s good.”
We ordered, drank, and talked about everything and nothing. We avoided heavy topics, and it felt like Italy—conversation that flowed more naturally than it should have.
“What’s your apartment in New York like?” she asked.
“Small, but comfortable. A few blocks from where I teach. Good bar on the corner. You should come into the city sometime and check it out.”
If I sounded casual, it had nothing to do with the turmoil inside me—a constant tug-of-war between what was right and what I wanted.
“Would you want me to?” she asked.
I didn’t bother hiding my reaction. “Do you have plans to come in anytime soon?”
It took her a second to catch my meaning. “You mean Rocco.”
I held back a comment on his name. Being jealous was one thing. Acting on it was another.
“Yeah.”
Jack finished his set and took a short break. Without the music, the table felt more intimate, even surrounded by people.
“I won’t be seeing him again.”
I hid my surprise—or at least I thought I did.
“Oh? No?”
“I’ve thought about it since the trip. He was safe. He wants something serious, but I don’t…” She paused, her gaze intense. “I don’t have the feelings you should if you’re considering that.”
That was easy enough to decipher.
“I don’t know,” I said carefully. “Those feelings between us—they don’t always last.”
The second the words left my mouth, I wanted to take them back. Not because they weren’t true, but because they were incomplete.
The truth was, I wasn’t afraid of feelings fading. I was afraid of what happened when they didn’t. When someone started planning around you. Expecting you. Needing a version of you that didn’t disappear when things got complicated.
“Beck and Mae are new,” she said. “But Mason and Parker? Those feelings are still very much intact.”
She was right. I didn’t argue.
Juliette stood. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Want me to grab another pint?”
“Sure. The lager.”
I watched her cross the room, turning heads like she always did—including mine.
When she returned, a guy at the bar didn’t even bother hiding his appreciation.
Not happening.
