Page 89 of The One You Want

I didn’t care that they were ornery or sneaky. I didn’t care that they knocked things over to get my attention or clawed up my curtains or ruled my house with their iron kittyfists.

They may have been furry fascist dictators. But they weremyfurry fascist dictators, damnit.

“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching for the wagon handle. “I’m sorry, Jerry. I don’t want to give the catsaway.”

“Well of course you don’t,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re yourkitties.”

I gave a watery little laugh. “They are, aren’tthey?”

He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Jenny. There are plenty of cats at the shelter looking for a good home. I’ll go down tomorrow and see if I can’t find a newfriend.”

“Jerry, you’re a really good guy,” I choked out, feeling wetness gather in myeyes.

“Aw, Jenny. What a nice thing to say.” He peered down at me, eyes searching my face. “I have to say, you look like you could use ahug.”

Just like that, the tears that had been absent for the past three days came pouring out. Before I knew what was happening, my face was pressed against the worn denim covering Jerry’s chest. He wrapped me up in a hug, patting my back while he murmured, “there, there. It’s all gonna be okay. Just yousee.”

I pulled away, wiping at my eyes. I should have probably felt embarrassed, losing it like that on this old man I barely know, but embarrassment didn’tcome.

“Thanks, Jerry,” Imanaged.

“No need,” he said, still patting my back. “That’s what friends are for,right?”

Standing there in the mud of Jerry’s farm, my three cats still whining in their carriers, I realized that yes, Jerry Brooks was my friend. And in that moment, when everything else seemed to be falling apart around me, I couldn’t have been moregrateful.

* * *

By the timeI got back to town, my tears had dried and I was feeling a lot calmer. I supposed that’s what a good long walk will do for you. I made sure to keep to the far side of the square so I wouldn’t be tempted to walk by Grant’s shop. I was so busy trying not to even look in that direction, that I almost walked right into the man standing in front of me on thesidewalk.

“Jennifer,” Bradford Rutherford said, holding my shoulders to steady me as I stumbled back, surprised by his sudden appearance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startleyou.”

“It’s fine, Bradford,” I said, a hand on my chest to try and calm my rapid heartbeat. I moved to walk around him but he shifted on the sidewalk, remaining firmly in my path. I raised my eyebrows. “Did you needsomething?”

He leaned down, bringing his head within inches of mine, and spoke in a soothing, sympathetic voice that I was sure he’d practiced before leaving his house. “I was so sorry to hear about your break up, Jennifer. Your grandmother told me whathappened.”

I froze, staring at him in shock. “She…told you?” I couldn’t wrap my mind around what he was saying. How had my grandmother evenknown?I sure as hell hadn’t told her. I hadn’t toldanyone.

An explanation slammed into me, hard enough to make my breath catch. Was Grant telling people? Oh, God. What was he saying? I thought of the guilty, pitying look on his face that day in the flower shop. Was he telling everyone how stupid I had been, thinking we had somethingreal?

“I have to go,” I mumbled, feeling like I was going to throw up at any minute. I thought I’d been mortified before, but it was nothing like how thisfelt.

Again, Bradford shifted to keep me from passing. “Let me walkyou.”

I didn’t bother to soften my tone. “Unnecessary.”

He shifted again. “Jennifer,wait.”

I glared up at him. My heart felt like it was going to disintegrate into ashes at any moment. Now that I’d opened the floodgate of tears at Jerry’s house, I knew it wasn’t going to be as easy to hold them off. The last thing I wanted to do was start crying here on the street. In front of Bradford RutherfordIII.

“Listen,” he said in a hurried, fake-friendly voice. “I’m sure this is a very difficult time for you. I just wanted to make sure that you knew I was here for you. If you ever needed a shoulder to cry on.” He gave me a self-deprecating sort of smile—also fake. “Or someone to take you to dinner. Say, tomorrowevening?”

Anger rose in me, so swift and hot I couldn’t speak for a moment. When I finally found my tongue, I took a step closer to Bradford, something on my face making his eyes widen with what looked likefear.

“I am going to tell you this once,” I hissed, in a voice I had never heard leave my mouth. But I didn’t care what I sounded like anymore. I didn’t care about being polite, or him tattling on me to my grandparents. I wasdone.

“I am not now, nor will I ever, be willing to date someone who only shows me an interest to get in good with mygrandparents.”

His mouth dropped open. “That’s notwhat—”