The Girl in the Mirror (Sand & Fog #3)

by Susan Ward

  My head spins. We were all sitting at the same table, weren’t we?

  He takes me in the sloppy drape of his arms around my shoulders and groans again. “I don’t care where we go, so long as it’s somewhere not near her.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Jacob”

  I watch until Krystal disappears from view with Madison then, groaning, I collapse back onto the booth as everyone laughs.

  “Stellar performance,” Nick announces. “She doesn’t suspect a thing.”

  I stare at Nick, shaking my head. “I don’t know how you guys convinced me to go along with this. You do realize she’s furious with me.”

  Nick laughs. “Yeah, that girl is heated. Krystal’s one ballistic ballerina.”

  I shift my gaze to Sierra. “You didn’t have to lay it on so thick. I thought you were just going to make her annoyed enough that she would want to a take drive or something before we go back to the house.”

  She shoves my arm. “Don’t pretend you didn’t love it. What guy doesn’t get off on his girl getting all territorial over him?”

  “You better watch your back, Sierra,” Nick jeers good-humoredly. “There were a couple of times I thought she’d rip out your hair right at the table.”

  “I know. Can you believe it?” Sierra turns bubbly and excited.

  I’m about to cut out when Sierra turns with a bounce to face me, eyes bright. “She must have a killer crush on you to be that territorial, but Madison was right. It worked. She’s angry. I guarantee she’s in that bathroom going cray cray about moi. All you have to do is take her somewhere for a while, make up, and this night is going to be awesome.”

  Make up with her? It would be great if that was the direction I could take this, but that’s not happening. It was kind of cute the way Krystal reacted, but I shouldn’t make anything of it. It’s indisputable that Sierra bugs her. Her extreme reaction was probably only girl shit, but it does make me wonder…

  “I wouldn’t smile if I were you,” Sierra taunts, shoving her face into mine. “You’re in such trouble, mister. I wouldn’t want to be you for the rest of the afternoon.”

  I ease back from Sierra. “How long do you want me to keep her from the house?”

  Nick looks up from his cell. “Ethan’s almost done getting the digital working. Keep her away until after eight. That’s when Madison told everyone to get there by.”

  I reach for my water. “Digital? I thought it was just a few people at the house. A small going-away party for Krystal. Sounds like you guys are going all out.”

  Nick shrugs, continuing to type on his cell. “Two hundred, maybe more. I’m not sure how many Maddy put the word out to.”

  What?

  Oh, fuck me.

  Two hundred people? This isn’t good. What if Chrissie calls security again?

  Nick frowns. “What’s wrong?”

  “You pack two hundred people in that house, security is going to get called. You do realize that, don’t you? It will be the shortest going-away party in history. I thought this was going to be something small or I would have never agreed to be a part of it.”

  They stare at each other then bust up laughing.

  “Relax, Jake,” Sierra says between giggles. “We’ve got it handled. Everyone’s in on it. No one would have a party in Alan Manzone’s house without asking him first. Not even Madison. Madison asked Chrissie before she started setting things up. No worries. Everyone is in on it.”

  “Except Krystal,” Nicks says. “So don’t panic and tip her off when she goes medieval on your ass. Trust me, you don’t want to deal with pissed-off Maddy if you ruin her surprise party once you’re done with pissed-off Krystal.”

  Sierra crinkles her nose. “And pissed-off Maddy is way worse. I know.”

  “No matter what she does, listen and apologize. She’ll get over it the second she steps through the front door. When Madison throws a party, it’s lit. She’s worked really hard to keep Krystal from finding out what she’s up to. I can’t believe Chrissie didn’t blow everything arranging security on the wrong day. But then, that went down insane enough to work out. Well, for everyone but Daryl.”

  He laughs, but I tense up even though he wasn’t mocking or judgmental. Nick says it as it is, keeps it real, and doesn’t make waves. I like him. He’d be a cool friend to have if he wasn’t buds with the idiot.

  “I can’t wait to see the house when we get back there,” Sierra says enthusiastically. “Kaley filmed all of us for this going-away video for Krystal. I saw it this morning. Amazeballs. And Ethan creates the coolest shows with lights, cameras, and drones. Better than anything you’ve seen in a club.”

  “That boy is genius,” Nick says.

  Sierra nods. “It’s going to be one for the record books.”

  I tap the check holder on the table. “And her family is cool with this?”

  Sierra rolls her eyes and exhales. “Like we said, everyone’s in on it. Who do you think is paying for servers and the food? Alan. My dad wouldn’t do that. That girl is so lucky. She has everything.”

  Maybe this is going to be OK. If Alan approves and no one finds out I’m a part of it, I might make it until Monday and still be employed. And if anyone deserves something special it’s Krystal.

  All I’ve got to do is hold it together, keep my hands off her for the next forty-eight hours—God, she looks incredible today—and figure out a way to get her not to hate me over Sierra.

  Whoa, who would have thought she’d react that way to Sierra putting the moves on me? I didn’t give this ploy a chance of working. But, damn, there were a few times I thought she looked jealous. And Sierra’s right. I kind of liked it, how Krystal scooted up against me whenever Sierra got too close, as if something might really be starting between us.

  No, Jake, don’t go there.

  Krystal is not interested in you.

  Sierra gives me a push. “Go. Keep her from coming back to the table.”

  Nick makes a face. “Ah, I don’t think Krystal coming back to the table is something we need to worry about. Try not to fold, Jake. Let her hate you now. She’ll love you later.”

  Love me later.

  It’s a nice thought, but never going to happen.

  I take off to find the waitress to pay. As I wait for my credit card to return, I try to form a plan, but what am I supposed to do alone with her for four hours?

  It’s not like I can just ask her to go somewhere with me. That might come off sounding like I’m asking her out on a date. That would be awkward.

  After signing the receipt, I tuck my card back in my wallet and wait by the door. Madison crosses in front of me and gives me a nod before she goes into the restaurant.

  A second behind her, Krystal appears.

  Oh crud.

  The way she’s glaring at me warns there is no way she’s ever going to like me after that lunch. How am I going to keep her with me and away from the house? I’ll be lucky if she talks to me again.

  Jake, my boy, you’re about to get drop-kicked into the next century unless you think of something fast. Before she can speak, I grab her hand and open the door. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  Her eyes flash at me.

  Thank you?

  Couldn’t I think of something better than that doofus move?

  Outside, I let go of her, leaning forward with my hands on my thighs. “I was ready to be out of there an hour ago. How did you stand it? Another minute of Sierra talking about herself and volleyball, and I seriously would have lost my shit.” I turn into her, taking Krystal up against me. “I don’t care where we go, so long as it’s somewhere not near her.”

  I fight not to flinch as those blue eyes sharply lock on mine and wait for the tirade.

  Silence.

  Crap, is this working?

  I step back and shove my hands deep into my pockets. “Do you want to go somewhere and hang out alone for a while? I know yo
u guys have plans together, but I could really use a break from Madison’s friends.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Krystal”

  We sit in silence as our drive takes us southward along the slow-moving coast highway. I peek at the dashboard clock, surprised to discover we’ve been in the car for ninety minutes. I’m not exactly sure where I am. I don’t have a clue where we’re going. And I’m not precisely clear why I’m doing this.

  The drive is—pretty? sweet?—fine, it’s a little weird even for Jacob. Like a bad first date, a guy not knowing what to do and making decisions on the fly, usually wrong ones, and just throwing things out there to see what works. What was that detour a half hour ago about? Showing me parts of the Southland I never wanted to see?

  Memo to Krystal: Next time you have a boyfriend, don’t dump him, because if this is what being with a guy you don’t know is like, don’t do it to yourself.

  No, even the worst of my worst bad first dates before Daryl hadn’t been this uncomfortable. Those guys did talk—sort of. Not a lot.

  God, I hope this doesn’t mean guys talk less the older they get. If he’s this quiet at twenty-three does that mean he’ll be mute by thirty? No, Dad talks a lot. Grandpa Jack sure talks a lot. Ah, new theory. Maybe they talk more the older they get. Yes, now I have something to look forward to in a decade, but nothing to help me through this car ride to nowhere.

  I need to do something to make this less awful until I’m back in Malibu. It would be better if we talked more, instead of us being together but not, both of us quiet and carefully considerate, putting out feelers but not pushing.

  My cheeks start heating. Is he putting out feelers? Is that why this feels so—no other way to describe it—like a really bad first date?

  Jacob looks over, smiling at me, nervous and tentative expression still in place on his face and in his eyes. Images of him over lunch with Sierra rise in my head.

  With her, he’d been fast to laugh, fast to smile, and comfortable to talk. He spoke more words at The Cove than I’ve heard from him in the last six months.

  Maybe it’s me.

  I stare out the window, focusing on the ocean. A stop would be nice. Jeez, Louise, where are we?

  A sign ahead.

  Redondo Beach.

  Never been.

  What the heck are we doing?

  Carefully, I check my cell. Nothing. I’ve texted Madison a dozen times in the last hour. No response. Wonderful time for her to go MIA.

  I toy with the idea of texting Kaley. She’d call me pronto and then I’d have something to entertain me other than the scenery and the silence—who drives without music? Instead I switch off my phone.

  Kaley is not a good idea. My sister would call, but she’d want to know details, who I’m with, and that would be bad.

  We turn off the highway again and zigzag through streets above the beach. Pointless detour number two. This is ridiculous. This isn’t a date. I don’t have to pretend to like this.

  Jacob’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Do you mind if I stop at my place? I need to take care of something.”

  I turn my face from the window, my eyes fully settling on him for the first time in twenty minutes, and nervousness replaces boredom.

  His place?

  “You live in Redondo?”

  “With Brayden.”

  My anxiousness leaves me in a gush and now I’m feeling pathetically vain. Jacob has communicated in every way he can for the last hour and a half that he’s not interested. He wouldn’t bring me to a place he shared with Brayden if he was planning something.

  He pulls over on the street and parks. I stare up at the building: not very upscale apartments—or is it condos? I can’t tell which.

  Jacob lowers the front windows a few inches then pulls the key from the ignition. “Wait here. I’ll only be a sec.”

  He exits fast and hits the door lock, and I don’t know what I think about being left alone in a car in an unfamiliar neighborhood. It must be OK or he wouldn’t do it. I don’t know Jacob well, but I do know that about him.

  My gaze slowly scans left then right. Nothing alarming, not completely unlike home. Beach town, but what do I know?

  Mom’s rule: don’t go into a neighborhood you don’t know. Damn it, why did I have to think that? Now I’m getting that Anne Hathaway in the movie Havoc feeling. Stupid. I’m surrounded by surfers not gangbangers.

  No, not waiting in the car.

  I climb out and hurry after Jacob. “Wait.”

  He stops and turns back to me. “What’s wrong?”

  Now that I’m with him, I don’t know what to say. It’s going to sound all kinds of wrong if I say I’m afraid to stay in the car alone. Which isn’t particularly accurate. Not afraid, just not unafraid because I let Chrissie into my freaking head. Can’t tell him that.

  I smile. “Nothing. I need to use your bathroom.”

  He looks undecided about my sudden change to what we’re doing, then gestures me ahead of him on the stairs. One flight up, I wait on the landing, hoping we’re not doing another because these shoes were a really bad idea. I’m feeling every tender spot on my feet. Another trip up the stairs, but this time he walks down the narrow passageway to the end.

  He looks tentative as he puts his key into the lock. “It’s probably not very clean. Brayden’s a slob.”

  I shrug. “I don’t care. I need a bathroom.” Which is true. Wasn’t when I left the car, but after the stairs it is.

  I step ahead of him into the living room. Small, but this isn’t awful, and now I feel foolish for having freaked myself out in the car. The kitchen is open to the main living area. It’s definitely the smallest house I’ve ever been in, but it’s a nice apartment—a little messy, like you’d expect in a place two guys share—but not terrible. Just small.

  I glance over at him hovering near the door.

  He points. “The bathroom’s down there. Second door on the left. I’ll be a couple minutes.”

  He goes in the other direction, and I make my way down the hall and lock the door behind me. I’m relieved that it’s clean since you couldn’t pay me to use Ethan or Eric’s bathroom.

  Lid up.

  No girl has been here lately.

  I drop the seat and sink down. Strange, he’s helping me out this weekend and I still don’t know if he has a girlfriend.

  When I get to the living room he’s not there yet. My gaze floats the room. Couch. Coffee table. Chairs. Bookshelf on the wall covered in pictures and assorted junk.

  I start studying the pictures, though I can’t tell by looking at them which are Jacob’s and which belong to Brayden. Probably none of them belong to Brayden. He doesn’t strike me as a sentimental guy.

  My finger runs the spine of some books. History. Mathematics. Engineering. Interesting. No fiction. Nothing I’d want to read. I pause. A photo album? After checking over my shoulder to see if he’s there, I pull it out and start thumbing through it.

  The pictures make me smile. I don’t know where these were taken, but it’s pretty. A small, rural house surrounded by lush green and thick trees. Not at all like where I grew up. I flip a page. This has got to be his dad. Looks like him.

  I sink down on the carpet, back against the couch. More pages. No older lady. No mom.

  Ah, a girl—I frown—she’s beautiful. Ex-girlfriend or current girlfriend? I crinkle my nose and turn the page with a flurry. More of them together. Another turn.

  It’s got to be his girlfriend. No guy would keep this many pictures of a girl if she wasn’t.

  “You ready to go?”

  I look up and the breath catches in my throat.

  That’s why we stopped?

  He’s changed out of his shorts into a nice pair of slacks, shoes instead of flip-flops, and a snug ash-gray V-neck sweater with a hint of a white t-shirt showing. The kind of clothes guys wear to a club or out for the evening, and damn. “You look
so—”

  Blushing, I clamp my mouth shut before I say it: sexy. But he does. Messy hair in a neat man bun. Stylishly dressed. The guy looks unbelievable, even better than he did in shorts and definitely better than the drab conservative clothes he wears to work.

  He crouches down in front of me, lifts the book from my fingers, and his brows crinkle. “What are you doing?”

  The color on my face darkens, but I manage to say, “It was over there. I figured if you didn’t want anyone to look at it, it wouldn’t be out. Right?”

  He holds it back out to me. “No problem. Nothing exciting. Mostly me and my sister. I was thinking of having a beer before we head back. Do you want something?”

  A drink?

  Is he trying to loosen me up?

  Maybe he did bring me here to try to make a move on me, and God, why doesn’t that bother me? Take a girl to your place. Give her a drink. Oldest game in the book. It should piss me off. Why doesn’t it?

  I shake my head. “No, I’m good.”

  When I don’t take the photo album, he sets it on the table and stands up. “Are you OK, Krystal?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  The list ticks off in my head though I don’t want it to: I’m alone in a guy’s apartment for the first time—stupid, but this feels different than being alone with Daryl; I followed him here and I don’t even know him; and he looks like that.

  His smile this time makes my heart beat faster. “I’ll be right back.”

  I follow him with my gaze as he disappears into the kitchen. “Where’s your roommate?”

  “Probably already out for the night. It’s Saturday.”

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “Since I started working for your dad.”

  “Where’d you live before?”

  “Ohio.”

  “Is that where the pictures are from?”

  “Most of them.” He returns, beer in hand, and sinks down to sit beside me. “What’s with all the questions?”

  Embarrassed, I shrug. “I don’t know. We got here and I realize I don’t know anything about you.”