Page 17 of Fight from the Heart

“From the man at the bar.” Her nod is so vague, but I assume it’s Jacob. Catching his eye again, I notice the woman is absent.

“Thank you,” I mouth to him, only his brow pinches like he doesn’t understand, and Mae interrupts.

“Don’t look now but someone at the bar is checking you out.” My eyes travel the length of the bar and catch on a man seated with his back to the counter, and his gaze on us. He lifts his glass, and Mae lifts hers in response. I’m confused. Is the drink for her or me? When he stands from his stool, I do a double take.

Is that . . . it can’t be?

“Spencer? Spencer Campbell?” I question and slowly stand from the booth. I reach out for him, and he steps into the hug I offer. I haven’t seen Spencer in years. He knows my history with Brendan as he was one of his best friends.

“I knew that was you. How are you, Pam?” he questions, and I stare into the blue eyes of a man who was once a boy I crushed on before Brendan. With blond waves of hair, everything about him screams surfer boy, only our lake is missing the surf.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, meaning Elk Lake City. Last I’d heard, he’d moved away.

“Been back for a few years. I run a water adventure shop in Traverse City.” Three towns over, Traverse City caters to outdoor water sports and summertime activities, but we only really have three months to enjoy the great waters of Lake Michigan. “I was visiting some friends and thought I’d stop here for a beer before heading back to the city.”

Friends. Brendan and his wife.

“Thanks for the drinks,” I say, waving my hand at his generous gift and suddenly remembering we once kissed back in high school. “Want to join us?” I ask, though I’m uncertain what more I’d say to him. It’s been years—eleven exactly.

“Don’t want to interrupt your girls’ night out. Just wanted to say hello. It’s so great to see you again. You look exactly the same,” he states as his eyes roam down my body, and I blush. It’s nice to be checked out, especially by an old crush, but it’s also incredibly awkward knowing our mouths have met, and he knows my past heartache.

“Why don’t you give him your number, and you can get together another night?” Mae offers for me, and I turn on her, eyes bugging out. What do you think you are doing?

Mae reaches toward Spencer and wiggles her fingers. “Here. Give me your phone and I’ll give you her digits.” Spencer looks sheepishly from me to Mae and hands over his phone.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say to him, keeping my voice quiet.

“Actually, I’d love to call you,” Spencer says, and that’s when Jacob makes his appearance at the table.

“Lilac,” he addresses me, his voice terse as his hand slips to my lower back.

“Jacob,” I say, narrowing my eyes. What does he think he’s doing?

“Lilac?” Spencer questions, and I look at Mae for help as Jacob’s hand nearly burns a hole through my sweater. Mae mouths, “Lilac?” to me, and I want to curse her as the worst best friend ever.

“That’s a strange name,” Spencer says, drawing my attention back to him.

Ignoring the jab at my nickname, Jacob states his name without offering a hand. “Jacob Vincent.”

“Spencer Campbell.”

That’s it, conversation over. The two men are opposites—one is sunshine and the other rain.

“So, I guess I’ll give you a call,” Spencer says, holding up his phone and giving it a shake.

“You do that,” Mae encourages, and I want to drown her in my margarita.

“Nice to see you again,” I say, knowing there’s no way surfer boy Spencer Campbell will call me, especially after my pushy friend and my glaring boss made the past three minutes the most awkward of my life. Spencer leans forward, boldly giving me a cheek kiss and then excuses himself. As soon as he steps away, both Mae and I visually follow his retreat until Jacob steps in front of me to block my view.

“Want to introduce me?” he demands.

“Want to be introduced?” I ask, crossing my arms, wondering why he chose now to come to the table and what he’s playing at for someone who wants to remain a secret. Being the mystery man in the woods and all that.

“Jacob Vincent.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand to Mae.

“Mae Fox-Holland,” she says and then looks at me, mouthing, “Panty-melting.”

“Can I speak with you a minute?” Jacob states, his eyes zeroing in on me.