“Call him back,” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument.
Jen looked frazzled. “And say what?”
“Tell him you want to meet him when he gets off work.”
“What? No.”
He ignored her protest. “Say you want to sit down and hash all this out. Arrange to meet at the Gaslamp Tavern.”
“Cash—”
“Just do it, Jen.”
“This is insane,” she said, but she still reached for her phone.
“Be polite, tell him it’s time for the two of you to talk, but don’t lead him on,” Cash warned.
“Lead him on? It’ll be a challenge not to yell every swear word in the book at him.” She dialed, pressed send, and lifted the phone to her ear.
“Speaker,” he ordered.
Rolling her eyes, she pressed a button and lowered the phone.
Jen’s ex picked up on the first ring, sounding overjoyed. “Jen! Oh, sweetie, I’m so glad you called.”
Cash’s shoulders stiffened. Sweetie?
No f**king way, buddy. She is not your sweetie.
Her lips tightened. “Hello, Brendan.”
“You spoke to Tessa, didn’t you?” Brendan’s deep, slightly gravelly voice held a note of unmistakable guilt. “I know I scared her and I really regret that. I was just going out of my mind not knowing where you were. I get why you moved out and why you filed the restraining order. I know you were freaked out about the notes and the flowers, but I didn’t mean to frighten you. I wanted to make a grand romantic gesture, you know? Show you how much I still love you.”
Jen listened to the entire speech without comment. The angry glint didn’t leave her blue eyes, but her voice remained cordial as she said, “Well, I was freaked out. Forgive me if your grand romantic gestures were a tad overwhelming.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he said again. “But you called back, so that means you’re not angry anymore, doesn’t it?”
“No, I’m still angry,” she answered coolly.
Cash sent her an unspoken warning with his eyes.
“But I do think we should meet,” she added in a forced voice.
“You do?” Happiness reverberated through the extension.
“We need to sit down and talk about this, Brendan.”
“That’s a good idea, sweetie. When do you want to do it?”
“As soon as possible. Maybe today when you’re done with work?”
The muffled sound of typing filled the line. “My last client appointment is at five. I’ll be finished by six. Should I come to you?”
“No.” Her tone came out sharp. “I’d rather we meet somewhere public.”
A pause. “I understand.”
“Meet me at that new bar on Market and 5th. The Gaslamp Tavern,” Jen said. She shot Cash a brief look, and from her pink cheeks, he knew she was remembering the night they’d met. “How about six thirty?”
“Six thirty is perfect.” Brendan sounded choked up. “Thank you. I know if you just give me a chance to explain, we can fix this.”
As promised, Jen didn’t lead him on. Not even an inch. “I’ll see you later, Brendan.” Then she disconnected and turned to Cash. “Happy?”
“No, not really,” he answered darkly. “That creep is clearly obsessed with you.”
“You’re the one who wants to meet him.” She dropped the phone on the table and took a step away.
“Wait.” He gulped. “About what I said before. I know I was harsh, but—”
“It’s fine,” she cut in. “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”
Cash reached out for her, but she sidestepped him and put a few more feet of distance between them. “I’m going to work on my laptop for a bit. I want to look through some more job ads.”
Guilt pricked his insides as she stalked toward the bedroom. Shit. He’d definitely hurt her with the accusation that she didn’t have the guts to follow her dream, but as usual, his brain-to-mouth filter had failed him.
Frustrated, he ran a hand over his scalp. Times like these, he wished he possessed Dylan’s charm, or the ability to sweet-talk the birds out of the damn trees like Jackson. But no, apparently he was destined to wreck every relationship by being too damn honest.
This isn’t a relationship. It’s a fling with an end date, remember?
And boy, didn’t that reminder make his spirits plummet even lower.
A few hours later, Cash trudged down the beach to meet the guys. His mood hadn’t improved as the day dragged on. He’d tried apologizing to Jen, but she’d brushed it off, saying it was no big deal, but clearly it was, because she’d barely uttered ten words to him all afternoon. He’d almost blown off this workout to stay home and make things right with Jen, but slacking off wasn’t an option in his line of work.
As he approached his fellow SEALs, he pushed all thoughts of Jen from his mind. Seth and Jackson walked up to greet him but Dylan hung back, averting his eyes. Shit. So this was going to be awkward.
“’Sup, Wade,” he said tentatively, sticking out his hand.
After a beat, Dylan lifted his head. Rather than the discomfort or embarrassment Cash expected to see, Dylan’s green eyes displayed a twinkle of knowing humor. “’Sup, McCoy.”
As they bumped knuckles, the tension in Cash’s body eased, replaced with a tremor of relief that last night’s activities hadn’t f**ked up their friendship.