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“Every guy in this place is looking at you,” he said, looking down at her.
    “Why do you care?”
    “Because I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.”
    “Is this you doing your big brother thing and trying to protect me?”
    “Yes,” he lied again. This had nothing to do with any big brother thing. He was pretty sure that if Brendan ever got an idea of all of the non–big brother things he wanted to do to her, Brendan would punch him in the face. “None of them are good enough for you. They only want to get in your pants.”
    Hurt flashed through her eyes before they hardened and turned icy. “So what you’re saying is, I dress like a slut?”
    “I didn’t say that,” Jax said.
    “I can take care of myself, you know.”
    “I’m sure you can,” he said, maybe a little bit too patronizingly. But what did she expect? He would go to the grave trying to protect her. Especially from all the assholes eyeing her like she was dessert.
    “You don’t believe me?” she asked.
    “I do believe you. But old habits die hard.”
    “You can say that again,” she said, clearly beyond pissed off.
    “Grace?”
    “You know, I could care less about getting anyone’s attention, except for one person who is clearly an idiot. Or maybe I’m the idiot. You tell me no one is good enough for me?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “Well, why don’t you do something about it?” She pushed away from him, leaving him standing in the middle of the dance floor.
    “Grace,” he called after her.
    “I’m out of here,” she said as she grabbed her purse from the bar and turned around.
    “What’s wrong,” he said, blocking her path to the door.
    “Don’t, Jax,” she said, not looking at him.
    “Grace.” He said her name again, needing to see her eyes.
    When she looked up at him, the wetness that he found in her eyes brought him up short.
    “Just let me go, Jax,” she whispered desperately.
    He nodded, stepping out of her way. He turned and watched her walk away, completely baffled as to what had just happened.

The Dangers of Flour
    G race pounded her fists into the dough in front of her. But it wasn’t helping. The harder she pounded, the angrier she got.
    Yes, she was pissed at Jax, but she was more pissed at herself.
    Stupid, stupid, stupid.
    How many times had she told herself that Jax didn’t look at her that way? And yet she’d pushed it and made an idiot of herself. Oh, she’d gotten him to notice her, but only because he thought she dressed like a slut. And to top it off he’d pulled out his go-to brotherly advice and made her feel like a child. Like his best friend’s baby sister.
    Perfect, just perfect .
    Every time her fist hit the dough, a canister of metal utensils jumped and clanged together.
    He doesn’t want you. Not in the way you want him. Let it go. Let him go .
    Grace stopped and closed her eyes. She dropped her head between her shoulders and leaned forward. She gripped the counter with both hands and took a deep breath, trying to find an ounce of composure.
    The very idea of letting go of Jax was impossible, and she was lying to herself if she thought it was possible.
    But she was so good at lying to herself. The few relationships she’d been in had been a lie. How could a person give themselves to someone truly and completely when they were in love with someone else? Grace had never been able to do it, which had ultimately led to the end of those relationships. But she kept trying to find that someone who would make her get over Jax.
    That someone didn’t exist. He was a mythological creature, because for Grace, there only was Jax.
    Suddenly, Grace wanted her mother so desperately she couldn’t breathe. She swiped uselessly at the tears streaming down her face.
    Yes, Grace could always go to Lula Mae, and her grandmother would give her a wealth of advice. But Lula Mae had never dealt with anything like this before, having your heart broken by a man.
    Grace’s grandparents had