Free Jumped by Colette Auclair

rail down on the first fence on a jumper course. “Did you sleep well?” she asked as she sat.
    He tilted his head as if to scrutinize her. “Yes, thanks. You?”
    â€œLike a baby.”
    He smiled at her, and she could see he was amused. “Even with that headache? Is it gone now?”
    For a split second she had no idea what he was talking about, and she could tell from the way the corner of his mouth twitched that he’d spotted her cluelessness. He could always tell when she was lying. Damn! She slapped on a smile again and said, “I’m fine now; thanks for asking.”
    â€œWas it a migraine?”
    Great. He was milking it. “No.”
    â€œBut you had to leave and miss all the fun.”
    â€œHow much fun could there have been if I wasn’t there?”
    â€œTouché. You do add something to a party, Bethany. Always have.”
    She was afraid he was going to regale the table with tales of her past exploits, but the waitress saved her by taking beverage orders.
    Beth and Finn were at one end of the six-top, so he could talk to her while the other four diners chatted among themselves. He said quietly, “Brass tacks time, Bethany. You didn’t get your headache because of me, did you?”
    She forced a laugh, but she was a terrible actress and even she didn’t buy it. “No.” She picked up the little paperboard tent on the table that listed the specials. “Will you look at this? You can get breakfast all day here.”
    â€œDamn it, really?”
    â€œYes, it’s right here,” she said, showing him the card. “Want pancakes at midnight? No problem. Hash browns for supper? Coming right up!”
    He swiped the tent from her and set it back on the table next to the big glass sugar canister. “What did I do?”
    Beth leaned in. “Nothing. Not a thing. I was tired.” She tried to sound nonchalant.
    â€œI’m serious.”
    â€œSo am I.”
    â€œI don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
    â€œYou didn’t. You don’t. I’m fine.”
    â€œLike hell.”
    Oh, that was such a Finn thing to say. The waitress, a young woman with a Russian accent who was probably here only for the summer, set hefty white mugs of coffee in front of them. Beth had a flashback to fixing Finn his morning coffee: cream so that it was practically white, no sugar. Out of nowhere, a tiny spark of sadness flared somewhere near her heart.
    The waitress looked at Beth. “What would you like?”
    To be anywhere but here. “Pancakes,” Beth said automatically, because she hadn’t been able to concentrate on the menu and pancakes came to mind. “With hash browns. And bacon and orange juice, please.” She glanced at the waitress as the girl looked at Finn.
    Beth saw it happen again. The poor thing was assaulted by Finn’s masculine gorgeousness. Beth used to get a charge out of this. Eat your hearts out, girls, he’s all mine. But now she was more like an anthropologist observing a female assessing a mate. The girl managed to take Finn’s order, smiling mightily as she jotted with her pen. Finn was, as usual, oblivious.
    Beth was watching the waitress walk away when she heard Finn.
    â€œBethany.” He used the singsong cadence that used to cajole her when they were together. She regarded him. He was dumping cream into his coffee and stirring. The spoon clinked against the mug.
    He said, “Did I do something wrong? If I did, I swear I didn’t mean to.”
    â€œDon’t be stupid. I told you, I’m fine. Stop asking already. You’re annoying.” Why did he assume he was ruining her day, the arrogant bastard? Beth felt some adrenaline trot smartly into her muscles. Poor super-nice Beth had just contracted a serious illness.
    Finn leaned his elbows on the table and spoke quietly. “You left the party. That’s not the Bethany I know.”
    Beth, aware