Free No Time Like Mardi Gras by Kimberly Lang Page A

and let it die down. Believe me when I say that I have my reasons, and simply let it go at that.”
    “But he’s looking for you.”
    “So? Maybe I don’t want to be found.”
    “Did he turn out to be a jerk? Get creepy?”
    Try as she might, she couldn’t lie about it. “No, nothing like that. I just don’t really need for it to be any more than it was.”
    Kelsey huffed. “Well, don’t you at least want your watch back? I remember it’s pretty. Looked expensive, too.”
    The watch had been a gift from Joey, a grand gesture when he’d signed with his first minor-league team and a promise of much nicer things to come, but it didn’t hold any sentimental value to her now. In fact, it seemed more symbolic to just let it go, like a shackle that she’d freed herself from as she started over. “No. I never really liked it anyway.”
    “Well, hell, you could have given it to me,” Kelsey grumbled.
    Kelsey had oohed and ahhed over her clothes and her shoes as she’d unpacked, assuming they were fakes and wanting to know where Jamie shopped to find the “good stuff.” Jamie hadn’t corrected her, not wanting to admit that while she was cash poor, she was wardrobe rich. Tomorrow she’d be wearing a Gucci skirt and her lucky Louboutins while looking for a job that she hoped would pay enough to cover her rent. Oh, the irony.
    Jamie pushed to her feet and packed up her manicure supplies. “I’m going to bed. I have interviews tomorrow.”
    “You’re crazy, you know. You land in town like a refugee and immediately meet a hottie who’s now pining for you. I’ve lived here my whole life and nada. It’s not fair.”
    For the sake of homestead harmony, she had to answer that. “Surely there are some cute doctors at the hospital,” she offered optimistically.
    “You’d think, but sadly, no.”
    She and Kelsey weren’t really friends, so Jamie wasn’t sure whether to provide sympathy or encouragement. And with her background, she certainly wasn’t qualified to offer dating advice of any sort. She went with the lame but true, “Pity.”
    “That it is.”
    “Good night, Kels.”
    While she’d claimed disinterest to Kelsey, now that she was alone in her tiny bedroom, she started to have second thoughts. She’d liked Colin—liked him a lot, actually—and had they not parted so abruptly, she probably would have ended up giving him a phone number and planned to see him again. But in the last week, she’d gotten accustomed to the idea that it was a one-off, and something about it had given her some much-needed confidence.
    And she really didn’t like the fact that their day was now plastered across the internet. It cheapened the whole thing, somehow.
    Last week she’d seen the way they’d parted as a sign from the universe they just weren’t meant to be. She could assume the article was another sign, but it was hard to tell what kind of sign it was. A nudge to get her to contact Colin? Or a very public reminder guaranteed to make her want to stay away?
    She had made so many decisions recently and she was tired of second-and third-guessing herself all the time trying to figure out what to do.
    Fighting the temptation to pull out her laptop and look Colin up online was tough, but she managed to win that battle for the moment. It seemed best to stick with her original plan and let Colin remain a happy memory. Should she change her mind, he’d be easy enough to find.
    Her interview outfit was hanging on the back of her bedroom door. It caused her stomach to knot up, reminding her that she had too much riding on decisions to risk making the wrong one. And she certainly couldn’t afford to let her hormones weigh in on those decisions.
    She had enough on her plate right now. No sense adding more.
    * * *
    He had to give Callie credit: the girl knew how to light a fire. Unfortunately, the flames were getting out of hand.
    It seemed everyone really did love a Cinderella story.
    And he’d never been so glad that