If there was anything he hated, it was pretending to be happy. He wasn’t any good at it, and it made his stomach feel like a bag of rocks. His only consolation was Rachel had done her share of pretending, too—and she wasn’t any better at it than he was. He would have ducked out and headed for home a lot sooner if not for their discussion about Tammy and Joe Reston. Snatching his duffle bag from the backseat, he climbed out of his truck, slammed the door behind him and stalked up the gravel path to his porch. He was halfway there when he realized he’d left something behind. Scowling, he retraced his steps, let Maggie out and took the path to the house again. Why are you so wired? a nagging voice said. You knew how she felt about dating. Over the past six months, she’s let you know she’s still grieving in a dozen different ways. Besides, you’re not looking for an involvement, right? “That’s right,” Jake muttered, unlocking the door and stepping inside. “I’m not.”
