My busted gaze snapped up to his steely one. “Matt, that’s not what I meant. I would never⁠—”

“Really, now.” He zipped his jeans as I yanked down the hem of my dress and refastened the bodice. “Yer telling me all this,” he gestured to the pool table, “wasn’t about seeing my so-called tattoo fer yerself?” He crossed his arms over his chest and arched a brow.

“So-called? Honey, I have eyes. I know I saw something.” I tried to lighten the tension, because admitting how much I’d needed him was not an option.

He scowled. “Ye don’t know what yer talking about. What ye saw was…ye know what? Never mind. It’s not worth it, and ye’ve pretty much answered me question.” Matt shook his head.

“No, I haven’t answered your question. What we just did had nothing to do with the legend. Well, maybe originally when the girls…” I started, but Matt looked thoroughly disappointed as he threw up his hands.

He stormed away.

I scrambled off the table and charged after him.

“Matt, wait, it wasn’t like that. You made me feel good after a really crappy day. That’s what this was about. Just letting ourselves feel good. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing if that’s all ye be looking fer.” He turned out the lights as he walked, his back ramrod straight and the set of his shoulders marble stiff. “I just happen to be looking fer something more in a woman, and ye made it perfectly clear yer not on the same page as me. So, what’s the point?”

“The point is we connected in a way I never have. I know you felt it,” I said from right behind him.

“We connected physically,” he stopped abruptly, and I bounced off his back, stumbling a couple steps as he turned around to nail me with a glare, “but that’s all there could ever be between us.” His gaze ran over me from head to toe, and I felt the chill from four feet away. “Yer not exactly the kind of woman I’d take home to me ma.”

I gasped. “Whoever said I wanted to go home to your ma anyway?” I narrowed my eyes. “Is this why you stopped popping into my shop? Because I don’t meet your standards? Coming from a man who called me high maintenance, you have some nerve.”

“I’m not the one who’s divorced, lass.”

I plopped my hands on my hips. “Oh, my God! What are you, a Neanderthal?”

“No, I’m Catholic.” He shrugged. “Me family is very old-fashioned. They would never accept me dating a divorced woman.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” I waved one hand in the air.

Matt’s family sounded as bad as the people in Mayflower. Because of my grandmother, I had their respect by association, but they’d made it clear they didn’t care for my choice of career in teaching sensual massage.

“I’m just being honest with ye, lass,” he thrust a finger in my face, “unlike ye were with me.”

“Now you’re the one who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” I thrust my finger right back. “And what do you call what we just did, oh saintly one?”

“Based on yer knowledge of me tattoo, a poor lapse in judgment.” I could see the regret on his face seconds after he said those words, but it was too late.

A sharp pain sliced through me.

I’d been a lot of things in my day, but never anyone’s ‘poor lapse in judgment.’ “How will you ever live with yourself now?” I spat. “No wonder you’ve never been married. A bit strange for a man in his forties who claims to be all about family. Ever think maybe it’s not the women? Maybe it’s you.”

He threw his hands up. “At least I didn’t try to trick ye. I was honest. I know what I want.”

“I know exactly what I want.” I grabbed my purse and straightened my dress. “To be as far away from you as I can.”

He put his hands on his hips and stared me down. “It’s good to know we’re finally on the same page, lass.”

“My thoughts exactly.” I charged past him and headed for the door.

“Tiffany, wait. Let me call you—” Matt started to say from behind me.

“Oh, I think you’ve called me enough for one night, thank you very much.” I swallowed the tears clogging my throat.

His voice gentled. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Spare me,” I managed to get out.

“Look, I can’t let you go⁠—”

“You can go to hell,” I hollered over my shoulder as the door closed behind me, and I heard him mutter something about he probably would now.

He had balls, I’d give him that. Big ones, and I should know.

I charged down the street, too furious to care if anyone saw me coming out of the bar this late at night. A bolt of lightning lit up the black, starless, late May sky, followed by a crack of thunder so loud it shook the ground. I marched on, fearlessly, feeling the same storm raging within me…until a gust of wind carrying the threat of summer and the dewy scent of rain whipped me in the face.

How had this happened?

I hadn’t set out to have amazing pool table sex with Matt, it just sort of happened. Two consenting adults had world-rocking physical contact. I sighed, my shoulders relaxing slightly as some of the anger and tension oozed out. He might be acting like an ass now, but I had to admit he’d been upset over me mentioning the clover tattoo. I couldn’t blame him, but he wouldn’t let me explain.

And then he’d made matters worse by sticking his foot in his mouth several times, insulting my character. If he knew my ex, he would know exactly why I was divorced. Why did the sex with Matt have to be incredible? I’d felt so connected to him, and it had been much more than a physical connection. I wasn’t prepared to put a name to what I had felt; but whatever it was, it had been real.

Not up to his standards?

A bit of indignation crept back up my spine, snapping my shoulders straight. Who the hell did he think he was? He was obviously looking for the perfect woman. With today’s divorce rate, he wasn’t likely to find her. I had news for him. She didn’t exist. Not that I wanted to be her. No way in hell. I’d been down that road, and it hadn’t been pretty. I liked living my life on my own terms, with no one but myself to think about. I pursed my lips.

Then why was I so angry…so hurt?

Pain pulsed behind my temples from too much thinking and too many martinis. Not to mention getting a little too cozy with my good friend Dom. At the end of the street, I unlocked the door to my shop and was about to march up the stairs to my apartment.

Most of the businesses in Mayflower were set in old houses with apartments upstairs. It cut down on the need for overdevelopment—something this small New England town was dead set against. Suddenly, I felt the presence of someone behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to know who followed.

Matt.

I sighed, knowing in my heart he was a good and decent man. He just lived in the stone ages, and I couldn’t risk getting hurt any further. I glanced over my shoulder and met his gaze. He stood there larger than life with his hands fisted at his sides, the wind whipping his blond curls about his head like some Viking from long ago, standing strong and proud as he prepared to do battle. Then a solemn expression swept over his face, and the fight went out of him as the first fat raindrops pattered against the hard ground.

We’d both said things we’d never normally say, but we couldn’t take them back now. He slipped his hands in his jean pockets and his shoulders drooped slightly, his eyes saying it all. He was sorry. Well, so was I, but that didn’t change the fact that we both wanted entirely different things. He was right. What was the point of pursuing something that could lead only to heartache, even if the electricity still sizzled between us?

There was no point.

I wasn’t ready to share my life, didn’t know if I would ever be, and Matt seemed to sense that, which was a good thing. Because had we started something, I didn’t know if I would have been strong enough to walk away. I opened the door while I still could, shutting it and him firmly behind me.

I didn’t need Matt. I didn’t need any man. And so far, turning forty had been eventful, not boring, same as any other age. I took comfort in that. I shook my head and allowed myself a small smile. And here I had been worried.

Silly me for thinking my life was about to change.