Prove Me Wrong Read Free Page B

a drill and hammer, that’s what I started doing too.”
                  Jonah gave a faint smile. “What does your old man think of your furniture? You think he’ll like the moose head?”
                  I returned the smile and shrugged. “If he could see it, I’m sure he’d love it. He was always proud of me, even when I made a six legged chair.” I laughed, remembering that project. I had been thirteen and convinced the chair would herald a new wave of design in furniture making.
                  “Was?” Jonah asked softly, his eyes intent.
                  I nodded. “My dad died when I was nineteen,” I said simply. Enough time had passed that I could now say those words without feeling my entire heart shatter. Now there was only the tiny crack that ached desperately. “But he would’ve loved Geoff.” I grinned.
                  Jonah didn’t return the grin right away. He watched me. “But your mom? Where’s she then?” he asked.
                  I bit my bottom lip. “She died when I was born. She was diabetic and it was a rocky pregnancy,” I said, saying the words in one quick breath. I gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry to bum you out with such a tragic history of my life. I’m an orphan now but I’ll tell you, I know my mom loved me when she was pregnant with me. And I double dog know that my dad loved me when he raised me. I had the best parents a kid could ask for. I just didn’t have them for very long.”
                  I shrugged, that familiar ache in my chest still dully thumping along in rhythmic beats. “But that’s more than some kids can say,” I said.
                  Jonah sat quietly across from me. The diner had a gentle hum to it as the sounds of pots and pans being stirred into action in the back echoed through the front room.
                  “You’re right,” Jonah replied softly. “It is.”
                  I gave the mystery man a look. “What about you? Mr. Jonah I-Have-No-Last-Name?” I asked, teasing gently. “You know my whole life history now but you haven’t said a word about your own.”
                  Jonah raised a dark brow. “Something tells me that I barely scratched the surface on your history,” he said in a deep voice that hadn’t failed yet to make my skin ripple in warmth. This man had something electric about him and it was dangerously intoxicating.
                  “Well something tells me you’re not from Hanover,” I said, naming the town closest to us. Judging from his clothes, I could tell they were expensive. Very expensive.
                  And his car! It looked like it had come straight out of a magazine. Did people really drive cars like that in real life?
                  Jonah quirked his lips. “No, I’m not from Hanover,” he said. He took a sip of the coffee, grunting in approval at its taste before saying, “I’m from out of town.”
                  I raised a brow. “Oh I see. You want to hold on to that mysterious bad boy image for as long as you can, huh?”
                  Jonah looked at me in surprise. “Bad boy? What makes you think that of me?”
                  Oh please. The man oozed danger. If the idea of forbidden fruit could be personified, it would be this man. I didn’t know what it was about him but I knew enough to know that this was a lethal man.
                  “Well,” I said, ignoring his last comment, “what are you doing in a place as remote as Irvington, Vermont? This isn’t exactly a huge tourist draw, if you hadn’t noticed.” I grinned. The town boasted a population of three thousand on its best day.
                  Jonah took in a deep breath, leaning back in his seat. He glanced out the window towards the street where his unbelievably flashy car