by Natasha Boyd
“Rude?” He looked completely taken aback. “What the fuck?”
I arched a recently plucked eyebrow at him and spun on my sneakers back to the restaurant. I can’t really explain my actions except I don’t do weird encounters well, and this was way outside of my comfort zone. I definitely had a flight reaction setting in.
“Shit,” he mumbled. “Okay, wait!” He strode forward, and reaching the door I was half way through in three long strides, wedged his foot in as it closed. Hard.
Oops.
“Ow!” he yelped. “Mother...” He stopped his expletive in the nick of time and wrapped his hand around the doorframe. “Wait.” For a second, he looked really puzzled. “Wait, okay? I’m sorry about my language, but I paid for my burger.” He paused, taking a deep breath and pitching his tone just right to appease me, this banshee of a girl. “May I please have it?”
I simply stared at him. Call it delayed shock setting in. Finally, I managed to snap out of it and stepped aside allowing him entry.
He looked at me warily and then walked past.
I closed the door behind him and locked it. It was a weird move, I admit.
“You taking me hostage?” he asked, his tone light.
“Can’t be too careful with the kind of people who loiter around in the dark,” I muttered. I honestly don’t think he could tell if I was teasing. Hell, I wasn’t sure. I mean, I was obviously, but I couldn’t be too sure how things were coming out of my mouth. He looked like he was thinking the quicker he grabbed his food and got out of here, the better. Great. I get to meet Jack Eversea, the Jack Eversea, and I act like a complete imbecile. It was so good Jazz wasn’t here, she would have clobbered me by now. For that matter, she would have clobbered him and dragged him back to her lair.
“So why did you say I was rude?” he asked. He shook his head slightly. In all likelihood at his idiocy in prolonging this weird encounter.
I stalked around the bar with a sigh, grabbing utensils and napkins as I did. Well, it couldn’t get any worse, so I thought I might as well speak my mind. Or at least justify my odd behavior.
“Well, how about a list? You were so busy texting you didn’t bother looking at me while I took your order. You mumbled it, didn’t say please, and when I delivered your drink, you didn’t say thank you. Did you not learn any basic courtesy growing up?” I delivered a plate to the bar counter and snapped open the Styrofoam box, sliding the contents out neatly, spilling nary a French fry on the way. Impressive. Even though I knew he wanted this order to go. What was I doing?
I continued, “Or are you so used to getting your way, because you look like God’s gift to humanity? Maybe the fame has gone to your head a little bit?” My tone suggested a little bit was not what I meant.
“So I guess that answers my question about whether you know who I am?” He leaned forward against the bar and gave me a familiar furrowed-brow bad boy look. The same look that had been captured in Vanity Fair no less. Bad idea.
I huffed and rolled my eyes.
Jack Eversea finally looked stumped. Like he had no idea what to say and how to get his burger out of this place.
My nerves were subsiding. Not fully, considering I literally had some tabloid poll’s sexiest man alive standing across the bar from me. But enough that I thought I might finally be able to converse normally.
“Sit and eat, you can keep me company while I shut this place down. It gives me the creeps after Hector locks up the kitchen and goes home.” The fact that I didn’t know whether Hector had left yet didn’t seem to phase me.
I stuck out my hand and Jack took it warily. His hand was warm and strong, and if touching him didn’t give me weak knees and a buzzing head, I was a monkey’s uncle. “I’m Keri Ann Butler.”
“Ja—”
“Jack Eversea, I know. Have a seat. Another drink?”
He nodded, still not releasing my hand. “Please.”
I smiled at him then. The most natural smile I could muster despite the fact that holding his hand had launched a butterfly migration through my insides. I untangled my fingers from his after a few awkward beats, and Jack Eversea sat dutifully on the bar stool in front of his food.
He snapped open the ketchup bottle. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“Another one?” I winked to let him know I was teasing.
“Can you please not mention to anyone ... I mean, anyone, including your blonde friend from earlier ... that you saw me?”
I stayed quiet a few moments weighing the pros and cons. If anyone found out he was here, he’d never get his space to figure his shit out. And from what little I had gleaned from that tabloid article, he needed to. But this was Jack Eversea and Jazz was a huge fan.
“Please?” he asked again, quietly. Pleadingly.
“Of course.” I inclined my head. “Your secret’s safe. Not sure anyone would believe me, anyway.” I laughed lightly.
He seemed to relax infinitesimally.
I delivered him a fresh Bushmills, and then set about wiping down the bar and closing out the computer, trying to look as relaxed as possible and not trip over my own feet.
Finally shutting the computer off, I calmly took a tray of plates through the swing door into the kitchen. As soon as it shut behind me, I put the tray down and sank against the refrigeration room door.
A flood of pent up reactions ballooned inside me. Holy shit! Jack Eversea was on the other side of that door. The Jack Eversea. Oh my God, Jazz was gonna tilt. Except, I couldn’t tell Jazz. How was I supposed to keep something like this bottled up? Okay, okay, breathe. I was just a little star-struck, I would be fine in a minute. I mean, he was beautiful and everything, but he was also just a tad full of himself, and—I reminded myself—he was rude earlier. A spoiled celebrity. Not crushing material, at all. Well, maybe just a tiny crush. But only because I had seen him play Max from my favorite Warriors of Erath book series that made it onto the big screen.
I thought back to the movie and his bare, muscled torso with the medallion tattoo on his bicep. That was his body.
Jazz, literally his biggest fan, had watched every movie he had been in since she was fifteen, and had proudly declared he performed every one of his scenes with no stunt man or body double. It was natural a bit of her enthusiasm would rub off on me, right?
My face flamed as I remembered I’d just lectured Jack Eversea on his manners. Nice. He must think me a complete pain in the ass.
Hector was still there loading the last dishes. He turned and came for my tray, stopping as he saw me heaving for breath and clutching my middle.
“What’s the matter, Chiquita?” he asked urgently.
I shook my head roughly and brought a finger to my lips. Oh man, I hoped Jack Eversea hadn’t heard that. My eyes flicked to the pass-through and Hector did a quick head duck to look through before I could stop him.
He turned back to me, eyes wide. “Is that...?”
Shit. I couldn’t keep a secret for ten minutes.
I nodded.
“Dios mio!” Hector whispered, crossing himself.
“Hector!” I hissed. “You can’t say a word, okay? Not. One. Word.” I bored my eyes into his crinkled gaze, willing him to get how serious I was.
“Okay, okay.” Hector put his hands up in surrender.
“Seriously, Hector.” I softened my whisper. “He’s going through a bad break up, I get the sense he’s here to get away. Let’s not invade his privacy?”
He nodded sagely.
I thanked my lucky stars Jazz had been in earlier, or I might never have known about his personal issues. I could tell Hector thought this a good enough reason not to tell his granddaughter about who he met at work tonight. He looked disappointed, though.
“Sorry, Hector. Maybe you can tell Maria in a few months? I don’t know how long he’s staying in town, or even if he is,” I whispered.
“Can I ask him for an autograph, as proof, you know?” Hector looked so hopeful.
I sighed. “I guess we
can ask him and tell him we promise to keep his secret until after he leaves.”
I took a deep breath and went through the door followed by Hector.
* * *
“I can’t give you your change, I gave it to Hector as a tip. I thought you weren’t coming back.” I shifted nervously as I delivered the news a few minutes after Hector left out of the kitchen door, happily clutching the autograph he’d promised not to show for at least three weeks.
Jack watched me through hooded eyes as he ate the last few French fries on his plate. He hadn’t said anything yet about the fact I was a lousy secret keeper.
I tried to put a positive spin on it. “Thank you for doing that for Hector. His granddaughter, Maria, is a fan of yours. But you can trust him.”
“He had a good night, huh? A hefty tip and an autograph.” Jack’s tone was teasing. Thank God. “What about you?” His eyes searched mine.
“What about me? Why didn’t I take the tip?”
“No, not that. But why didn’t you?”
“We both do the work around here.”
Jack nodded, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the side of his plate. “So, do you need an autograph?”
“No!” I blurted, my face flushing warm. “I mean, no, that’s okay. But thank you for asking.” I swallowed. Could I sound any more petulant?
Jack laughed.
It was a mesmerizing sound. Coupled with the way his gray green eyes twinkled when he did so, and the dimple in his left cheek ... it was no surprise half the world was in love with him. This was bad. I did not want to be a Jack Eversea groupie. But I was beginning to realize what charisma really meant. He certainly knew how to use it.
“Why?” he asked.
“Why? I don’t know why! Maybe because you sound full of yourself for just asking.” I huffed at him. “God, I’m sorry, I act bitchy when I’m nervous.”
He pursed his lips and nodded sagely. “I wouldn’t call it bitchy. God knows, I’d know the difference.” He thought for a moment. “Let’s call it ... well, bitchy works.”
“Hey!” Great.
“Yeah, bitchy ... and disapproving ... like unimpressed.”
“I am unimpressed,” I snapped.
“I can tell.”
My face flamed again. “Sorry. I mean ... obviously, I’m impressed.”
That sounded wrong. Groupie-ish, not bitchy. Oh man, which was better? “With your work, I mean.” I went on awkwardly, “You are very ... talented.”
He rolled his eyes. “Stop. Stop. Kill me now.” He held his hand dramatically to his heart.
I stared at him.
“I’m teasing you, Keri Ann.”
“Oh.” I took a deep breath.
He looked at me, unblinking for a few moments.
“What?”
“What do you drive?”
“A red truck, why?”
“Figures.” He smirked, but didn’t elaborate. “And given your ... bitchiness, I’m obviously making you nervous, so it’s my fault I guess. I’m sorry.”
Jack laughed again, a slow, easy sound that ran over my skin like too many soft caresses. It must be the humidity. That, or I had managed to avoid having an unrealistic crush on this heart-throb through all of his many movies designed to make girls swoon, including playing my favorite fictional hero, only to have him walk into my place of employment, in the flesh, and deploy the swoon-bomb that was rapidly detonating over all my good senses. Had I been singled out? Did the Devil look up and see one sensible girl left and decide on tactical warfare to bring me into line?
Jack was asking me a question.
“What? Sorry.”
“I said, can I stay a bit longer? I’m still on California time, and well ... as you heard,” he winced, “I have a lot going on in my personal life right now, and I don’t want to think about it tonight.”
No, no, no. This was a bad idea. I found myself shaking my head. I needed this bizarre incident to be over. On the other hand, I was developing a crush on someone I didn’t know, not really. All I needed was some more time in his self-absorbed sphere to come to my senses. If he really was self-absorbed. Maybe he was just used to getting his own way. Why was I making excuses for him? I mentally kicked myself.
“I’ll just stay til you finish up and walk you to your truck or whatever. It’s late ... and dark.”
He noticed my almost imperceptible negative head shake. “Please?”
Damn. The same ‘please’ that had gotten to me earlier. The one asking for me to keep his secret.
I sighed and nodded. “Okay.”
He looked relieved. “Oh and also, may I have another drink?”
“Bar’s closed,” I tried, predicting his cheeky smirk.
“I know.”
I rolled my eyes, and smiling, grabbed his glass to fill with ice. This was going to be the longest closedown ever.
T H R E E
“How old are you?” Jack was sweeping. Sweeping! Sometime during the last ten minutes of conversation while he asked me questions about Butler Cove, he must have started feeling guilty while I was sweeping around his feet. Tomorrow, I would wake up and this would all be a bizarre dream. I was sure he was thinking the same thing. Hoping more like.
“I’m turning twenty-two next month.”
He looked up, surprised. “You seem older.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Thanks? I think ... Why?”
He shrugged. “You don’t look old.” He stopped and perused me from head to toe. He was taking in my brown hair, my black regulation t-shirt tucked into jean shorts and my bare legs, which were thankfully, nice and tan, and my white Keds. Fashion parade I was not. Harried and tired waitress, yes.
My cheeks burned under his scrutiny. “Are you done?”
Jack cleared his throat, cutting his eyes away and resumed his sweeping. “You just act ... I don’t know, older than you are.”
“How old are you?” I asked, deflecting back to him after the self-conscious moment he’d given me.
“Don’t you know that already?”
I paused in the middle of lowering the blinds and crossed my arms at him. He really was annoyingly full of himself. “Contrary to what you may have seen earlier this evening with my friend Jazz and her tabloid magazine, I don’t follow gossip all that much. I’ve got too much to do, and I prefer reading books to magazines. Not that I begrudge Jazz her favorite pastime.”
Jack had the sense to look slightly conciliatory. “Sorry. I’m twenty-six.”
“What? Are you kidding? You look ... younger.” I walked back over to the bar and grabbed the beer he’d persuaded me to have. I took a gulp. “And you act younger, too,” I couldn’t help adding.
I saw his grin as he bent down to finish up with the dustpan. God, that dimple was going to be the death of me.
“Touché.”
Everything was done. The restaurant was as clean and put away as it could possibly get. I had zero excuses to continue hanging out with Jack Eversea. I had to head home. I also had to figure out how to stop referring to him by his full name in my head.
After putting away all the cleaning stuff, I grabbed my purse from behind the bar and the set of keys to lock up behind us. “You ready?”
“Yeah.” He put his cap back on, curling his one hand around the peak and mashing the back of it up and down on his head a few times with his other the way guys do. I have never understood that—like it has to be just perfectly molded to their heads or something. Joey did exactly the same thing. Jack pushed his arms through his hoodie and popped the hood up over the cap.
“It’s, like, eighty degrees still outside. I should have seen through your disguise sooner. You’re going to have to think of a better way to blend in or you’re gonna die from the heat.” I shook my head, amused. Then a thought occurred to me.
“Are you staying here? I mean, in Butler Cove?” I was treating this encounter as a one-time deal. Which, of course, it was. Even if he was staying close by, there was no way I would
be seeing him again. I’d been awkward enough already to last me a lifetime of horror and humiliation.
I locked up the restaurant behind us.
“Yeah, I’m borrowing a friend’s beach house for a while,” he responded. “How long depends on if I can stay here without being found out. You have no idea what the paparazzi are capable of. I didn’t think a lot of stuff through before I got here, I just drove. I was pretty upset.” He scowled off into the distance.
It was the second time he had made mention of his current issues. It must be weird to meet a person for the first time and have them know all this stuff about you already. I really wanted to ask him about it, but with my track record, I was as likely to make him feel worse. Anyway, what was there to say? He was broken hearted over his girlfriend cheating on him. He was hardly going to tell me, a complete stranger, the lurid details.
It was time for me to get out of here. I may have been getting over my initial star-struck moment, but he was still absolutely and sinfully gorgeous. Hanging out with him wasn’t going to get me over that. And the last thing I needed was to get pie-eyed over him when he was going to vanish about as quickly as he’d arrived.
“Okay, well ... thanks for helping me close up and ... good luck.”
“Wait. Keri Ann?” For a moment he looked unsure, with his hands deep in his pockets and his toe absently kicking a pebble. “I really hate to ask this. It’s just I don’t know anyone else here and I trust you. For whatever reason.”
“Thanks,” I said, surprised. “You should.” Even though it was going to kill me not to tell Jazz about tonight. “Soooo, walk me to my door—it’s only about a hundred yards—and you can ask me whatever you like.” I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. But regardless of this being my hometown and it not being a far walk—it was eleven thirty and dark as Hades, even with the moon. I turned toward home, not waiting for an answer. Immediately I regretted it, wondering what this hotshot Hollywood type would think about my run down, falling apart southern home. It was built of plaster and wood in the 1800’s. In the hot and humid south. Need I say more?