Prove Me Wrong

by Gemma Hart

  The man raised a brow. “This is your diner?”

  Kat shrugged. “Well, my uncle’s. He’s also our cook. You can maybe make out his head through the order window. His nickname used to be Doughy. When he opened the diner, he said he was old enough to be called Pop now so hence, Doughy Pop’s.”

  She waited.

  The man said nothing as he absorbed the information. More than several beats of silence passed between them.

  “Do you like our coffee, Carl?” she asked, finally breaking the quiet.

  The man gave her a perplexed look. “My name’s not Carl,” he said.

  She raised my brows in surprise. “Oh I’m so sorry!” Kat said in sincerity. “What was your name again?”

  The man’s lips twitched.

  “Name’s Daniels. Jason Daniels,” he said. His voice had a low, rich timbre which held notes of honesty that made her skin shiver in pleasure.

  “Hi Jason,” she said with genuine sincerity. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  There was another beat of silence where Jason seemed a little unsure as to how to proceed from there. It was almost a little painful for Kat to watch. She could tell he was in need of some kind of companionship—really dying for it—and yet he wasn’t sure how to go about it.

  “Where are you coming from, Jason?” she asked, to try and start the conversation.

  “Up north,” he said vaguely and abruptly.

  Okaaay. So clearly he didn’t want to talk about himself.

  “Why’s your brother squinting/glaring at me?” he asked curiously as he stared over her shoulder to where Malcolm was very clearly squinting through his thick glasses in what he thought was a menacing fashion.

  Kat bit her lip to keep her from laughing. “Because he thinks you’re a drifting wizard out to kill for the Dark Lord,” she said with as straight a face as she could manage.

  Jason’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What?” he said. “I look like a wizard?”

  Kat couldn’t help but let a giggle escape as she nodded.

  Jason’s brow furrowed in absolute bewilderment. “Like Merlin?”

  His confusion was so genuine and so real, it was hard for Katrina not to burst out laughing. “I guess so,” she said as she wheezed a little, still unable to stop the laughter.

  Jason split a perplexed look between Malcolm and Kat before shrugging and shaking his head. “I guess wizards have changed since I was a kid,” he muttered, causing Katrina to giggle again. He clearly was still thinking about the long bearded old Merlin.

  “How long has the diner been around?” he asked when she had finally laughed it all out. He looked around the place. It was an old school diner. Not many left like these any more. Formica tabletops, chrome interior, and a thin layer of grease that coated the whole place, evidence of a happy and healthy diner.

  Kat puffed up my cheeks then blew some air out as she thought. “Oh gosh,” she said. “It’s been I guess close to twenty years now? My uncle started it way back when he first got settled in this town. It was his retirement job, as he calls it.” She grinned, thinking of her large and loud voiced uncle.

  “Retirement from what?” Jason asked, curious.

  Kat grinned. She leaned forward as if about to share a secret. Jason grinned, clearly enjoying the conspiratorial nature the conversation had suddenly taken.

  “My uncle was part of a motorcycle gang,” she whispered loudly.

  Jason raised a brow in surprise.

  Kat shrugged. “Well, at least that’s what me and the rest of the town believe. He soundly denies it. He says he worked in a paper factory in New Jersey for years and years. But you find me a paper factory that requires employees to tattoo club mottos on themselves and has leather vests as uniforms.”

  Jason couldn’t help but grin. It changed the entire outlook of his face. From a brooding darkly attractive man, he turned into a gorgeous model that could be in toothpaste commercials.

  “Quite a character for small town living,” he said.

  Kat nodded. In the upper western part of North Carolina, close enough to be touching Virginia, Peytonville was a small town to be sure. They were too far from all the action of Raleigh or Greenboro or all the beach towns. But there was a very beautiful charm in Peytonville.

  It still carried a lot of architecture from the 1950s and 60s and had beautiful foliage surrounding the streets and city edges. There was no place else in the world that was as beautiful or as a peaceful in Kat’s eyes. Peytonville was home. It had been the place that had rescued her and her brothers and for that, she could never show enough love or gratitude.

  Jason cocked his head, studying her.

  “You like it here,” he said slowly, as if deducing her thoughts straight from her brain. “You like it here a lot.”

  Kat blushed a little. “Pretty obvious, huh?”

  “You’re practically glowing,” he said, smiling.

  “This is my home,” she said simply. “It’s hard not to love it.”

  Jason nodded, as if he could understand the love she bore for the town. He looked out the window towards the main street that ran down the center of downtown.

  “And what do your parents do? Do they work in restaurants as well?” he asked.

  Kat’s smile faltered just for a second but he had caught it. Immediately his gaze focused in on her, making her feel as if she had his fullest attention.

  “My mother passed away when I was twelve,” she said softly. There was still a dull stinging that pierced her heart whenever she thought of her mother, even thirteen years later.

  “I’m sorry,” Jason said softly.

  There was a beat where the quiet sounds of diner surrounded them. Kat looked up to see Jason staring at her with a look she couldn’t quite understand. All she could tell though was that it held warmth.

  “And your dad?” he asked.

  Kat shook her head. “They divorced when I was about six. But he had never stayed around much before then. I’ve never really known the man,” she said. “After the divorce is when mom moved in with her brother—my uncle. And we’ve been here ever since.”

  She had played at the diner from as early on as she could remember. Her mom had waitressed and managed the place to help her brother. And when her mom had passed, the loving women of Peytonville had all stepped up to become her surrogate mother. They had been the ones to talk her through her first period, buy her first bra, and to shop with her for her first homecoming dress.

  After another pause, she said, “What about you? You know nearly everything about me now. What about your parents?”

  Jason shrugged and almost grimaced at the mention of his parents. “Mom drank and dad hit,” he said simply. “It wasn’t the best place and I got out of there as soon as possible.”

  “Where did you go?” she asked quietly, taken aback by his frankness.

  “Army,” he answered. “It was the only place I could think of at eighteen.”

  Suddenly it all made sense. There was a quiet strength and hardness to him that made perfect sense in the mold of a soldier. So he was a soldier.

  “Are you at Fort Bragg?” she asked. Fayetteville was quite a way’s away from their small sleepy town.

  Jason shook his head. “I’ll be stopping there on my way out. But I’m not stationed there, no,” he said. The lines of his face seemed to deepen with each word.

  “On your way out?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Iraq this time,” he said.

  This time. How many times had he been shipped over? From the lines on his face and the darkening of his eyes, Kat could tell it had been too many times.

  “I…” Kat started but faltered, not wanting to sound ignorant or insensitive. “I thought things were winding down there.”

  He pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “To some extent. But where one group of insurgents falls, another rises. So soldiers will always be needed.”

  “When do you leave?” she asked.

  “In two days,�
� he replied, keeping his eyes on his cup.

  Slowly, Kat was starting to piece together the mysterious fragments of Jason Daniels. He was a soldier who had clearly seen a lot of battle and had been shipped off one too many times. He was rough and ragged from what he had seen and endured. He was lonely. He was hurt.

  And he had wanted someone to talk to one more time before he left. He had wanted just a few moments of companionship and normal intimacy before he returned to gunfire and rage.

  Kat’s heart felt for him. Although it was through different experiences, she knew of loneliness. She knew of wanting something warm and commonplace—like a mother’s hug—but unable to get it.

  “You know, I—” But before Kat could finish, a gangly shadow crossed their table.

  Kat looked up to see Malcolm glaring down at her. “Some of the other muggles would like their coffee too,” he said.

  Kat looked around. It had gotten a little busier since she had sat down. She nodded and shooed Malcolm away, who reluctantly left.

  Jason immediately felt contrite. “I’m sorry, Katrina,” he said. “I shouldn’t have kept you like this when you’re working.”

  Kat stood up and picked up her coffee pot, which had turned cold by now. “Please, call me Kat,” she corrected. She smiled and then added brightly, “And don’t worry. I never get in trouble here. I’m the boss’s favorite.”

  A loud snort was heard from behind the bar. She made a mental note to give Malcolm a good kick in the pants at home.

  Jason smiled but she saw that lingering hunger in his eyes. He was sad to see the conversation end. He had wanted more before he left.

  And, surprisingly, she wanted more as well.

  “I get off at nine,” Kat offered. “If it’s not too late, I can meet you around nine thirty for some late night pie and coffee. After all, I haven’t told you where my uncle’s tattoos are yet.”

  Kat’s eyes twinkled.

  Jason grinned. “It’s a date.”

  Chapter Three

  “It’s not a date date,” Kat explained for the third time in exasperation. “It’s just a date. Like two grown adults meeting each other in a friendly fashion.”

  Malcolm grumbled to himself as he wiped down the empty bar. The diner was closed and most of the lights off. They were midway through their closing rituals.

  “Grown ups can get very friendly when they meet,” Malcolm mumbled to himself as he wiped down the counter with more ferocity than needed. He suddenly stood up and pushed up his falling glasses with the back of his hand. He turned to the order window where loud banging and sloshing of water was heard.

  “Don’t you think so, Uncle Do?” he called out.

  Uncle Doughy’s large, bald head popped up through the window. “Eh?” he asked, his face scrunched in that look of slight annoyance he always had. A lot of the younger children in Peytonville were quite afraid of Uncle Doughy. And Kat didn’t blame them for it.

  At six feet tall and nearly three hundred and fifty pounds, the man was huge. But unlike most heavy people who carried their weight like a burdensome stone, he carried his like a menacing force. With his broad face and crooked nose, he looked every bit like the old biker people rumored him to be.

  Graying tattoos covered his arms and his chest. He had a husky voice that spoke of many chewed cigars in his past. And he had small, squinty eyes that always made him look like he was glaring.

  But every time Kat looked at him, she couldn’t help but smile. She loved her Uncle Doughy. It was this mean looking man who had always made sure that she and her brothers had new clothes for school and enough presents at Christmas. It was this tough old biker who had teared up at his sister’s funeral and had promised at her gravesite to raise her children as his own.

  And when Dillon had gotten sick, it was Uncle Doughy who had made sure that he received the best care possible.

  In Kat’s eyes, no man was greater and more loving than her Uncle Doughy.

  “Grown ups!” Malcolm called out. “Getting friendly!” He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive way then jerked his head towards his sister. “At night!” he added as if that was the clincher.

  Kat rolled her eyes.

  “Are you meeting that grunt from table six?” Uncle Doughy asked, sharp and perceptive as always.

  Kat turned to her uncle in surprise. “How’d you know he’s in the military?” she asked.

  Her uncle looked at her in compassionate condescension. “You could smell those GI tags a mile away,” he said. He leaned a large forearm on the window. “Are you meeting him?”

  “Yes, I am,” Kat said patiently. She put her hands on her hips and glared at her brother. “And I don’t understand why some people are putting up such a stink about it.”

  “Because we don’t even know him!” Malcolm said. “Who goes out with a stranger after talking to him for fifteen minutes?”

  Kat crossed her arms and looked at her brother sardonically. “That is literally how almost every date in the history of humanity starts.” Malcolm rolled his eyes. Kat continued knowingly, “It’s because we started to talk to strangers that we don’t still marry our fifth cousins and have babies with three eyes or no chin, little brother.”

  “Oh good,” Malcolm muttered sarcastically. “A history lesson from my sister before she goes out and gets murdered. This will be a good memory to have at your funeral.”

  Uncle Doughy watched his nephew and niece duke it out as they usually did. Finally he nodded and said, “Have your phone on you and stay in lit areas.” His head then disappeared from the window.

  Malcolm’s jaw dropped in outrage as he stared at the empty window. “That's all you have to say?” he demanded. “Kat, who apparently can’t find anyone good enough in town even though every man has knocked down our doors trying to get to her, is going to go out with some drifter and all you can say is stay in lit areas?”

  But there was no response. Only the banging of pots and pans as they were washed for the night.

  Kat grinned. Undoing her apron, she picked up a thermos and a large paper bag. She looked at her reflection against the dull metal wall. She carefully tousled her long caramel colored bangs and retied her loose ponytail, letting it rest comfortably over her shoulder.

  Pinching Malcom’s cheek on her way out the door, she grinned, “You’re sweet, little brother.”

  “Just know cops can arrest wizards and muggles alike!” Malcolm called out. “No one is exempt from the law!”

  ***

  They had decided to meet out in front of the library. The library was next to a large park that was well lit and had a lovely path to walk along.

  Kat saw Jason first. He was standing under a streetlight, his pickup truck parked next to him. Seeing his tall, broad body standing against the streetlight, he looked like the embodiment of a Rebel Without A Cause. He looked dangerous. He looked lethal.

  And for a moment, Kat felt her heart skip a beat as she wondered if this maybe wasn’t the best idea. After all, Malcolm had been right. She had only talked to the man for about fifteen minutes. What could she really learn about a person in such a short amount of time?

  But then as she neared, Jason must’ve heard her footsteps. He raised his head and instantly, Kat felt at ease.

  As soon as Jason’s head had lifted at the sound of her footsteps, she had seen that searching look of surprise. He had half expected her to stand him up. He had thought she would flake.

  But even still, he had stood by the library, hoping for the best but prepared for the worst.

  Kat felt her heart ache a little for the man who was clearly in need of some warmth and some comfort. He seemed to doubt anything good in his world could truly be for him.

  After months of battle and firefights, she could see how someone could start thinking like that. And it made her more determined to show him that there was enough good in the world and that he was more than entitled to some.

  She smiled and waved the thermos. “I brought some coffe
e and pie,” she called out.

  He grinned. “You’re like an angel to my stomach.”

  She suddenly wondered if she should’ve brought an actual meal for him. After all, at the diner he had only had coffee.

  Jason went around and lowered the tailgate to his truck. Kat set the thermos and the paper bag carrying the pie on the flatbed. But before she could push herself up, Jason grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up with a breathless strength that made her dizzy.

  Kat felt her cheeks immediately heat. He had picked her up as if she had been nothing more than a feather. The ease of his strength of his hands on her waist took her by surprise. But a good surprise. Most definitely.