The Woman He Knows

by Margaret Watson

  She’d planned to avoid any mention of the kiss and figured Patrick would, too. After all, she’d shoved him away. Told him she wasn’t interested. Patrick was a smart guy. He could take a hint.

  Instead, he’d acted as if he was looking forward to the next kiss.

  She remembered the taste of his mouth on hers, the pressure of his lips, the way he’d taken his time, as if he’d planned on kissing her all night. Heat washed over her and she closed her eyes.

  It couldn’t happen again. She’d be more careful. Starting immediately.

  As she cut sheets of butcher’s paper to cover the tablecloths, she realized that she was the only one in the room. Three other waitresses were supposed to be working tonight. Phyllis and Carol were here every Friday, and Ashley was filling in for Rita. Carol and Ashley were occasionally late, but Phyllis was always prompt.

  She had half the tables covered when Patrick stepped into the dining room. “Phyllis just called,” he said. “She’s watching her grandson and her daughter got held up. She’ll get here as soon as she can, but you and Carol and Ashley are going to have to pick up the slack.”

  “We can do that.”

  He glanced around. “Where are those two?”

  She laid another sheet of white paper over a tablecloth. “I have no idea.” She wasn’t about to tell Patrick about their tardiness. If he yelled at them, Carol would be more sullen than usual and Ashley would be more ditzy.

  The dining room lights illuminated Patrick as he helped her tear off sheets. She watched him for a moment, his lean frame bending over a table, his hands smoothing the paper in place. When she caught herself watching his dark pants tighten over his ass, she looked away.

  “Since you’re doing all the setup, you can leave when we close. The others can do the breakdown.”

  “Thanks.” She picked up the basket of cutlery and moved to a covered table. If she left early, there was no chance she’d end up alone with Patrick in the empty restaurant again. That was good. It was exactly what she wanted.

  Jesse called Patrick into the bar, and he rolled a sheet of paper onto the last table and hurried out. Darcy took a deep breath. Clearly, Kelly had been right. Not dating for three years was a mistake. It made her too vulnerable to an attractive guy, even one she knew was trouble. Once she got out of Chicago and settled in another city, maybe she’d try to find a nice guy.

  An accountant. A dentist. Anyone but a cop.

  By the time she’d set the tables, her heart rate was back to normal, and she headed into the kitchen for the cheese.

  As she was opening the walk-in refrigerator, a delivery truck’s engine rumbled outside the propped-open back door. Patrick appeared, carrying two cases of wine, and she pressed against the wall to let him through. He’d taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, and her gaze lingered on his defined forearm muscles and their dusting of dark hair.

  Jesse followed him in, carrying a single case. As they walked through the kitchen, Ashley strolled in, pausing to watch Jesse and Patrick. “Dude, that man is fine,” she said.

  Darcy turned to the college student. “Really, dude? Patrick is old enough to be your father.” Not quite. But close enough.

  “Patrick?” The blonde with the ponytail grimaced. “Like, ewww. I was talking about Jesse.”

  “He’s too old for you, too,” Darcy muttered as heat crawled up her face.

  The door to the bar swung shut, hiding both men. Ashley sighed. Darcy yanked open the refrigerator. “Hey, Ash, you’d better punch in and get busy. Patrick already noticed you weren’t here.”

  “Darn it! I hoped he wouldn’t.”

  Darcy watched the girl’s ponytail bounce as she grabbed her apron and hurried toward the dining room. She’d been working with Patrick all this time and hadn’t realized how observant he was?

  It was the first thing Darcy noticed about him.

  Maybe the second thing. As Ashley had said, the man was fine.

  * * *

  AFTER SHE’D DISTRIBUTED the cheese dishes on the tables, she went to the waitress station for a glass of water. Ashley was stacking clean glasses, and the restaurant was in that comfortable place when everything was ready to go but the first customers hadn’t yet arrived.

  Patrick walked over to her, as if he’d known, even from the bar, where she was. She set down her glass and waited for him.

  “Before we get busy, Darcy, we need to talk.”

  She glanced toward the dining room, but Ashley was in the far corner, not close enough to hear them. “We don’t need to talk about it,” she said.

  “What’s ‘it’?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “The other night.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant, but we can talk about that, too.” He smiled politely. “What did you want to discuss?”

  “Nothing! It’s done. We can’t take it back. But we can forget about it. Which is what I’m going to do.”

  He leaned against the counter and studied her. “Would you take it back? If you could?”

  “I... We...” Tell him yes. It had been stupid of her. Reckless. Dangerous. But the words wouldn’t come out of her mouth. “It doesn’t matter what I want. We can’t.”

  He straightened with a faint smile. “That’s what I thought.”

  “It’s not happening again.”

  “If that’s what you want.” He paused for a beat. “Is it?”

  “Yes! Of course. It would be...” Amazing. Breathtaking. “A mistake. We work together. And you’re leaving in three weeks.”

  “I know that. But we could have fun in those three weeks.” His eyes twinkled. “Does Nathan have a rule against coworkers kissing?”

  “I have no idea. It never came up. But getting involved would be disruptive.”

  “If you kissed me in the middle of the restaurant when it was full of people, yeah. That would be distracting. Is that what you were planning?”

  “No! I’m not planning anything.”

  “Good. Then we don’t have a problem.”

  Oh, they had a problem. At least she did. Her palms were sweating and her heart battered against her ribs. “What’s wrong with you?” she whispered. “Ashley’s going to hear you. Or Jesse. Anyone could walk in from the kitchen.”

  “That’s why I’m not going to kiss you now.”

  But he would kiss her again. Soon.

  She stared at him for a long moment as her chest tightened. He was definitely dangerous.

  She had to stay away from him.

  Running her damp palms down her apron, she swallowed. “So. What did you actually want to talk about?”

  His gaze lingered on her mouth for a moment, then he straightened. “Right. Business.” He was silent a moment. “I’m concerned about your relationship with Theresa Smith,” he finally said.

  She struggled to switch gears from the mental image of her and Patrick entwined in the kitchen. “What do you mean?”

  “I learned some things last night that have me worried. I want you to be careful around her.”

  “What kinds of things?” she demanded.

  He glanced over his shoulder, and she saw that Carol had come in. “Not now. Just—don’t do anything rash.”

  “In a restaurant full of people?” she said, throwing his words about a kiss back at him. “I’m not stupid.”

  “No, you’re not, but I think there’s stuff going on that you don’t know about. I’m worried about you. I want you to be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Talking to Theresa isn’t going to hurt me.”

  “Look, Darcy, I get it. I think you were a victim of violence, probably domestic abuse, and you want to help her. But you need to step back.”

  She could focus only on the bomb he’d just drop
ped. “Why do you think that? That I was a victim.”

  “Because of your extreme care about going to your car alone. The pepper spray you carry when you jog in the daylight in a nice neighborhood.” He paused. “Your secretiveness and your strong reaction to Theresa tells me it was probably domestic. You want me to go on?”

  “No! My personal life is irrelevant. Anyone would want to help Theresa.” How did he know? Had he really put it together from those clues? Or, in spite of what he’d said that night, had he gone looking for information about her?

  “We’ll talk about this later. I wanted you to know before Theresa came in tonight.”

  “Is all this protectiveness because I kissed you?” She stepped closer to him. “It was a nice kiss, but it wasn’t that good, Patrick. Not good enough for you to get all caveman about me. I appreciate that you’re concerned, but I’ll do what’s best for Theresa.”

  His jaw tightened.

  “Are we done here?” she demanded.

  “For now.”

  She turned and bumped into the counter. She steadied herself, then retreated. As she walked away, she buried her shaking hands in her pockets.

  She headed to Theresa’s usual table, knowing Patrick was watching. The paper slipped on the tablecloth as she smoothed it, and the napkin-rolled place settings skidded sideways. Patrick had shaken her. But she glanced at him, let their eyes meet.

  I’m not backing down.

  * * *

  NICE? PATRICK FUMED as he shoved into the kitchen. That damn kiss had kept him awake most of the night. And she thought it was nice.

  The next time he kissed her, no one would be using the n word.

  “Everything okay, Paddy?” Marco asked.

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “You look upset.”

  “Too much on my mind.”

  Marco pulled a serving of ravioli out of the water and plated it, then reached for a pan of white sauce bubbling on the stove. “Darcy part of it? I saw the way you looked at her, bro. You interested?”

  Yeah, he was interested. He wanted to chip away at her walls and discover the woman who hid behind them. “That would be stupid, since I’m only going to be here a few more weeks.” As Darcy had pointed out. But maybe he could come to Chicago more often.

  “Not what I asked.” Marco poured a ladle of the sauce on the pasta, then added sautéed ham, peas and mushrooms. The scent of garlic rolled over Patrick, reminding him of their earlier conversation about its aphrodisiac qualities.

  He didn’t need any help where Darcy was concerned. “What if I am?”

  “You break her heart, Nathan will kill you.”

  “That’s a federal offense,” Patrick said, trying to lighten the conversation.

  Marco pointed the ladle at him. “Watch it,” he warned. “Nathan’s very protective of her.”

  “Is he.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Marco said. “Not that way. Like he is with Frankie.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  If Nathan had a problem with him and Darcy, he could tell Patrick himself. He’d welcome a good fight—it might clear the air.

  “Anytime.” Marco backed up to the door and bumped his way through. Before it closed, he added, “Come taste the specials.”

  “I’ll catch them later.” If he sat at the table with Darcy, he wouldn’t taste a thing, anyway. Nice.

  He couldn’t wait to show her nice again.

  CHAPTER TEN

  AS THE RESTAURANT began to fill with customers, it was easy for Patrick to keep his mind off Darcy. She was busy serving, he was busy making the rounds in the dining room. Ducking behind the bar to help when Jesse got behind. Going into the cold keg room and wrestling with the awkward barrels when the Guinness keg needed to be switched out.

  Every time there was a lull, though, he found himself looking for her. And each time, she was in another part of the restaurant. Talking and smiling with the customers, delivering food. Not looking at him.

  Just as well. She needed time to settle down.

  So did he.

  At seven o’clock, two hours after the restaurant had opened, she wasn’t smiling as much. She glanced toward the host’s podium several times, even when he was watching her. She didn’t seem to notice him. He caught her checking her watch more and more frequently.

  Finally he got it. Theresa Smith was late tonight. Darcy was concerned.

  When she stepped into the partially concealed waitresses’ station, he slipped in beside her. “What time does she normally show up?”

  She didn’t look at him, but her finger slipped while she was entering an order. She didn’t answer as she painstakingly corrected her mistake. Finally, when she’d submitted it and returned to the home page, she said, “Six. Never later.”

  “Maybe she’s not coming tonight.”

  “She’s always here on Friday. She misses other days occasionally, but never Friday.” She spun around to face him. “What happened the other night when Chuck stormed out with her? Maybe that’s why she’s not here.”

  Chuck had been angry. He hoped that wasn’t the reason behind Theresa’s non-appearance. “The restaurant is almost full. We’re not going to discuss it now,” he said beneath his breath.

  She stared at him for a long moment, and he couldn’t read a thing in her expression. She knew how to hide what she was thinking, to keep all emotion buried deep.

  Who’d taught her to do that?

  “I’m worried about her,” she finally said, turning to concentrate on the soda she was dispensing.

  “I know.”

  “I keep wondering...” She pulled the glass away from the machine.

  “What, Darcy?”

  “If there was some way I could have gotten her out before now. Something I didn’t do or say.”

  “Women leave when they’re ready to leave.” You should know that. “You can’t blame yourself. Or put yourself in danger.”

  “How could I do that? I don’t even know where she lives.”

  “Look,” he said, leaning closer. “I want to help Theresa, too. But I don’t want you to become collateral damage.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

  “Yeah, well, I do worry. Deal with it.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then set the drink on a tray and walked away.

  He watched her go, then noticed that two groups were waiting at the podium. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, forced himself to smile and strode over.

  “Welcome to Mama’s Place.” He pretended to study his seating chart to give himself a chance to regain his footing. The faintly exotic scent of Darcy’s shampoo lingered in his head, and he clenched his fists until he could focus on the chart.

  “Right this way,” he said to the first group as he pulled menus off the stack on the podium.

  Two hours later, after the dinner rush had passed and most of the customers left were lingering over coffee or after-dinner drinks, he saw Darcy pause while cleaning a table. She stared out the front window at a dark SUV making its way down the street next to the train tracks. As it passed, she stood on tiptoe and craned her neck.

  Hell. Theresa and Chuck had left in a dark SUV the night Chuck had stormed out. Darcy was still thinking about them.

  He’d bet a lot of money that she examined every dark SUV she saw in the neighborhood.

  No one was seated close to her. He walked over. “Darcy. Things come up. Plans change. Don’t assume the worst.”

  “She’s never missed a Friday.” She set the rolled silver carefully on the paper, adjusting it so it was completely straight.

  “Doesn’t mean something bad has happened. Heck, maybe she went to a shelter.”

&nbs
p; She looked up. “Really? You think she woke up this morning, figured out where the shelter was and got there by herself?” She slapped another roll of silver on the table. “If you do, you know nothing about domestic violence.”

  “Okay, she probably didn’t go to a shelter. But there are other possibilities.”

  “Such as?”

  “Maybe she went out with her husband. Maybe she’s got a cold. Maybe Chuck had something else to do.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Based on a couple of things Theresa said, I think she is Chuck’s job.”

  “All I’m saying is, don’t jump to conclusions.”

  “Did you ask Nathan why that jerk was drinking for free?” Darcy asked.

  He held up his hands. “I didn’t say anything about Theresa. There were...issues at the bar.”

  “That’s why he left so fast and dragged Theresa with him.” She shoved a hand through her hair and closed her eyes. “What happened?”

  He glanced around and saw several people watching them. “Not now.”

  She followed his gaze and nodded curtly. Her eyes promised she wasn’t letting this go.

  * * *

  DARCY’S STOMACH churned the rest of the evening. What was going on with Theresa? Why hadn’t she come to Mama’s? What had Patrick said to Chuck?

  By the time the restaurant closed, her head was pounding. She should take Patrick up on his offer and go home early. But she wanted to corner him and find out what had happened the other night. So she did her cleanup work, as usual.

  “I told you to leave early,” Patrick said from behind her as she slid the cheese containers into the refrigerator. “You don’t have to clean.”

  “I know.” She shut the refrigerator and turned to face him. “I want to hear why Nathan’s letting Chuck drink for free.”

  There was no one in the back of the restaurant. Marco and the cooks were cleaning up in the kitchen. The dishwashers were finishing the last of the dishes. Spanglish filled the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter.

  “I figured you wouldn’t let this go.” He closed his eyes, as if it had been a long night for him, too. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to Nate about it, okay?” he said. Too carefully. Based on the way Patrick avoided her eyes, there was more to this story.