She hadn’t moved but Jason’s hand shot out anyway, wrapping around her bare arm, gently holding her in place. “Not yet.”
Megan glanced down at his hand, darker against her pale skin, large and warm. His thumb drew a small circle on her forearm, the touch sending shivers of awareness dancing across her nerves. Did he notice the way her skin pebbled under his touch? How could he not?
But he wasn’t looking at her arm, he was looking at her, watching, studying. She took a deep breath and tried to pretend she wasn’t effected by him, by his touch or his nearness or even that intent stare.
“What do you want, Jason? I have things to do—”
“Why did you leave? Sneak out like you did?”
“I—” Megan closed her mouth, pulled in air, blinked. How was she supposed to answer that? She couldn’t tell him the truth: that she got scared because being with him felt right. That she got scared because she was afraid she’d want more. Yeah, it was too late for that. It had been more than a month and she still wanted more, which only proved how much trouble she was in.
But he was still watching her, waiting for an answer. So she shrugged and tried to act like none of this was a big deal. “I had things to do. You had things to do. I figured I’d just save you the awkwardness of making excuses.”
“Making excuses? Excuses for what?”
“For getting rid of me.”
Jason released her arm and sat back, confusion and impatience on his face. “Get rid of you? Why would you think I’d get rid of you?”
“Oh please. I’ve been watching you in here for almost a year. I know the type of women you go for. I’ve seen you leave with them.” She waved a hand in front of her, grabbed the edge of her flannel shirt and flapped it. “I’m not exactly your type, you know?”
“I don’t have a ‘type’. And I don’t care what anyone wears because I never notice shit like that. And all those girls you’ve seen? They come here for Zach. As for getting rid of you—that’s so far from the truth, it’s not even funny. I was going to ask when I could see you again!”
Megan didn’t bother hiding her disbelief. Jason shook his head and took a sip of the soda. “You don’t believe me.”
It was a statement, not a question. Megan answered him anyway. “No, I don’t.”
“Well, believe it.” He paused, watching her for so long that she wanted to look away. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever taken back to my place. Did you know that?”
“Uh—”
“No, of course you didn’t. I didn’t tell you. Didn’t think I had to. Maybe I should have.”
“I don’t think—”
“I happened to have fun. I was comfortable with you. I was me with you. And I thought you were being yourself, too. Was I wrong about that?”
Megan swallowed, couldn’t get any words past her throat so she shook her head.
“Good. I mean, all except your name. That part pretty much sucked.”
“It’s my middle name.” The words tumbled from her mouth and she inwardly groaned. She shouldn’t be explaining anything to him, shouldn’t even be standing here talking to him. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t stop that small flare of hope deep inside her from coming to life and pushing against the doubt.
Jason smiled, just a quick quirk of his lips. “That’s something, I guess.”
Megan had no idea what to say that. She looked around, saw they were still alone, reached up and pushed the hair behind her ears and turned back to Jason. “Why are you here?”
“I came here to ask you out to dinner.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Jason laughed, the sound a little forced and uncomfortable. “Because I want to see you again. Spend time with you. Get to know you more. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you like someone?”
“I—” Megan swallowed back the rest of the words, so stunned that she almost blurted out the world’s lamest question: he actually liked her? She sucked in a deep breath and tried to pretend her heart wasn’t racing a hundred miles a minute. “I’m actually surprised you were willing to risk Haley’s wrath again.”
Jason frowned. “Haley? Who’s that?”
“My friend? The one with the wild hair?”
Jason shook his head, not bothering to hide his confusion. Megan tried not to gawk in disbelief.
“The wild red hair?” He shook his head again. “The one who dumped the nachos in your lap?”
“Oh. Her.” Jason straightened and looked around, wariness etched on his face. “She’s not here, is she?”
“No, she’s off today.” Hanging with her new boyfriend, who Megan wasn’t real fond of. But she didn’t say that to Jason. First, it wasn’t his business. And second, she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that he didn’t remember Haley’s wild mane of curls. Everyone noticed Haley and her hair. Everyone.
That is, everyone except Jason.
“Thank God for small favors.” Jason muttered the words then shifted on the stool. He looked up, cleared his throat, looked back down. Cleared his throat once more then raised his eyes to hers. “So. Megan. Would you like to go out to dinner with me? Please?”
She should say no. If she was smart, she’d say no. Her emotions were still off-kilter from the last time they were together. It was a big risk to be with him, a risk to her emotional health. But the please did her in.
That, and the way he was watching her, an odd vulnerability in those pale blue eyes. Almost like he was afraid she’d say no.
Well, that—and the fact that she wanted to say yes. Really wanted to say yes.
So she took a deep breath and slowly nodded. “Okay, sure.”
Relief crossed Jason’s face and he smiled, reached out and grabbed her hand. “Perfect! Tonight?”
“I—uh, sure. Okay.” Tonight? Was he crazy? No crazier than she was for saying yes.
“Excellent.” He stretched across the bar, tugging her forward until their faces were an inch apart. He pressed a quick kiss against her lips, squeezed her hand, then pulled back. “Is seven okay?”
“Uh—” Megan’s mind was spinning out of control, unable to make sense of everything happening so quickly. Jason took her silence as agreement, his smile growing wider.
“Perfect. I’ll pick you up—wait. Where should I pick you up?”
“Here is fine.”
“No. Not happening. I am not picking my date up in a bar.” A faint blush stained his cheeks. Was it because that’s where he’d originally picked her up? Maybe. Megan wasn’t sure.
“My house?”
“Yes. Makes sense. What’s the address?”
Megan grabbed a napkin and jotted down the address, slid it across the bar. Jason grabbed it, studied it for a second, then carefully folded it and placed it in the front pocket of his jeans.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.” He walked backward, his gaze on hers until he reached the door. He bumped into the frame, turned to frown at it, then shook his head and reached for the handle. He paused, looked back at her over his shoulder, then grinned and walked out.
“Sweetheart, who was that?”
Megan turned, watched as her parents stepped around the bar. “Uh, that was Jason. We, uh, have a date tonight.”
“A date?” Her mother looked merely curious, a hundred different questions reflecting in the depths of her soft eyes. Her father, on the other hand, looked ready to do battle.
He stared at the closed door, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Then he turned and looked at her mother, an odd smile crossing his face. “Good. I’ve missed doing interrogations.”
Chapter Sixteen
“I’m so sorry. I probably should have warned you.”
“No problem. I’ll survive. Honest.” Jason glanced to his side, offered Megan a small smile. She didn’t look relieved, even though this was the third time he’d try to reassure her that it wasn’t a big deal.
Yeah, because he was so used to being interrogated by a hulking beast of a man who us
ed to carry a gun. Jason didn’t miss that point at all. How could he, when her father had made sure to tell him—repeatedly?
Jason maneuvered the car through traffic, slowed down at the next stop light. “I didn’t know your father was a cop.”
“Yeah. He retired two years ago. He still misses it.” Megan shifted in the seat, her hands twisting in her lap. From nerves? Or embarrassment? Maybe both. Jason hesitated then reached across the console and took her hand in his. She turned, a look of surprise on her face, but didn’t pull away. That was a good thing, right?
“Yeah, I figured that much out.” Boy, did he ever. He’d felt like he was sixteen again, shaking under the onslaught of questions. But he survived…barely.
They drove the rest of the way in a silence broken only by the soft music coming from car’s stereo. Megan kept her head turned, staring out the window at the traffic surrounding them, at the whir of street lights as they passed by.
Was she still uncomfortable? Probably. Nervous? Possibly. But hell, so was he. At least the silence wasn’t uncomfortable or heavy or awkward. Jason figured she was lost in her own thoughts, which was fair enough. He was, too. Thoughts about tonight, if she’d like the restaurant he picked out, if they’d run out of things to say. If she’d relax enough to have fun or if she was only with him tonight because he didn’t really give her a chance to say no.
No, that wasn’t quite right. He got the impression that Megan would have no problem telling him to get lost if she really wanted to. Hell, hadn’t she done something just like that last week? Yeah, she had. And his teammates still hadn’t let him forget, hadn’t stopped teasing him and telling him he’d gotten what he deserved for being such a moron.
Part of him agreed with them, not that he’d ever tell them that.
He eased the car into the turn lane and waited for a break in traffic before gunning the engine and pulling into the parking lot. The restaurant was surprisingly busy for a weeknight, which made him glad he had called for reservations.
He cut the engine and pulled the keys from the ignition, then turned to face Megan. “Is this okay? I wasn’t sure if you liked Italian or not. If you don’t, we can go somewhere—”
“Italian is fine.” She gave him a small smile. “I actually love Italian.”
Relief swept through him. “Good. So do I.” He released her hand and climbed out, hurried around to the other side to open the door for her. A flicker of surprise crossed her face when he took her hand again and led her inside.
They were shown to their table right away, a small table in the corner that gave the illusion of privacy. Jason held the chair out for her, earning him another small smile, then settled across from her. Damn. The stupid candle was in the way now.
He reached for it, slid it to the side, then smiled. There, that was better. Now he could actually see her.
“You look nice tonight.” And she did, dressed in a long, dark gold sweater and loose-fitting pants. “I, uh, should have told you that earlier.”
Yes, he should have. But he hadn’t really noticed what she was wearing until she sat down. He’d been too nervous, too worried.
She offered him a small smile, the faintest blush caressing her cheeks as she looked away with a murmured thanks. The waiter appeared, asking if they’d like anything to drink. Jason glanced at the wine list, frowned and looked over at Megan.
“What would you like?”
“Wine is fine.”
Shit. Jason looked back at the list. The different names all looked the same to him and he had no idea what to order. He pushed the list toward Megan with a small smile. “I’m not real big on wines. Maybe you should pick.”
She smiled, this one a little brighter, then asked the waiter for Merlot. Jason nodded. “Perfect. Could you bring a bottle?”
The waiter nodded and disappeared, leaving them alone.
“I didn’t mean for you to order a whole bottle. One glass would have been fine.”
“Oh. Should I call him back?”
“No, it’s okay. Maybe I can force myself to have two glasses.”
Was she teasing him? He thought so. He grinned and sat back in the chair, relaxing a little more as they both studied their menus. Well, as he studied the menu. Megan had given it a quick glance then pushed it away.
“Do you know what you’re getting?”
“Yup. Chicken parmigiana and a Caesar salad.”
Jason laughed. He’d been thinking of getting the exact same thing, which earned him another smile when he told her that.
Conversation flowed more easily after that, peppered with laughter and teasing. It was like the last long six weeks had never happened, like there hadn’t been a time gap between their two nights together and tonight.
“Thank you for coming tonight.”
Megan paused, looked over at him with an odd expression in her eyes, and finished chewing the last piece of her chicken. She blotted her mouth with her napkin then reached for her wine glass, took a sip, blotted her mouth again. Then she looked down, her gaze focused on the stem of her glass as she twirled it between her fingers.
“I almost said no.”
Jason’s stomach lurched. Was this where she’d tell him thanks but get lost? Christ, he fucking hoped not. But she looked so serious, so…thoughtful. He cleared his throat and forced a grin to his face.
“I kind of figured that.”
“I probably should have said no.”
He didn’t want to know, he really didn’t. But the question came out anyway. “So why didn’t you?”
Her gaze drifted up, met his for a long minute before sliding away. She shrugged and took another sip of wine. “I don’t know. I guess…I guess I just wanted to see what would happen.”
“What would happen?”
“Yeah.” She looked over at him, one corner of her mouth curling up in a brief smile. “If things would feel different.” She frowned, shook her head. “That sounded stupid. What I meant was, if it would be different on a date. No, that’s not even right. Just ignore me, I’m not making any sense.”
Jason released the breath he’d been holding and reached across the table, closing one hand over hers. He ran his thumb against her knuckles, felt her fingers tighten around his for a brief second.
“Well, I hope you don’t regret saying yes, at least.”
“No. No, I don’t.”
“Good.” Jason smiled, squeezed her hand. “Really good.”
He released her hand and sat back, pushing his empty plate to the side. “So tell me about the bar. Your parents own it and you work there. What else?”
“Nothing else. The place was my grandfather’s before my mom took it over. Now that dad’s retired, he spends most of his time there. During the day, at least.”
“What about you?”
“I guess I’ll take it over eventually. I mean, that’s why I went to school for business management—to help with running it.”
“You don’t sound super thrilled about that.”
Megan shrugged and went back to playing with her wine glass. “I enjoy spending time there. I mean, I practically grew up there, you know? But I hate paperwork, hate that whole part of it. I’d much rather be out front, working the bar, watching the people.”
“And your parents aren’t thrilled about that?”
“I wouldn’t say that. Not exactly. They just don’t understand what I get out of it, why I’d rather be out front.”
“Why do you?”
She laughed, the sound soft and a little confused. “I haven’t figured out how to explain it to them. I just like the…I guess you could say I like the energy, the pace. Staying busy. Watching the interactions and studying everyone. It’s fun.”
“Except when you have to deal with assholes like me, right?”
Megan laughed again, this time a little freer. “I didn’t say that, you did. And I wouldn’t call you an asshole. Not exactly.”
“No? I’m almost afraid to ask what you would call me.”
/>
“Oblivious.”
She laughed when she said it but Jason didn’t miss the underlying tone. Not quite sadness. Regret, maybe? He leaned forward and took her hand again, capturing her gaze and refusing to let her look away.
“I’m sorry.”
Her hand stiffened in his and he got the impression she wanted to pull it away, that she wanted to pull away. But he didn’t let her.
“For being oblivious. For not recognizing you. For not noticing you. If I had looked, I would have. I just…I don’t look. I don’t watch people, don’t notice them.”
“Oh.” She hesitated, chewed on her lower lip for a second, took a deep breath. “I should probably apologize, too.”
“You? Why?”
“You know. For last week. For what I said. I was a little…harsh.”
“No need. You were right. And for what it’s worth, most of the guys agree with you. It’s kind of been a running joke.”
Her eyes widened as a blush fanned across her cheeks. “A joke? Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“No, don’t worry. I didn’t mean that as a bad thing.” Jason squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her. “All I meant was that they were teasing me about being oblivious. That’s all. I, uh, I may have gone a little overboard trying to find you and most of them figured out who you were. They were even taking bets that day at the bar. You know, before I realized it was you. Even Jenny got in on it.”
“Jenny?”
“Yeah, my sister. The girl that was with me that day?”
“Oh.” A quick frown crossed her face, replaced by a brief expression of relief. “She’s your sister. I wasn’t sure—” She stopped mid-sentence and looked away.
“Wait. You didn’t think—? Oh hell no. Give me some credit. I’m not that bad, despite what all those times in the bar might have looked like.”
“I didn’t mean—” She stopped again, her face turning a deeper red.
“You’re cute when you blush. And yeah, you did mean it. That’s okay, because it just means I have to work harder to prove to you I’m not like that.”
Playing To Win (The York Bombers Book 2) Page 13