“Just holler,” she said and walked off, stopping at a nearby table to inquire about refills.
When we were alone once more, I turned my attention back to the giant plate of food before me. Funny how it never smelled so good when I was the one wearing an apron and slinging plates.
“Nice lady.”
I looked up to find him holding his coffee mug to his mouth, his gaze intent behind the steam.
“The nicest,” I agreed.
He took a sip and then set it down. “She’s protective of you.”
I tested my tea. “I think she sees me as a kind of daughter.”
“A mother hen.”
“Definitely.” I laughed. “You don’t have to pay for mine.”
“Yeah.” He poured syrup onto his mile-high waffles. “I do.”
I took the tiny pitcher when he handed it to me and did the same. “Thank you. For the food, I mean. Not the syrup. Not that I’m not thankful for it too. I just mean . . . thanks for everything.” I forced myself to stop talking and closed my eyes. What in God’s name was coming out of my mouth?
Pausing with his fork in hand, he looked at me. “You haven’t dated much, have you?”
My face heated, and I busied myself with my own fork. I would never admit that this was, in fact, my first date. Ever. “I’m selective.”
There was a pause and then a quiet laugh. “Selective. I like that.”
I cut into my waffle. “Aren’t you?”
“You could say that.”
I looked up, a crispy, golden piece poised at my mouth. “That’s very cryptic.”
He laughed again. “You’re an enigma.”
Enigma wasn’t the word I’d have chosen. A mess perhaps. Weirdo, definitely. “I am?”
“You make me laugh. That’s not . . .” He hesitated and reached for the salt. “Easily done.”
I studied his frown. “You don’t laugh?”
“No.”
Making a sound of disbelief, I lowered my fork. “No? You just don’t laugh? Ever?”
As he sprinkled salt on his waffles, he considered the question. “No.”
I stared at him, seeing for the first time since he’d sat down that oddness I’d come to find so familiar over the past weeks. “And I make you laugh?”
He put the shaker down a little too hard, and salt danced across the table. He looked up at me as if he too found it hard to believe. “Yes.”
My face reddening for the millionth time, I went back to my food. “I don’t laugh a lot either.”
He was quiet a moment. “No?”
“No.”
“I guess we have something in common then.”
“I guess we do.” I smiled as I forked a piece of crisp bacon and then paused when I remembered something. “Did I just see you put salt on your waffles?”
His amusement returned. “I like a little salt with my sweet.”
I took a bite, savoring the smoky, greasy goodness. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a strange man?”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a strange woman?”
I laughed. “Something else we have in common.”
When he glanced out the window and winced from the brightness, I remembered how he always sat where I was sitting now, where the angle blocked most of the glare. I sympathized. As a fair-skinned redhead, I could relate to sun sensitivity. I brought my napkin to my mouth. “Do you want to switch sides?”
He cleared his throat and turned back to his plate. “No. I’m fine.”
“You’re sure? I don’t mind—”
“I’m sure,” he said, his mouth quirking.
We ate for a while in silence after that with nothing but the clinking of silverware and the hum of diner sounds to fill the space between us. Every few minutes I’d look up to find him watching me, and we’d share a smile, mine awkward and his amused. Finally I said, “You waited a long time to do this.”
“To ask you out?”
I blushed. “Yes.”
He took a drink of coffee, eying me over the mug’s rim. “Maybe I’m shy.”
“You don’t seem like the shy type.”
“Tell me,” he said, still holding the mug. “What type do I seem like?”
I could tell from his face he was genuinely interested in my answer, so I put my fork down and took a napkin to my mouth while I thought. After a moment, I lowered it and looked at him. “Aggressively observant.”
He leaned back in his seat, expression entertained once more. “You’re creative.”
I retrieved my fork, trying not to smile. “And astute?”
“Very.”
He was enjoying this. I was too. “Oh?”
He toyed with his mug’s handle while gazing at me. “I’m both of those things. Observant and aggressive.”
The way he said it made me feel weightless inside, like I’d float away if the table wasn’t holding me down. I was just about to reply when I caught sight of Kristen coming our way with a coffee carafe and a determined look on her face. I put my fork down again and cleared my throat.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing my change in demeanor.
I didn’t get a chance to answer.
“Howdy, folks.” She stopped at our table, so close to him that her hip brushed his sleeve. She grabbed the back of his booth with shiny purple nails and leaned forward with the carafe as she spoke to him. “Need me to top you off?”
I glanced out the window, considering the merits of homicide.
He slid his mug away from her. “I’m fine.”
She lingered a moment and then looked at me. “What about you?”
I met her gaze. “I’m fine.”
With a sugary laugh, she adjusted her name tag, which was pinned strategically on her right breast. “You’re both fine. What are the odds?”
He didn’t look pleased by her interruption. “We already have a waitress.”
Kristen blinked at the dismissal and let go of his booth, her face reddening. She turned her attention to me. “So is this one of those charity things? He here to talk to you about welfare? So you can get some state money to buy some decent clothes?”
I took a deep, calming breath, trying to keep the tremble from my voice. “You can go now, Kristen.”
She ignored me, turning back to him. “The poor thing.” She clucked her tongue as if she pitied me. “She ain’t got nothing but rags. You’d be doing a decent thing helping her out.”
I swallowed my embarrassment, refusing to look down at my old skirt and the long, pilled sweater I’d worn to cover a hole it had. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
He looked at her, finally, as one might an annoying car salesman, and eyed the undone buttons at her cleavage and the shortened hemline of her uniform. “If she ever needs cheap clothes, I’m sure she can come to you for advice.”
Kristen’s nostrils flared, and for a moment, she seemed too stunned to move. But then, with lips pursed, she spun on her heel and left without another word.
When she was gone, he took in my shocked expression. “You okay?”
I closed my mouth and nodded. “Thank you . . . for that.”
“She do that much?”
Only at every opportunity. “Sometimes.”
He frowned just as Lou stopped at the table with an armload of dirty plates and a flustered air about her. “Lord in heaven, did I just see Kristen over here meddling?”
I sipped my orange juice and nodded. “It’s all right.”
“I been busy with the Rotary Club boys over there.” She shook her head. “I told that girl to leave you alone.”
“Really, Lou, it’s okay.” I felt a twinge of guilt that the one day I was off, the place was busier than usual. I knew she’d be taking the brunt of the workload too. “Do you need me to come in later?”
She waved my offer away, glancing at our mugs. “Don’t even think about it. You two need some more coffee? Tea?”
I shook my head, and he smiled. “No thanks.”
“All righty then.” She pulled the bill out of her apron pocket and slid it facedown on the table. Giving me one last wink, she hurried off. “See you tomorrow, doll.”
I stared after her. “See you.”
When we were alone again, he pushed his empty plate away and reached for his jacket. “Walk me to my car?”
“Yes.” I grabbed my small purse, disappointed my first date was already over. And tainted by Kristen’s presence. “Let me just leave a tip.”
He dropped a fifty on the table in front of me. “I got it.”
I looked up at him with wide eyes. “That’s way too much.”
Pulling the jacket on, he said, “I figure if she has to put up with the other one all day, she deserves it.”
Despite my shock, I had to laugh. “You have a point.”
He waited for me to walk past, and I was acutely aware of him behind me the whole way. When we reached the door, he put his arm in front of me to open it, and I could practically hear Lou’s heart bursting from across the room. I smiled to myself as we stepped out. The sun was bright, but the air was cool, and I tucked my fingers inside my sweater sleeves, hugging myself.
“Here.”
I looked over, and he was taking his jacket off.
“Oh, no,” I said. “I have a coat at home. I’m fine.”
I didn’t have one—not yet—but he didn’t need to know that.
“Put it on.”
“Really, I’m fine.” I knew he was being a gentleman, but after Kristen’s digs about my clothes or lack thereof, my dignity couldn’t take another blow.
He stared at me, that frown returning, but he put it back on.
“What time tomorrow?” he asked as we neared his car, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun.
I gazed out at Main Street. I still couldn’t believe I’d agreed to a date every day this week. Or that he’d asked me to. “I have a lunch break at noon.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Okay.”
Leaning against the hood, he crossed his arms over his chest. The shadows of the tree he stood under did spooky and lovely things to his face. “So what flavor will it be?”
“Of cake?”
When he nodded, I bit my lip as I thought about the diner’s selection. Lou’s cakes and pies were famous around town. For good reason. She usually tried a new recipe or two every week. Last week it’d been pumpkin cream cheese, and the week before it’d been mint chocolate chip. But there was always vanilla. Fluffy, perfect, sweet vanilla. You couldn’t sell most farmers on anything but the classics after all, so it was always on standby.
I smiled. “Vanilla.”
He smiled too. “All that thought for vanilla?”
I shrugged. “Cake is serious business.”
“So it is.” His smile lingered. “I’m surprised you didn’t pick something more adventurous.”
“Sometimes simple is better.”
“Sometimes it is.”
I blushed at the implication in his gaze and said, “You seem so different than before.”
“Do I?”
I nodded. “You never really spoke before yesterday.”
“Neither did you.”
It was true. Other than asking him how he wanted his coffee, I’d been mute. But as I remembered those soul-stirring silences we’d shared, I realized the quiet could be just as powerful. “No, I suppose I didn’t.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ve been under stress at work. I’m stalling on an overdue project. Mind’s been elsewhere.”
I smiled a little. “You’re a procrastinator.”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
I thought about dealing with Kristen on a daily basis and sympathized. “But you finished it then? The project?”
He glanced over at a passing car, watching it as it turned down Beverly Street. “Almost.”
“What do you do, exactly?”
Looking back, he winked at me. “If I tell you everything now, you might get bored and decide not to hold up your end of the bargain.”
I laughed and readjusted my purse strap. “About that . . . I want you to know I can’t promise anything. My life is complicated and I . . . move around a lot.” Words failed me, and I grew embarrassed.
His grin told me he was amused by my discomfort. “It’s just a few dates. No strings.”
Letting out a breath, I nodded, longing for a rock to crawl under. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at this.”
“You don’t have to be.”
We stared at each other until I glanced down at my shoes, noticing the scuffs on the toes and caring for the first time. “I’m much better at spelunking.”
He laughed and then grew quiet. “I’m glad you wore it down.”
I looked up to find him gazing at my hair, which was being tossed across my shoulder in the slight breeze. I tucked it behind my ear. “You asked me to.”
Again we stared.
Finally, he turned and walked around to the driver’s side door, meeting my eyes over the top of the car. “Tomorrow at noon?”
“Tomorrow at noon.”
6
First Names & Fast Cars
Kristen stepped into my path, an empty tray tucked under her arm. “Par, can you stay over? I got some stuff I need to do.”
I sighed, balancing two plates of open-faced turkey sandwiches in one hand and iced teas in the other. “Not tonight.”
The diner was open until eight on Saturdays, and I’d cleared it with Lou at the beginning of the week to leave at seven. Even confronted with Kristen’s sour face and sourer thoughts, I was happy. Today was the sixth date.
I’d finally learn his name.
The past five days had been the most exhilarating of my life. And the most fattening. We’d talked and laughed and stared over breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. Each time I saw him walk through the door, his gaze finding me no matter where I was in the diner, time seemed to slow. He’d always wait in our booth, watching me in that familiar, riveted way of his, until I was free.
I’d begun thinking things I had no business thinking about.
Kristen scowled. “What could you possibly have to do on a Saturday night that can’t wait an hour? This is important.”
She knew darn well what I had to do. She’d been witness to my week of dates just like Lou had. I moved by her, careful not to tip my plates. “Sorry.”
“Whatever,” she said, thinking what a selfish bitch I was, and that she should’ve tripped me so I’d drop my dishes.
As I made my way to my last table, I smiled. Even she wasn’t getting to me. Not today.
Ten minutes later, I was pulling on my cardigan and stopping next to Lou, who was putting a strawberry cake with lemon icing into the pastry display. She slid it right next to the chocolate one with the shaved chocolate curls on top. My heart sank. I’d forgotten about the cake.
“No vanilla today?” I asked.
She smiled, her face flushed from being back in the kitchen. “All out. Why? Did you want some?”
I finished straightening my sweater and smiled back. “No, that’s okay.”
It wasn’t the cake I’d been looking forward to all day, anyway.
She looked ready to burst as she closed the lid and turned to me. The woman had been beside herself all week, eyes going sparkly whenever she walked by us together. I’d studiously avoided her thoughts once they’d taken a matrimonial turn.
“Is it time?” she asked.
I laughed, tugging a wrinkle out of my apron. I’d considered bringing something to change into, but the reality was, my uniform was just as nice, if not nicer, than most of my clothes. It would have to do. “It is. You’ll be all right here?”
She shooed me with a flick of her towel, and we headed for the back door together. “Of course I will. You go and have fun with that boy tonight and take notes ‘cause I want to hear all about it tomorrow.”
Still laughing, I paused with my hand on the knob. “Mr. Hannigan
will need more tea soon, and the Bensons are still waiting on their meatloaf.”
“Not another word about this place, and I mean it. You focus on wooing and charming. Not that you need to.” She reached out and pinched my cheek. “You’re charming enough already.”
My face grew warm. “Thanks, Lou.”
She swatted me with her towel again before walking away. “Get on out of here, will you?”
I watched her go and realized I’d miss her when I left this town. I’d miss a lot of things. But today wasn’t a day for regrets. Today was a day for letting go. At least for a little while. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped out into the autumn evening and all its possibilities.
***
Jesse watched her walk toward him with an odd sense of despair. Tonight was the night. He’d finally be putting an end to this. It was what he’d been sent here to do. So why was he fighting the urge to tell her to go home and forget she’d ever met him?
As she approached, he saw a hopefulness in her eyes she tried to hide. She was also nervous as hell, and didn’t that make him feel like shit. He stepped away from the car, holding out the box with a forced flourish. “As promised.”
Her face lit up. “Cake? But how? Lou said there wasn’t any vanilla today.”
“There wasn’t. Not after I bought it.”
She laughed and took it, peeking inside. “There’s a piece missing.”
“I gave it to your cat.”
She glanced at him in surprise. “You fed the stray?”
It’d taken him the better part of the afternoon to coax the thing out. “Seemed only fair.”
Closing the lid with more care than necessary, she said, “That’s . . . so nice. Thank you.”
He cleared his throat. The idea she was so touched made him uneasy. “Are you ready?”
Nodding, she tucked a flyaway behind her ear. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” He walked to the passenger’s door and opened it.
She was shy as she stepped past him to get in and paused with her hand on the roof, looking up at him. He waited for her to speak, finding it difficult to breathe.
“Your name?” she asked.
“Jesse,” he said before he could stop himself and then wanted to bite his tongue. He never told them his real name. Averting his eyes, he watched a late model Ford pass by, the faint sounds of a country song filtering from the partially rolled-down passenger window.
First Fruits Page 5