Page 15 of Blue-Eyed Jacks
“Ah.”The apple certainly didn’t fall far from the tree.
He turned into a small-town diner parking lot.When he parked, he spent a moment studying me.“Ah, what?”
I smiled at my thoughts.“It’s hereditary.”
“What is?”He crossed his arms over the steering wheel.
“Flirting.”
“Hell, babe, that’s like calling water wet.”He got out and circled the car to open my door.He even offered a hand so I wouldn’t slip on the ice as I got out.
And he didn’t let go as we walked into the restaurant.I told myself it wasn’t because he was a gentleman, but because he needed to control me.Then chided myself for thinking the worst.
Inside, it wasn’t much of a restaurant.Barely a dozen tables and a tired teen manning the counter.He set down his phone and grabbed two dirty menus as we took a table near the back.“Here.”He shoved them at us.
Jackson slid them to the side.“We’ll take two hot chocolates.Could you bring them while we figure out what we want?”
Once the kid disappeared into the back, I hissed, “Why’d you do that?”Ordering my food was something Shock would do.
“You like chocolate.”
“I can order my own food.”And why two?
“It’s like that, got it.”He rifled through his wallet and laid forty dollars on the table before tucking the billfold back into his coat.
We waged a silent war with our gazes.The server set down two mugs, which broke the spell.He noted the menus still stacked at the edge of the table.“I’ll give you a few more minutes.”Then he retreated.
Jackson spoke, “I’m not him.”
The kid was still in listening range.I waited until he picked up his phone before replying, keeping my voice quiet without whispering.“I don’t know that.I don’t know anything about you.”
“Now’s your chance.My favorite football team is the Eagles.And I don’t bet more than fifty bucks, ever.I don’t bet on things to win.I work to win.ThatI take very seriously.But if I can’t control it, there’s no point in giving a shit, understand me?”
I ran his words through my head carefully, searching for traps.“Control?Me?”
“Oh,hellno.Women can’t be controlled.That’s why I’m single.Eventually, I’d piss ‘em off and they’d kill me.And I like living too much for that shit.”He stretched out, draping his arm over the chair next to him.His demeanor was easy, but an edge of danger hung around him.Maybe my perception was conditioned to see black leather and equate it with danger.He had come to my rescue when I called, drove hours not only to get me, but move me somewhere far away from where we were.And all without any promise of payment.He didn’t deserve my judgment.
“I’m sorry.”
“Drink your cocoa.Let’s see what’s good, shall we?”He picked up the menu and began to search the list.
I hesitated to tug my menu closer.
“Kate?”
I searched his face for a clue on how to proceed.He tipped his head to the table where the menu sat.“Pick anything you want.I’m buying.”He tapped the forty on the table.
My hand trembled as I picked up the coated paper.The offerings were simple.Burgers, soups, sandwiches.Even breakfast all day.But if I was going to get healthier, I needed a balanced meal.I picked the soup of the day and the chef’s salad.
Jackson ordered a burger with extra fries.As we ate, he slipped fries from his plate and dropped them next to my salad.After the first five, I begansnitching them from the platter in front of him.The second time I did it, he smiled.But never in any of it complained or corrected me.
By the time I’d finished my soup and pushed around some of the wilted lettuce, I was stuffed and tenuously happy.It had been so long that I’d forgotten how it was supposed to feel.
“Any thoughts about where your dream vacation is?”Jackson had kept a running commentary during dinner, shifting topics around and dropping tidbits of information about him, but never divulging much about his life as a biker.
“Warm.I don’t care where.Just warm.”A couple of patrons arrived with a gust of winter air.It seeped under the sweater I wore and made me shiver.
“You don’t look like a warm-weather girl.”
