Eversea
Page 4
“Seriously, Hector.” I softened my whisper. “He’s going through a bad break up, I get the sense he’s here to get away. Let’s not invade his privacy?”
He nodded sagely.
I thanked my lucky stars Jazz had been in earlier, or I might never have known about his personal issues. I could tell Hector thought this a good enough reason not to tell his granddaughter about who he met at work tonight. He looked disappointed, though.
“Sorry, Hector. Maybe you can tell Maria in a few months? I don’t know how long he’s staying in town, or even if he is,” I whispered.
“Can I ask him for an autograph, as proof, you know?” Hector looked so hopeful.
I sighed. “I guess we can ask him and tell him we promise to keep his secret until after he leaves.”
I took a deep breath and went through the door followed by Hector.
* * *
“I can’t give you your change, I gave it to Hector as a tip. I thought you weren’t coming back.” I shifted nervously as I delivered the news a few minutes after Hector left out of the kitchen door, happily clutching the autograph he’d promised not to show for at least three weeks.
Jack watched me through hooded eyes as he ate the last few French fries on his plate. He hadn’t said anything yet about the fact I was a lousy secret keeper.
I tried to put a positive spin on it. “Thank you for doing that for Hector. His granddaughter, Maria, is a fan of yours. But you can trust him.”
“He had a good night, huh? A hefty tip and an autograph.” Jack’s tone was teasing. Thank God. “What about you?” His eyes searched mine.
“What about me? Why didn’t I take the tip?”
“No, not that. But why didn’t you?”
“We both do the work around here.”
Jack nodded, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the side of his plate. “So, do you need an autograph?”
“No!” I blurted, my face flushing warm. “I mean, no, that’s okay. But thank you for asking.” I swallowed. Could I sound any more petulant?
Jack laughed.
It was a mesmerizing sound. Coupled with the way his gray green eyes twinkled when he did so, and the dimple in his left cheek ... it was no surprise half the world was in love with him. This was bad. I did not want to be a Jack Eversea groupie. But I was beginning to realize what charisma really meant. He certainly knew how to use it.
“Why?” he asked.
“Why? I don’t know why! Maybe because you sound full of yourself for just asking.” I huffed at him. “God, I’m sorry, I act bitchy when I’m nervous.”
He pursed his lips and nodded sagely. “I wouldn’t call it bitchy. God knows, I’d know the difference.” He thought for a moment. “Let’s call it ... well, bitchy works.”
“Hey!” Great.
“Yeah, bitchy ... and disapproving ... like unimpressed.”
“I am unimpressed,” I snapped.
“I can tell.”
My face flamed again. “Sorry. I mean ... obviously, I’m impressed.”
That sounded wrong. Groupie-ish, not bitchy. Oh man, which was better? “With your work, I mean.” I went on awkwardly, “You are very ... talented.”
He rolled his eyes. “Stop. Stop. Kill me now.” He held his hand dramatically to his heart.
I stared at him.
“I’m teasing you, Keri Ann.”
“Oh.” I took a deep breath.
He looked at me, unblinking for a few moments.
“What?”
“What do you drive?”
“A red truck, why?”
“Figures.” He smirked, but didn’t elaborate. “And given your ... bitchiness, I’m obviously making you nervous, so it’s my fault I guess. I’m sorry.”
Jack laughed again, a slow, easy sound that ran over my skin like too many soft caresses. It must be the humidity. That, or I had managed to avoid having an unrealistic crush on this heart-throb through all of his many movies designed to make girls swoon, including playing my favorite fictional hero, only to have him walk into my place of employment, in the flesh, and deploy the swoon-bomb that was rapidly detonating over all my good senses. Had I been singled out? Did the Devil look up and see one sensible girl left and decide on tactical warfare to bring me into line?
Jack was asking me a question.
“What? Sorry.”
“I said, can I stay a bit longer? I’m still on California time, and well ... as you heard,” he winced, “I have a lot going on in my personal life right now, and I don’t want to think about it tonight.”
No, no, no. This was a bad idea. I found myself shaking my head. I needed this bizarre incident to be over. On the other hand, I was developing a crush on someone I didn’t know, not really. All I needed was some more time in his self-absorbed sphere to come to my senses. If he really was self-absorbed. Maybe he was just used to getting his own way. Why was I making excuses for him? I mentally kicked myself.
“I’ll just stay til you finish up and walk you to your truck or whatever. It’s late ... and dark.”
He noticed my almost imperceptible negative head shake. “Please?”
Damn. The same ‘please’ that had gotten to me earlier. The one asking for me to keep his secret.
I sighed and nodded. “Okay.”
He looked relieved. “Oh and also, may I have another drink?”
“Bar’s closed,” I tried, predicting his cheeky smirk.
“I know.”
I rolled my eyes, and smiling, grabbed his glass to fill with ice. This was going to be the longest closedown ever.
T H R E E
“How old are you?” Jack was sweeping. Sweeping! Sometime during the last ten minutes of conversation while he asked me questions about Butler Cove, he must have started feeling guilty while I was sweeping around his feet. Tomorrow, I would wake up and this would all be a bizarre dream. I was sure he was thinking the same thing. Hoping more like.
“I’m turning twenty-two next month.”
He looked up, surprised. “You seem older.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Thanks? I think ... Why?”
He shrugged. “You don’t look old.” He stopped and perused me from head to toe. He was taking in my brown hair, my black regulation t-shirt tucked into jean shorts and my bare legs, which were thankfully, nice and tan, and my white Keds. Fashion parade I was not. Harried and tired waitress, yes.
My cheeks burned under his scrutiny. “Are you done?”
Jack cleared his throat, cutting his eyes away and resumed his sweeping. “You just act ... I don’t know, older than you are.”
“How old are you?” I asked, deflecting back to him after the self-conscious moment he’d given me.
“Don’t you know that already?”
I paused in the middle of lowering the blinds and crossed my arms at him. He really was annoyingly full of himself. “Contrary to what you may have seen earlier this evening with my friend Jazz and her tabloid magazine, I don’t follow gossip all that much. I’ve got too much to do, and I prefer reading books to magazines. Not that I begrudge Jazz her favorite pastime.”
Jack had the sense to look slightly conciliatory. “Sorry. I’m twenty-six.”
He nodded sagely.
I thanked my lucky stars Jazz had been in earlier, or I might never have known about his personal issues. I could tell Hector thought this a good enough reason not to tell his granddaughter about who he met at work tonight. He looked disappointed, though.
“Sorry, Hector. Maybe you can tell Maria in a few months? I don’t know how long he’s staying in town, or even if he is,” I whispered.
“Can I ask him for an autograph, as proof, you know?” Hector looked so hopeful.
I sighed. “I guess we can ask him and tell him we promise to keep his secret until after he leaves.”
I took a deep breath and went through the door followed by Hector.
* * *
“I can’t give you your change, I gave it to Hector as a tip. I thought you weren’t coming back.” I shifted nervously as I delivered the news a few minutes after Hector left out of the kitchen door, happily clutching the autograph he’d promised not to show for at least three weeks.
Jack watched me through hooded eyes as he ate the last few French fries on his plate. He hadn’t said anything yet about the fact I was a lousy secret keeper.
I tried to put a positive spin on it. “Thank you for doing that for Hector. His granddaughter, Maria, is a fan of yours. But you can trust him.”
“He had a good night, huh? A hefty tip and an autograph.” Jack’s tone was teasing. Thank God. “What about you?” His eyes searched mine.
“What about me? Why didn’t I take the tip?”
“No, not that. But why didn’t you?”
“We both do the work around here.”
Jack nodded, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the side of his plate. “So, do you need an autograph?”
“No!” I blurted, my face flushing warm. “I mean, no, that’s okay. But thank you for asking.” I swallowed. Could I sound any more petulant?
Jack laughed.
It was a mesmerizing sound. Coupled with the way his gray green eyes twinkled when he did so, and the dimple in his left cheek ... it was no surprise half the world was in love with him. This was bad. I did not want to be a Jack Eversea groupie. But I was beginning to realize what charisma really meant. He certainly knew how to use it.
“Why?” he asked.
“Why? I don’t know why! Maybe because you sound full of yourself for just asking.” I huffed at him. “God, I’m sorry, I act bitchy when I’m nervous.”
He pursed his lips and nodded sagely. “I wouldn’t call it bitchy. God knows, I’d know the difference.” He thought for a moment. “Let’s call it ... well, bitchy works.”
“Hey!” Great.
“Yeah, bitchy ... and disapproving ... like unimpressed.”
“I am unimpressed,” I snapped.
“I can tell.”
My face flamed again. “Sorry. I mean ... obviously, I’m impressed.”
That sounded wrong. Groupie-ish, not bitchy. Oh man, which was better? “With your work, I mean.” I went on awkwardly, “You are very ... talented.”
He rolled his eyes. “Stop. Stop. Kill me now.” He held his hand dramatically to his heart.
I stared at him.
“I’m teasing you, Keri Ann.”
“Oh.” I took a deep breath.
He looked at me, unblinking for a few moments.
“What?”
“What do you drive?”
“A red truck, why?”
“Figures.” He smirked, but didn’t elaborate. “And given your ... bitchiness, I’m obviously making you nervous, so it’s my fault I guess. I’m sorry.”
Jack laughed again, a slow, easy sound that ran over my skin like too many soft caresses. It must be the humidity. That, or I had managed to avoid having an unrealistic crush on this heart-throb through all of his many movies designed to make girls swoon, including playing my favorite fictional hero, only to have him walk into my place of employment, in the flesh, and deploy the swoon-bomb that was rapidly detonating over all my good senses. Had I been singled out? Did the Devil look up and see one sensible girl left and decide on tactical warfare to bring me into line?
Jack was asking me a question.
“What? Sorry.”
“I said, can I stay a bit longer? I’m still on California time, and well ... as you heard,” he winced, “I have a lot going on in my personal life right now, and I don’t want to think about it tonight.”
No, no, no. This was a bad idea. I found myself shaking my head. I needed this bizarre incident to be over. On the other hand, I was developing a crush on someone I didn’t know, not really. All I needed was some more time in his self-absorbed sphere to come to my senses. If he really was self-absorbed. Maybe he was just used to getting his own way. Why was I making excuses for him? I mentally kicked myself.
“I’ll just stay til you finish up and walk you to your truck or whatever. It’s late ... and dark.”
He noticed my almost imperceptible negative head shake. “Please?”
Damn. The same ‘please’ that had gotten to me earlier. The one asking for me to keep his secret.
I sighed and nodded. “Okay.”
He looked relieved. “Oh and also, may I have another drink?”
“Bar’s closed,” I tried, predicting his cheeky smirk.
“I know.”
I rolled my eyes, and smiling, grabbed his glass to fill with ice. This was going to be the longest closedown ever.
T H R E E
“How old are you?” Jack was sweeping. Sweeping! Sometime during the last ten minutes of conversation while he asked me questions about Butler Cove, he must have started feeling guilty while I was sweeping around his feet. Tomorrow, I would wake up and this would all be a bizarre dream. I was sure he was thinking the same thing. Hoping more like.
“I’m turning twenty-two next month.”
He looked up, surprised. “You seem older.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Thanks? I think ... Why?”
He shrugged. “You don’t look old.” He stopped and perused me from head to toe. He was taking in my brown hair, my black regulation t-shirt tucked into jean shorts and my bare legs, which were thankfully, nice and tan, and my white Keds. Fashion parade I was not. Harried and tired waitress, yes.
My cheeks burned under his scrutiny. “Are you done?”
Jack cleared his throat, cutting his eyes away and resumed his sweeping. “You just act ... I don’t know, older than you are.”
“How old are you?” I asked, deflecting back to him after the self-conscious moment he’d given me.
“Don’t you know that already?”
I paused in the middle of lowering the blinds and crossed my arms at him. He really was annoyingly full of himself. “Contrary to what you may have seen earlier this evening with my friend Jazz and her tabloid magazine, I don’t follow gossip all that much. I’ve got too much to do, and I prefer reading books to magazines. Not that I begrudge Jazz her favorite pastime.”
Jack had the sense to look slightly conciliatory. “Sorry. I’m twenty-six.”
