Chapter 4 #3
“No, not at the Stumble Inn. Here, in Clear Creek.”
“My grandfather…”
“No bullshit, Go-Go,” he growls, and I’m sure that the hand he reached out would have closed around my wrist if the waitress hadn’t come over.
“Here’s your root beer, sweetie,” she says, placing it in front of me. “Bull, your food will be up in a moment. Did your, um, friend want to order? Did I hear you might be working here? That’ll be fun!”
When she finally takes a breath, her eyes flicker between Bull and myself before they settle on me.
“I might be, but my friend here hasn’t decided yet,” I answer one of her questions with a smile.
“Bring an extra plate, she can have some of my lunch.” Bull’s tone tells us both that’s the end of the small talk and she scurries off.
“What if I don’t want some of what you ordered?”
I have no idea how to take the smirk he gives me in reply, but this time instead of reaching out to grab my arm, he sticks a finger out to my wrist and delicately lays it over my pulse for a few seconds.
“Yep,” he drawls out the word. “You’ll want some. Now, I believe you were about to tell me why you’re here?”
I open my mouth to respond with my well-practiced answer. “Because—” I stop talking when he places his finger over my pulse again and I feel my heart start beating in overdrive.
“We both know your grandfather would be halfway to engaged by now, if you weren’t around. So, try the truth and shame the devil.”
Just then the waitress returns with a mouthwatering display of food. There’s a platter of small portions of cornbread, beans, and potato salad, but it’s the larger tray that has me drooling.
“What is that?” I ask, looking up at him with wide eyes.
“Pulled pork, Captain smokes it out back year-round. The fresh jalapenos are from my greenhouse, and they cover up the best house-made mac and cheese that’ll ever pass your lips,” he says, grinning at me as he holds up the extra plate the waitress brought.
“But, if you want to order something else, be my guest.”
“Nope,” I say, reaching for the plate. He keeps it out of my reach, dishing up a generous portion of the main and bits of the sides.
“I don’t want the cornbread,” I say, stopping him before he divides his piece.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I don’t like it. Besides, I want to focus on the other thousand calories you put on my plate!”
“I not much of fan either. That and sour cream,” he tells me.
“I don’t like sour cream unless it’s mixed into something. I don’t understand just willy-nilly spurting it over food.”
“Agreed. But you’re stalling.”
I look at him, placing a large bite of pork with mac and cheese into my mouth before I close my eyes in pleasure. I wasn’t sure about the jalapeno being in there, but I love that too.
“I’m not stalling. I simply don’t feel any need to share my business with you,” I reply with a shrug of my shoulders.
I finally take a sip of the root beer and it’s every bit as good as the food.
“Do you know,” I start after another few bites of food, studiously ignoring the glare he’s throwing my way as he eats. “I don’t think I can work here. I’d gain way too much weight.”
“Good. I could use you over at the funeral home,” he says without missing a beat, then jutting his chin in the direction of the waitress who’s greeting some newcomers.
“There are a dozen Jades that I can get working in here. Girls that I don’t mind being hit on by every man in the county.
Over there, I need brains and discretion. ”
Suddenly, my throat tightens up and I lean back, willing myself to relax as the delicious food in my mouth threatens to choke me.
“I remember,” I whisper are the only two words I can push past my lips, when I’m finally able to breathe again.
“I know, Margo,” his voice is as low and painfilled as mine when he responds. “All these years, I’ve thought of you every time I’ve walked into that room.”
Thrust into that long ago moment, we both seem to have lost our appetite and just sit quietly until his hand reaches for mine under the table, where I’ve been busy shredding my napkin.
“That’s also why, I know you never would have come back here if you had any other option.
” For the first time since our recent interactions, he sounds caring and, ignoring the threat of tears in my eyes, I chance a glance up at him.
“Tell me why you’re here and I’ll do anything in my power to help you. ”
Gasping for breath, I am barely able to shake my head at him before I slide off the stool, carefully placing the tattered remains of my napkin on the table before forcing myself to walk slowly toward the door.
My hands are noticeably shaking as I pull out of the parking lot, turning back toward home, trying to calm myself before I call Dad.
Fuck.
My phone. I left my phone on the table.
Going back to retrieve it is unthinkable, so I continue on, deciding to call Granddad’s cell from his landline and asking him to stop at the bar to pick it up.
Nope.
Dad always said, if you run one time, you’ll run every time. Of course, he also helped me pack up and convinced me to move in with Granddad, indicating that there are times he thinks I should run.
Taking a deep breath, I pull into a driveway, ignoring the swing of the curtain as the homeowner investigates the intrusion, and turn back around.
Driving faster than I should, I’m quickly parked right outside the Stumble Inn and hit the hazard lights, intending to be in and out.
Captain is standing next to Bull, who’s eating as though I was never there, although I notice he knocked back his Johnnie Walker in my short absence.
“And here I was worried you didn’t like the food,” Captain cracks, walking back toward the bar.
“I left my phone,” I needlessly say, and for the first time notice it isn’t on the table.
“I was going to bring it when I picked you up tonight,” Bull says in between bites, keeping one eye on me but making no move to give me the phone.
“Did it ever occur to you that I have plans tonight?”
He snorts, then to my amusement starts coughing. Serves him right! After a long sip of water, he looks back up at me, “I doubt you know anyone under fifty around here. So no, that never crossed my mind.”
Ouch. The fact that he’s right stings a bit, but I simply hold my hand out, stubbornly refusing to ask for it.
“It also occurred to me that you have a 605 area code. People don’t typically change their numbers anymore,” he observes, spearing some of the pork and swiping it through the beans.
My eye follows the fork as it moves up to his mouth, his lips making thorough work of cleaning the silver tines and I have to shake my head.
This man is dangerous. Sex never popped into my head while watching anyone eat before.
“Hmm?” The next sound he makes sounds more like a question than appreciation for the food, but considering the glint in his eyes, I’m no longer sure what the question is.
“What?” I ask, trying to buy myself a second.
“I was wondering why you got a new number, you know, right before you started eye-fucking me,” he responds.
Throwing my hand up as I roll my eyes is the worst denial in the history of the world, considering how red my neck is right now.
He shifts, twisting so he’s ever so slightly facing me, and I see my green phone case peeking out of the inside pocket of his cut and without thinking, I reach out to pluck it from his pocket.
My fingers have barely brushed my phone before I realize that I’m springing the trap that he set.
I gasp when he shifts back, trapping me between his legs and the high-top table.
Before I can move, his mouth is covering mine and the taste of barbeque and whiskey transfer to me with a few swirls of his tongue.
I’d like to say that’s why I leaned into him but lying to myself never does any good.
“I’ll pick you up at five. Let your grandfather know you’ll be late,” his voice is a low growl when he withdraws his tongue and brushes his nose against mine. “Try to stick to one layer of clothing.”
“Five?” I question him, startled. “How old are you? Are we going for a senior discount somewhere?”
“We heading down to Rapid City. I’ve been wanting to try Justin Warner’s restaurant.” His answer stops any further dissent from me.
Guy’s Grocery Games is one of my favorite shows, so I immediately know who he’s talking about. If the Devil himself invited me there, I’d join him.
Of course, that may just be what’s happening here.