Carved in Stone

by Donna McDonald

  Jessica nodded, went to the sink, and scrubbed hands and arms. She grabbed an apron off a hook and tied it over her jeans and T-shirt.

  “Let me finish those chicken salads. I know what goes on them. That’s one of my favorite things on the menu,” she told him.

  Jessica lifted a dish of mixed seeds and sprinkled them over the salads. Then she put a few grapes on the sides of the plate. When Melanie came back, she looked at the chicken salads and beamed at Jessica.

  “Want a job here when you retire?” Melanie asked.

  “No thanks,” Jessica laughed, making a mock shudder of fear. “I don’t even cook at home. Why would I want to cook here?”

  Brent finished off a turkey club and slid two pickle slices onto the plate. He winked at his wife.

  Melanie looked at Jessica, her gaze full of nothing but gratitude. “Can you take the club sandwich out to the guy in the last booth? Brent can help me deliver the rest of chicken salads.”

  “Sure,” Jessica said with a shrug. She picked up the plate and headed out of the kitchen.

  As she was walking down the café to the end booth, Jessica saw its occupant had his head bent over an art book. He looked very serious in his reading glasses and almost academic in his study. He also looked very sexy when he raised his gaze and smiled at her in welcome.

  Her mind went instantly and immediately back to their sweet kiss, and in her head, she heard him once again moaning against her mouth. She told herself to remember his aggression in the garden, but with him smiling at her in welcome, she couldn’t bring Berea to mind for more than a few seconds.

  “Wow. All I ordered was a sandwich. I didn’t expect a fifties housewife to show up and deliver it. You do nice things for that apron, Jessica,” Will told her.

  Jessica slid the sandwich across the table in front of him and slid into the booth across from him. “Trust me, a fifties housewife I am not. I’m the least domestic woman you have ever met. I don’t even boil water on the stove. I use an electric kettle to make tea.”

  Will nodded to the other restaurant patrons who had overheard his flirting. Then he picked up half his sandwich.

  “Business has certainly picked up in here,” he said, biting into the sandwich.

  Jessica nodded and smiled again.

  “Nice work drawing them in,” Will said, taking another bite as he continued to hold her gaze.

  Jessica shrugged. “The food is excellent. Now that people know about it, they’ll all be back.”

  Will nodded and took another bite. “Yes, the food is excellent. The service is great. I come back because I also like the kind of people who hang out here.”

  Jessica grinned and looked at table nearby with six women all in their seventies and eighties. They were all eating chicken salad.

  “You into picking up older women? This place is crawling with those kinds of babes,” she told him.

  Will laughed, a genuine belly laugh. “Not really, but I got picked up here one day myself. I think the woman was a bit younger. I never got to find out her age. She was incredibly hot. I wouldn’t mind running into her again.”

  Jessica laughed and slid out of the booth. “I think I know who you’re talking about. If I see her drop by again, I’ll let you know. She picks up men in here all the time.”

  Will shrugged and narrowed his gaze at her. “Maybe I’m the guy she’s been looking for so hard.”

  “Doubtful,” Jessica said, smiling. “If she doesn’t show up though, I might come back and join you when my shift ends.”

  Will grinned and bit into a pickle, watching her face as he chewed.

  “Sure,” he said finally. “I got nothing better to do today than hang around and wait for you.”

  Jessica giggled and walked back to the kitchen, smacking Melanie on the arm and making Brent grin.

  “That was so not fair of you. He flirted with me, and now I have go back out there and spend time with him. Where’s my lunch? I’m taking my break early,” Jessica informed the now laughing woman.

  Melanie handed her a plate of chicken salad. “Can you at least refill drinks first?”

  Jessica rolled her eyes as Brent laughed.

  “You’re a slave driver. I don’t think I could ever work for you full time,” Jessica grumbled, but grinned.

  Melanie shrugged, returning the grin. “Will drinks unsweetened tea with his lunch.”

  “Like I care?” Jessica asked.

  “He’s a customer, Jessica,” Melanie said on a laugh. “He needs his drink refilled too.”

  Jessica frowned, realizing she’d been caught overreacting. “Fine. Unsweetened tea. Got it.”

  When she left the kitchen, Brent shook his head at this wife. “I still don’t believe the stool thing.”

  “Just wait until you see them together,” Melanie said, running a hand over the very nice, very firm muscles in Brent’s upper arm. “There’s chemistry there—just like Mr. Larson said.”

  “Chemistry, huh,” Brent said, dipping his mouth to his wife’s for a quick taste of her sweetness, which went all the way to the bone. “I bet they don’t have as much as we do.”

  Melanie let her hand drop and sweep across his hip, over a very well-rounded rear. Her husband was very well-formed for a man, and his body still delighted her even after seven years. “Maybe not, but they have something going on. You have to see it to believe it.”

  Brent turned and swept his wife into his arms, pulling her hips to his and showing her just how much chemistry was still there between them.

  “I’m so glad we close early on Saturdays,” Melanie said, using her hands to pull his hips to hers for a brief moment of bliss. Then she slowly pushed off him and sighed.

  Brent grinned wickedly and went back to filling the orders.

  Jessica took her plate to Will’s booth, put it on the table, and then left again without speaking. She couldn’t help noticing that Will did nothing but grin.

  She walked around the café refilling drinks, talking to people she knew, and then finally brought a glass of tea to the booth when she returned to Will.

  Digging into her chicken salad, she didn’t talk much until it was half done.

  “Research?” she asked, using her chin to indicate the book open at his elbow.

  “Studying a new technique,” Will said, swinging the book to where she could see.

  “Can’t really read without my glasses,” Jessica said. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  “It’s basically just a new way to use the same tools. It keeps it fresh for me to see what new sculptors are doing,” Will said, turning the book back toward him.

  “Where did you study?” Jessica asked, going back to her food.

  “Completely self-taught. I didn’t study art in college. I studied social sciences,” Will said easily.

  That had her dropping her fork to the plate. “Your talent is all natural? You never took a lesson?”

  “No, but I had an art teacher inspect the first carving I did,” Will said, remembering. “It was my senior year in college. I carved my first statue, which was the size of a twelve-year-old boy, and it took me all semester. I wasn’t an art student but had talked the art chair at UK into letting me work on it at the campus art studio. Then I let them critique it. They were harsh but advised me to skip the lessons and just pursue it on my own. Latent talent or something, I think they said.”

  “How old were you?” Jessica asked. “And I agree with University of Kentucky art department.”

  “Twenty-one,” Will said. “I’m fifty-three now. How old are you?”

  “Old enough not to have to admit my age,” Jessica answered on a laugh. “Okay. That’s not fair, is it? Not quite as old as you but in the same ball park—how’s that?”

  Will smiled. “Do you ever date men your age or older? Or are they all as young as the math teacher?”

  Jessica narrowed her gaze. “Adam is thirty-nine and a little too old to be considered a boy-toy. I dated a man who was sixty-
eight not too long ago. He was very nice but still mourning his wife who had just died. I date when I’m interested in someone.”

  “Are you interested in the math teacher?” Will asked, wanting and needing to hear her say no.

  “Adam is an interesting man,” Jessica said, hedging.

  “Yes, I’m sure he is, but are you still dating him?” Will asked, hoping to get a direct answer to at least one of his questions.

  “How did we move from talking about your art to discussing my social life?” Jessica asked, ignoring Will’s question.

  “It needed to be discussed. I’m a firm believer in monogamy and I don’t share well,” Will told her, taking the final bite of his sandwich.

  Jessica shrugged. “And this concerns me how?”

  “Are you interested in me? And don’t lie,” Will ordered, his voice carrying the same authority that had worked with teachers and students for years. “I’d rather just hear the truth than your flirtatious redirects.”

  “All right, here’s the truth. I think you’re also an interesting man, but I’m not interested in dating you,” Jessica said, choosing her words carefully. But then she had to look away because saying it as Will held her gaze had been a lot harder than she thought it would be and had felt more wrong than she’d anticipated.

  Will studied her downcast eyes and the way she now couldn’t look at him. Why in the hell was Jessica lying, he wondered? Maybe she was still mad at him, he thought.

  “Okay,” Will said finally, letting his tone indicate he was sad but resigned. “No dating. I get it. How about a ride instead?”

  Obviously surprised by his answer and the question, Will was happy to see Jessica’s head snap up.

  “Your bike was very nice, but once was enough. Thanks,” Jessica said, raising her gaze to Will’s, hoping he took the hint.

  Will just grinned at her, wicked male intention in his gaze. “I wasn’t talking about my bike, Jessica,” he said, his tone quiet, serious, and firm. “The bike helmet wasn’t all I bought that first day because of you.”

  When Jessica tried to escape from the booth, she knocked her still full glass of iced tea over on the table. She made an honest grab to stop it from tipping completely over, but the glass and ice cubes all rolled away from her. Liquid caught the edges of his book, but mostly swept across the surface to the other side dripping onto Will and the seat.

  Laughing, Will slid out of the booth before the tea completely drowned his lap. There was some tea on the front of his jeans, but he didn’t mind because Jessica’s face was completely red as she fearfully stared at his crotch. Which was fine by him, Will thought, since everything going on there was her fault anyway. It just made his wicked smile more genuine.

  “If you think that’s a substitute for a cold shower, it’s going to take a whole lot more than just one glass of iced tea to negate the effect you have on me,” Will informed her.

  He was thoroughly enjoying the fact that his wicked pronouncement brought on more blushing from Jessica and several giggles from the table of older ladies hanging on his every word.

  “I—it was an accident,” Jessica said, backing away from the table another step.

  Will stepped closer and erased the distance she was obviously trying to put between them. “What are you so afraid of finding out, Jessica? You already know more of my secrets than any other woman.”

  “Not true,” Jessica denied. “I’m not interested in your secrets, anyway.”

  “That’s another lie,” Will said quietly, his eyes darkening. “You want to know what I did to my sons when they lied to me? I let them suffer the consequences of their actions.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jessica said, all but yelling in panic at the determined look on Will’s face. She did not know his secrets. She knew nothing except how angry he could get and that he could kiss nicely when he wanted.

  “Yes—you do. You looked into my creative soul and put your hand right over the core of it,” he said. “Your very large, very nice hand has inspired many fantasies for me ever since.”

  Will picked up Jessica’s hand, brought it to his mouth and kissed her wrist, then he moved up her arm to the crease of her elbow. While there he ran his tongue lightly from elbow to wrist, and when Jessica drew in a surprised breath, Will backed her against the edge of the booth and kissed her the way he’d been dying to do.

  He moved his lips smoothly across hers until he felt them open to him, and then he plunged a hard, excited tongue into her mouth. Will felt her acceptance of it and him in every cell.

  Gone was her resistance, but to make absolutely sure Jessica understood how it was, Will ground his pelvis against hers for a moment. Then he backed off before he got too physical with her again, which was now a distinct possibility.

  If he hadn’t embarrassed her the other day, Will concluded, he for sure had just now in a restaurant full of people, and he saw she had the pink face to prove it. He was a little bit embarrassed himself, but desperation for kissing Jessica senseless covered a lot of his discomfort. One of the joys of being a man, Will mused, grinning at her dazed expression.

  “Too bad you’re not interested in me, Jessica,” he said, stepping away. “I’m sure interested in you.”

  He pulled a twenty and the condom he’d been carrying since he met her from his pocket. He threw the twenty on the table in one of the few dry places left, and then reached out and tucked the condom into Jessica’s apron pocket. “Here’s your tip. Maybe it will fit the math teacher, though I doubt it.”

  Will walked down the café with it’s now silent patrons and past its shocked owners. “Melanie. Brent. Great food as always. See you next week.”

  When the door was closed behind Will, Brent rubbed his face in shock.

  “Well—damn,” he whispered, laughing. He heard the motorcycle roaring away and laughed harder.

  Melanie laughed at her husband’s side and looked down the café to see Jessica holding a little packet in her fingers. Recognizing what it was, she had to cover her mouth not to burst out laughing hysterically.

  “Mr. Larson was right. There’s enough chemistry between them to blow up a science lab,” she said happily. “I better go help Ms. Daniels before she starts flipping out over a condom.”

  “Mr. Larson gave Ms. Daniels a condom? Why?” Brent asked, shocked again when his wife gave him a don’t-be-stupid-look. “No way. No freaking way, Melanie.”

  Melanie just smiled. “I’m telling you—I’m going to put out the word this place is a pick-up spot for mature singles. We’ll have a waiting list of senior citizens lined up for every meal.”

  “If that’s true, how can you bear to look at him? Doesn’t it creep you out? I mean—geez, Mr. Larson’s like fifty at least,” Brent said on a laugh.

  “Stop being such a guy, Brent. However old the man is—he’s still plenty hot,” Melanie said caustically. “You should hope you’re going to be the same way at his age.”

  “Right. Hot at fifty. Now there’s a goal,” Brent said, laughing and heading back to the kitchen.

  Melanie carried two towels to the booth where Will and Jessica had been sitting and started cleaning up the mess. She picked up the art book and dried the edges carefully.

  “Gee, most people just leave money for a tip,” Melanie said, barely glancing at what Jessica had in her hand. “I guess I need to have a talk with Will about inappropriate behavior in our establishment.”

  “Would it do any good?” Jessica asked meanly, shoving her hand and the condom into the pocket of the apron. The packet was still warm from being in Will’s pocket, and God help her, she couldn’t stop touching it or thinking that Will was probably right about it not fitting Adam. Not that she could confirm though, damn the man.

  “You’re right. Will is pretty sure of himself,” Melanie said. “He reminds me of my Dad. Sometimes he’s the calmest man in the world and you think nothing is going on in his head. Then suddenly, you’re having to bail him out of jail
.”

  “You had to bail Will out of jail?” Jessica asked, startled.

  “No,” Melanie laughed, “I had to bail out my Dad for being a public nuisance. I can’t even imagine Will doing anything illegal.”

  Then she glanced at Jessica’s doubtful face. “You have a strange effect on Mr.—I mean, Will. He’s usually so nice.”

  “Yes, well that nice man accused me of lying,” Jessica said, hurt in her tone.

  “Really? Will always had a sixth sense for when someone was lying. Well, were you?” Melanie asked, all but laughing now as she watched Jessica flipping the packet over and over inside her pocket.

  “Of course I was,” Jessica confessed. “My self-preservation kicked in. I’m scared of him.”

  “Scared of him or of how he makes you feel?” Melanie asked, knowing her face was the picture of confusion. “Will would never physically hurt anyone. I can understand the second one though. In fact, that’s what he said about you too. I can see it could go both ways.”

  “Will is scared of me?” Jessica asked, surprised at that. He sure hadn’t acted scared today.

  “Of how you make him feel—well, he was scared plenty after your date,” Melanie said, grinning. “Based on what he did to you today though, I think Will must have gotten over it, unless you ticked him off by lying. He hates lying. When he kissed you and walked off, I thought the other women in here were going to chase out after him.”

  “Hand me his book so I can take it back to him. Do you know where he lives?” Jessica asked, taking the book from Melanie and staring hard at the girl. “It’s time Mr. Williams and I got a few things straight between us.”

  “Will sold his house recently. I think he lives with his son Michael now. I don’t know his address,” Melanie said with a shrug.

  “I’ll find him. How many people named Michael Williams can there be in this town?” Jessica asked smartly.

  “Uh—not Williams. His son uses the name Larson. Michael Larson. He’s an artist too,” Melanie said, wondering if Jessica was going to figure it out or assume it was a pen name.