The fantasies aside, I didn’t want to become a random notch on some famous guy's bedpost. He'd forget me the instant I left his bed. Or his countertop. Or his swimming pool. I swallowed, pushing aside the images that flooded my brain and other places.
A random encounter would mean nothing to him, but it would mean a lot of trouble for me, and not just because I was getting way too interested in him. I'd be living here most of the winter. I didn't need any trouble, and I didn't need any drama.
Besides, something strange was going on in my own head and heart. I no longer saw him as Lawton Rastor, the guy who made men bleed and girls swoon. I saw him as this incredible guy next door who made my mouth water, and my knees go week.
No way reality could live up to the fantasy. Besides, I did have plans. Maybe they weren't exciting plans, but they were plans I needed to keep, and they centered around a certain diner that I'd be vacating in a few weeks.
"Actually, I do have plans," I said, hearing the regret in my own voice. With a mental effort, I shoved that regret away. "In fact, I'd better get going if I don't want to be late."
I realized we were no longer walking. Chucky had flopped down on the sidewalk, lying across Lawton's shoes like he wanted nothing more than to bask in his mere presence. I knew the feeling.
"How about tomorrow night?" he asked.
I was working tomorrow too. This was probably a good thing. It would be easy to lose control with a guy like him. Besides, when I did have free time, it usually fell during the day. "Nights are bad for me," I said.
He looked at me a long time, as if trying to figure out exactly what I was telling him. "So, if you don't mind my asking, who do you live with, anyway?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You're the only one I've seen hanging around." He flicked his head toward the Parkers'. "I'm guessing that's your parents' house? They out of town?"
At this, alarm bells started going off in my head. On the surface, the question might be harmless enough. But it bothered me that he'd noticed. Probably I should've been flattered. Hell, it was flattering that he noticed me at all.
Still, I didn't like the idea of a letting anyone know I was staying in the house alone, especially since the house wasn't actually mine.
I didn't want to lie. But for too many reasons to count, I certainly wasn't going to reveal that the homeowners were out of the country. In a lame attempt to deflect his train of thought, I pointed in the general direction of his place. "Are you living in your parents' house?" I asked.
His face froze, becoming oddly devoid of emotion as he said, "No. Haven't for a while."
Oh crap. It suddenly hit me. I was such an idiot. Why'd I bring up his parents? Did he even have parents? In everything I'd read, the details had been vague about that too.
"Sorry," I said.
His voice was soft. "No." He was now staring past me, his eyes vacant. Then, as if shaking off a bad memory, he returned his gaze to mine and shrugged. "I asked, you asked. No big deal." With a tight smile, he handed me Chucky's leash.
Silently, I took it. The leather felt warm in my cool hand. "Will you be walking tomorrow?" I asked in a lame attempt to get beyond the awkwardness.
He shrugged. "Hard to say." He glanced toward his house. "I gotta run." And then he turned away. A moment later, he began walking slowly toward his house, his head down, his fists tight. Still holding the leash, the warmth of the leather faded, leaving me feeling oddly alone as I turned away, trudged into the Parkers', and got ready for work.
Chapter 15
I ignored the pat on my ass and summoned up something meant to be a flirty smile as I took the guy's order. He ordered, surprise of all surprises, the usual – spareribs and bourbon. After fifty-something years on this Earth, I guess he knew what he liked.
"Although," he added, licking his wet lips," I wouldn't mind a little extra, if you know what I mean."
Unless by extra he meant a kick in the pants, he wasn't getting anything extra from me. Still, I choked down the bile and gave his hand a playful slap. "Shame on you, Mister Bolger." I tossed my hair, and turned to flounce away. "I'm not that kind of girl," I said over my shoulder as I hustled away from him.
Heading toward the bar for his bourbon, I could still feel his hand on my ass. Josie was standing at the end of the long counter, adding limes to a tray of margaritas.
"He's such a creep," I said under my breath.
Josie glanced out toward my table. "Bolger?" She gave a half-shrug. "Guess the guy expects his money's worth." She flashed me a smile. "Hey, want me to take him?"
The offer was tempting, and I knew why she made it. It wasn't for my sake, or at least it wasn't all for my sake. Bolger tipped a dozen tables' worth, which was exactly why Josie, along with every other girl who worked here, jumped at the chance to wait on him.
Customers weren't allowed to touch us. But since no one was complaining, especially the ones actually being touched, he got away with the occasional – okay, more than occasional – pat and enough innuendo to fill a bad skin flick.
He made me feel cheap, not because he paid extra to take a few minor liberties here and there, but because I actually let him.
No one forced me to wait on him. And no one forced me to ignore the random pats or inappropriate commentary. I could stop him any time I wanted. So why didn't I?
I knew the answer. It was the same reason none of the girls did. And it wasn't the guy's sex appeal.
Bolger was no Lawton Rastor. He was a squat, middle-aged man with two ex-wives, wandering hands, and more money than class. If he didn't tip like some kind of mogul, there's no way they'd be fighting over him.
Unfortunately, or fortunately I guess, Bolger had been requesting my section lately. Technically, thanks to Keith's stupid rotational assignment brainstorm, I didn't have a section of my own, but it didn't matter.
What Bolger was really requesting was me. Why, I had no idea. The guy's tips had mysteriously doubled to an amount that was borderline obscene, even by his already high standards.
Was I willing to sacrifice that much income to avoid a little ass-patting and sexual innuendo? If I had an ounce of pride, I would. But pride was a luxury I couldn't afford.
I thought of my new job. Soon, I'd be signing the papers. On impulse, I made a decision. I felt myself smile. Screw the idea of holding onto this job a couple more months. I'd quit waitressing the minute I started that other job. No more double-shifts, no more degrading uniforms, no more hairspray.
And no more Mr. Bolger.
I felt my smile fade. That was still almost a month away. I was here now. And until I actually quit, I'd be stupid to let a little thing like personal dignity stop me from making the most of the time I had left.
"No, I've got it," I told Josie, feeling a sinking feeling even as I said it.
Eddie, my favorite bartender, sidled over to us. "You waitin' on Bolger?" he asked. Eddie was about my age and built like a linebacker. He doubled as a bouncer when the need arose. "He gives you any trouble, you just let me know, alright?"
I nodded and made my back toward the dining area. Just a few more weeks, I told myself.
Chapter 16
Over the next few days, I walked Chucky as usual, but saw no sign of Lawton. He wasn't hanging out in his yard. He wasn't leaning against his fence. And he certainly wasn't waiting on the sidewalk with shiny bags of doggie treats.
Stupidly, I missed him. So did Chucky, and somehow, I didn't think it was all because of the treats. Sure, Chucky was still a spaz. That was a given. But to me, it seemed like Chucky was just going through the motions, chasing squirrels more by obligation than for the actual joy of it.
I knew exactly how he felt.
I didn't think Lawton was out of town, because I saw signs of life at his house. Sometimes his gate was open, and sometimes it was shut. One day, I saw that same muscle car in the driveway, but no one inside. It made me think about our last conversation.
Why had he been hanging arou
nd the neighborhood so much? He made it sound like it had something to do with me. But that seemed so far beyond the realm of possibility that I refused to think about it.
And even if it were true, his interest in me had obviously waned. I couldn't say I blamed him. I hadn't exactly been encouraging.
Still, it made me glad we hadn't actually kissed that day on the sidewalk. That kiss would've meant nothing to him, but it could've cost me plenty, starting with my house-sitting job if the wrong neighbor talked.
Besides, I knew how these things went. It wouldn't have ended with a kiss. It never did. And if all the guy wanted was an easy good time, he had the wrong girl. I might be a good time, but I definitely wasn't easy.
After going nearly a week with no sign of him, I vowed to forget him entirely. It was a good thing he lost interest, or at least that's what I told myself. He was a complication I didn't need, and a temptation hard to resist.
He had a track record, and it wasn't exactly encouraging. From everything I'd read, no girl could resist him. I could totally see why. He looked like a bad-ass, but acted like a gentleman. It would be easy to fall for a guy like that. Plenty of girls had. If nothing else, at least I was in good company.
Early Friday afternoon, as I laced up my tennis shoes and got Chucky ready for his walk, I debated taking a different route. If I changed it up by just a few blocks, I could avoid Lawton's place entirely. Out of sight, out of mind. Right?
But my feet didn't cooperate, and neither did Chucky. Before I knew it, we were coming up on Lawton's place like we always did. Chucky strained at his leash, and kept my eyes studiously ahead, repeating the same thing in my mind, "Don't look at the house, don't look at the house…"
But then, I couldn't help it.
I looked at the house.
And there he was. He stood just inside his gate, his hands in his pockets and his gaze on me. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't frowning either. My heart rate quickened, and my mouth grew dry. Meanwhile, Chucky was going nuts, tugging me toward Lawton with a series of yips and barks that sent birds flapping from a nearby tree.
When Lawton pulled out a shiny bag of doggie treats, Chucky squirmed his way through the gate, leaving me holding the leash on the other side. Lawton crouched down beside Chucky, surrendering the treats and ruffling Chucky's fur as I stood outside his estate, locked out and feeling foolish.
And then, Lawton looked up. His dark eyes met mine. When they held, I couldn't look away.
"Hey," he said.
My heart was fluttering, but my voice was calm. "Hey yourself."
His voice was low. "Want some company?"
"Well, Chucky certainly does."
His eyebrows lifted. "Only Chucky?"
"Maybe." I gave him a smile. "Or maybe not."
"Okay." He grinned. "Stop begging. I'll come with you. Just show a little dignity, will ya?"
I laughed. "Sorry. I just couldn't help myself."
"About time you admitted it." He glanced at Chucky, and his smile faded. "Don't tell anyone, but I've missed this little guy the last few days."
"Yeah?" I said. "Only Chucky?"
"Maybe," he said, a new smile curving his lips. "Or maybe not."
Well, I certainly had that coming.
"Why don’t you let go of the leash," he suggested. "I'll grab it from this side."
So I did, and a few minutes later, we were strolling along the usual route. Lawton had Chucky, and I had Lawton. Sort of. For some strange reason, everything felt right with the world. I had Lawton by my side, Chucky bounding in front of us, and fall leaves skittering at our feet.
If I were the type of girl to live in the moment, that particular moment would've been a good one, because for that brief snapshot in time, I felt safe and content. I refused to care that Lawton wasn't really mine, and that Chucky wasn't either. So I just enjoyed it for what it was. And it felt pretty heavenly.
By unspoken agreement, Lawton and I kept the conversation light. I never asked him where he'd been those few days, and he never asked me anything more about who I lived with, or what I did with my nights. It was probably a good thing, because I'm pretty sure at that point, I'd have told him almost anything he wanted to know.
When Lawton joined us the next day, and the day after that, the pattern was set. We continued to stick with general subjects, safe subjects, like movies, music, that kind of stuff. Once, we spent the entire time arguing the merits of paper versus plastic. It should've been boring, except it wasn't.
Sometimes, as we wandered the sidewalks, we got strange looks from other people we came across – dog-walkers, afternoon strollers. I could tell by the way people looked at Lawton – or rather, didn't look at him – that he made them at least a little uncomfortable.
But somehow, the presence of me and Chucky seemed to relax people a bit. Chucky was a little dog, obviously a purebred. I was a clean-cut girl in designer clothes. No one knew they were second-hand, or that Chucky wasn't mine.
It was funny in a way. Chucky and I looked like we belonged here. Lawton didn't. Little did any of these people know that Lawton was the one who truly belonged here, not the other way around.
Chapter 17
Thursday nights at the diner were unpredictable. Sometimes, we had a line out the door, and sometimes, we had empty tables. It was nearly impossible to predict, so we were either terribly overstaffed, or terribly understaffed. There didn't seem to be much middle ground.
On this particular Thursday, we had a line out the door as soon as night fell. I was running from table to table, trying hard to cover the massive amount of real estate made necessary by the night manager's stupid table-rotation idea. It had been so much easier even just a few weeks earlier when we each had assigned sections.
Under that system, all my tables had been nice and close together, giving me the chance to drop off extra napkins to one table while delivering drinks to another. But now, every single thing required a special trip. It was a big place, and all of us servers were run ragged as a result.
That's probably why I didn't notice the group when they first came in. No doubt, I'd been on the other side of the restaurant when they'd been seated and assigned to me. But when I glanced toward their booth, I had only one real thought.
Please don't recognize me.
It was the two blondes I'd met at Lawton's that very first time, along with two guys I guessed were their dates. The guys were two big player types with too much hair gel and enough bling to stock one of those low-rent jewelry stands in the mall.
But who was I to judge? With my ultra-big hair and bimbo-blue eye shadow, I looked a thousand times tackier than any of them. But maybe that was a good thing. I was a far cry from the soaked, make-up free girl who'd been out searching for a wayward terrier. If I was lucky, they'd never put two and two together.
Still, I definitely didn't want to wait on them. It wasn't worth the risk. They didn't like me. I didn't like them. If they realized who I was, it would be awkward for everyone, particularly me if they chose to give me a hard time.
Suck it up, Chloe, I told myself. No one really looks at their waitresses. I glanced at a nearby table, where Josie was bending across a long booth to deliver a basket of onion rings to an athletic-looking guy sitting closest to the wall. His eyes were focused firmly on her cleavage, while a guy at a neighboring table took a good long look at her legs.
Okay, so maybe we were looked at. But from what I'd seen, the customers didn't spend a whole lot of time looking at our faces. Even with the female customers, they seemed more concerned with being seen as opposed to noticing what their waitresses looked like.
When Josie returned to the waitress station, I sidled next to her. "Want to trade tables?" I asked.
"Sorry," she said, "I'm at the end of my shift. No more tables for me tonight."
"Oh crap," I said. "You think Carmen will trade?"
"Hey," a masculine voice barked behind me. "No trading. You know the rule."
I turned around to see
Keith, the night manager, giving me a stern look.
"What rule?" I asked.
"We rotate," he said. "End of story."
"That's not a rule," I said. "It's a process. And besides, we trade all the time."
He crossed his arms. "Not under my watch, you don't." He flicked his head toward the dining area. "Now are you gonna get out there, or am I gonna have to write you up?"
Oh for Pete's sake. I glanced at Josie. Her face was sympathetic, but she only shrugged. She didn't like Keith any more than I did, but she was a lot smarter about it.
"Fine," I muttered, and headed out to the table.
When I arrived, I plastered on a big smile and whipped out my order pad. "Hiya," I said. "You here to eat, or what?"
The guy on the end snickered. "We're here to do something," he said, his voice full of innuendo. He flashed a quick grin across the booth to his friend, who was sitting next to Brittany.
"Got that right," the friend said, his eyes straying to my cleavage as he added, "You got anything special for us?"
Next to him, Brittany giggled far too loud for her amusement to be genuine. "I got something for you," she told him as her hand slipped beneath the table, doing something – I didn't want to consider what – to make her date guffaw. It was loud enough to make the people at neighboring tables glance in their direction, some with amusement, others with annoyance.
Stomaching a string of bad jokes and bad innuendos, I took their orders on auto-pilot, reminding myself to act normal, or at least as normal as I was supposed to act, given the nature of my job.
Thankfully, the blondes barely glanced at me while I delivered their drinks, and then their food. From the servers' area, I watched them in my peripheral vision, whenever I had a free moment.
Their table was by far the loudest in the whole restaurant, and given the rowdy nature of the establishment, that was saying something. The guys were hammering the booze, and the girls were matching them drink for drink.
Unbelonging Page 7
