Best Of My Love

by N. D. Jackson

  “Don’t you think I’d like to be able to do that?” She wished more than anything she could look at him and see the man she used to see. Her hero instead of the flawed man before her. Their perky waitress chose that moment to come for their drink order. “I’ll have the dark sampler and the lobster bisque to start.”

  “I’ll have the hefe sampler. And crab cakes.” Al, always the politician, smiled kindly at the woman.

  Dre hid a smile behind her hands. From the day she moved in until the day Dre moved out, her stepmother Annie had tried to get him to eat healthier. It was a never ending battle because Al believed you ate what you ate. “I would love to be able to forgive you so we could be done with this.” But she didn’t need her therapist to tell her that all that anger meant she still cared. Things would be a lot easier if she didn’t.

  “Just do it. Annie prays for your forgiveness every single day even though neither of us have done anything that requires it, and hell Kira is the only one you even sort of talk to regularly. I’m just glad you never held it against her.”

  Because everyone knew Dre was a bitch. It was very much something she would do, hold their stupid parent’s mistakes against her half sister who’d been little more than a child at the time. Plus she was so damn sweet it was probably illegal to hate her. “She didn’t do anything wrong. And I don’t need anyone to pray for me. I’m fine with my decisions.”

  “What about the rest of us,” he growled.

  “What about you? Maybe if you’d been thinking about someone other than yourself, things wouldn’t be this way. But they are.” He didn’t even know the half of why their relationship had become nonexistent and Dre thought maybe it was time she did.

  “And what about you Andrea, who do you have?”

  She looked into familiar brown eyes, expression as serious as she could manage. “The one person I know won’t let me down. Me.”

  The sadness in his eyes was replaced with anger, his nostrils flared angrily. “Life goes on but you’re too damn stubborn to even-,”

  “We have two beer samplers, one dark and one hefe.”

  Dre knew that voice. A little deeper now and slightly gravelly but that voice had starred in her dreams, and later her nightmares for the better part of her life. Of course. This is his place. Why else would Al suddenly want to pay for overpriced craft beer? “Erick.”

  “Hey Dre. Lookin’ good.”

  She seared him with a look, the jerk. The still handsome as hell jerk. “Beer?”

  His smile broadened and he set the dark sampler in front of her. “Right?”

  “Yeah,” she grumbled and looked away. Big deal he remembered she liked her beer dark and creamy. She remembered a lot of things about him too. Most of them she couldn’t forget. She watched as he set the other sampler down and then—shock of all shocks—started chatting with her dad. Erick who’d been terrified of Al for most of their friendship and certainly during their relationship now chatted like they were old pals. Birds of a feather

  It was weird but Dre took the chance to really look at Erick. Yeah he’d gone from good looking to hot with age. Shiny deep brown hair fell just past his neck, brushing against the collar of the grey t-shirt straining across his chest and arms. That little bit of grey along his temples only made him hotter, like a silver fox in training. She smiled. Damn life could be so unfair at times. He should at least have gotten fat from being a chef. At least she assumed he was a chef. She hadn’t bothered to look him up at all since the day he shattered her heart.

  She sucked in a breath when those bottomless blue eyes locked with hers. Then his mouth curled up into a ghost of a smile. Dre looked away. No. No fucking way! Absolutely not. Whatever this was, or was trying to be, was not going to happen.

  “So Dre, how have you been?”

  Really? Small talk? “Fine.”

  “Better than fine I’ve heard. How long are you in Emerald Creek?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t know. At least a month I suppose.” He sighed in that disappointed tone he used to wear when she was rude to people, and she saw him as the boy she’d fallen in love with before she even knew what love was. Or how much it hurt. “Nice place.”

  He blinked once and then smiled. “How’d you know?”

  She refused to smile no matter how much her lips twitched but she settled for an affectionate eye roll. “You always were in love with that old gothic English thing so I’m guessing there’s a shepherd’s pie somewhere on the menu?”

  He nodded, smiling like she was the one doing him the favor. She guessed that was what guilt looked like and she wanted no part of that. “I’ll put in the special.” She nodded and he took Al’s order while she watched his tight ass and hard thighs as he walked away. So damn unfair.

  It really was too bad he was a cheating bastard. He could have been the perfect cure for her boredom.

  It’s probably for the best anyway. He was a married man, probably had a basketball team full of children by now.

  Too bad.

  Erick couldn’t believe she’d actually shown up, but it was obvious she hadn’t known it was his place until he’d delivered their drinks. He couldn’t resist getting a closer look at her, drinking her in. She looked almost exactly the same as she had when they were twenty one except she no longer straightened her gorgeous wild black curls. Her skin was as fresh and luminescent as it had been when they were kids. Gorgeous. He smiled because her chilly greeting and her outfit were…the same. Instead of a rock concert tee, she wore a graphic black shirt with the words I turn coffee into code scrawled across her chest and the same fitted jeans he just bet curved over her round ass. He’d always loved the sight of Dre in jeans.

  She was still his little spitfire, with enough fight in her for a man five times her size. Even though she’d scowled at him, he inhaled the patchouli and wildflowers scent she still favored, glad to see that not everything had changed in their years apart. And she’d known he owned Maverick the moment she saw him. For some reason the fact that she hadn’t forgotten everything, gave him something he hadn’t had in long time. Something he had no business having now. Hope.

  And brought forth memories he never brought out without the aid of a lot of alcohol and a sitter for his daughter. Right now his memories were of how prickly she’d always been but especially with new people. Dre didn’t like most people and they found her an abrasive smartass, something she wore as a badge of honor. He’d smiled at her gruff exterior the first time they met and she snarled back. Even as a little girl she had an acerbic tongue. They had been playing those roles since sixth grade when everything changed.

  Deciding for a momentary retreat, Erick did the rounds chatting with the lunch customers, most of whom were citizens of Emerald Creek. Seeing and being seen by the community happened to be one of his favorite parts of owning a restaurant, particularly since he’d long ago hired a chef. The town’s support meant everything to him. He loved this town, was born and raised right here. Hell he lived three blocks away from his childhood home. The only thing missing from it, aimed a snarling scowl at her father.

  He couldn’t even imagine what his betrayal had done to her already bleak view of love and marriage. It had been a miracle that she loved him at all back then since he was pretty sure she only humored him when they first started dating. She’d always been a little prickly. Well not always. He remembered her as a kid in elementary school and she’d been a burst of sunshine, always smiling and laughing. Then when junior high began she’d given up on everything. Except computers, Shayna and him.

  He wondered how often she smiled these days, because she had the kind of smile that made other people want to smile. Made them want to be the cause of her smile. Or at least it made him feel that way. She hadn’t smiled once since she sat down thirty minutes ago. Erick went back to the bar to help out, glad he had a chef that produced consistently so he didn’t have to worry about it. Leaving the kitchen full time had hurt but before he knew it, his little girl would be a teenager
and then a woman and Erick couldn’t imagine spending her entire childhood sweating his ass off in the kitchen.

  “Damn, sit them in my section would you?” Kerry was a fiery redhead and a damn good waitress but she was more cute than sexy which frustrated the hell out of her.

  He looked up and found a group of nine men, soccer players he guessed based on their shirts, and went out to greet them. “Hey guys, welcome to Maverick’s.”

  “Table pour neuf,” one of the men said gruffly.

  Erick didn’t understand anything but table but he could count and led them to the large round table near Dre and Al. “Here we go. Can I start you with something to drink?”

  A very young looking blonde guy spoke up nervously in heavily accented English, “We all will have waters. Menus en Français?”

  He nodded but Erick felt helpless dealing with these guys as he turned back to Kerry. “That’s your section but only one of them speaks a tiny bit of English.”

  Kerry’s shoulders sagged. “Well thanks for nothing Erick.”

  “Get nine glasses of water and bring out a few bottles of sparkling water.”

  Kerry’s face contorted, “Ugh, why?”

  “Because I’m telling you to,” he told her, smiling to take the sting off. One of his cooking instructors favored sparkling water and insisted it be offered for any occasion. Kerry marched off and he looked at the table, wondering if he knew anyone who spoke French. He could think of plenty who spoke Spanish but who in the hell spoke French? Something would have to be done before Kerry took, or tried to take their orders.

  “You’re right, it’s hopeless but at least they all wanted beer. Makes my job easy.”

  He grunted. “And how do you plan to take their food orders?”

  She shrugged, “Show more cleavage and point?” She struggled to hold in a laugh but failed. “Hey those are European athletes and I’m a single mom, these puppies have to work for something.”

  Erick couldn’t help but laugh at that. When he’d first hired Kerry she was just shy of a disaster but now she was his best server. “I’ll see if by some off chance someone here can speak with these guys.”

  “It had to be her, didn’t it? Pretty and bitchy, and apparently fluent in French.”

  Erick looked up and growled at the sight of Dre sitting too close to one of those soccer players—and smiling!—and speaking quickly. Very damn quickly. “I didn’t even know she spoke French.”

  “I imagine there’s a lot you don’t know after what you did,” Kerry said bluntly. She might not be Dre’s biggest fan but she couldn’t tolerate cheaters and the woman was literally incapable of pulling a punch. “Go on then, I know you’re dying to get closer.”

  He smiled and tossed Kerry a wink before hurrying to Dre. “What’s going on?” She looked him at him and for just a flash of a second he got to see the smile that lit up her whole face and made her eyes glitter like melted amber. She turned back to the group and spoke, in rapid fire French, an introduction he assumed since he heard his name. “Hello.”

  The man closest to Dre asked a question that made her smile. She shook her head and shot off an answer, “Pas dans un million d'années.” Whatever her answer was had the men smiling and yelling, knocking glasses and talking over one another.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” She answered quickly, looking too innocent to be telling the truth.

  He didn’t believe that for a second. “When did you learn French?”

  She shrugged. “I spent some time there in the past.” She turned to the young blonde guy with a sweet smile on her face and Erick felt a flash of rage. He didn’t want any other man smiling at her, especially some good looking French dude with a crooked nose.

  He watched her face, so alive and animated as she spoke to the guys about who the hell knew what. But he would give anything to have her look at him like that again, with that smile. He hated that she looked at the guy next to her like he was dessert, and they were obviously flirting. At least he assumed that was the purpose of that asshole wrapping one of those ebony curls around his finger. “Are we ordering or what?”

  Dre rolled her eyes and turned to the group, pointing and speaking beautifully, holding the attention of every man at the table. Including him. They were all smiling at her, varying degrees of lust displayed across their faces. “Fini?” They men nodded and she handed him the stack of menus with a sheet of paper on top. “Their orders.”

  “Thanks. You speak really well, I mean it sounds good. But I guess you could be butchering it and I wouldn’t know.” He felt so damn nervous all his words came out so he sounded like an idiot.

  A ghost of a smile played around the corners of her mouth but, trooper that she was, no smile appeared. “I spend a lot of time there so I do alright.”

  “I’m sure your fan club would say you do more than alright.” He nodded toward the table, whispering and smiling at Dre.

  “Hungry men are easy to impress. All the burgers and steak should be medium rare but I’m sure you know that.” At his frown she sighed. “The Sheriff was just telling me you worked under Chef Lambeau after you achieved sainthood.”

  “He’s proud. We’re friends.”

  “I’m sure you are,” she said, frustration tinged her words and her walls were firmly back in place. “You should probably go handle that order.”

  “Right.” Erick shook his head which was still spinning at the speed with which that conversation had taken a nosedive. Turning on his heels he shot back to the kitchen, cursing his own stupidity and wishing he didn’t feel so much when it came to Dre. He didn’t deserve her kindness or her forgiveness but, selfish bastard that he was, he wanted it. Now that he’d seen her again, been around her, he knew for certain wanted her back.

  The restaurant was packed when he returned from the kitchen and he stayed behind the bar mixing up cocktails and beers for the Friday after work crowd. He tried a few times to catch another glimpse of the curly haired sprite but he didn’t see her anywhere near the Frenchmen who looked like they were preparing to leave. He grabbed the bill from Kerry and made his way over, standing way too close to Dre. “Bill.”

  One of them handed her the credit card, which she handed to him. And he handed it to a hovering Kerry. He watched Dre bid the guys “Au revoir,” letting each one give her that ridiculous European kiss on both cheeks. Every last one of them grabbed her shoulders, hugged her, kissed her cheeks and hugged her again. Grabby fuckers. He saw the same guy who’d been twirling her hair earlier slide her phone back into her hand before whispering in her ear. Dre smiled up at him hungrily and said something in French he imagined to be, “Yes I can’t wait let your French cock fuck me,” in a husky voice he’d once known well. Very well.

  It was probably just goodbye. See ya later. Have a nice life.

  Yeah, he liked that option better.

  She turned to go, waving to her father who chuckled behind him. “I kept her here as long as I could son, but maybe next time don’t sit a table full of handsome French soccer players so close, yeah?” Al clapped his back and gave him a sympathetic smile.

  “They flirted the whole time, right? Did you know she spoke French?”

  “Nah,” Al shook his head, eyes unfocused and far away. “But I’m not surprised she always loved everything French. Movies, music, language, food.”

  “I guess a lot really does change in a decade.” Of course it did but watching her with those guys was like watching a whole new person. One he’d never known. Probably never would with the way things stood now.

  “Not too much. I know my Andrea is still in there.”

  Erick didn’t have the heart to tell his friend that Andrea died right along with her mother. Only Dre existed now. “I heard from Higgins that JT made bail.”

  Al groaned and smacked the leather folder against his chest. “Damn stubborn girl wouldn’t even let me pay,” he grunted. “And your waitress let her!”

  “She bought you a meal. May
be that’s a good thing.” They both knew how Dre’s mind worked and that it hadn’t been altruism or a desire to reconcile but rather so she didn’t feel indebted to him. To anyone. Thankfully neither of them acknowledged it.

  Hell, it was more than Erick had.

  Chapter Four

  “I know you’re doing me a favor but I hate that I can’t do it all myself.” Shayna pouted and whined and Dre did her best to stay calm. Since that wasn’t her default setting she really had to work hard for it and not lash out at her friend.

  “You want us to stay here with you so Zoe has no one to cheer her on, is that right?” Sarcasm might not be a good look for her either but dammit Shayna’s emotions were all over the place. “What’s it gonna be Shay?”

  Hazel eyes narrowed in Dre’s direction. “She’ll have JT’s folks there to cheer for her.”

  Yeah right. “They are as worthless as he is but if you’re sure they’ll show up then Eli and I will stay here with you.” Even though she didn’t want to go to a game where the entire town would likely show up, she didn’t want to stay in either.

  “You’re so sure you’re right Dre, but you’re the one helping out the guy who cheated on you. Who broke your heart and married someone else. Not me.”

  Here we go, she rolled her eyes. This was Shayna’s signature move and another reason she kept her visits short. “I helped out nine sexy French soccer players and I’m going out with one of them this weekend. But we’re not talking about me.”

  “This is hard, can’t you try to be a little understanding?”

  Dre sighed and crossed her arms. “A little understanding? I put my life on hold to come help you Shayna, I’d say that’s pretty damn understanding. I’m helping out the best I can and you’re bitching because you have to miss one soccer game! Christ if it’s so important come and watch from the car.”