She Belongs to Me

by Carmen DeSousa

  “I can’t imagine anyone forgetting your name even if it was eight syllables,” he offered. What kind of corny line was that? But she smiled again, and this time didn’t dismiss him by walking away.

  “Where are you from?” she asked. “You’re not from Florida, are you?”

  “Now why would you think that?” he teased, smiling. Maybe he could get her to let down her guard.

  “Well, your accent obviously. Plenty of Floridians have southern accents, just not in Pinellas County. Even so, there is something else I cannot quite place, but I know it’s not a Floridian trait.” She relaxed deeper in the booth, crossing her arms, awaiting his answer.

  Wondering what she was getting at but deciding to engage her until he got what he wanted, he offered a compromise. “I’ll make you a deal,” he hedged, staring into her eyes a fraction longer than necessary, watching as her eyes grew wider after a moment. “You tell me your real name and I’ll tell you mine and where I’m from.”

  She sprung from the table. Oops, guess I lost that standoff, he thought wryly.

  “I have to get their salads,” she stammered, shaking her head as if trying to dislodge something. “I’ll be right back.”

  Relief washed over him. He feared for a second he had been too assertive which he tended to be sometimes.

  C.J. rushed to the kitchen even though she knew she had plenty of time. The Smiths enjoyed sipping their cocktails before they ate. But she had to escape.

  Could he really be interested, or was he just having fun? Thinking about his eyes, she tightened her hand around the envelope concealed in her apron. She couldn’t trust herself. She made disastrous decisions when it came to men. She couldn’t continue flirting with disaster, even if he looked like fun.

  She stood in the kitchen, pulled on her bottom lip and took deep breaths. Her pulse slowly returned to normal.

  After calming herself down again, she ordered the Smiths’ dinner and waited for their salads. She ambled her way to her regulars’ table, brandishing a fresh iced tea for the man who was upsetting her world simply by asking what her initials stood for. And what was with his ridiculous comment about never forgetting her name?

  Trading out his drink, she retreated to the Smiths, deciding to chat with them before she’d have to retrieve his dinner. She could allow someone else to deliver his meal. But she wanted to see him again, even for a few seconds. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Would she always be so dense? If she was honest, she’d initiated the flirting. People inquired what C.J. stood for all the time, but for some dim-witted reason, she decided to taunt him by withholding the answer. He’d turned her teasing around on her, however and now she felt nauseated.

  C.J. managed to ignore him, yet continued to perform her job flawlessly.

  She permitted him only the time needed to replace his beverage then headed to her other table. Did it mean she wasn’t interested? Did he care?

  He watched her laugh with the couple. They looked happy, as if they’d been married for fifty years like his grandparents had been. Jordan was seven years older than his grandparents were when they married. He hadn’t been thinking about marriage these last few years; it hadn’t even been a thought. It was this girl and this blasted thunderbolt his grandmother cursed him with that had him thinking crazy thoughts about a woman who wouldn’t even tell him her name.

  His grandmother had explained how she and his grandfather met in an apple orchard when she was nineteen and he was twenty, and how she knew he was the one. His grandfather must have known also, because he asked her to marry him within weeks of their initial meeting. Nanna assured Jordan it would happen to him also, just as it had with his father and his father before him. Jordan listened to her anecdotes but had all but given up on anything spectacular happening to him, until now.

  Jordan’s gaze followed C.J. as she left the table and disappeared into the kitchen. She was probably getting creeped out by him staring at her, but he couldn’t stop. He saw her glance his way a couple times. Of course, she was his waitress; she could have just been checking his drink levels.

  C.J. walked out of the kitchen with his dinner in one hand, a new sweet tea in the other and a bottle of something tucked in her apron. She set his dinner and drink down, but didn’t leave right away.

  “Do you use steak sauce?” she asked in a cool, professional manner.

  “Yes, please,” he replied as smooth as possible. She was going to play hard-to-get, something he wasn’t accustomed to with women. Not that he had a lot of experience with dating. He didn’t. But he never had to try hard. Women seemed more than willing to approach him, or his sisters were always ready to set him up.

  “That’s what I thought.” A warm smile flashed across her face as she set the bottle of A.1. down and settled into the booth again, sighing. “My name is Caycee Jaynee Evans, both spelled with ay and both ending in ee. Caycee is a boy’s name, and Jaynee should have been Jayne. It would flow better. Try explaining how to spell Caycee Jaynee long enough and you end up with C.J.,” she babbled.

  Maybe a date wouldn’t be so difficult after all. “I understand. I like them both though, especially Jaynee. Can I call you Jaynee?”

  A small huff escaped as she shook her head in confusion. “Why would you want to do that? You’ll probably never even see me again. And by the way, it’s your turn. What is your name, and where exactly are you from?” Her eyes were impatient.

  “My name is Jordan Monroe, and I’m from a little town in North Carolina called Stanfield. It’s about forty-five minutes southeast of Charlotte.”

  “Figures,” she huffed again, sounding displeased with this revelation. “A real southern gentleman. And I was correct. You’ll never see me again. So why does it matter what my name is?” She stood up promptly, scurrying away before he could respond. Okay, so it was going to be difficult.

  C.J. stopped by a few minutes later to check on his steak but left swiftly so as not to allow any time for additional questions or conversation.

  The dinner was delicious, but the overwhelming desire to breakthrough her shield was frustrating. What compelled him to ask a complete stranger if he could call her by her middle name? It was personal. He wanted it to be personal. He saw disappointment when she sighed at his response. She called him a southern gentleman. Not a redneck, a country boy, or a hick. Those were references he’d become familiar with over the years, particularly in the Army. He’d even began referring to himself by those disparaging names on occasion.

  C.J. had two more tables sit down, and he knew he couldn’t keep bugging her.

  She walked back to his table a cool look in her eyes. “Have a nice evening,” she said, then laid the check on the table.

  He already had a twenty and a ten ready. “Thank you, C.J. You can keep the change. I hope it makes up for me irritating you,” he stated, standing up.

  She accepted the folder without a word.

  “Would you meet me for coffee after you finish work?” The words left his mouth before he even thought about what he was asking.

  Her eyes contained such passion; he was positive she was going to say yes. But then, she shoved her hands in her pockets. He could hear her crumbling paper. She was just nervous he thought, but after a couple seconds, she looked up at him with those gorgeous eyes.

  “I don’t date,” she said. Her brows narrowed as though she had something else to say, but she turned to greet her next table.

  Her words hit him like a steel bat. But something about her eyes told him he shouldn’t give up. There had been something about the way she’d dismissed him that said she’d regretted telling him no.

  He walked toward the exit, but at the last second altered his course and headed to the bar and ordered a beer, which he knew he wouldn’t drink.

  63

  Carmen DeSousa

  Chapter Two

  C.J. watched as Jordan walked out of her life.

  She was angry with herself for saying “no” but angrier that she wanted to say “yes”.
Her stomach was in knots, and she didn’t even know him. She was correct to say “no”.

  He’d return to Charlotte, or wherever it is he lived, and never consider her again. She couldn’t withdraw her eyes from Jordan as he walked toward the door. She wanted to dart after him, tell him she’d changed her mind and decided she would meet him. Then to her amazement, he turned and headed for the bar. She averted her eyes when he turned his head and looked back at her. She didn’t want him to catch her gawking.

  She turned away and let out a breath. He was offering her another opportunity she didn’t want. At least that is what she kept reminding herself, even if she knew she was lying to herself.

  C.J. approached her next table, two young couples in their early thirties. She knew how to up-the-check, and at the same instance, give herself justification to visit the bar.

  “Ladies,” she said, speaking only to the women. “We have a special creation tonight, a raspberry margarita. We take our famous frozen-lime margaritas and add a swirl of Chambord liquor. If you like margaritas, you simply must sample this one.” The women giggled and looked at their partners who encouraged them to go ahead. “And may I recommend a couple of our signature draft beer for you gentlemen?”

  Order in hand, she was off to the service bar, which was at the far end of the customers’ area. Across the service station sat Jordan.

  He smiled, a brilliant smile exposing a perfect set of white teeth, as she approached. He was an ideal specimen of a man, and obviously he didn’t take “no” for an answer. Of course, he could have just decided to have a beer, but she doubted that. Most guys would have scampered off with their tail between their legs, but here Jordan sat, smiling at her. Unable to control herself, she smiled back, retrieved her order and returned to her customers. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, as if she’d just run a marathon. The cocktails she carried nearly toppled over as her hands quivered beneath the tray. How could a man she didn’t even know affect her in such a way?

  As the night progressed, she constantly made excuses to visit the bar. Every time she saw an appetizer order for the bartender, she’d snatch it up and deliver it personally. All her tables were against the window, so her back was always to the bar, but she could swear she felt Jordan’s eyes following her.

  She wondered if she should be worried, but somehow worry was not the word coming to mind, flattered was more like it.

  “Billy, hey, gotta minute?” The bartender was grabbing a dinner plate, but he stopped to look. Some bartenders could be so cocky, but Billy was always nice to her. Of course, the extra tip she threw him at the end of her shift didn’t hurt.

  “Sure, but I’m in the weeds. Whacha need?”

  “I was just wondering about the guy at the far end of the bar? The—”

  Billy cut her off by rolling his eyes and huffing through his nose. “You’re the tenth server who’s asked me about him. The military-looking guy, right?” C.J. nodded sheepishly. “Name’s Jordan. Seems like an interesting guy, great tipper by the way. I think he said he was in construction. Makes sense, he looks like it. It’s weird though. He ordered a beer, took a few sips then pushed it away. Hours later, he ordered another draft, but hasn’t touched it either.”

  “So, did he—”

  “Gotta go, C.J., We’ll talk later.” Billy turned and walked away.

  So was Jordan really waiting for her, she wondered.

  Business was slow and Tim informed C.J. he’d closed her section. Under normal circumstances, this news would disappoint her. Typically, she’d offer to close for another server if they wanted to leave early, but tonight she felt otherwise inclined.

  She walked up lithely behind the gentleman playing havoc with her perfect strategy of not dating while finishing college. What could it hurt…he didn’t even live here.

  “Jordan,” she said in a bold voice, leaning up against the counter alongside his barstool. “Are you stalking me? I already told you I don’t date.”

  Jordan felt a thrill surge through him at the sound of his name emanating from her lips.

  He lifted his eyes up to meet hers, inclining his head slightly. “I didn’t ask you on a date. I asked you to coffee.” He concentrated on keeping his voice confident. It wasn’t easy. She made him feel a little shaky inside. Something he wasn’t accustomed to as women went or anyone else for that matter. He was used to being in command, taking control of every situation.

  “I can’t go out. I smell like a restaurant,” she protested.

  It sounded like a pout from a child. But if she wasn’t interested, she wouldn’t have come over to remind him she didn’t date. He almost laughed but restrained himself, realizing he was going to get his wish. He wanted this badly. Something about this woman had his insides bubbling.

  He moved his head closer, keeping his eyes indifferent. “You smell fine to me. Besides, I’ve been sitting here for hours, so I don’t think I would notice anyway.”

  “I look terrible. My hair’s a mess. I don’t have any makeup on, and look at the way I am dressed.” She glanced down at her uniform.

  Following her gaze to her restaurant-issued shirt and khaki shorts, Jordan grinned. She was surrendering, and he was reveling in his victory, now to seize control. “It’s just coffee, Jaynee. If you want to get gussied-up when I invite you on a real date that will be awesome, but right now I just want to talk to you for a while. I saw a Starbucks a couple blocks away; I’ll see you when you finish work.”

  Smiling, he turned away, focusing his attention elsewhere. He gave the bartender a friendly nod. “Nice meetin’ you, Billy. See ya around.”

  He hoped it would work. He hoped she wouldn’t leave him sitting there like a dope. Perhaps he offended her by calling her Jaynee. How presumptuous he was behaving. He never pressed a girl to go out with him. But, he needed at least one opportunity to survey these unbridled emotions running rampant through his mind.

  He left the restaurant with one fleeting glance in her direction. Her mouth was all but hanging open as she watched him walk away. Yes, it would work; she’d be there. He ambled off, grinning ear to ear.

  C.J. stood there speechless, her jaw dropped in a catatonic stupor, baffled by her reaction.

  She thought she was in control. She just wanted to tease him, never considering for a second that he’d be able to turn the tables on her. But he did, and she felt all warm and fuzzy inside. He called her Jaynee again. She liked the way he said her middle name with that drawl. Would she go to meet him? Did she have a choice?

  No man had ever affected her in this manner. Not even the one whose letter she’d repeatedly crumbled in her pocket, and she had spent years with him. Wasted was a more accurate depiction. Would Jordan be the equivalent? He didn’t even live in Florida. Where could this possibly lead? That was the thought confirming her resolution. It was just coffee, nothing more as he’d suggested. If she didn’t go, she’d always wonder.

  Jordan waited patiently. It was only eight thirty, and he figured it would take her until at least nine to finish up at work and walk through the door at Starbucks.

  She only had one table she was attending when he left. He wanted to offer to pay their bill if they’d leave, but he couldn’t. She would think he was insane. She probably already thought he was controlling, but he knew she just needed a push. Why would anyone as pretty as her not date?

  His eyes focused on the door every time it opened. He sat at a small table in the corner where she would sit across from him. She would come, he was certain. He saw something in her eyes. No doubt, she felt the instant attraction, too.

  It was after nine o’clock. How long would he wait? Until they closed and if she didn’t show…what then? Would he return to the restaurant tomorrow and allow her to reject him again? Yes, without a moment’s hesitation.

  The door opened again. He glanced up, and she was there.

  Unable to masquerade his elation, he smiled wide and stood as she walked toward him. He pulled out the chair for her to sit. She
was more reserved, but smiled back warmly.

  Jaynee had removed her barrette, and her hair fell around her shoulders and down her back in light curls. Her full lips glistened, beckoning a kiss. He was wrong. She wasn’t just pretty, she was beautiful. How had he not noticed how breathtaking she was?

  Jordan sat back down in his chair. “Thank you for not standing me up. I don’t think my self-esteem could have taken it,” he admitted.

  “Well, you didn’t leave me any choice. I didn’t want you sitting here all night waiting, and it didn’t appear as if you were going to accept ‘no’ for an answer. Why is that?” She chuckled, shaking her head, clearly mystified by his insistence. It was nice to hear her laugh. She’d been so serious earlier.

  “I honestly don’t know.” He smiled. “What would you like to drink?”

  “A vanilla latte…”

  Her answer was immediate but sounded more like a question, uncomfortable, as if she wasn’t accustomed to having things purchased for her.

  Jordan walked to the counter to order her drink. He liked that she knew what she wanted. He hated when women couldn’t make simple decisions. Her selection was also uncomplicated, not a total frou-frou drink. He drank his coffee black. Years in the military warranted that practice. What most women consumed hardly resembled coffee anymore.

  He watched Jaynee while waiting for her beverage. Why hadn’t he accepted “no” for an answer? It wasn’t his first rejection. That wasn’t his motivation. It didn’t bother him she said “no”. What troubled him was the idea of never seeing her again. He wanted to open her cover. He wanted to discover everything about her.

  He couldn’t just tell her that. However, he’d attempt to be as straightforward as possible and could only hope he wouldn’t frighten her away.

  He picked up her coffee when it was set on the counter and gave the lady behind the counter a thankful nod.