by Jane Charles
The waitress returns, smiling at both of us in a knowing way again, and takes Brett’s credit card.
“I’m going to burst.”
“It’s a nice night. Do you want to walk a bit before driving back?” Then he leans in. “I feel fine, and we had a huge meal, but we did drink an entire bottle of wine. Not sure I should get behind the wheel yet.”
I get that. Though I think I may have drank more than half the bottle myself. “Sure.” I like walking on the square around town. All the shops will be closed, but that’s okay. It should be a nice night and it isn’t like the square is small, but rather large compared to some of the other towns I’ve been in.
“This is Saturday night.”
Brett lifts and eyebrow. “Yeah.”
“Did you know that bands set up on the square on Saturdays? I wonder who is playing.”
“I’ve never gone.” Brett takes the check, adds a tip and signs his name before putting his card back in his wallet. “What kind of music?”
“All kinds. Oldies, Big Band, British Invasion, Country, Rock.” I get out of my chair as he stands. “Family friendly lyrics are the only rule for bands wanting to play.”
“Where do they come from? The bands.”
“The young and newer bands come up from New York a lot. They are hoping to build an audience and gain fans.”
“The others?”
“Local bands from surrounding communities, who just like to play. They are probably hoping for gigs at weddings and dances.”
He stands back and gestures for me to go ahead. “Shall we?”
“Thank you for a wonderful dinner.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for your company.”
As we leave the restaurant, once again Brett’s hand is at the small of my back, like he’s trying to protect me. I like it. I really do. He’s so chivalrous. The kind that you only read about in a romance novel. A little thrill runs down my spine wondering if one of my favorite heroes just stepped from the pages. He meets all of the qualifications. Good looking, strong, sexy. Now to just find out if there is a bad boy in there. Any hero I’ve loved definitely has some rake or rogue in them, which usually shows best during the slow seduction phase and more heated moments, when the hero’s one goal is seducing the heroine.
I bite back a grin, hoping Brett can’t read my mind.
The heroes in books usually have an issue or two to overcome too. Brett doesn’t seem to have any, but I only did just meet him yesterday.
“What kind of books do you like to read?” I ask when we step outside. I assume he reads, but not everybody enjoys it.
“Mysteries and thrillers.”
“That explains why you picked your profession,” I say.
I could swear he blushed again. “I like trying to figure out the who, the why and sometimes the how.”
Dark suit, sharp tie, questioning witnesses. I can see it now. If he used those blue eyes, I’d confess to about anything.
He takes my hand, weaving his fingers with mine, and a little thrill runs up my spine.
“What do you like to read?”
“Romances.” I wait for a derogatory remark and laughter. Instead he just nods.
“My mom read those all the time. Stacks of books.”
“Really? What kind?”
Brett shrugs. “I don’t know. They all had ladies in old-fashioned gowns. The guy’s shirts were open, if they were wearing one, and he was usually undressing her. At least that’s what the cover made it seem like.”
“Sounds like historical.”
He nods. “Her escape from reality.”
Brett said it so quietly that I was beginning to think his mother escaping wasn’t a good thing, so decide not to say anything further.
I know I shouldn’t hold it against Jacqueline, but the romance novel reading doesn’t set well with me. I’m sure she is nothing like my mom, or at least I hope not, but there was a time when mom always had a book. Reading instead of playing with us. Dad would be at work during the night, five kids in the house needing to get homework done, dinner, baths, and she’d sit there reading. That was the earliest sign of her checking out.
It didn’t matter that she hated her job, hardly ever saw Dad because he was always working overtime, and not happy with the ways things turned out for her. She still had five kids at home that needed her.
I’m sure there are a lot of people who read romances for the entertainment. All books, no matter what the genre, are an escape. It’s why people read. But, it shouldn’t be a replacement for a life a person didn’t want to live.
“I don’t have the time to read like I used to.” She sighs. “In college it was impossible to read for pleasure because of homework and sometimes I just needed to go out. In the summers I usually catch up on my favorite authors, like this summer, but once I start working and am back in school, it’ll probably take me a month to get through a single novel.”
“Do you read the same kind as my mom?” Though it sounds like Jacqueline at least knows how to prioritize and set the book aside when more important things need to be done.
“Oh yeah! Regencies are my favorite.” She grins. “Lords, ladies, balls, carriages, estates.”
I chuckle and lean in. “Does that mean you’re a romantic at heart?”
Her cheeks color, but she doesn’t answer. Maybe I should read one of these regencies. It might give me some insight into why women seem to love them so much. Just because I listened to my sisters’ conversations growing up, doesn’t mean I even know half of what I need to about women.
“Sounds like a late sixties, early seventies band,” Jackie say as we come around the corner. There is a trio up there singing Leaving on a Jet Plane. “Peter, Paul and Mary wannabes?”
I glance at her from the corner of my eye. I didn’t think anyone our age knew who they were.
“Between my grandparents, aunts and uncles and their eclectic choices in music, I probably know more bands from the 1940’s through the early 80’s, than my own eras of music.”
“Nothing more recent?”
“Not for them.” She laughs. “Though I do have one uncle who stays up with all music, no matter what the genre. Of course, he is a musician, so there’s that.”
The square is filled with people, families, sitting on blankets and in lawn chairs, taking up every available green space to sit. Others line the sidewalks. This is nice. Real nice. I think I may like it around here.
I nod to Sullivan’s. “I’ve got a tab to settle.”
It’s the only business that’s open. There are some people sitting inside and the music can be heard.
“This is usually a big carryout night for Seamus. Families get their dinner and take it outside to enjoy the night.”
That makes sense and had I known, I might have suggested this over the Italian restaurant. That would have been more of a second date type of atmosphere. Yet, I really liked having Jacqueline all to myself, in the dark corner with a waitress ordering us to fall in love.
We weave our way through the people who are enjoying the music and make it to the entrance of Sullivan’s. Jacqueline’s phone dings just as we step inside and she grabs it from inside of her purse.
I pull my wallet out and go to the bar.
She follows and plops down on a bar stool, a strange look on her face.
“Is something wrong?”
She shakes her head. “Must be a wrong number again.”
“Again?”
“Yeah. Got a weird message yesterday too. I don’t recognize the number.”
I can’t help it, but my gut goes on alert. “What’s this one say?”
She shows me the phone.
Such a pretty face, such a pretty dress, such a pretty smile
“Well, whoever they are, they’re right.”
She just chuckles and tosses the phone back in her purse.
I blow it off, or let her think I do, but my eyes are scanning the crowd. Is it nothing, or something?
> Chapter Eight
Instead of pulling into the drive of the plantation and camp, Brett continues until he is turning onto Baxter Lane. I’m not sure what his intentions are, but I’m glad he isn’t taking me home yet. I’m not ready for our date to end and apparently he isn’t either. He pulls into a parking spot by the beach and then grabs a blanket from the back seat.
“Is this why you wanted to get something to drink before we left the square?” Brett had ordered two large root beers from Seamus, which I thought was odd since I thought he was taking me home.
“I thought it’d be nice to just sit and talk, in the quiet, without crowds around, or a bossy waitress.” He grins at me.
“I’d like that too.”
We both leave our shoes at the edge of the beach and my feet sink into the sand. My uncle makes sure there is plenty of sand here because he hates mud in his toes. There isn’t much choice once you step into the lake, but I like that we don’t have to walk in the dirt to be near the water.
Brett stops when he notices the fire pit. “We can build a fire?”
“Sure. We do it all the time.” I point to the rise to our left. “We keep stacks of wood there for anyone to use.”
He goes to gather wood and I run back to the car to get my phone.
Brett looks at me oddly.
“I’m just letting my Uncle Gary know that it’s me out here before he comes to investigate.” I point to the closest house, just on the other side of the tall evergreens.
Brett nods and continues to gather the wood and put it in the pit.
“Hey, Jackie, what’s up?”
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m down at the beach and will be building a fire.”
“Who you with?”
“Brett Robak.”
“Who is that?” I should have known I’d get the twenty-questions from Uncle Gary. He’s always watched out for me and my brothers, and he is a cop.
“A guy I have gone on a couple of dates with.” Since tonight is the second, that qualifies as a couple. Uncle Gary doesn’t need to know I just met Brett yesterday.
“And you brought him to the beach?” There is a teasing tone in my uncle’s voice.
“It was his idea, so we could talk in peace.”
“Uh huh, I bet.”
“It’s nothing more, Uncle Gary.”
“So, when do I meet him?”
I hadn’t even thought about introducing Brett to anyone else in my family. If and when I do, it will be in small increments. If he meets them all at once, I’ll never see him again.
“Um, sometime.”
“Hey, your Aunt Cheryl and I can come down. It’s a great night.”
Crap. That is the last thing I need.
“And, the girls have been wanting to go down by the lake and catch fireflies. You don’t mind the company, do you?”
I’m speechless. I’m sure the last thing Brett was thinking was inviting my family when he drove back here.
After a moment Uncle Gary starts laughing. “I wouldn’t do that to you, kid.”
I blow out a sigh and relax.
“So, who is he and where did you meet him?”
“Brett Robak and Ashley fixed us up on a blind date.”
“What do you know about this guy?” My uncle is suddenly very serious.
“Enough to know I’m safe,” I assure him.
“Can’t be too safe these days, Jackie.”
“He works for the FBI in Albany.”
“Albany?”
“New to the job and hasn’t found a place to live yet and has been staying with his uncle. A state trooper,” I point out. The fact that Brett is FBI and his uncle is a cop should put my overprotective uncle at ease.
“Who is his uncle?”
“O’Brien.”
“I know him.” My uncle now sounds much more relaxed. “So, when do we meet him?”
“Sometime soon. I’m sure.”
“Saturday!”
“What?” No. I won’t do that to Brett or myself.
“If you brought him to the beach, he can meet the family on Saturday.”
We’re having a cookout, the entire family, at the lake next Saturday to celebrate my grandmother’s birthday. “I don’t even know if he has plans.”
“He better not.”
“Okay, okay.” I might as well enjoy my time with Brett now because I probably won’t see him after next weekend. My family can be a bit overwhelming.
“Oh, and Jackie.”
“Yes.”
“Behave and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
I have to laugh. “Well, since I can’t do both, I’ll just pick one and go with it.” I click off the phone before he can respond.
“Everything good?” Brett asks as I come back down to the beach. He’s busy spreading the blanket out on the sand.
“There’s a price to using the beach tonight.”
He eyes me suspiciously.
“Uncle Gary says that since I brought you to the beach, even though you brought me, you have to come to the family cookout next Saturday.”
Brett laughs. “Sounds like fun.”
“An easy assumption when you’ve only met Theo and my grandmother.”
I plop down on the blanket and Brett takes a lighter from his pocket.
“Hey, Boy Scout. There’s no using lighters. Aren’t you required to rub two sticks together or something?”
“As this isn’t exactly wilderness training, I’m not going to waste the time when I could be getting to know you better.”
His voice dipped low at the end and sparks go off in my belly. We are virtually alone out here and even thought my uncle’s house isn’t that far away, nobody can see us. Uncle Gary would only be able to tell there was a fire by the light, but that’s it.
I’ve wanted to be alone with Jackie all night. We talked at dinner, but I was also conscious of what we were saying, or what I was asking. It’s okay to be general in a restaurant, but I hate really talking to someone when that conversation can be overheard. Then we listened to the band, which was pretty good, but not a good environment for conversation or anything else. It was a risk, and I didn’t ask, but I’m glad she’s okay with being at the beach and didn’t insist I take her home. It’s only about eleven at night. Late for some, but I was so not ready to walk her to her door yet.
Truth be told, I’d rather be kissing her than talking, but making out on a second date is probably not the wisest thing to do. Besides, I do want to get to know her. Jackie intrigues me unlike any girl I’ve ever met.
“You were going to tell me more about the camp but you didn’t.”
She uses her cup to make a hole in the sand so it won’t tip over and I do the same with mine. Instant cup holders.
“Well, it started off as just an art camp. My grandparents’ idea, when the living history thing didn’t work out. They had mostly kids of rich parents who were looking to unload their children for a few weeks each year. Kids who were kind of interested in the arts, or parents who thought their offspring should be interested in the arts. The following week they’d be sent to another type of camp. Their summers filled with adventure until school started again.”
“So, what changed?”
“One couple.” She smiles. “About ten years ago, this couple, who had five foster kids, didn’t send them to the camp to unload them on someone else, but so they could experience something different. My grandparents spent a lot of times talking to those five kids and then realized they needed to change the camp.”
“They are all foster kids now?”
“Some are foster kids, but a lot of them are from group homes too. They’ve been in juvie, on the street, in shelters.”
I take a drink of my root beer. I really thought they were just foster kids. The Baxter Camp is inviting a world of hurt with some of the kids being delinquents, which explains where the pyromaniac came from.
“We don’t just take anyone who wants to get out of the
city or away from their life. Social workers and caseworkers make the referrals. The kid has to have an interest, and some talent in pursuing an art. They must be non-violent, or at least no longer violent, and no danger to themselves or anyone else.”
“The kid who started the fire?” I remind her.
“Well, he hadn’t started fires in a long time. I think it’s more he hadn’t had the chance and not that desire was gone.”
Kids learn early how to behave, what to say and what to do, in order to get leniency.
“A lot of them have mental health issues too, which is why we have therapists on staff as regular camp counselors, and teachers for every art discipline.”
“Sounds like a good place to be.”
“It is.” She smiles softly. “I’m glad it’s there for them. And, I like being a part of it.”
Her face softens when she thinks about the camp. Clearly it is a place she loves. I get what they are trying to do, and maybe they are making a small difference in the kids’ lives. You never know.
Chapter Nine
I had hoped that when he built the fire and laid the blanket out that we’d be doing something other than talking. I can’t help it. I want to kiss him, or have him kiss me, and maybe a few other things. I mean, it is a beautiful night, clear sky above, nearly full moon, calm lake, blanket on a beach, nice fire. A perfect setting for seduction, which I would happily go along with.
After that kiss last night, all I’ve been able to think about when I’m with him is if he will kiss me on the lips this time and if he’s any good in bed. Which is shocking actually. Not the part about having sex, but that I’m thinking about, and wanting to have sex with a guy I barely know and just met. With my last two boyfriends, we dated for months before doing the deed. For me it was the natural progression of where we stood in the relationship and not so much of really wanting the guy in bed. Brett and I are so not even close to being there, but if he wanted to take me back to his place, if he had one, I’d happily go.
Instead, he wants to talk.
Talking is good. We should know more about each other. Heaven knows I want to know everything about him. And I mean, everything.
