By the end of the movie, my mood is so low, I’m not even laughing at the funny parts anymore.
He elbows me softly in the side. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, I think I’m just tired.”
He turns off the TV and leans forward. “I’m sorry, Jane. I’m not even thinking. You have to work again tomorrow and I’m trying to keep you up all night. What time do you have to work?”
“I have the morning shift tomorrow.”
I wait for him to turn to me, to look at me or something, but instead he gets up and walks behind the couch. “Okay, I’ll be ready to take you.”
Instantly, I shake my head. “No, that’s okay. I’m going to drive.”
He stares at me as if he’s weighing my words. “Okay, and then you’ll come here?” It may be a question, but the way he’s staring at me, it seems more of a demand than anything else.
I walk toward my room to put some distance between us. “I think I’ll go home. There’s no reason for me to keep staying here. I mean… Martin….”
“I want you to stay. Just a few more days. Please.” He looks almost frantic as he says it, but I don’t understand. He obviously doesn’t want me as a girlfriend. I mean, he hasn’t touched me, even after I leaned into him for most of the movie. He’s made it pretty obvious he thinks of me as a friend. Maybe he’s got a protective instinct about him and looks for women to help. I don’t know.
I nod my head and put my hand on the bedroom door, but he stops me before I go in. “So, you’ll be here tomorrow night?”
I don’t even look back at him. “Yeah,” I whisper before I push open the door and walk in.
9
Jane
Three days. It’s been three days since Dutton kissed me. I’ve been at his house every night. We’ve played cards, watched television, gone out to dinner. He’s hung out at the diner on my shift and gone back to his old ways of staring at me as I work. Everything points to the fact that he likes me. But maybe that’s all it is. Like. Because he hasn’t touched me since he held my hand in the car the other night.
He’s got me so twisted up inside I don’t know if I’m coming or going.
“Okay, that’s it. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
I try to smile, to act as if everything is okay and turn to face Alice. She’s standing next to me with her hands on her hips, looking at me expectantly.
“Nothing is wrong.”
“Bullshit. I’ve known you too long to try lying to me, so you might as well just tell me. Did that truck driver break your heart? If he did, I’ll take care of him. I warned him.”
“Warned him? What do you mean you warned him?”
She’s shaking her head, half mumbling to herself. “I told him not to break your heart and if he did he’d have to answer to me.”
I put my hand on Alice’s arm. “He didn’t break my heart. We’re friends. That’s all, Alice.”
She cackles at that loudly, and a couple of guys at a table turn to look at us. I grab her arm and pull her over to the counter. “We are just friends. He doesn’t touch me, hold my hand, nothing. He kissed me one time…” I can feel my face turn red just remembering it. “But it was because I asked him to. I thought he may have liked me but now, I think he decided that we’re just better off friends, because that’s how he treats me, like a friend.”
“Jane, he likes you, I know he does.”
I nod, agreeing with her. “I know he does. He helped me with Martin and that whole ordeal. He’s just a good guy, that’s all.”
Alice opens her mouth to say something and then nods her head toward the door. “Speak of the devil.”
I flip my head around so fast it’s possible I’ll get whiplash. I grab on to both of Alice’s arms. “Don’t you say a word. I mean it. I’ll take care of it.”
“Don’t do anything stupid, girl.”
I roll my eyes. “I won’t. Now go check on that table”—I point across the room—“and I’ll wait on Dutton.”
I wait for Alice to walk away before I walk to the other end of the counter. “Hey, Dutton.”
“Hey honey, how’s your day going so far?”
“It’s good.” I wipe my sweaty palms down my apron. I guess it’s now or never. “So I’m glad you stopped in. I think we need to talk.”
He sits up straighter and stares at me. Why does he have to be so good looking and such a good guy? It would be easier if he was an ugly ass.
Whether he knows it or not, his arms flex as he leans across the counter. “What do you want to talk about?”