Taken (Dark Desires 1)

“No. I was afraid if I did that she might think I was being competitive. That she was just some kind of trophy or something and I didn’t want her to feel that way.”

“I can see that.”

We sat quietly for a few minutes. The water lapped at the sides of the boat and it was amazing how soothing it was.

“You should bring her out here with you some time.”

“I don’t know, Ray. I don’t know if she’d like fishing.”

“You are so dumb. She’d like it if she was with you, Marty.” He looked around smiling. “It’s beautiful out here. Peaceful. A nice place to propose marriage.”

“Now don’t you think you are jumping the gun a little?”

“I don’t know, boss, you tell me. If I am then what the hell did you bring me out here to talk about?”

Ray was right. I did bring him out here to ask him what he thought of Natasha and the whole situation with my brother. He had been at the main house when Natasha had told me she had been seeing my brother, too.

It had been a beautiful night. I had invited her out with me after work. We had left together via the private elevator and taken my car to one of my favorite out of the way places. When we both walked in I felt Betty Jean’s eyes on me right away.

“Well, hello stranger!” The heavy red-headed waitress called, waving wildly from behind the counter. Several of the regulars turned around and gave a quick grunt of salutation.

“We haven’t seen you in a while, Marty. How’s business?”

“It’s good, Betty Jean. How are things around here?”

“The same.” She said, rolling her eyes at the line of regular fellas who were at the other end of the counter.

“Betty Jean, this is Natasha. Natasha, this is Betty-Jean, the most beautiful waitress in eight counties. Ain’t that right, Cletus?” I yelled to an older man at the end of the counter who had bright brown eyes and hair graying at the temples.

“Please don’t encourage him, Marty.” Betty Jean said, pulling out her order pad and a pencil from the back of her big red hair. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sweetheart. What can I get you two?”

“Two fried chicken dinners, sweetheart. Fully loaded.” I said, holding Natasha’s hand.

“Coming right up.” Betty Jean scribbled down the order and walked quickly to the other end of the counter to slap it into the silver wheel for the cook and banged the bell. “Order!”

All the men watched her as she walked back and forth filling up their coffee cups, bending to get a bag of sugar from underneath the counter and climbed a stepstool to pull down a box of napkins. She had a full figure and that moved like the ocean. But as of yet she had not said yes to any marriage proposals. Cletus Riverton was the most persistent and I think that was because deep down Betty Jean loved him, too. For her he had quit drinking over eight years ago. Stayed away from the electric slots they had at the restaurant across town for just as long. And last I heard he was even starting to attend church on a regular basis.

I figured once Betty Jean got him trained exactly the way she wanted him then she might consider going on one date with him.

“What are we doing here?” Natasha asked, looking around a little surprised.

“Well, I told you I was taking you to get one of the best meals you’ve ever tasted. Why?”

Her eyes filled with tears and she couldn’t control herself.

“Uhm, uh, Betty Jean we’re going to take that booth over there if you don’t mind.” I said, quickly.

“Suit yourself, honey.” She said, looking concerned.

Once we sat down Natasha pulled her hands away from mine and spilled her guts.

“Please believe me that I didn’t know you guys were brothers at first. I am single and well, there are no rules saying I can’t go out with two guys or four guys or whoever until I find the one that I like the best, right?”

I couldn’t tell her that my heart had hit the floor. Then I remembered Denise had tried to tell me not to get too attached to Natasha.

“She does a great job, Marty. Maybe too good of a job.” But that was all she had said. She must have seen it in the papers as well. But Denise was professional to a fault. She’d never overstep that boundary and risk her job just to tell me her opinion about a secretary.

There was nothing that I could say or that she could do to alter the awkwardness we were both feeling.