30DaystoSyn (10 page)

Night Nine

It was pouring rain as she drove the black
McGregor Industries sedan to Friendship Manor. The car had been delivered to
her that morning and by Saturday afternoon she was able to leave for the
nursing home with the intention of staying a few hours at Drew’s bedside. If
all went well and she held to her bargain—and he didn’t renege on their deal
before it was all said and done—she would be visiting her brother at Cedar Oaks
in December. Glancing at her watch, she knew he would be eating lunch soon so
she decided to stop at Drecker’s for a six-inch ham and cheese on rye. Luckily
there were no other cars filling up the parking slots and she was able to park
directly in front of the door. Hurrying inside, she jumped when a loud clap of
thunder shook the building.

“Mean as a cornered snake out there, huh,
Lina?” the young guy behind the counter asked. His nametag said Jed but he was
a neighbor kid whose real name was Jethro.

“There are sharks swimming in the gutters,”
she replied. “And I think I saw a sting ray too. A Moray eel stuck his head out
of a manhole.”

“Gotta watch out for those gutter sharks,”
Jed said. “They are vicious during mating season.” He grinned. “Want the usual
or somethin’ else?”

“I’ll have a six-inch ham and cheese on
rye.”

“Everything ‘cept cukes, extra hot peppers,
right?”

“Right,” she replied as he handed her a cup
to fill at the water dispenser.

“Oh, free ten-ounce drink with any purchase
today,” he said.

“Cool beans,” she said and placed the cup
under the lemonade spout.

She took a seat in the corner—well away
from the windows where lightning was flashing across the glass. Shaking salt
onto the dill pickle quarter Jed always slipped into her sandwich basket when
he worked the counter, she glanced up as the door opened and a customer came
hurrying in. She paused with the pickle halfway to her mouth when she realized
it was
him
who had come hurrying in from the rain.

“It’s hosing down out there, Jethro,” he
said with a laugh, shaking his hands. He pronounced the boy’s name as Jeethro.
The sleeves, shoulders and back of his gray T-shirt were soaked. Running his
hands down his bare arms, he sluiced off the remaining rainwater.

“Rain’s good for you, mate,” Jed said in
what she supposed was his rendition of a Kiwi accent. “What’s your pleasure
today?”

She watched him study the menu on the wall,
run his arm under his dripping nose, then shrug.

“Give me today’s special with the usual
stuff,” he ordered.

“You gonna have crisps with your meal?” the
young man asked.

“Good on you, Jethro!” he said with a
laugh. “You’ve been Googling again, ain’t you? And yeah, I think jalapeño
crisps will go good with a steak sarnie.”

She took a bite of her pickle and wondered
if he would notice her. She wondered if he would eat there. She wondered if she
should speak to him, call attention to herself and decided it would be best if
she didn’t. She saw him turn his head toward the door as a bright splash of red
appeared. She stopped chewing as he hurried to open the door for the same
little old lady with the same red umbrella she’d seen a month or so before.

“Thank you, young man,” the lady said.

“My pleasure, young lady,” he replied.

The woman looked him up and down then shook
her head. “Son, you are going to catch your death of cold if you don’t get out
of those wet clothes. You are sopping wet. Where’s your jacket?”

“Yes, ma’am, but I’m drip dry. Forgot to
bring one along,” he said then stuck his hands into the pockets of his black
jeans. “Besides, it’s just God’s way of telling me I needed a bath.”

Deep crinkles appeared at the corner of the
old woman’s eyes. “You said the same thing the first time you came to my rescue.”

She had just taken a sip of her lemonade
when she realized he had to be the man who had held the door open for the woman
that other rainy day.

“I did?” she heard him ask. “When was
this?”

“On a day much like this. You were buying
subs for your office staff if I remember right,” she said. “Treating them as it
were.”

“I remember that!” he said. “You had the
naked Russian cat in the carrier with you.”

The old woman laughed loudly. “It’s called
a Peterbald,” she said and shook a finger at him. “You said something quite
naughty when I told you what breed he was.”

He slapped a hand to his chest in mock
surprise. “I did? Would I do something disrespectful like that?”

“You know darn well you did, you little
rascal,” she accused.

“Your sandwich is ready, Syn,” the cashier
called out to him and he glanced around.

And saw her sitting in the corner. He did a
double take then slowly grinned.

“Is that your real name?” the old lady
inquired and he turned back to her.

“Yes, ma’am, I’m afraid so,” he said,
moving over to the register and fishing in his back pocket for his wallet.

“Apropos I’d say,” she told him.

“My mum thought so. I’ll pay for this young
lady’s sarnie, too,” he told the girl behind the register then swung his gaze
back to the corner.

“You don’t have to do that, son,” the old
woman protested.

“I want to,” he said. “‘Sides, I’m trying
to impress my girl.”

The old woman looked past him and her
eyebrows shot up. “Well now. She’s a pretty little thing, Syn.”

“Yes, ma’am, that she is,” he agreed. He
took the plastic green sandwich basket in one hand and his empty twenty-ounce
cup in the other.

“Thank you,” the woman said.

“You are very welcome, love,” he replied
and headed for the corner.

She looked up at him as he sat the basket
on the table.

“Hey,” he said.

“G’day,” she replied with a smile.

He leaned over the table to look into her
cup. “Wanna refill?”

“No, I’m fine,” she told him.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“Free drink with purchase today,” he said
and she wondered how he knew that.

He took his cup to the drink dispenser and
she enjoyed the view of his fine ass shifting within the very tight confines of
his black jeans. It was a sight to warm the loins.

“Your girl, huh?” she questioned as he came
back to the table and sat down.

“Damn straight.” He brushed crumbs from the
table with the edge of his hand then popped open the bag of jalapeño-flavored
potato chips and tipped the bag toward her.

She shook her head.

“Don’t like them?” he asked as he plucked
one from the bag and popped it in his mouth.

“Love them, actually, but they don’t go
with ham and cheese,” she replied.

He looked down at the uneaten half of her
sandwich. “What flavor does?” he asked.

“Barbeque,” she said.

“Okay.” He swung out of the chair before
she could protest, took a bag of barbeque chips from the rack, paid for them
then brought them back to the table. He slid the bag over to her. “Enjoy,” he
said.

“You are incorrigible,” she said.

“No, I told you I was—”

She held up a hand. “Don’t say it!”

“Why not?” he asked. He took a large bite
of the steak sub. “You don’t stop talking when I tell you to.”

She felt the heat rising in her cheeks and
had to look away from the direct blue of his gaze. “How’s your head?” she
asked.

“Which one?” he countered.

She gave him a stern look.

“Oh, that one,” he said and pulled a paper
napkin from the dispenser on the table. “It’s okay. It won’t be a problem for
us tonight. I’m going to do wicked, wicked things to you tonight.” He wagged
his brows.

She sighed at his evil grin. “I take it
back. You’re irremediable.”

“No, I’m…” He thought about it then pursed
his lips. “Damn, Melina. I can’t think of anything adequately vulgar to counter
that one.”

“Good,” she said.

“What are you doing out on a day like this
anyway?” he asked, munching away. She liked the play of muscles flexing in his
stubbled cheeks and the way he hooked his ankles around the legs of the chair
like a little boy. His right leg was jumping as though he was revving his
engine.

The thought made her smile and she lowered
her head to hide it.

Didn’t work.

“What?” he asked. When she looked up at him
he tilted his head to the side. “That smile. What was that about?”

“I’m going to spend some time with my
brother,” she answered.

“Can I come too?”

His question surprised her.

“You want to?”

“Sure, I do,” he said and picked up his
cup. He slurped a big gulp.

They were silent for a moment. She didn’t
know what to say to his admission. Instead, she cocked her head to one side.

“I saw you that day,” she said and when his
brows drew together, she nodded her chin toward the old lady who was sitting a
few tables away. “When you walked her to her car.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

She nodded. “I thought you were such a
gentleman.”

He sniffed as though the term didn’t apply
to him. “Then you met me and found out I was a fucking son of a bitch asshole
dickwad prick with a God complex.”

“Shush!” she said, leaning toward him.

“You said it, woman. Not me,” he reminded
her.

“I was angry,” she defended her insult.

“You were pissed,” he said and licked
mustard from his thumb.

A piercing clap of thunder shook the entire
building and she jumped. There was only a bite left of her sandwich so she
pushed the basket to one side and opened the barbeque chips—not wanting to
offend him though she really didn’t want them.

“Storm’s getting worse,” she said.

“We’ll take my car over to the nursing
home,” he said.

“We will?”

“You shouldn’t be driving in this muck.”

“And you should,” she said. “Why’s that?”

“Women drivers and all that rot,” he
replied.

“I’m going to pretend I’m not offended by
that sexist remark,” she said. She looked at Jed. “Don’t you think they’ll mind
if I leave my car out there?”

“My car, actually,” he said, “and they
don’t.”

“You know this because?”

He grinned. “I own the store,” he said. He
wiped his mouth with the napkin, balled it up and tossed it into the empty
sandwich basket. “Matter of fact, I own the entire strip mall.”

“Well of course you do,” she said with a
sigh. “But what about my car?”

“I’ll have Jono drop Craigie off and
Craigie can drive it back to your house.”

He began shoveling the last of the jalapeño
potato chips into his mouth, the bag crinkling as he fished out every last
morsel then tipped it to his mouth.

“You’re nothing but a big kid,” she said.

He crumpled the bag then placed it gently
in the basket, his blue eyes burning as he leaned toward her and lowered his
voice. “Baby, believe me. I’m all man.”

She felt a heated tingling and pulse of
quickening between her legs and had the wild urge to grab his cheeks and kiss
him hard. Her gaze dipped to his lips for a second then slowly lifted it to
his. His gorgeous face sent spirals of desire trekking through her.
Unconsciously, she curled her tongue over her bottom lip.

“Promises, promises,” he whispered and the
heat in his eyes blazed back at her with such force she felt her knees go weak.

He leaned back in the chair, stared at her
for a long time then scooted out of the chair. He gathered up their trash, took
it to the garbage bin then came back to the table. He held out his hand.

“Let’s go, woman,” he said.

She slipped her hand into his and felt the
power in his grip as he pulled her to her feet. There was something fierce and
thrilling in the way he was looking at her and she wasn’t altogether sure she
should get in the car with him.

Not that she feared what he might do to
her. She didn’t.

What she feared was the rampant desire that
was setting her blood on fire and what she might do to him.

“Please try to remember to drive on the
correct side of the road,” she said as he opened the door for her.

“Your correct side or mine?” he countered
with a grin.

“There is only one correct side of the road
in Georgia,” she said with a sniff.

“Do you know where it is?” she asked as he
held the door open for her.

“Yeah,” he said. His free hand was at the
small of her back.

The rain had slowed but lightning still
stitched across the sky. He pointed out his car—a black BMW she realized was
the same one she’d seen him driving that other day in the rain—and he hurried
her to it. Opening her door, he didn’t give her a chance to pull the seat belt
around her but leaned in and buckled it himself.

“Now you’re my prisoner,” he said huskily
before stepping back to close the door.

“Won’t keep me from mauling you if I’ve a
mind to,” she mumbled under her breath, watching him come around the hood to
the driver’s side. The memory of his hard cock rubbing along her palm made her
squeeze her thighs together.

Traffic was light as he pulled into the
street. He turned on the MP3 player on his dash and the smooth voice of Alan
Kim Cochran singing
The Bonnie Woods of Hattan
came hauntingly into the
car.

“I love this song,” she said. “I love his
music.”

“Me too,” he replied. “Especially
The
Somerset Mare
.”

“Oh, that one is so beautiful, so
poignant!” she said, twisting around in her seat to face him.

“Lost love,” he said, “is always poignant.”

“Have you ever heard
Not Alone
by
Patty Griffin or
The Ends of the Earth
by Lord Huron?”

He nodded. “I’ve got them on my iPod. I
also have all of the Coyne Brothers and Sean Cullen albums.”