Waiting for You (9 page)

That’s what Erin had said. “How can you tell?”

“The guy’s in a suit. Believe me, it’s a first date. And if you get up the balls to ask her out yourself, there won’t be a second date.”

He shook his head. “I’m not asking Erin out.”

“Why the hell not?”

He lifted his mug and took a drink, thinking of the nightmare that had woken him up that morning. “I’m not relationship material right now.”

Mark hooked a thumb towards the booth across the room. “And you think that guy is? He looks like a smarmy prick to me.”

Jake glanced over again, and realized why he looked familiar.

It was a guy he knew from high school. Patrick Fowler was a jock who’d spent most of his time talking about the girls he’d slept with—and he tried to sleep with all of them.

The thought that Erin might go home with a guy like that made him want to hit something.

“You want to switch seats?”

He frowned at Mark. “What?”

“So you don’t have to eat your heart out all night.”

“Funny.”

“You’re saying it doesn’t bother you?”

Jake shrugged. “Erin’s personal life is none of my business.”

“Uh huh.”

Jake waved the waitress over again. “Let’s order another plate of wings.”

He couldn’t help keeping an eye on Erin’s table. She and Patrick only ordered drinks, so they’d had dinner somewhere else and come here after. Which probably meant dinner had gone well, right?

He could tell Patrick was into Erin. Really into her. He leaned forward and smiled a lot, totally focused on whatever they were talking about.

No surprise there. Erin was easy to talk to. Something about her just made you feel comfortable. Like you could be yourself.

She seemed to be having a good time, but she wasn’t doing any flirting. As far as Jake could tell, her body language was the same as it would be with a friend. Of course it was only their first date. Considering her sexual history—or lack of it—she probably didn’t go too crazy on her first dates.

He closed his eyes. He wished he didn’t know she was a virgin. Because now he couldn’t stop thinking about her first time, and wondering who it would be with.

When he opened his eyes again, Erin was staring straight at him. She was standing up, slinging her purse over her shoulder as Patrick put money on the table to pay their bill, and her eyes looked right into his.

***

When Erin saw Jake sitting across the room her first, uncensored response was a sudden rush of feeling, an effervescence in her blood that left her tingling.

She looked back at Patrick and wondered why she couldn’t respond that way to him. The guy she was actually on a date with.

“Can I walk you to your car?” he asked, and she could tell he was thinking about a good night kiss.

She’d had a decent time tonight, but the thought of kissing Patrick left her cold. It would probably be better to say goodnight in here.

“No, that’s all right. I’m going to say hello to some friends before I leave. Thanks for dinner, Patrick. I had a nice time.”

“So did I,” he said, leaning in. She made sure it was just a quick peck, but even so, the thought that Jake might be watching made her stomach tense.

“Can I call you again?”

“Um, yes,” she said, distracted, seeing Jake out of the corner of her eye. Was he still looking this way?

“Goodnight, Erin.”

“Goodnight.”

As soon as Patrick was gone she made her way over to Jake and Mark’s table. She and Jake had looked right at each other, so she should at least say hello before she left.

“Hi, Jake. Hi, Mark. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Hey, Erin,” Mark said with a smile. “We saw you come in but we didn’t want to interrupt your date. Is it still going on, or can we buy you a drink?”

She hesitated. “The date’s over, but I was on my way out.”

“We could make it a root beer,” Jake said.

Erin had always been a root beer addict, and it warmed her that Jake remembered that.

“On the rocks?”

“Of course.”

Mark waved to attract their waitress’s attention while Jake moved to make room for her on his side of the booth. After a moment’s hesitation she slid in next to him. The booths were small and her leg bumped his, and the slight contact was enough to send her pulse racing.

“So how’s the website coming?” Mark asked. “I love your ideas so far, and the sample pages you sent. Do you need any more photos or anything from us?”

“No, I’m good. The site’s just about finished. I was going to call tomorrow to set up a meeting.”

“That sounds great.”

She and Mark did most of the talking for the next few minutes. Jake didn’t say much, but she was acutely aware of him next to her. He was wearing jeans and a black tee shirt and even though the shirt was clean he must have come from work, because he smelled very faintly of metal and engine oil.

It was an extremely masculine scent, and it made her think of Jake with tools in his hands, fixing things…

She lost her place in the conversation with Mark. She glanced at Jake and saw that he was looking at her, and the sight of his blue eyes so close made her breath hitch in her throat.

The waitress came by to clear their dishes and Mark handed her his empty glass. “I’m going to head home,” he said, standing up and pulling out his wallet. “You guys should stay, though. Erin, if you can hold out for another ten minutes, the Cubs game should be over and you can make sure Jake isn’t too blinded by tears to drive home.”

That made her smile. “I didn’t think he and his dad actually cried about the Cubs until at least July.”

“It’s gotten worse over the years. Now they start during spring training.”

As soon as Mark left Erin slid out of the booth and sat down across from Jake, pulling her mug of root beer to her side of the table. She felt a little more poised once his big body wasn’t looming beside her, but now that it was just the two of them the conversation stalled. She took a drink of root beer and glanced up at the TV. The Cubs’ pinch hitter had just grounded out to the short stop.

“They’re losing fourteen to two,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“I can’t convince you to root for another team? The Twins? The Brewers? Anybody?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been a Cubs fan for thirty years. I’m not giving up on them now.”

She held up her mug. “Here’s to loyalty and lost causes,” she said, and Jake smiled as he clinked his glass against hers.

She liked seeing him smile. It gave her a glimpse of the old Jake, even if there was still something guarded underneath. They watched the game in companionable silence until the second baseman struck out to end the inning.

“So how was your date?” Jake asked when the commercials started.

After spending the last twenty minutes with Jake, it was actually hard to remember. “It was fine.”

“I knew Patrick in high school. I’ve got to say, he doesn’t seem like your type.”

She frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“He was a jerk,” he said bluntly.

His tone made her feel defensive. “People can change after high school.”

“He’d have to change a lot to deserve you.”

She supposed it was only a matter of time. He wasn’t being as confrontational as that day at the garage, but Jake had once again gone into big brother mode.

She leaned back and folded her arms. “Believe it or not, I’m actually a pretty good judge of character. If Patrick really is a jerk, I’ll figure it out on my own at some point.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You said yourself you’re inexperienced.”

She glared at him. “I might be inexperienced in one aspect of dating, but I’m not inexperienced with people. No one’s taken advantage of me yet and no one ever will. I don’t need you to protect me from the big bad world, Jake. I’ve been taking care of myself for a while now.”

For a second he looked like he was going to argue with her. Then he shook his head slowly, and his face relaxed into a reluctant smile.

“I did it again, didn’t I?”

His wry admission made her smile, too. “Yes. But I’ll keep calling you on it when you do. Maybe in fifty years or so you’ll stop treating me like your little sister.”

He didn’t say anything to that. His smile faded a little as he looked at her, his blue eyes hiding rather than revealing his thoughts.

Something about his gaze made her feel vulnerable, and she broke eye contact to grab a pretzel from the bowl on the table. A lock of hair fell across her face, but before she could brush it back Jake’s hand was there, tucking the errant strand behind her ear.

Her cheeks turned pink as she sat back. She hoped he couldn’t tell that his touch had made her heart beat faster.

“Why did you always wear that old baseball cap?” Jake asked suddenly.

“You mean…when we were kids?”

“Yeah. You wore that thing all the time. Why?”

She hesitated. “I don’t think you’ll understand.”

“Try me.”

“Well…I hated my hair.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You did?” His gaze moved to her hair, which she’d worn down tonight. She knew most people thought it was beautiful.

“Yes…but not because I thought it was ugly or anything. I knew it was pretty. That’s what I hated.”

He stared at her. “You didn’t like being pretty?”

She started to answer, but the waitress came by and she paused to order another root beer.

“No,” she said after the waitress left. “I never wanted to be pretty. My mother…” she hesitated a moment, and then went ahead. “My mother was beautiful. I mean
really
beautiful. She was Miss Iowa back in the day and she married my dad when she was only seventeen. She always told me that if a girl was pretty, she didn’t need to be anything else.

“When I was eight, she ran off with some guy to New York. Two years later she went to Europe with someone else. I hardly ever saw her after that.” Erin took a breath. “She always followed her own advice. She was never anything but pretty. And I…”

“You wanted to be something more.”

“Yes. I did.”

When she started this explanation, she wasn’t sure if Jake would get it. But from the look on his face she could tell that he did. “You succeeded,” he told her now. “Even as a kid you succeeded.” He smiled at her. “Do you remember those long days on the farm?”

“Of course I do. I loved that work. When I was hoeing or picking vegetables I felt like the exact opposite of my mother. She always seemed like…well, a parasite. Helping out on the farm made me feel useful. Strong and capable. And I loved what we were doing—growing food for people. It was so satisfying to go to farmer’s markets and see customers buy the corn and tomatoes and squash we’d planted months before. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I do. And you were always a huge help.” He grinned suddenly. “Do you remember the summer we stacked the hay together? Allison gave up after twenty minutes, but you wouldn’t quit. I thought you were going to kill yourself.”

“I never wanted to be the kind of person who quits. I guess I can be a little stubborn at times.”

“You think?”

She rolled her eyes. “Very funny.” She paused. “Since I just let you in on a childhood secret, can I ask you something?”

He hesitated just an instant before he nodded. “Shoot.”

“Why do you love motorcycles so much?”

The waitress stopped by their table to deliver Erin’s drink. It was filled to the brim, and she took a careful sip as he thought about her question.

“I’m not sure,” he said finally. “I just always have. Is that good enough?”

Erin shook her head. “Nope. Come on, think about the first time you ever rode one. What do you remember most?”

“The wind,” he said immediately. He leaned back in the booth, and she could tell he was picturing it. “When you’re on a motorcycle, there’s no barrier between you and the world. No safety net, no cage. The wind rushing at you…there’s nothing like it. It feels like freedom. Total freedom.”

“But if you like freedom so much…”

“What?” he prompted her after a second.

“I guess I think of the Army as pretty structured. Didn’t being a soldier mean giving up a lot of freedom?”

“In some ways, yeah. Giving up some of your freedom is part of the sacrifice you make. But it feels good to be part of something bigger than you are. To be part of a unit, with guys depending on you.”

“Do you ever miss it?”

There was a pause. “Yeah,” he said slowly, after a minute. “Sometimes I do.”

She started to ask another question and then stopped.

“What?” he asked after a moment.

“I was wondering what the hardest thing was about being back,” she said. “But you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

He frowned down at the table for a minute. The look on his face reminded her of something, but she couldn’t think what it was right away.

Then she remembered. Her father had broken his leg once, and he’d looked like that after the cast came off, right before he took his first step. Like he wasn’t sure the leg would bear his weight.

“I guess the hardest thing is feeling like I’m from another planet.”

His answer surprised her. “What do you mean?”

She watched him trying to put his thoughts into words, and she wondered if he’d ever talked about this before. “I don’t really know how to be normal anymore. This kind of normal,” he added, gesturing around them.

She wasn’t sure she understood, and it must have showed in her face, because he kept groping for words. “For the last ten years, my normal wasn’t anything like your normal. My life…” he shook his head. “It wasn’t this. And it’s hard to get used to this again. Soldiers dream about going home, but…” he paused. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong here anymore.”

Her heart ached in her chest, but she knew better than to show obvious sympathy. And what could she say? She couldn’t say she understood how he felt, or anything that trite. Because she didn’t understand. Not really. She could grasp it intellectually, but not viscerally. Not without being in war zones for ten years.

She asked a question, instead. “Do you ever talk about what it was like? To your family, or anyone?”

He shook his head. “Not anymore. War is…hard to explain. To someone who hasn’t been there. And if you’ve gone through it, you don’t want to explain. You just want to go home, to be with your family. But then you do go home, and you realize that even if you did want to talk about it, there’s nobody around who would understand.”