CHAPTER FIVE
Darby
I drove to the Hillview restaurant. I felt an odd sensation in the pit of my tummy. It was something like apprehension.
“Why am I doing this to myself?” I asked myself.
I had already had serious misgivings about Jared – his rudeness when we first met, the mystery about him, my brother's secrecy – so why do this?
Because you're interested in him.
I sighed. Not interested as in, like, interested. Interested as in, he's an enigma.
At least, that was what I was telling myself. In my heart, I knew otherwise. I knew there was something about the big blue eyes and the tousled hair, not to mention the massive shoulders, that had caught my attention. I liked him and it wasn't all in the sense of warmth about his having repaired my engine when I needed help.
In fact, the engine thing was a bit of a sticking point. I wasn't sure how I felt about his intervention. I was grateful, but I didn't want to be indebted to this stranger. Somehow it wasn't comfortable for me.
I told myself that was why I'd decided to take him out for lunch. To discharge the debt. But that didn't really fit.
If that was all, why had I taken care that my hair looked good? That I had fresh lipstick? That my shirt did in fact look as good as I remembered so there wasn't any reason to stress about going home for another one?
“Dammit, Darby. Stop it!”
I closed my eyes and composed myself. I was here. In the car-park of the Hillview. The local tourists on the lookout for “real Wyoming” were all arriving for lunch. Not that they were likely to find “real” Wyoming there.
I drew in a deep breath and got out of my car. Joined the throng.
Inside, I took a table for two and sat and waited. I felt a bit conspicuous. I looked around the interior of the restaurant – all raw wood and Swedish-style furnishings with accents in green and slate. It was a nice place. It wasn't appreciably different from anywhere I would eat in Newton, except that the clients were more mixed and touristy and that the waiters had a Wyoming accent.
“Water, miss?”
“I'm expecting company,” I said. “I'll wait.”
“Okay, miss.”
I leaned back and looked out of the windows, feeling restless.
Just as I was thinking he'd decided not to come, my eye caught someone in denim walking through the door.
I caught my breath. He might have come from a “difficult” past, but the man was a natural heart-throb. He had such good looks and a stunning body. I couldn't draw my eyes away and nor, it seemed, could anyone else.
“A table, sir?” one of the waitresses asked him with a grin.
I surprised myself by feeling just a little possessive. He was here to see me. Not to have lunch.
“Uh...I'm looking for. Oh!”
I saw his eyes find me and my confusion and jealousy evaporated.
“Hi,” I said, feeling surprisingly shy. This Jared – washed, dressed and in a public setting – was a different Jared than the one I'd met the other night. Or this morning. I had to admit I liked what I saw.
“Hi,” he said. He looked awkward too, just then. He took the seat opposite me and looked around a little nervously. “Uh...thanks again,” he said.
I frowned. “Thanks?”
“For, uh, inviting me.”
I smiled. “Well, I invited you to thank you. So unless we're both going to spend all day thanking each other, we might as well forget about it. Eh?”
He laughed. “I guess.”
“Right. Well? You ready to look at the menu?” I asked.
He blinked. Nodded. “Okay.”
As he perused it I wondered about why he seemed uncomfortable in here. He was a bit jumpy and awkward. And I didn't think it was me making him jumpy and awkward. Well, not just me, anyway.
“It's a nice day,” I said lightly, motioning toward the window. “Nice and warm. Is it usually like this, at this time of season?”
“Mm... I dunno,” he said.
I remembered that he had only recently moved here himself. I felt a bit stupid. “I guess it probably is,” I said, nodding my head out of the window where a group of guys who looked like ranchers went past. “Locals don't look worried.”
He laughed. “I guess.” he paused. “You know...”
“No. Know what?”
He stopped. “Nothing,” he said.
I frowned. I wanted dearly to know whatever he'd intended to say. But I wasn't about to bother him about it. Go carefully, Darby, I told myself. This guy is reactive.
I didn't know where that thought came from. In the days I'd known him – two days, to be exact – he hadn't really done anything. But he seemed to me to be that way.
I looked up from my perusal of the menu to find him studying me too. I swallowed. Something about the way he was looking at me made me tingle in places that surprised me. I looked at the table, feeling awkward. Hell, but this man shouldn't be able to arouse me like this! It was strange, but I felt heat flood my body when I saw the way his eyes lingered at my shirt collar.
“So,” I said, clearing my throat. “You work on that ranch, then?”
“Yeah,” he nodded.
We looked at each other. The conversation dried but his eyes held mine. I felt a spark spread through my body. Why his stare had such an effect on me I had no idea, but it did. I felt my body warm and I knew I wanted him badly. He was looking at me boldly, and I felt as if he was unclothing me with his eyes. Oddly, it was a nice feeling.
The waiter appeared at that moment, interrupting my thoughts.
“Something to drink?” he asked.
I looked at Jared. We both laughed.
“I haven't decided yet,” I said.
Jared nodded. “Me neither.”
The waiter nodded and left. We were both laughing.
“I'm not usually like this,” I said a tad defensively.
He smiled. “Me neither,” he repeated.
That sweet smile reminded me of what it was I'd noticed about him in the first place. That boyish grin.
“Well,” I said, clearing my throat. “After all that, I think I'll take water. And the grilled cheese with chokecherry jam.”
“Sounds good,” he said with an easy shrug. “You don't eat meat, huh?”
If I hadn't liked him before, I really did now. I beamed. “Yes! You get it.”
He gave me a bewildered smile. “Yes. Why?”
I smiled. “Well, have you tried not eating meat in this place? People have offered me fish!”
He laughed. “I guess people are kinda different around here.”
I laughed too. “Yes.”
When the waiter reappeared we placed our order. He was taking the fish. We waited for a few minutes in silence. I tried to think of something to say. My thoughts were less along the lines of conversational things and more along the lines of focusing on the strange sensations he aroused in me.
I watched as he leaned back in his chair, aware of the ripple of muscles in his chest and the lithe grace with which he moved. It was hard to imagine him as starting in life in some city-bound difficult circumstances now. It was pretty tough to imagine him as anything other than what he looked like now – a Wyoming cowboy.
“Darby?” he said.
I blinked. It was the first time he'd called me by name. I was surprised what it did to me, hearing my name in his accent. Said in his voice. I felt all warm inside, warm and melting like I'd been ice cream left out in the sun too long. I shook my head to clear it, feeling a bit silly. Stop it!
“Yes?” I asked. “Sorry. Did you want to ask something?”
He smiled awkwardly. “I was just asking if you grew up in Massachusetts? Alex told me you worked there.”
I smiled, shaking my head. “My aunt did. I grew up in Cambridge, MA.”
“Oh.”
I paused. I wasn't sure whether or not it would be okay to ask him about where he grew up. Something told me, not yet. I was spared having to make that decision by the arrival of the waiter with our plates.
“The cheese,” he said, placing my order in front of me. “And the fish.”
He headed off. The smells spiraled up to my brain, heady and intoxicating. I was hungry, I realized – really hungry.
“Looks great,” I said.
“Mm.”
We settled down to eat. I noticed something. He seemed uncomfortable in this setting – even the way he held his knife and fork was a bit awkward. He looked, to be honest, like he wasn't used to eating in a setting like this. Like he was scared he'd mess up.
“This is good,” I said, my eyes widening with surprise as I tasted the berry compote. It was something totally different. Quite sour – almost like redcurrants, but more sour. I blinked. I must have pulled a face like I was eating lemons, because he laughed.
“It takes some getting used to, huh?”
I nodded. “I really like it, though. It's just... different.”
He chuckled. “Should have seen me, first time I tried it. I just about jumped out my seat.”
I laughed, imagining the scenario. He was really candid. I liked him.
“Well, I'm glad my reaction wasn't unusual.”
“No way,” he agreed, shaking his head. “I think you have to have lived here since forever not to pull a face on your first taste.”
I laughed. “I guess.”
While we ate, I became conscious of his leg next to mine under the table. It wasn't like it was offensive – it was just there. Leaning on mine. I rather liked the sensation, I had to admit. It wasn't quite touching my leg – more like the warmth of his skin was communicating through to mine through the pants.
I caught those blue eyes on me more than once as we ate. I felt my heart thump, recognizing the expression in that intense blue gaze. It wasn't that different to the way I felt. I felt a tingle rush through me and I held my breath.
His leg moved a little closer to mine. I didn't move. It touched against my own. I let out a long breath then. Was he really doing that?
My heart thumped. My mind wasn't sure about this. Not even vaguely. But my body, I had to admit, had been wanting this since the moment I saw him. I let his leg stay where it was.
He looked at me and I looked back. There was a question in his eyes and I took a deep breath, then moved my leg. Not towards his – which was what I wanted – but in the sensible direction. Away.
I let out a long out-breath. I saw his eyes shut slightly, as if disappointed.
“You should get back to work,” I mentioned.
“Mm,” he nodded. “You should probably go back home?”
I nodded. “I guess.”
We both looked at each other. I had finished my meal and so had he. There was really no reason to stay here for any more time. Except for the fact that I felt quite reluctant to go. I looked at him and he looked at me.
“I should go,” I said. I looked across the room at our waiter, who came over. “The bill, please,” I asked. He nodded.
When the account arrived, I looked over it. “I'm paying,” I reminded him quickly before he even moved to take out his cash. “It's a thank you.”
He smiled. He looked genuinely pleased. “Thanks,” he said again. I laughed.
When it was paid and taken away, we looked at each other again.
“Well,” I said. “I guess we should go.”
“Yeah,” he said.
Neither of us moved. When I looked at him he seemed agitated about something.
I frowned but didn't ask. I stood and lifted my purse, heading to the door.
He followed me. When we reached the terrace outside his hand went to my arm, as if to stop me from leaving. The contact was a delightful shock. It was our first contact, besides shaking hands. My body liked it.
“Darby, wait,” he said. “Please. I'm sorry, but... you have a number?”
I stared. He was asking me for my number? I was caught somewhere between amazed and offended. All I'd done was thank him for fixing my vehicle! It wasn't like a date. What made him think he could have my number?
All the same, I wanted him to have it. I let out a long sigh.
“How about you visit sometime?” I said, feeling that was safer. Much as I liked him, which I did, I still had some misgivings about him. There was so much I didn't know.
He looked disappointed, but he nodded.
“Okay,” he said.
I smiled. “Well, then. See you around.”
He nodded. “See you around.”
I went back to my car feeling a bit dazed. I watched him head down the side-walk toward a beat-up pickup and get in. I felt so confused.
I had just met this guy. A guy with a shady background, too. But I couldn't help the fact that I was really attracted to him. It was crazy.
I hadn't felt like this about anyone before. Not as far as I could recall, anyway – somewhere between a crush and fierce curiosity.
What would Alex think?
I didn't know. At that moment, what Alex thought wasn't my main concern. I was more concerned with what I was going to do about this crazy, helpless attraction. I was at once drawn in and pushed away by him – he was, after all, the last sort of guy I should be thinking about.
I had to do something to stop it.