Chapter
JFK’s head was so full of new information and ideas, he thought it might explode. More than once that morning sitting across from Dom at the restaurant he’d felt like he was being messed with. Like waiting to eat until everyone at the table got their food. In the fire station when it was chow, you ate. Because nothing attracted calls like a dinner bell.
Taking a left turn towards Powers’ dumpy apartment, he took his hat off and scratched his head, reminded of more of the rules.
Taking off hats indoors. For real. Hat head and a stinky lid were more offensive than just wearing the stupid thing, but not according to whoever decided this crap. Twenty-seven years old and he’d never even heard that before. Hats off for the flag or national anthem, sure. That was every parade and every sports game. But just walking into a building. How weird. And pointless.
And they’d barely scratched the surface on silverware placement and usage. Silverware. It had almost been enough to make him give up, but for Mercy it was worth it. Not that he had any delusions of anything ever happening between them, but even for a shot to see her again and not make a fool of both of them, he’d give his left n—knnnuckle. And maybe someday he’d have a real shot with a girl more in his league and be able to use the manners info.
He’d never met anyone like Mercy and since he’d left her house last night, she hadn’t left his mind. Even that woman running alongside the highway looked exactly like—wait, it was Mercy!
JFK swerved to the side and came to a stop just in front of her. The coat, jeans, boots, and purse made interesting jogging gear. He rolled down the window and she stepped up, breathing heavy but smiling in at him.
“Cold day for a jog,” said JFK. “Can I give you a ride?”
“Yes. I’m not even going to banter because I’m so late.” She reached for the door handle.
“Wait!” said JFK locking the doors just as she pulled up on the handle. “Hold on.” How could he manage this one? Shutting off his truck, he hurried out, leaving the doors locked, and jogged around to the passenger side. As he reached Mercy, he hit the button on the fob to unlock the doors. “Let me get that for you.”
Looking like she didn’t really get what was going on, Mercy took a half step back. After opening the door, JFK held out a hand. Mercy was frozen, moving only her eyeballs, trying to figure him out. Did he do something wrong? Opening doors was the manner he’d spent the most time with Dom on that morning, but it had been all classroom material. No practical exercises or anything.
“Thank you,” said Mercy, with a surprised smile. She put her hand in his and climbed up. Now that she was wearing pants, the question of where to put his eyes was not as tricky as last night.
JFK checked to make sure she was clear of the door, closed it, then ran back around to his side. In a single motion he put his keys in the ignition, started the truck and shifted into gear. No one was coming in his lane so he pulled out.
“Where to?”
“Two Hearts Rescue,” said Mercy. “You are an answer to prayers.”
JFK didn’t know about that. It’s not like an angel had visited him and told him to drive on this road at this exact minute, so how could prayers have anything to do with it? “The interview. That’s right.” It was 11:55 so JFK stepped on the gas. “You’ll do great.”
“Any tips? You know Poppy pretty well, right?”
He did, but not really in a professional sense as far as Poppy was concerned. “Tell Poppy … tell her she owes JFK a favor for the horses and he’s calling it in. Also tell her I’m sorry about the fat comment I made that day.” He’d never apologized for insinuating that Poppy was carrying some extra weight that day. True, he’d been buzzed, and he’d only used the word ‘healthy’, but it was meant to be cutting. The irony was the 80 extra pounds he carried around back then. Now he was down to about 40 extra, and if he kept eating oatmeal at restaurants like he had today, he’d lose that soon enough. Oatmeal, though. At a restaurant. If that didn’t prove he was serious about changing, nothing did.
“I’m not saying anything about a fat comment,” said Mercy.
“Fine, but the other part, about the favor I’m calling in, I’m totally serious. She was shedding tears of gratitude that day.”
“I didn’t take you for the kind that tracks favors.”
That was true. So true. “I’m not. Usually.” He didn’t want to start bragging or making it sound like he was in love with Mercy or anything so he left it at that.
“Where are you heading?” she asked, looking around the truck and pausing for a second on the six packs of home brew in the back.
Great, she’d think he was a lush driving around with 72 bottles of beer. He was on his way to give them to some of the guys on the job who appreciated a quality brew. For now, he’d given up drinking. Again, he didn’t want to sound all high and mighty, or make her think he was trying to impress her by changing his life, so he just said, “Dom and I went out to breakfast.”
“And Emily?”
“No,” said JFK, “just the guys.” He’d sworn Dom to secrecy, so hopefully she couldn’t pry anything out of him. Cousin, right? No, she called him Uncle Dom. But they couldn’t be more than a few years apart in age.
Crap, she was going to think he was buttering up Dom to get to her, or win over the family so that she’d fall for him or some stupid thing like that, so he changed the subject. “Don’t you have a car?”
“It died.” The despair in her voice was tangible.
“While you were driving it? Do I need to go back and tow it?”
“No,” said Mercy. “It wouldn’t start. So I started running.”
“Dang. Bad timing. You shoulda called.”
“I didn’t have to,” said Mercy, giving him that hero-look. “You showed up.”
That was quite lucky, he had to admit. They pulled into the Two Hearts parking lot at 11:58. “What time should I pick you up?” he asked.
“I can’t ask you to—”
“No time to argue,” said JFK, using her tardiness against her.
“Half an hour?” she said. “I don’t know how to repay you.”
“Give me your keys,” he said. “That would be a start.”
“It’s yours,” said Mercy, dropping her keys into his outstretched hand. “Just give me half if it’s worth anything for scrap. Oh, and grab the gum out of the console. I think there’s a half a pack left.”
JFK was so stunned that she’d handed over her keys so easily that he didn’t realize she’d pushed her door open. “Shoot, let me get that for you.” He shoved the gear shift into Park.
“No time!” she said brightly. “Gotta run.” As she closed the door she was saying, “Thank you thank you thank you.”
JFK lowered the passenger-side window again and called, “Remember, tell her JFK’s calling in a favor.”
Well okay, he’d just referred to himself in the third person. What an idiot. But Mercy raised a thumb in the air as she ran up to the front door.
Now that had gone better. So much better, it was like he was two different people. Maybe people really could change. And maybe there was something to Dom’s sissy etiquettes.
Anyway, he had half an hour to get ready to make another good impression on her, and he had the keys to her car. And her home, he noticed, and immediately wanted to replace some hand sanitizer with lubricating jelly or gift wrap every item in her fridge.
“Stop,” he said. “Try to act like an adult and just go see if you can get her car to run.” If it was something simple, half an hour would be plenty of time.