Come to Me Quietly (Closer to You #1)(50)
Author: A.L. Jackson

“Looks like the rush is over. Why don’t you go ahead and finish up your last table and then you can cut out of here?”

“Thanks, Karina.”

“No problem. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure thing.”

The door swung closed behind her, and I turned my attention back to the computer and put in my last order of the day.

Two seconds later, the door swung open again. I glanced to the side to see another waitress, Clara, standing there staring at me, a question framing her set mouth.

I frowned and tucked my order pad back in my apron.

Suspicion tipped her head to the side. She was in her late twenties, bleached blond, wore too much makeup, and was one of the hardest workers at the restaurant. She once told me that being a single mom gave you a whole new work ethic.

I couldn’t help but like her.

“What?” I asked, a smile wobbling at the corner of my mouth. I just couldn’t help it. Happiness had that way about it.

I grabbed two glasses and began filling them with ice as I glanced over at her.

She shifted her weight back and crossed her arms over her chest, her expression glimmering with smug humor. “So, Aly, my friend,” she drew out, “do you care to explain to me why there’s a crazy-hot, scary guy asking for you out at the hostess podium?”

My hand tightened on the glass I was filling.

Jared.

Warmth flooded my face, spread down to wind through my heart. He was here.

Laughing, she edged forward and started filling glasses with ice and tea. She knocked me with her hip. “And I’m guessing by the look on your face you know exactly who I’m talking about.”

I bit my lip and rocked my head noncommittally. “Maybe.”

She chuckled low but lifted her chin to study my face. “Just be careful, okay? There’s something unnerving about him.”

Defensive needles prickled along the back of my neck, and heat burned the rims of my ears. “You don’t know anything about him. And I would have thought better of you than making judgments based on a few tattoos.” The words came out harsher than I intended.

She scoffed. “Come on, Aly, you know me better than that… . I wasn’t talking about his tattoos. I was talking about his eyes.” She stepped back and looked at me seriously. “And you’re right. I don’t know him. I don’t know anything about him and I know it’s not really any of my business.”

Her voice softened. “But I like you, and believe me, I’ve been there before. There are just some boys who are so broken they can never be tamed, and in the end, they just end up breaking you.” Old wounds creased the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want to see that happen to you.”

Her words hurt because they rang with truth. Doubt fluttered in my consciousness, but I shoved it off. “I know, Clara. I appreciate it. But it’s… ”

She just smiled knowingly and finished the thought I never would have been brave enough to say. “But it’s already too late.”

Too late had come a long time ago. “Yeah,” I admitted softly.

She forced a soft breath from her nose. “Well, then, why don’t you let me take your last table and you get out of here?”

“Are you sure?”

She brushed off my worry with a wave of her hand. “Yep. I could use the money, anyway.”

Appreciation edged my mouth. “Thank you, Clara.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I handed her my table’s drinks, which she arranged with hers on a tray.

She walked across the kitchen and began to back out the swinging door. She peered out the small crack she made. She turned her attention back to me, lifting her brow in playful observation. “Good God, Aly. I don’t blame you for a second. I’d be lost, too. And did you say a few tattoos? Have fun memorizing those.”

Laughing, I threw a wadded-up dish towel at her. “Shut up,” I said, unoffended because Clara’s intentions were only good.

Of course, memorizing Jared’s ink was exactly what I intended to do, but for entirely different reasons than she assumed. I wanted to explore each one, to know the story behind it, and to understand the wound that had inspired it.

She ducked out of the way, grinning as she backed farther out the door. “Be safe,” she called out before it swung shut behind her.

Yanking off my apron, I grabbed my purse and headed out into the dining room. Jared stood near the wall just at the entrance, his hands stuffed in his pockets while he shuffled his feet. My heart sped, trying to keep up with the thrill I felt at seeing him here. I loved that he had sought me out. That he was taking a chance of exposing us here and not just keeping us hidden away in my room.

As if he felt me, he lifted his head as I approached. Self-consciously, he smiled and brushed a hand through his hair before he ran it down the back of his neck. He was nervous. And I couldn’t help thinking it was the cutest thing I’d ever seen him do.

I was grinning as I walked up to him. “Hey… what are you doing here?”

His smile widened, and he waved his hand toward the dining room. “I just hadn’t had lunch yet and heard this was a good place to eat.”

“Really?” I said, planting my feet on the floor, dubious.

He chuckled sheepishly, then reached for me, his hand at the back of my head as he pressed his cheek to mine, murmuring near my ear, “I f**king missed you, okay?”

We found a table in the back, near the curve of windows that faced the street. Jared and I talked, and he held my hand under table, the circles he traced with his thumb on the back sending these little shots of joy down my spine. There was no urge to pull away when he shifted and ran it along the ridges of the scar on the outside of my left hand.

Because I was his.

“What happened here?” he asked casually as he ran his fingers over the long-healed skin.

I shrugged. “I just burned myself.”

Claire appeared at our table, her grin wide and knowing as she asked what we’d like.

Jared and I ordered, and we ate together, Jared’s smile easy, his words kind and free. We laughed. And it was natural. Exactly the way we were supposed to be.

SIXTEEN

January 2006

Aly hated the way things had gotten. As they had grown, so had the distance.

It’d been cold out the last couple of weeks, too cold to find escape in their empty field, not that they would be out there, anyway.

Her dad called her a tomboy, teasing that she always wanted to be outside, playing in the dirt and climbing trees.