Meant To Be (13 page)

"Good God, I think I love you."

Muriel's laughter filled the room. “Ah, Luke, I really do hate to cut the night short. Promise me we'll do this again soon."

"Tomorrow night soon enough?"

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Garrett pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant and killed the engine. He knew Jessica was working second shift tonight, and since Uncle Luke had a dinner date with Muriel, and Nicky planned to eat with Mike and Sara, Garrett decided to forego the usual pizza for one of the ‘best burgers in town'.

He strode through the door and stood in line behind two couples and a family of five. The place was packed, and it took nearly twenty minutes for him to be seated. He'd watched Jessica hustle back and forth so many times his head was spinning. And she looked tired, which annoyed him. He hated that she had to work so hard. Hated that she planned to work a second, part-time job just to make ends meet.

She finally approached his table, her smile oddly hesitant.

"Hey, sweetheart, any chance you could take a break and keep me company while I have supper?"

"Well,” she cast a quick glance over her shoulder toward the back room. “Sure, I can take my half-hour now.” She pulled out her tablet and pen. “What would you like to eat?"

He winked at her. “You."

Her cheeks pinkened just the tiniest bit. “Seriously."

"I
am
serious. But for now, I'll take a double cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake."

Jessica left to place his order and returned five minutes later with a large chocolate shake, piled high with whipped cream, and a soda for herself. She set them down and slid in across from him. Without making eye contact, she propped her elbows on the table and played with her straw.

Garrett took a sip of his shake, then used the straw to scoop some whipped cream into his mouth. “Good stuff. Maybe I should stop at the grocery store for a can on the way home. I bet whipped cream tastes even better on you than it does this shake."

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Garrett pushed his glass away and raked his fingers through his hair. “All right, spill."

"What?"

He sighed and leaned back in the booth. “Are you upset with me for not calling earlier? I meant to, but after finishing the doghouse, Ethan talked me into taking a ride to the arcade. And I kind of figured you needed a break from me anyway."

"I'm not upset with you. I just...” Her words trailed off and she looked almost ... guilty? She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and said, “I'd better go check on your food."

Before he could stop her, she shot to her feet and headed for the kitchen.

Frustrated, Garrett laid his arm across the back of the booth and stared after her. What in the world had her acting so skittish? Did she regret their night together? The thought caused an uncomfortable ache in the middle of his chest. Christ, he was half in love with her, and if he didn't know any better he'd swear she was about to give him the boot. But it didn't make a lick of sense. He knew she'd enjoyed their lovemaking just as much as he had. She couldn't be
that
great of an actress ... could she?

He watched with growing apprehension as she stood by the pick-up window, chatting with one of the other waitresses, obviously avoiding him while she waited for his order. She cast a quick glance his way, grabbed a bottle of ketchup off the shelf beside her and picked up the steaming plate the cook had just set under the heat lamp. She didn't make eye contact with him as she approached the table, but her tone was light when she set his food and the bottle of ketchup down in front of him.

"Here you go. I even told the cook to throw on an extra slice of cheese for you."

Garrett didn't acknowledge her gesture or touch his food. He just watched her, waiting with bated breath for the words he was sure were coming. But she merely slid back onto the seat and surprised him by snatching one of the fries off his plate.

"Jamison, these things really are much better if eaten hot,” she teased with a small grin.

"Are you PMSing or something?” He knew he risked having a drink dumped on his head by the chauvinistic question, but didn't care. “Because you've been acting strange as hell since I got here."

She scowled, eyeballing his chocolate shake, but must have thought better of it. It was quite doubtful he'd be able to save her job a second time, and he suspected she'd quickly come to the same conclusion.

"I've got a lot on my mind, you ass. Not to mention it's been busy as hell, my feet are killing me, and I've already been informed I have to work a ten-hour shift instead of eight."

Good going, asshole.
He reached across the table to grasp her hand, but she pulled it out of his reach with a ‘don't touch me’ glare. “Look, I'm sorry. I can be an idiot sometimes, in case you haven't noticed.” She snorted, and he couldn't help but grin. “Forgive me and I'll let you have another french fry...?"

Looking only slightly mollified, she snatched another fry off his plate with a muttered, “Whatever."

Deciding not to push his luck, Garrett ate his cheeseburger in silence, happy to just be in her company. Jesus, he thought as he sucked down a good third of his milkshake to mask his reaction, when had he become so attached? This growing need to simply be in her presence was really starting to scare the shit out of him.

"I won't get home till after midnight,” she said as she stole another fry off his plate. She cast him a surreptitious glance through her lashes before adding, “And I'll be pretty tired ... just so you know."

Garrett watched her through narrowed eyes as she took a sip of her soda, looking everywhere and at everyone but him. He'd already come to the conclusion that his detective skills were lacking, but it didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out something was going on here. She as much as said she didn't want him stopping by tonight.

He stuffed the last bite of his cheeseburger into his mouth and washed it down with the rest of his milkshake. After swiping a napkin across his mouth, he replied, “Don't worry, honey, I can take a hint."

"Garrett—"

He held up a hand. “You don't need to explain, I get it. You're tired.” He smiled. “Hell, so am I.” He stood up, pulled a twenty from his pocket and tossed it on the table. “Don't work too hard,” he said. Then he turned and strode out the door.

Tears burned Jessica's eyes as she watched Garrett walk out of the restaurant; maybe out of her life. She'd wanted to tell him about Wade in the worst way, but every time she'd tried to form the words, she'd chickened out. She didn't know him well enough to predict what he might do, and that scared the hell out of her. She was so afraid he'd get the wrong idea about Wade staying with her that she'd made things worse by keeping quiet. Of course he'd realized something was wrong. The man was a cop after all.

With a heavy heart, she cleared the table and paid his check.

By the time midnight rolled around, Jessica felt as if she'd worked a double shift instead of just a couple extra hours. Her feet were sore; she had a killer headache. Time had dragged at a snail's pace, and all she'd been able to do was dwell on the look on Garrett's face right before he'd walked out.

She grabbed her purse, said her goodbyes, and drove home.

As she pulled up in front of her house, she saw that Garrett's truck was in his driveway. She decided to explain everything tomorrow. He'd be less pissed off and she'd have a chance to make other arrangements for Wade. Maybe his mother could hop on a plane and come take him back home to Seattle with her.

Mr. Louie met her by the back door with a hearty, “Mrow!” Jessica scooped him up and carried him into the house.

As soon as she flipped on the kitchen light, Wade called out, “Jessie, is that you? I'm starving here. Did you bring me something to eat?"

She set Mr. Louie down and tossed her purse onto the kitchen table. “Quit whining,” she snapped as she stormed into the living room. She came to a grinding halt at the sight of him. He lay on the couch, one knee up, his broken leg propped on a pillow. His good arm tucked behind his head while his broken one rested on his chest. And all he wore was a pair of white boxer-briefs.

Wade was a good-looking man and he knew it. He had a nice physique, lean and muscular with a fine mat of golden chest hair that tapered down his hard, flat stomach and disappeared into the waistband of his briefs. Hair a few shades darker than her own curled up around the nape of his neck while arrogant brown eyes stared back at her in knowing contemplation.

At one time, the sight of Wade lying on the couch in only a pair of briefs and a smile would have been an incredible turn-on. Now, it just left her cold.

"Sorry, baby, you know how cranky I get when I'm hungry."

She stalked past him and yanked the drapes closed. “I told you not to call me baby. And how the hell did you manage to undress yourself?"

He reached out and grasped her arm. Before she realized his intentions, she found herself sprawled across his chest. He held her pinned against him and her skin nearly crawled off her body when she felt the proof of his interest growing beneath her belly.

"Come on, Jessie, you want it just as much as I do, admit it,” he whispered in her ear, following his words with his tongue.

"Who the fuck is he?"

Jessica's head shot up with a squeal. “Garrett!"

He strode from the kitchen into the living room and stopped a couple of feet in front of the sofa. “At least you remember my name."

His gaze was hard and cruel, his lip curled with disdain. This was the Garrett she hadn't seen in almost two weeks. The Garrett she'd hoped never to see again. Jessica slid off Wade and climbed to her feet. “This isn't what it looks like, you have to believe me."

She followed his line of vision and could have cried when she realized where his gaze had landed—on the very obvious erection straining Wade's boxer-briefs. And Wade, the bastard, had a smirk on his face the size of the Grand Canyon.

Garrett looked back up at her and she inwardly flinched at the disgust she saw in his eyes. “I know you think I'm a real dumbshit, but even a moron could connect the dots on this one."

"Hey, Paul Bunyan, why don't you go back out the way you came, and don't forget to lock the door. Jessie and I have unfinished bus—"

"You're dead!” Garrett snarled through his teeth. He pounced with the speed of a rattler, accidentally clipping Jessica in the process and sending her flying into the recliner. Wade screamed as Garrett's massive frame landed on top of him and his broken arm.

Jessica jumped to her feet and onto Garrett's back. She wrapped her arms around him and tried with all her might to wrest Garrett's forearm from Wade's throat. But her efforts were futile, and she sobbed as Wade's eye's rolled back into his head and his face turned purple. Choking sounds gurgled in his throat as spittle shot from his mouth.

"Garrett, please!” she cried, clawing at his hands. “You're going to kill him!"

All at once, Garrett released Wade's throat and shot to his feet. Jessica fell backward onto the sofa, but quickly scrambled back up to make sure Wade was still breathing. He wheezed and coughed, half curled into a ball.

"He ain't worth it.
You
ain't worth it,” Garrett told her, his tone pure ice.

Jessica swore she could feel her heart being torn in half. “If you'd calm down and let me explain—"

"Believe it or not, honey, I don't need it explained to me. Thanks for the ride.” With that parting shot, Garrett spun around and stormed out. She flinched when the back door slammed shut.

Wade's coughing spasms lessened enough for him to choke out, “I'm pressing charges! That sonofabitch is gonna pay for this!"

Jessica's breath caught. The last thing Garrett needed was an assault charge. She'd never forgive herself if Garrett lost his badge because of her. She helped Wade to a sitting position, then ran into the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Just let it go,” she advised when she returned. “He had every right to be pissed off."

Wade gulped down the entire glass, heaved a few more ragged breaths and collapsed back down on the couch. “Why? ‘Cause he's boning you?” She opened her mouth and he hurriedly added, “Don't even waste your breath denying it. A man don't get that twisted up over a friend."

She snatched the glass from his hand, returned it to the kitchen, and stormed back into the living room. “It's none of your business what I do, or who I do it with,” she informed him.

Jessica wanted to scream, she wanted to cry—she wanted to break Wade's good arm and leg with her bare hands. After more than two years of merely existing, she'd finally gotten her life back on track. She had a home, a job, a few friends. A lover. A wonderful, sexy, considerate lover ... Fresh tears burned her eyes.

"You're damn right it's my business. You're my wife."

"Ex-wife!"

"I ain't screwing around, Jessie, I'm pressing charges. That bastard's spending the night in a jail cell."

He managed to climb to his feet, but when he reached for his crutches she hurried forward and snatched them out of his reach.

"Dammit, Wade, you are
not
pressing charges. If you'd have kept your big mouth shut, he wouldn't have jumped you. It's your own fault."

He used his good arm to hold himself up. “My fault? Are you kidding me? I'm laying here in an arm and full leg cast! That bastard jumped a defenseless man and he's gonna pay. Now you can either hand me the phone, or I'll crawl to it. But one way or another, I'm pressing charges."

The tears that had burned her eyes finally escaped, falling down her cheeks in hot streams. “Wade, please, if I ever meant anything to you, you'll let it go."

He stared at her, his steely eyes boring into hers, his displeasure so palpable she could feel the heat of it from where she stood. “Are you in love with him?” he asked, his voice menacingly soft.

Y
es!
“Of course not. I barely know him.” She angrily swiped at her tears.

His gaze continued to bore into hers as he lowered himself back down on the couch. “Then why are you making such a big goddamn deal about it? I know you, Jess. You don't shed tears over someone you don't give a damn about."