Not Quite Dating (2 page)

Hearty male laughter met her ears before she rounded the corner to greet her customers.

Two faces peeked over open menus while the other two caught her gaze as she approached.

“Whew, hey, darlin’. Are you our waitress tonight?” a dishwater blond sitting on the end of the booth asked. With his question, the other men at the table lowered their menus to look at her.

A quick assessment told Jessie that the yahoos at the table were definitely coming off a night of drinking. Maybe even a couple nights from the state of their five o’clock shadows.

Dishwater flashed his white teeth and a little-boy smile. The man to his left elbowed him in his side. “Pay no attention to Dean. He hasn’t been sober for three days.”

“You’re one to talk, Mikey.” These words came from a robust
man wearing a baseball cap and at least two days of stubble on his chin.

“Jack is the only one remotely sober,” Mikey said.

Yep, definitely a party crowd.

The one they called Jack took his time lowering his menu before acknowledging Jessie. His dark brown hair, topped with a Stetson, tilted as he moved his head. The stubble on his chin held the perfect amount of sexy. The slow, steady soaking in of his stare settled on her from the most unusual gray eyes Jessie had ever seen. Those smoky eyes took their ever-lovin’ time as his gaze slid over her hair, her face. After looking his fill, he caught her eyes again and held them. As if calculated for effect, Jack allowed a slow and delicious smile, complete with dimples, to spread over his face. A smile meant only for her.

Smiles like that should come with a warning label.
His staunch attention did a number on her belly and raised gooseflesh on her bare arms. She swallowed hard, and her skin tingled as if he’d caressed her.

Jessie blinked a few times, broke eye contact, and asked, “How about some coffee?”

“That would be great,” Jack replied with an accent that matched his cowboy hat.

The Texan accent pulled a warm and fuzzy blanket over her insides. Southern California natives didn’t have any discernible accent at all, so when she heard one, she remembered it.

Pivoting, Jessie shoved her notepad into her apron and walked to the coffeepot.

“Isn’t she something to look at?” one of the party boys said.

Jessie knew she wasn’t ugly, but she didn’t see all that much when she looked into the mirror. Her light brown hair sat twisted into a knot at the base of her neck; her dull hazel eyes had dark smudges beneath them indicating a lack of sleep, and it was hard
to be fat when all her money went to bills and care for her son, Danny.

The four men…no, make that boys…at table twelve probably didn’t have one decent responsibility to scrape together if they combined them. They were all wearing jeans and T-shirts, and two of them smelled like beer.

Frat boys who never grew up. Heck, maybe they were all still in school. Jessie guessed their ages to all be about the same, around twenty-eight or so.

Returning to the table, Jessie set down coffee cups and filled them. “Thank you…Jessica,” Jack with the mysterious gray eyes said after a quick glance at her name tag.

“Jessie, actually. Where are you boys coming from?” she asked, making conversation.

“Weekend in Vegas,” the one named Mikey told her.

She should have guessed.

“Our buddy Dean here is tying the knot in a few weeks, so we decided to send him off in style.”

“Vegas can be a dangerous place to have a bachelor party,” she said.

“See, that’s what I said,” the man sitting next to Jack told them. “But does anyone listen to Tom? Heck no. You think everything went great and next thing you know your drunk ass is dancing naked on YouTube with some chick you don’t even remember.”

“I didn’t dance naked with some chick…did I?” Dean rubbed the back of his neck and frowned.

Jack shot a dimpled grin at his friend. “You were pretty wasted.”

“I still don’t remember any naked dancing.”

“Oh, chill,” Mikey told him. “No one was
taping
you dancing naked.”

Jessie had to smile. The boys were giving their friend a hard time, and it was fun to watch. From the look on Dean’s face, he wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t danced in the buff.

“You guys know what you want, or should
I give you a few more minutes to decide?” Jessie asked.

“I know what I want,” Tom said, setting his menu on the table.

The others chimed in the same. After taking their orders, Jessie left.

Leanne smiled her way once Jessie gave the cook the order. “Looks like a handful over there. Cute times four,” she sighed with a smile.

“Two of ’em have accents, too.”

“Lookie you, checking them out.”

“I’m not checking anyone out. The last thing I need is another playboy messing up my life.”

Jessie turned around and refilled the coffee cup of one of her night-owl customers sitting at the counter. “How are the pancakes, Mr. Richman?”

“Fine, just fine,” he replied.

When Jessie turned back to Leanne, the other waitress continued talking. “Who’s to say they’re a bunch of playboys?”

“Frat boys who never grew up, most likely.”

“Playboys, frat boys, whatever. One of ’em could be the rich guy of your dreams.”

Jessie raised an eyebrow. “Right.” Grabbing Leanne’s hand, Jessie led her to a far window overlooking the parking lot. “Take a look, sister. See any crazy-expensive cars out there?” Actually, the only cars in the lot belonged to the employees and Mr. Richman. Except for one lone pickup that was new sometime in the mid-1990s. That seemed about the right speed for the cowboys at table twelve.

“That doesn’t mean nothing.” Leanne pulled away and frowned. “Besides, dating means free meals and a movie. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Dinner and a movie in my world consist of McDonald’s and
SpongeBob
on TV. Dating and Danny don’t mix.”

“Your sister will watch him for
you.”

“Yeah, but why waste my time on someone dreaming of the future instead of living it? You know my mom isn’t the wisest woman in the bunch, but she told me once that it is just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is to fall in love with a poor one.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So don’t date poor men.”

Across the restaurant, Jack with the gray eyes and the Stetson was watching her over his coffee cup. When he caught her gaze, his lips pulled into a grin, dimples and all. Then, without any provocation, he winked.

“Oh boy.” Jessie lowered her eyes and tried to ignore the flirting frat playboy and the way his attention made her insides squirm.

“Mr. Cowboy is sexy.” Leanna giggled when she spoke.

“I’ll bet Mr. Cowboy mooches off one of his friends for the bill.”

“Oh, come on, he can’t be that bad.”

“He’s flirting with a waitress at Denny’s, Leanne. His ambitions can’t be all that high.”

“Dissed!” Mike laughed, punching Jack in the arm. “Doesn’t look like the waitress is taking a liking to you.”

“Might have something to do with the way you’re dressed, Moore.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the way I’m dressed.” In fact, he liked the fact that Jessie, the sexy waitress wearing a god-awful brown skirt, had no idea who he was. Jack stayed out of the spotlight as often as he could. Here in California, people didn’t know him by sight. In Houston, the story was entirely different. The thought of charming the waitress without waving his wallet felt like the right thing to do, especially after his recent encounter with Heather.

Jack removed his wallet and quickly handed
Tom a twenty.

“What’s this for?”

“Breakfast.”

“Why are you giving it to me now?”

“Just hold on to it. If it comes up, I’m just a shit-kicker coming off a long binge of a weekend.” Jack followed Jessie’s movements until she disappeared around the corner.

Hell, he’d be in Ontario, California, for several weeks, overseeing the construction plans of a new hotel off the convention center. He might as well hook up with someone while he was there. He would love to burn the image of every Heather he ever knew out of his mind once and for all. Plastic
What can you do for me baby
women who flirted with his wallet more than him. There were times this kind of woman didn’t bother him at all, but lately he’d been searching for someone he could talk to, someone to share his ideas and dreams with, maybe a down-to-earth waitress who wasn’t ashamed to get her hands dirty and work for a living. Or ride in an old pickup truck.

Jack wasn’t afraid of hard labor on the ranch or pushing papers at a desk. Ever since he’d finished college and his father put him in acquisitions and mergers, he’d gone out of his way to excel at his job. Unlike his sister, Katie, who probably did lunch with Paris Hilton, Jack actually wanted to work for a living. Living off his father’s money didn’t sit well with him. When the day came for Jack to take over for his father, no one could accuse him of being a slacker who was handed the job without any knowledge of how to do it.

“Hookay, I see what you’re doing,” Tom said.

“Do you?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, I do. I saw you this weekend, dodging the women at the hotel. For a while there I was wondering who was getting married next month, you or Dean,” Mike said. “Tired of all the gold diggers, aren’t you?”

“Tired of all the liars.”

“That would suck,” Tom agreed.

“My Maggie is the best th-thing
that’s ever happened to me,” Dean told them.

“Lordy, now he’s gonna go and get all emotional on us.” Tom pushed Dean’s coffee cup closer to him. “Drink up. Maggie, the fair maiden, isn’t going to like it if you come home smelling like a bar.”

Dean propped his elbows on the table and held his head up with his hands. “She’s the best. And the sex.”

“We’ve heard it, Dean.”

“All friggin’ weekend,” Tom chimed in.

“You guys are just jealous.”

Jack sipped his coffee and kept his mouth closed. He was happy for his friend, but not so sure Maggie was the right choice. Dean loved to play: motorcycles, camping, boating trips on the river. He wasn’t afraid of hard work to pay his way, either. But ever since Maggie walked into his life, Dean gave up a little bit of himself daily.

“Maggie’s worried that I’ll get in an accident on the motorcycle.”

“Maggie doesn’t enjoy the river; boating makes her nauseous.”

“Maggie would rather stay at one of your hotels instead of an RV.”

Maggie might make Dean smile, but how long would it be before he blew his lid being molded into what she wanted him to be?

Jessie strolled around the corner with her arms stacked with plates. With choreographed ease, full breakfasts slid over the table and condiments emerged from the pockets of her dull, stiff uniform.

“It smells great, Jessie,” Jack told her before she walked away.

“I’ll let the cook know you’re pleased.”

Tom and Dean shoveled food into their greedy mouths.

Jessie disappeared long enough to grab
a pot of coffee to refill their cups. “Are we missing anything?” she asked.

“I think we’re good.” Jack tried to capture her eyes, but she avoided them.

“Let me know if you need anything. You can see we’re just swamped tonight.”

Jack noted the one lone customer at the counter. “I’ll bet you could tell some stories about working the graveyard shift at Denny’s,” Jack said, trying hard as hell to get her to reveal a thing or two about herself.

“It’s hard to stay awake most nights. We start to pick up around four thirty.”

“That’s an ungodly hour,” Tom said between bites.

“You’d be surprised at the number of suits that come in for a bite before heading into LA to work. They start early to avoid traffic.”

“I’d heard that LA traffic was bad, but
that
bad?” Jack asked.

“The worst. You must not live here if you have to ask.”

“I’m from Texas, mostly. My most recent job brought me here, near the airport.” Ontario International Airport took some of the burden off LAX and Burbank, but the land around those airports was built out, without any ability to grow. Ontario provided plenty of room for new hotels.

Mike nudged him in the arm. “Bums off my place when he wants a decent night’s sleep.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie, Jack thought. Mike lived over in Claremont, and Jack sometimes stopped by to crash when he wanted a break from the hotel. The Morrison was a five-star luxury hotel filled with champagne and caviar. Sometimes Jack just wanted pizza, beer, and a ball game on the tube with a friend.

Jessie seemed to mull over the information
a bit too long. She shrugged her shoulders with a flash of disappointment. “Well, enjoy your food.” With that, she turned and walked away.

Dean laughed. “Not so easy, is it?”

“I’m not done yet,” Jack told him as he picked up his fork.
Not by a long shot.

By three, most of the food was gone and a few new customers had shown up at the counter, pulling Jessie away from their table.

An older man in his seventies turned in his chair to leave the counter and Jessie rushed to his side. “I told you to let me help you, Mr. Richman.”