Not Quite Dating
Page 5

“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.”
“I can do it,” the older man said. But as he rose to his feet, he swayed against Jessie.
“It’s the moisture in the air. Swells up my old bones,” he explained.
Jessie wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him to the door, where he’d left his walker. Even then, she didn’t turn away.
“I can make it from here,” he told her.
“I’m sure you can, but I could use some air. All this bacon grease is getting to me. Walk me outside?” she asked him.
Mr. Richman offered a small smile as she opened the door and helped him to his car.
A couple minutes later, she walked back in with a contented grin on her lips.
“Hey, Jessie,” the other waitress called from the cash register.
“Yeah?”
“Your buddy didn’t leave enough money again.”
Jack watched Jessie’s eyes travel to the door. She shrugged and reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out her tips. “I’ve got it, Leanne.”
Leanne shook her head. “I don’t know why you cover him all the time.”
“It’s pancakes, Leanne. And he doesn’t have anyone. Give the guy some slack.”
Jessie covered the rest of the man’s bill and walked away from the register.
Something inside Jack clicked into place. He absolutely needed to know more about Jessie.
Each time she returned to refill the coffee, Jack tried to engage her in some kind of conversation. She didn’t bite. Jack started to think that maybe she wasn’t interested, but the fact that she wouldn’t look him in the eye, and how her cheeks took on an adorable rosy color when he paid her a compliment, proved she wasn’t unaffected by his charms.