Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
T here were plenty of offers in the group chat to pick him up at the airport when he flew in, but he preferred to rent a car. It gave him more freedom to escape situations if it became necessary. He had a feeling, despite his mother’s promises, that he would end up needing to bail at least once before people got the message.
The long drive from the airport did nothing for his nerves. He had hoped being behind the wheel would help him relax, but the stress lingered, keeping his body tense and his neck tight. When he finally got to town there was an ache at the base of his skull.
He found himself looking to delay the inevitable a little longer. They’d be waiting for him at his parents’ sprawling home by the lake, but he wasn’t ready for the crowd. Not yet.
It wasn’t a conscious decision that had him pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant, more an instinct. He doubted the family had planned dinner around him, he’d been vague about his arrival time for a reason, and once he parked, he realized the gnawing hunger in his middle had guided the choice.
Nerves had kept him from eating before the flight, and other than a bag of pretzels, there had been nothing during. Stopping for a bite to eat was a completely reasonable excuse for stalling and no one would question it.
Maybe he was just being a coward, but he’d girded his loins, whatever that meant, and made the trip. If it took him just a little while longer to actually face everyone… well, they could wait. At least he’d be doing it with something in his stomach.
The family-style restaurant was new since the last time he’d been home. Or rather, the name and décor were new. The same building had hosted several different incarnations during his lifetime, and the last time he’d been through the doors, Italian had been the theme.
Now, it seemed to be a more generic American nostalgia theme. The walls were covered with old photos of the town and random kitschy antiques (probably knock-offs), but it did put out a homey vibe.
A sign at the host stand directed him to seat himself, so he chose a booth in the back with a good view of all the tables. Maybe he’d see someone he knew. It had been a good ten years since he’d lived in town, but things didn’t change much. He was willing to bet half the kids he went to school with had fled first chance they got—as he had, but that still left the other half.
Either it was a slow time, or the restaurant wasn’t doing well, because most of the tables were empty. And those that weren’t seemed to hold tourist types; people just passing through most likely, and no one he recognized. It was probably for the best anyway.
Jacob grabbed a menu from the rack on the table and flipped it open, eyes sweeping down the page with the efficiency of someone who was used to eating out on a regular basis. He wasn’t picky luckily and could usually find something to eat no matter where he was.
The food matched the American theme, mostly burgers and wings, with a scattering of other foods. He could see where they’d tried to elevate the offerings by throwing in some higher-priced entrees. But if he was going to have filet mignon, he would go to a steakhouse.
He was a firm believer in letting a restaurant stick to its strengths, and not trying to push his order out of its comfort zone. When he went to an IHOP he got breakfast. When he came to a place like this… he got a bacon burger with fries.
It generally ended better that way, so when the waitress approached to take his order, he was ready to go. He looked up from the menu, mouth already opening to speak… and then stopped short.
The waitress, whose nametag read Hilda, of all things, was shockingly beautiful. Not in a conventional way. Not even in a way he could explain. She was just… radiating something.
There was a soft muted glow around her. Her brown hair seemed to shine like nothing he’d seen outside of a shampoo commercial. Her eyes were an unusually clear and bright blue that drew his attention and locked it in place, while his mouth continued to hang open.
Her skin?—
“Sir? Are you okay? Sir?”
From the exasperated tone it was clear she’d been trying to talk to him for a while, and he’d been too blindsided by her appearance to hear her. He dragged in a shuddering breath and forced words out. “Sorry, what?”
“I asked if you wanted a drink,” she said, staring at him with those gorgeous azure eyes. “Some coffee? Soda?”
“Right, yeah. A drink. Sure.” She waited a few moments, looking expectant, until he realized she needed more information. It was just so suddenly hard to think. “Sorry, coffee please. Cream and sugar.”
Maybe the caffeine would help because something was definitely wrong with his brain. He couldn’t figure out what was happening, and the woman had to think he was stoned or something. But every time he looked at her something misfired in his head, and he couldn’t think.
He watched her walk away with an intensity that probably looked creepy, but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t that her ass was sexy, though it was. Or that her walk was seductive—it wasn’t. She walked like someone whose feet hurt, and there was a lace dangling from one raggedy old sneaker.
It was just that she pulled his gaze like a siren until she disappeared around the corner, and then, suddenly, the world snapped back into place. It was such an abrupt transition that he jerked in his seat, and his head hit the back of the booth with a thump.
“What the fuck was that…” he wondered out loud. Even his voice was off. It sounded gravelly, and not like him at all. He grabbed for the water she’d left on the table and took one long gulp after another until it was empty.
He was still thirsty, but now that she was out of sight his brain was starting to work again. The rest of his body was still malfunctioning, but his thoughts, at least, were in order. He dried his sweaty palms on his jeans and tried to ignore the way his heart was rattling around in his chest.
She was beautiful, insanely beautiful. Except… when he pictured her in his head, he couldn’t see why he’d had that impression. Oh, she was definitely pretty in a normal girl-next-door kind of way. She was even his type, but he’d never been so awestruck in his life, and he couldn’t understand why.
He was still trying to figure out what was going on when she returned with a pot of coffee and a carafe of milk. “The pot just finished, so it will be nice and fresh,” she said, smiling as she flipped the cup in front of him over, and filled it.
His memory was obviously broken too. Now that she was back at the table, he was once again struck by how gorgeous she was. There was that glow, that shine, that magnetic attraction that pulled at him.
“Your name is Hilda?” he blurted. If it came out sounding incredulous… well, that was because he really couldn’t connect that name to such a beautiful woman.
She looked startled and then laughed. “No. It’s Elizabeth—Lizzy, actually. My manager has a sense of humor. If we forget our nametag, she loans us a random one with deliberately weird names on them.” She looked down and grinned ruefully. “Could have been worse. There’s one in the box that says Hortensia.”
He couldn’t help laughing, partly in relief that Hilda wasn’t her real name. Lizzy. Lizzy didn’t suit her either, but it was so much better than Hilda. “Seems like good motivation not to forget your nametag.”
“You’d think.” The way she rolled her eyes seemed to indicate it was an ongoing problem. “Anyway, ready to order?”
Unfortunately he’d gotten fixated on her face and tuned out again. Even when she was rolling her eyes, they were beautiful.
“Sir? Do you need a minute? I can come back.”
Fuck. “Sorry, uh—” What had he intended to order? “The chicken parmesan, please.” It was the first thing that popped into his head.
She wrinkled her nose and leaned down, wafting a sweet floral scent in his direction. “I wouldn’t, to be honest it’s not very good,” she warned him in a stage whisper.
He leaned in, so close that they were almost touching, and sniffed her. She gave him a startled look and straightened fast. It was only when he saw her expression that he realized what he’d done and scrambled for an excuse. “Oh, your perfume. Sorry, it smelled nice, and I was trying to figure out what it was.”
She didn’t say anything, but there was a twist to her mouth and a slight narrowing of the eyes. “I’m not wearing perfume. So, you wanted the chicken parm?”
He hated chicken parm. It was his least favorite meal, and he had no idea why he’d ordered it. What had he decided on before his mind had collapsed? “Uh—actually, why don’t I go with the bacon cheeseburger.”
“Fries?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Okay, it’ll be right up.” The humor in her voice had gone, to be replaced with a professional, but distant, friendliness. She turned on her heel and moved away from the table briskly.
He couldn’t blame her.
After making a complete ass of himself, he was tempted to toss some money on the table and creep out while she was gone. That it would probably make him look even more ridiculous was the only thing that kept him in his seat.
Once she was gone, and he could focus again, he tried to figure out what was going on. His cock was rock hard, pressing painfully against the front of his jeans. Every inch of his body seemed enflamed beyond normal attraction. Even his skin felt like it was stretched tight and raw.
At least without her there he could picture her with a little more objectivity. Again, the memory didn’t match what he saw when she was right there. There were faint circles under her eyes. The messy ponytail had obviously been gathered hastily without a brush. And the drab uniform wouldn’t have been flattering on anyone.
She looked like a normal woman at work. Pretty but not in an attention-grabbing way. She was just going about her job as usual, and that shouldn’t be causing heart palpitations. And yet…
When the food came, she didn’t stay to chat, which didn’t surprise him at all. He munched the burger, while barely tasting it. His mind was too wrapped up in the inexplicable situation he found himself in… but every time she swung by to check on him, or refill his coffee cup, he found himself in the same situation.
The stammering, something he hadn’t done since he was a kid, was awkward enough. But blurting out weird comments or questions every time he opened his mouth, and, in general, acting like a complete idiot while she seemed to get more and more uncomfortable, was worse.
On her last visit to the table, he couldn’t help himself. “C-can I take you out?”
She blinked and the flow of coffee shifted to spill over the side of the cup. “What?”
“On a date, I mean. Can I t-take you on a date. You’re just so pretty and I—” Without planning to, he grabbed her wrist, holding her there as the coffee continued to pour.
Her mouth dropped open, and she stared at him until he let go of her. Her tone, when she replied, was forced. “Sir, this is my job . I don’t even know you and I’m trying to work.” She swiped at the spilled coffee with a rag from her pocket and rushed away like her shoes were on fire.
He ate the rest of his fries quickly and didn’t wait for her to come back with his check. The pile of money on the table was double what he owed. He couldn’t risk seeing her again, so he skuttled out to the parking lot like a coyote being run off a farm.
Once he was safely inside his car, he let loose with a long stream of cursing and didn’t stop until he realized he was repeating himself. “What in the actual fuck was that ?” he demanded.
His fist thumped against the steering wheel. “She probably thinks I’m a serial killer. For fuck’s sake.” His voice was high, incredulous. Jacob couldn’t remember ever making such a terrible impression on a woman.
He had to be sick. It was the only explanation. The flush in his face, the sweat beading his forehead, the way his skin felt tight and hot… it was probably all symptoms of something he’d picked up in the airport.
For a moment he considered getting a hotel and calling to let his mother know he was too sick to make it to the house. It would let him put things off a little longer, but he was pretty sure he’d just end up with the whole family showing up to see if he was okay. His mother would lead the charge, but she wouldn’t come alone.
He scratched an itch on the back of his neck and felt something tangled in his hair. He pulled and winced at the sudden burning sensation. He worked it out of his hair and to his surprise it was a white feather.
Things were always catching in his hair, so he didn’t give it much thought. Served him right for letting it get so long anyway. He examined the feather for a second, and then rolled down the window and let the wind tear it away.
Once the window was back up, he blasted the AC on high, and let his head fall back against the seat as he tried to calm down. But a few minutes later… he was fine. His heart slowed to normal, and the sweat dried up, leaving him feeling good as new.
All the symptoms gone, just like that.
He took a minute to make sure, checking and rechecking, but no, everything was fine. Though, after his creepy display, the waitress might just call the cops on him if he kept sitting in the parking lot.
Which meant… it was time to go home.