Reminders of Him(17)

I flip the application over, hoping he didn’t already see my name across the top of it. I swallow and attempt to appear to be in a more stable mood than all the moods he witnessed from me yesterday.

I gesture toward the Gatorade. “Special at the bar tonight?”

A subtle relief seems to wash over him, like he was expecting me to tell him to fuck off. He taps one of the packs of Gatorade. “T-ball coach.”

I look away from him, because for some reason that answer makes me uneasy. He doesn’t look like a T-ball coach. Those lucky mothers.

Oh, no. He’s a T-ball coach. Does he have a kid? A kid and a wife?

Did I almost sleep with a married T-ball coach?

I tap the pen on the back of the clipboard. “Are you, um . . . you aren’t married, are you?”

His grin tells me no. He doesn’t even need to say it, but he shakes his head and says, “Single,” then motions toward the clipboard on my lap. “You applying for a job?”

“Yep.” I glance toward the customer service desk, and Amy is eyeing me. I need this job so bad, but I’m afraid this might make it look like I’m going to be distracted by sexy bartenders while I’m on the clock. I look away from her, wondering if Ledger’s standing here talking to me is hurting my chances. I flip the clipboard back over, but tilt it so that he isn’t able to see my name. I start writing in my address, hoping he walks away.

He doesn’t. He pushes his cart to the side so a guy can get around him, and then he leans his right shoulder against the wall and says, “I was hoping I’d run into you again.”

I’m not going to do this right now.

I’m not going to lead him on when he has no idea who I am.

I’m also not going to risk this job by fraternizing with customers. “Can you go?” I whisper it, but loud enough for him to hear it.

He makes a face. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I just really need to finish this.”

His jaw tightens, and he pushes off the wall. “It’s just that you act like you’re mad, and I feel kind of bad about last night . . .”

“I’m fine.” I look back at the customer service desk, and Amy is still staring. I face Ledger and plead with him. “I really need this job. And right now, my potential new boss keeps looking over here, and no offense, but you’re covered in tattoos and look like trouble, and I need her to think I’m not going to give her any issues at all. I don’t care what happened last night. It was mutual. It was fine.”

He nods slowly and then grips the handle of his shopping cart. “It was fine,” he repeats, seemingly offended.

For a moment, I feel bad, but I’m not going to lie to him. He put his hand down my jeans, and if we hadn’t been interrupted, we probably would have ended up fucking. In his truck. How spectacular could it have been?

But he’s right—it was more than fine. I can’t even look at him without staring at his mouth. He’s a good kisser, and it’s toying with my head right now because I have so many more important things going on in my life than his mouth.

He stands silent for a couple of seconds and then reaches into a sack in his cart. He pulls out a brown bottle. “I bought caramel. In case you come back.” He tosses the bottle into the cart. “Anyway. Good luck.” He looks uneasy when he turns and walks out the door.

I try to continue filling out the form, but I’m shaking now. I feel like I’ve got a bomb strapped to me and it ticks down in his presence, getting closer and closer to exploding my secrets all over him.

I finish filling out the application, but my handwriting is sloppy because of my trembling hands. When I return to customer service and hand it to Amy, she says, “He your boyfriend?”

I play dumb. “Who?”

“Ledger Ward.”

Ward? The bar is called Ward’s. He owns the bar?

I shake my head, answering Amy’s question. “No, I hardly know him.”

“Shame. He’s a hot commodity around here since he and Leah broke up.”

She says that like I’m supposed to know who Leah is. I guess in a town this size, most people know most people. I glance back at the door Ledger disappeared through. “I’m not in the market for a hot commodity. Just a lukewarm job.”

Amy laughs and then browses my application for a moment. “Did you grow up here?”

“No, I’m from Denver. I came here for college.” That’s a lie—I never went to college—but it’s a college town, and my intentions were to eventually go. That just never happened.

“Oh, yeah? What’s your degree in?”

“Didn’t finish. That’s why I’m back,” I lie. “Registering for next semester.”

“This job is perfect for that; we can work around your classes. Be here Monday at eight for orientation. Do you have a driver’s license?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’ll bring it.” I leave out the fact that I just got my driver’s license last month, after months of working to get it reinstated. “Thank you.” I try to say that with as little eagerness in my voice as possible, but so far things are working out. I have an apartment and now a job.

Now I just need to find my daughter.

I turn to walk away, but Amy says, “Wait. Do you want to know how much you’re making?”