Seaside Avenue (Cedar Cove #7)(55)

“Thank you, Ja-ames,” she said, drawing out the one syllable of his name. The desire to break through that reserve of his was nearly overwhelming. She couldn’t imagine what he’d do if she suddenly kissed him. The thought produced a smile. He’d keel over in a dead faint. Or step on the gas and drive right into a tree.

Climbing out of the car, Christie headed for the tavern door without a backward glance. Most people in the crowd greeted her; she knew nearly everyone there. Without stopping to chat, she went up to the bar and ordered a draft beer.

Larry, the bartender, a middle-aged guy who was also the owner, picked up a chilled mug and automatically filled it from one of the taps. He didn’t need to ask which brew she wanted. He knew what she liked.

She sat down on a stool and they chatted for a few minutes until Kyle Jamison strolled in the front door. “Say, what’s that limo doing outside?” he shouted.

“What?” Christie couldn’t believe her ears. James was still parked outside!

Half the tavern moved over to stare out the smudged, wavy windows.

“Who’s he waiting for?” Larry asked, his nose practically pressed against the glass.

“Good question,” Kyle commented as he slid onto the stool next to Christie. She’d dated Kyle a couple of times. He was a local plumber and a decent guy. She liked him well enough but there weren’t any sparks, and the relationship had gone nowhere. With most men, it was better just to be friends. She’d crossed the line more than once with guys she knew from the tavern and always regretted it.

“Say, can I get a beer over here?” Kyle asked, growing impatient with Larry, who continued to gaze out the window.

“Comin’ right up,” Larry muttered.

Christie waited a respectable amount of time, then casually slid off the bar stool and walked toward the ladies’ room. Instead of going down the hallway, though, she snuck out the door. Her footsteps resounded on the tarmac as she approached the limo, moving quickly. She wasn’t halfway across the lot when James climbed out of the driver’s seat and held open the passenger door.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

He seemed surprised by the anger in her voice.

“I’m waiting for you,” he explained, as if that was completely logical.

“There’s no need to do that.”

James shook his head. “Miss Teri asked me to see you home.”

“Go away,” she said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Now he was really beginning to annoy her. “I don’t want you here.”

“Shall I move the car and wait for you around the corner?”

Christie wanted to groan in frustration. “No. Just leave.”

He declined again with a shake of his head.

“A friend will drive me home,” she insisted.

James remained stubbornly quiet.

“I want you to leave.”

“Yes, miss.”

Every word out of this man’s mouth made her furious. “And stop calling me Miss! My name is Christie.”

“Very well, Christie.”

There was a silence, and they stared at each other, neither looking away.

“You’re going to sit here even if I stay all night, aren’t you?” she finally asked.

“Yes.”

From the firm set of his mouth, she could tell he wasn’t kidding, either. He’d sit in that damn car for hours without a word of complaint, patiently waiting for her to reappear.

“Oh, all right,” she groaned. “You win.” She went back into the tavern, paid for her beer and left.

James remained standing by the passenger door, holding it for her. She climbed in and reached for the door handle, jerking it from his hand as she slammed it shut. She glanced out at the tavern, hoping no one had seen her get into the limo. She’d never hear the end of it.

Slipping into the driver’s seat, James started the engine and turned into the road.

“Now look what I did,” Christie complained. “I ruined the rose my sister gave me.” In her temper, she’d sat on it and crushed the petals.

“That rose isn’t from your sister.”

“Bobby gave me the rose?” That didn’t sound like something her brother-in-law would do.

“No, miss, I did.”

“You?” She was so shocked she forgot to be upset that he’d called her miss again.

“Yes.”

“Both times?” she asked speculatively.

“Yes.”

Christie frowned. “Why?” He didn’t answer, so she rephrased her question. “Is there a reason you bought me roses?” She raised her voice so he’d know she expected an answer.

“I wanted you to have them.”

She regarded the crushed bud in her hand. “Don’t do it again, understand?”

“Very well.”

“I mean it, James.”

There was no response. All at once Christie felt the most compelling urge to weep. That happened once in a while, usually when she’d been drinking. This evening she hadn’t even finished her beer, so that couldn’t be it. Tears gathered in her eyes and she swallowed against the lump in her throat.

“I’m going to tell Teri I don’t want you driving me anymore.”