Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(21)
One of the main reasons she didn’t date was fear of rejection, fear of someone she actually liked seeing the worst in her. Or, worse, the best in her—and deeming it lacking. The way her instructors in culinary school had done when the famous Miriam Clarkson’s daughter’s skill proved fair to middling, rather than extraordinary. She’d avoided the Internet message boards while competing on the reality show, but her fellow contestants hadn’t hesitated to pass on the gist. She didn’t measure up to the name. And tonight, she’d not only shown Jasper her insecurities, she’d somehow managed to point his out, with barely a conscious effort.
Don’t look now, but here comes Rita, the keeper of mediocrity and shroud of doom. Avoid eye contact.
Might as well start hoarding, because a man wasn’t in the cards. Hell, she didn’t even have friends, unless you counted the kitchen staff she no longer worked with. At least they hung out after work and threw back a tequila shot or two. How had she repaid them? By burning down their place of work.
Really, everyone should just keep their distance.
“Come on, Rita,” Peggy called, her voice carrying in the still evening. “It couldn’t have been all that bad.”
Rita snorted. “I think my definition of bad is worse than yours.”
“Well.” A beat passed. “I’ve never dated a hamster eater, but I’ve had my fair share of bad dates. Horrible dates. Mom’s basement dates.”
“It wasn’t a date. It was like, the world’s most confusing make-out session, and I’m not talking about it anymore because then it’ll just keep being fresh.”
“But this is fun.” Peggy seesawed a hand between them, finally having caught up. “Look at us. Talking about boys and whatnot. We’re early-stages Thelma and Louise right now.”
“Funny you should mention that, because I’m thinking of driving off a ledge into a f*cking canyon.” When Peggy made a sympathetic noise Rita wanted to interpret it as genuine, but how could she? Peggy couldn’t walk ten feet without someone offering her a white picket fence and two-point-five children. Interpersonal dysfunctions were not her territory. Rita had bought up every square foot of that particular real estate.
“I think you like him or you wouldn’t be this upset.”
“H’okay.”
Peggy’s nose wrinkled up like an adorable bunny’s. “I guess it doesn’t matter, since we’re leaving in the morning anyway. But I had high hopes for Jasper.” Rita hoped her sister would drop the conversation after that stomach-tightening statement, but no dice. “Oh, well. If I know one thing for sure, it’s that you can’t win them all. My senior year of college—”
Rita groaned up at the night sky. “Peggy, you can’t be serious. Our experiences are not even remotely similar.”
When hurt slashed across Peggy’s features Rita started to apologize for her outburst, but Peggy held up a hand. “No, it’s okay. You’re right…our experiences are not similar.” They stepped into the glow of the motel’s sign and Rita saw an uncharacteristic weariness in Peggy’s gaze. “For instance, I doubt you’ve been carrying a torch for someone so long you can’t let another man—four good, honest men, actually—give you a happy life. Because being miserable for him is better than being semi-content with anyone else.”
“Peggy.” Rita couldn’t swallow. “I had no idea. …I didn’t—“
All at once, her sister brightened, but her speech was stilted. “It’s fine. I’m just blowing off steam.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to head in.”
Rita started toward the outside corridor that led to their room. “I’m coming with you.”
“Actually,” Peggy started, giving a subtle head tilt toward the parking lot, “I think Bel might need some company. And he appreciates my attempts at comfort about as much as you do. So…batter up.”
Rita looked back over her shoulder to find Belmont sitting on the curb of the parking lot, still as a statue. The sight yanked her by the hair straight out of her pity party, but it didn’t distract her from the guilt she was experiencing over Peggy. “Wait,” she called to her sister, who was already heading toward the room. Peggy stopped at the sound of Rita’s voice. “Thank you for trying to make me feel better. It worked. Even if you just annoyed me into feeling less like shit.”
Peggy dipped, twisting her hips in a little boogie. “It’s a start.”
“See you inside,” Rita said, even though Peggy had moved too far away to hear her. Wondering when her sister had developed a complex side—and how she’d missed it—Rita went to join Belmont on the curb. He didn’t acknowledge her right away when she sat down, which wasn’t a surprise. Her oldest brother spoke through silence. What worried her were the lines of strain around his eyes, the way he stared out at nothing in particular. Knowing he needed to be the one who broke the quiet, Rita took a moment to study her surroundings.
Hurley was a mighty contrast to San Diego. Even in winter, the air was dry and soundless as it filtered through the cars in the motel lot. While San Diego County was certainly spread out in a way that required a vehicle to go most places, New Mexico was actual desert. It stretched and stretched so the wind had nothing off of which to buffer. Rita didn’t know if it was simply being out of her usual surroundings that made it easier to hear her own thoughts, to take a deep breath despite scaling Mortification Mountain tonight. She felt more at ease without work hanging over her head. Without pressure to maintain the restaurant’s sterling reputation.