Pocketful of Sand(13)

He stopped by? For a picnic? Without even asking in advance?

I guessed when I first met him that Jason was a bit on the cocky side, but this is a little too…presumptuous for me. And I’m not particularly fond of it.

“Oh, uh, we weren’t there.”

“Yeah, I kinda got that.”

I laugh, feeling silly. I’m a terrible liar on the fly. I have to have time to think and plan and rehearse. Although that wasn’t a lie. But for some reason, he makes me feel like I’m on the spot all the time. Like he wants to know too much about me. It’s there in the way he looks at me and the way he follows me with his eyes.

“We went to the beach.”

He nods and, as the silence stretches on, I try to think of a good way to dissuade him from just dropping by like that. Before I have to come up with something, he gives me an opening.

“I would’ve called, but I don’t have your number.”

“Oh, I don’t have a phone.”

His brow wrinkles. “Is that wise, with a child in the house?”

I can’t explain my reasons, of course, but even if I could, I wouldn’t appreciate his comment. Evidently Jordan doesn’t either.

“Because you’ve got so many kids to take care of. Idiot! Why don’t you shut the hell up and stop antagonizing my customer?”

“Your customer? The only reason you haven’t drank us into bankruptcy is because of me. I think you need to check the attitude at the door.”

“At least I don’t piss off everybody who walks in here, you *.”

Emmy’s hold on my leg gets tighter as their bickering escalates. “I think we’re just gonna grab a seat,” I say quietly, steering my daughter to a stool at the diner-style bar.

Their voices drop to heated hisses as I take Emmy’s jacket off and lay it across my lap. As I’m opening a menu for her to look at, Jason comes to perch on the stool beside mine.

“Did I piss you off? Seriously?” His expression seems contrite, sincere.

“It’s fine,” I reply noncommittally.

“I didn’t mean to. I swear. I was just…I was just showing some concern. That’s all. What I was going to say is that I’d be happy to get you a phone put in if you want.”

I feel Emmy’s head hit my arm, pushing it to the side to lean against my boob. It’s like she’s trying to shrink into me in order to hide. Raised voices make her anxious. And she doesn’t need any help with anxiety. “I appreciate that, but we’re in good shape.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. We just came in for a bite of lunch today. That’s all.” I add a smile so that my remark doesn’t seem rudely pointed.

“Oh right right,” he says in another colloquialism that sounds just like his sister. He slaps the bar and stands. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

He nods and turns to leave just as the door opens with a jingle, drawing every eye. In walks Cole Danzer in all his amazing, masculine, heart-stopping glory. His eyes find me immediately, holding on and refusing to let go. I feel short of breath all of a sudden, like he let all the air out of the room when he opened the door.

Seeing him again hits me like a physical blow. I haven’t laid eyes on him in a week. Since the weather has cooled off, he must be doing something else. That or he’s working inside and I just never see him come and go. And I’ve looked. Often. Believe me. But there’s never a car or truck outside, so if he is there, he must live close enough to walk over.

The thought sends thrilling fingers dancing down my spine. Just the idea that he could be that close to me…all the time…day or night…

“Hoooly shit,” Jordan mutters, probably louder than she intended to. Alcohol-induced lack of inhibition, I suppose. “Hiya, Cole.”

Cole lets my eyes go long enough to glance at Jordan and nod. Then they’re back on mine as he approaches.

I’m so absorbed in his arrival, I forget Jason is still close. “And Eden,” Jason says, bending toward me as he speaks. “I’m here if you need any help. The weather can be brutal this time of year.”

I clear my throat and drag my eyes to him, leaning away until he straightens. “I think we’ll be okay, but I know where to find you if not.”

Jason doesn’t make a move to leave. He just turns to face Cole and crosses his arms over his chest. I get the sneaking suspicion it’s his way of staking a claim or something. “How goes it, Cole?” he asks pleasantly enough. While his question is innocent, his body language says all sorts of other things that concern me. It says She’s mine, which I’m not. It says Back off, which I don’t want Cole to do. It also says I’ll fight for her, which I’d hate. All in all, I don’t like what I’m seeing.