King of Pain - Tasha Black Page 0,17
bet the world was basically in mourning,” she teased. “Nothing will ever be the same again.”
He didn’t laugh and she wondered again what was making him seem sad.
They headed out the kitchen door to the garage and he pushed a button on his keys. There was a muted chime of a response.
When she entered the garage she was taken aback at Cullen’s new car. It was sleek and low to the ground and the wheels looked oversized.
“Wow, what is that?” she asked.
“It’s a Stingray,” he replied.
She studied it. “Isn’t the Stingray a classic car?”
“Not anymore,” he said lightly. “Chevy is making them again. Let’s get in.”
When she saw the inside of the car she began to laugh. “What is this? You’re so rich you drive a spaceship?”
“This is a newer model,” he said. “I hope you like it.”
She laughed again and looked out the window as he pulled out of the garage in his futuristic car and headed down the winding driveway to the road that led to Rosethorn Valley.
It was so nice to be back in the real world again. When Jessica spotted another ultra-modern looking car as they turned onto the street, it occurred to her that maybe Cullen’s car wasn’t as futuristic as she thought.
How long was I gone?
She tamped down the thought and turned to Cullen, resting her hand tentatively on his thigh. It looked right at home there, her tattooed hand on his leg. He glanced at her with a smile, and she leaned her head against his shoulder as they headed toward Tarker’s Hollow.
When they crossed the bridge over the creek, she was greeted by the big trees and Victorian homes they had passed so many times before.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“The Barry White Diner,” he responded without taking his eyes off the road.
“And we went there a lot?” she asked. The name wasn’t ringing any bells.
“Almost every time we stayed at the house,” he confirmed. “Is it coming back?”
She nodded, but didn’t speak. They were coming up to another car that was even more unfamiliar than Cullen’s. Even the street signs looked different than she remembered.
“How long was I away?” she heard herself ask before she could stop herself.
Cullen sighed.
“It’s been a long time, Jessica,” he said slowly.
“How long?” she asked.
But he was pulling into the parking lot at the Barry White Diner and signaling for a spot.
Once she saw it, the diner was familiar. It had gotten a fresh coat of paint, but the sign outside still had the same removable plastic letters with charmingly misspelled messages.
Today’s posting reminded patrons to try the “halapeeno bites.” That seemed normal enough.
She slowly let out the breath she’d been holding.
They got out and she saw that every car in the parking lot was sleek and streamlined, with larger wheels than she was used to.
Cullen ushered her inside without a word.
She was relieved to see that the booths and tables were all the same.
“Table for two please,” Cullen said to the waitress.
“Non-smoking, please” Jessica added.
The waitress gave her an odd look. “Hang on hun, I just need to wipe down a table.”
Jessica nodded and looked around.
A calendar hung behind the cashier’s station.
Everything in her told her not to look, but her curiosity was too strong. Besides, wasn’t it better to rip off the bandage?
The number on the calendar was so much higher than she expected that she almost didn’t recognize it as a year.
“Cullen,” she murmured.
“What is it love?” he asked.
“Cullen,” she repeated, unable to unlock her eyes from the calendar or her mind from what she had just seen.
“Damnit,” he said softly, seeming a little surprised himself.
“I’ve been gone for… twenty-five years?” she asked.
“I know,” he said. “It seems unbelievable.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“Your table is ready,” the waitress announced on her way back to them.
“I didn’t want to shock you,” Cullen said. “You were just coming back to yourself, and I didn’t want to make it too hard for you. I forgot about that damn calendar.”
“Well you could have told me in private,” she said through her teeth as they followed the waitress.
“What can I start you off with?” the waitress asked as they seated themselves.
“I’ll have a coffee and the special over-easy, rye toast, no sausage,” Jessica said automatically, then second-guessed herself. “Oh my gosh, you still have that, right?”
The waitress pointed to the board over the kitchen, which was an ad for the special: two eggs, two pancakes, two pieces of toast, two pieces of sausage.
At least some things