Daring Devlin (Lost Boys #1) - Jessica Lemmon Page 0,48
hand, liquid wobbling close to the edge.
“What happens when she falls for you, Devlin? Because she will. She’ll confess that she’s fallen in love with you and wants to marry you and have a bunch of babies. And then you’ll feel like you’re suffocating. Or drowning.”
She shrugged with one shoulder and passed by after all. Marriage. Babies. Those two words were too alarming to comprehend. I pulled a hand over my face and left it to rest on my jaw.
Drowning. Another interesting choice of word.
Especially after thinking about how my father died—and how I was walking that same path.
Rena
I massaged my throbbing wrist before lifting the tray. The pair of plates were for my last table of the night, and I was so ready to get out of here.
Wednesdays were slow, so to make up for lack of traffic I’d worked a double. I’d been here nearly twelve hours, having taken one ten-minute break to gobble down dinner. I was ready to collapse. On days like this, I missed the lazy hours I’d spent at Craft Palace stocking paintbrushes and scrap paper and listening to canned music over the speakers.
“Grilled salmon with vegetables and a medium-rare filet with smashed potatoes,” I announced as I presented the plates to the couple at table 20. “Anything else I can get you?”
The woman at the table gave me a polite “no, thank you,” and the man smiled pleasantly. Her hair was styled and neat in a way I was never able to accomplish, and she was wearing a cute blue blazer over a clingy yellow top. A delicate gold chain with a heart pendant rested on her neck. Her husband (I assumed) wore khakis and a collared plaid shirt. There was nothing dangerous or daring in his eyes or his smile.
“We have a movie to catch,” the husband informed me. “If you want to bring the check now, that’d be good.”
“No problem.” I let them know to flag me down if they needed anything else. They could be me and my husband in ten years… if I found someone safe and kind. The thought filled me with melancholy, longing, and disdain. It was an odd combination.
In the kitchen, Melinda stood at the touch-screen computer, her face screwed in its usual scowl. “Your boyfriend’s hammered.”
My heart skipped a beat. I felt it. There was only one person she might assume was my boyfriend. I didn’t know Devlin was here.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” I pretended nonchalance and studied my fingernails.
“You think you’ll succeed in tying down a guy like Devlin?” Melinda faced me, eyes blazing. She propped a hand on her hip and glowered down at me from her Amazonian height. “He’ll screw you, but he won’t stay with you.”
Spoken like someone who had or hadn’t tasted the sour grapes? I didn’t want to know, since the idea of Melinda and Devlin together twisted my stomach into a double knot. “I’m not—”
“Oh, give me a break. Everyone knows you are, Rena.” Her tone was half know-it-all and half pitying. Which pissed me off. I hated being underestimated. “He’s using you. Everyone sees it but you.”
A feather-light tickle of doubt niggled at the back of my mind despite trying to stop it. I wouldn’t give Melinda the pleasure of seeing it, though. I pointed at the touch screen. “Are you done?”
Lips pursed, eyes still blazing, she turned and clipped away from me, her blond ponytail swinging.
Out in the dining room I spotted Devlin at the bar. I forced myself to wait until I’d cashed out my table before I ventured over. I didn’t want to appear overeager. To Devlin or Melinda.
With no reason to go over there (other than to see him), I put a bounce in my step and walked to the bar. Part of me worried he’d already left. Another part of me worried about the part of me worrying.
Was Melinda’s bitterness over love lost, or love never found? I wanted to believe she was jealous of the hold I had on Devlin; that I’d had something she wanted for herself. But I couldn’t be sure.
Devlin was hunched over a barstool, black boots hooked on the lower rung, muscular, tanned arms bent, elbows resting on the edge of the bar top. A glass with a scant inch of liquid in it hung loosely from his fingertips. Eyes unfocused across the room, he lifted the amber liquid to his lips and drank while I admired the bob of his throat.