away.
She wanted to scream, Don’t give up on us. But all she could do was watch him leave.
Chapter 13
It was Jessica’s last day at the Pier, and a frequent patron of the bar, Melinda DeBoit, who had been relentless about wanting to set Jessica up with her brother, Miles, had shown up with him that day to introduce him to Jess. But Jess had heard too many rumors about how creepy Miles was and how he’d hit on anything with a vagina. Besides, it had been two days since she’d last seen Slade and already she missed him fiercely. Melinda showing up with Miles in tow was just the icing on her crappy mood.
Miles seemed about ten years older than Jessica. He was wearing Dockers and a lime green polo shirt that looked as slimy as he did. He sat at the bar next to his sister and ordered a Sex on the Beach, winking at her. She rolled her eyes, but the bar was too empty to avoid the man and his sister. She had no choice but to politely make small talk. In the span of ten minutes, Jessica learned that he was divorced because his ex-wife was a money-grubbing bitch, he was a doctor (which she later realized meant he was a chiropractor), he dated a lot, and he thought she had great legs that would look better wrapped around him. Yes, all of that in ten minutes in front of his sister. Gross!
As luck would have it, just then a man sitting at the other end of the bar cleared his throat and addressed Jessica. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m passing through town and I was wondering if you could help me figure out directions to here.” He held out a map.
“Certainly.” Jessica smiled and excused herself. Before she could turn away, though, Miles spoke. “I have a hot date. Guess I better move out. If you want to see me again, I left my card there for you on top of the monster tip.” He winked.
“Thanks for that,” she said to the other man after Miles and Melinda had left.
The man smiled. “You looked like you were about to slap him.”
“More like throw up,” Jessica said wryly. “What can I get you? Drink’s on me.”
“How ’bout a beer?”
“Sure thing. I’m Jessica Cross, by the way.” She reached forward to shake his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Jessica Cross. I’m Roger Stevens.” They shook hands and she went to get him a beer. For the next hour, in between customers, Jessica chatted with Roger, who was passing through town on his way to visit his family in Jacksonville. After his third beer, and before the bar was about to close, he said, “I think you owe me a date. I mean, I did save you from Miles.”
She smiled but shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m actually leaving town in a few days.”
“Well, I’m leaving tomorrow. Seems perfect. How ’bout dinner tonight?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on. You gotta eat, don’t ya? It’ll be fun. You look like you could use some fun. Don’t make me eat alone.”
She did. She needed fun. She hadn’t been sleeping or eating well. The sadness pressing against her heart was making it hard to breathe. “Okay. I guess one meal won’t hurt. I owe you that much.” She gave him her number before he left. He was nice, charming, and handsome, and the prospect of seeing him later that evening cheered her up a little.
Back at her house, though, she once again found herself looking at her own reflection and dreading yet another first date.
There was a knock on her door, and she gave herself one final check in the mirror. She wore a white pencil skirt, a very flattering strapless blue top that clung to her body, and silver-heeled platform sandals that wrapped around her ankles. She hustled to the front door, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Here goes nothing.
“Hi, Roge—” She stopped dead in her track. “Slade? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Were you expecting someone else?” He walked right in. No waiting for a welcome.
“Um, actually…”
“You look great. I mean, really great.” He stood so close to her, she could smell his sexy, musky scent. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were going on a date, friend.” He snickered.
The ringing of the doorbell saved her from responding. Slade stepped back, startled.
Oh. My. God. Awkward!
“If