Rock Me Deeper (Licks of Leather #5) - Jenna Jacob Page 0,36
will be with me.”
“Good. I want to meet this man. I gotta make sure he’s good enough for you.” I winked and opened the door. “Keep kicking ass.”
“I will. Promise.”
She blew me a kiss, then turned and strolled down the now deserted hall.
I closed the door and gathered my things, and as I strode from the arena toward our shiny new tour bus, resignation settled deep. Despite the blistering kisses we’d shared, Caris wasn’t my soul mate. If she was, she would have stayed. The realization burned like acid, but I knew it was time for me to exorcise her from my heart and soul. I just didn’t know how. They say time heals all wounds, but the past fifteen years, it hadn’t done shit. A part of me feared I’d still ache for the sassy little spitfire when I was old and gray.
Chapter 8
Caris
“Order up, Chris,” the new fry-cook Shane Sims called from the window of the kitchen. With a cocky grin, the annoying prick tapped the loud bell on the laminated ledge five fucking times.
After spilling my guts to Trudy in my little kitchen over a week ago, she’d instructed me to take an extended vacation until my wounds healed. Then she returned to the café and interrogated Monica. The next day, when Trudy brought my suitcase—still containing all the things I’d taken to California—she told me that once she found out Monica hadn’t bothered to call the police or checked with the area hospitals, the shit hit the fan, and she’d fired Monica on the spot.
It was the first time in my life that anyone had ever gone to bat for me. I’d felt so liberated and exonerated, I’d nearly broken down. The following week, wearing a long-sleeved shirt to hide the scars on my wrists, Trudy introduced me to Shane Sims. The cocky, infuriating fry cook had been making my life a living hell ever since.
“My name is Caris,” I bit out for the umpteenth time.
A slow, suggestive smile kicked up one side of his mouth—so similar to Syd’s that an unwelcome shiver slid through me—then winked. “I know. I just like watching you get all riled up. It’s cute.”
“I’ll show you cute when I throw this plate of scrambled eggs in your face.”
When Shane tossed his head back and laughed, I clenched my jaw and spun on my heel, then delivered Clyde Miller his breakfast with a scowl.
“He’s sweet on you, Caris,” Old Man Miller whispered as he patted the back of my hand. “Why don’t you give that young stallion a chance?”
“I stopped taking chances when I was eighteen, Clyde. Besides, Shane’s nothing but a dirty dog looking for a new toy.”
The old man flashed a grin and nodded. “Smart girl.”
A smart girl wouldn’t go home each night, boot up her computer, and track the Licks of Leather tour route, and search for new photos of the man she ached to kiss and hold again.
A smart girl wouldn’t calculate how many hours it would take to drive to Jackson, Mississippi, where the band was scheduled to perform next week.
A smart girl would have given him the option of outing himself to his fans and bandmates, instead of taking that decision from him.
A smart girl wouldn’t cry herself to sleep each night missing a man she couldn’t have.
No, if I were a smart girl, I’d wipe Syd from my memory banks and kick the aggravating fry cook in the balls.
I could have challenged Old Man Miller’s claims for hours, but there were orders to take, plates to serve, and tables to clean.
When Shane tapped the bell again, I whipped my head his direction. A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes as he called out, “Order up—”
“Caris!” I screamed, setting off a round of laughter from the customers and a raised brow from Trudy manning the cash register.
“Caris,” Shane repeated, with a taunting grin.
Pinning him with a glare meant to incinerate him to ash, I grabbed the plate of waffles and the one teeming with scrambled eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns, then charged to deliver them to Doc Everly and his daughter, Helen, patiently waiting in one of the booths.
Over the past hour, the breakfast rush had slowed down and customers had started thinning out. As I snagged the coffeepot to make my rounds refilling mugs, I glanced up at the television mounted on the wall near the front door.
“We have breaking news out of Los Angeles,” the pretty blonde reporter stated somberly.