Perfectly Charming (A Morning Glory Novel Book 2) (8 page)

“Of course not.” Jess made a cross-your-heart gesture. “Everyone seems to know him, huh?” Jess asked.

Becky nodded. “Oh sure. He’s just one of those guys. He plays pool over at Cuesticks, buys the ladies a drink, and he’s a pretty good dancer. Remember New Year’s Eve when we ended up at the country club party?”

Tanae nodded. “He looked fine ass in that tux. That bitch who brought him looked like she hit the lottery and wouldn’t let him dance with anyone else but her. Pissed me off.”

After that revelation Jess didn’t want to talk about Ryan anymore . . . or his many conquests. Jeez, he was a gigolo, which seemed so at odds with the charming, vulnerable man she’d walked with on the beach. It was as if when he’d given up a life of scientific pursuit, he’d meant business. “So, Tanae, is your boyfriend coming? I’d love to meet him.”

“No, he’s got a class he can’t miss tonight. He’s a TA at Pensacola State.”

“That’s too bad. How long have y’all been together?” Jess asked. Tanae launched into an explanation of her rather contentious relationship with Cedric. As she talked, Jess looked around at the bar, noting the crowd thickening. Over in the corner, a band set up. Ryan wound his way back to their corner table, holding a tall glass of mojito. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to get up and go back to her rental. She wasn’t ready for bars, clubbing, and mixing it up with singles. And even though Ryan was a small comfort in being from her old life, she didn’t want to stay and watch him flirt with every woman in the bar. This was not supposed to be her life.

But it is your life.

“Here you go, Jess,” Ryan said, setting the drink down in front of her. He settled back onto his stool, swigging a beer and winking at Becky.

Yes, this was her new life . . . she didn’t have a garden where she clipped zinnias and placed them in the crystal vase she and Benton had received for a wedding gift. No snuggling in the recliner and watching the Braves play. No decorating the Christmas tree with Benton’s famous hot chocolate at her elbow. That life had been snipped in half, leaving her with half the furniture, the good china, and memories. So unfair, but it was where she was . . . starting over.

She pasted a smile on as Ryan chatted with the other girls about his day. He’d taken a blustery businessman and two clients out fishing. The businessman had gotten seasick and had to stay in the cabin, but every so often he’d poke his head out, try to give a sales pitch, smell the baitfish, and then promptly run to the side of the boat.

“I have to give him credit for his tenacity. Never seen a fellow puke and give a sales pitch at the same time,” Ryan said, pointing his finger in a what’s-up gesture to the guy setting the microphone into the stand. “Hey, Jess, you don’t mind giving me a lift home, do you? My truck’s in the shop. Transmission’s acting up.”

“Sure,” Jess said, nursing her drink. The mojito was good, but she wasn’t in the mood for it, either. Maybe it was too much newness, too fast. She’d never been one for going out for drinks or cruising the singles scene. Maybe because there was only one decent bar outside Morning Glory and two package liquor stores. It was easy to be a wine-on-the-porch girl in Mississippi, especially when her porch had a husband waiting on it. “Any certain time you need to leave?”

“You ready to go now? I’m hungry. We could pick up something.”

“Sure,” Jess said, shooting Becky and Tanae an apologetic look.

“Don’t go yet,” Becky said, picking up the laminated bar menu. “We can get cheese fries or wings. The band hasn’t even started.”

Ryan laughed. “Have you heard Harvey’s band? I’d advise you to pay your tab now.”

“He’s not that bad,” Tanae said with a wince. “And he tries really hard. That should be a point in his favor.”

Jess slid from the stool. “Thanks for inviting me, but I have to be honest, I’m not in the mood today. I’ll take Ryan home and go to bed early tonight.”

Becky’s gaze moved down Ryan’s body and back up again. “I can see what you’re in the mood for. Can’t hold going to bed early against you.”

Jess felt her cheeks bloom pink before she could think about it. And she couldn’t think of how to respond to the implication she was taking Ryan home and going to bed early . . . for more than sleep. She wanted to press her hands against her cheeks, but instead she pushed the stool back in place, ducking her head. Which was so not like her. She didn’t duck her head. She didn’t effing blush. Who the hell was she at this moment?

“Hey, Jess’s not that kind of girl,” Ryan said, blinking when he realized he’d shown his hand.

“How would you know?” Becky said, challenge in her voice.

“Guess I wouldn’t. Are you that kind of girl?” Ryan asked, his gaze tugging Jess’s from the pattern of whorls burnished into the metal stool. His question seemed more than what it was. Was Ryan testing the waters? Or merely covering up for nearly telling her friends he knew her? Thing was, she didn’t know exactly what temperature her waters were. It had been so long since anyone had wanted to . . . uh, bathe in her bathtub that she didn’t know. Maybe her tub was empty. Or held lukewarm water. Or had barely enough to cover the bottom. Maybe she needed to find out. After all, Benton had pulled the plug almost a year ago.

Or maybe the real question was whether Ryan Reyes was the right guy to splash around with.

“Exactly what kind of girl are you talking about?” she asked, abandoning the tub-water analogy in her head. Jeez. Maybe she was thinking too much. After all, she was supposed to be having her own experiences.

“The kind who sells her friends out for a piece of action,” Tanae teased.

“Uh, if the action is taking a man home . . . I mean, giving a guy a lift home, then, yes, I am that kind of girl,” Jess said, taking one more swig of the cocktail.

Becky laughed. “Go. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jess hurried after Ryan. The sun was still hot, but then again, August was hot everywhere. At least in Pensacola a sea breeze made it less intense.

“My car’s over there,” she said, pointing to her blue Mustang convertible. Her new GT was her one vanity. Under the hood of the shiny car sat a 300-horsepower engine—it ate up asphalt. The blue paint sparkled in the sunlight, and she loved the way she felt with the top down and the wind whipping her hair. Everything about Jess was methodical, practical, all sharp points and rules, but her sexy car busted all that apart. When Jess let go behind the wheel, she let go.

“Nice,” Ryan said, running his hand over the freshly waxed hood. “And hot.” He shook his hand and grimaced.

Jess unlocked her baby and climbed inside, cranking the engine and pushing the button that would lower the top. “Thanks.”

Ryan climbed into the passenger’s seat. “So I sensed you were ready to get out of there?”

“In theory, no. In reality, yes.” She inhaled deeply and released the tension with her breath. “Going out for drinks is not my thing. I don’t care for a bunch of noise or silly small talk. The whole time I was sitting there, I kept thinking about how comfy the Dirty Heron’s couch is and how good the wine I opened last night was.”

Ryan hesitated for moment. Then he clicked the seat belt and said, “I get it, but how about before we settle down on your couch, I take you somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere you’ll like. Head downtown.”

“My, you’re bossy.” Jess pulled out of Landsharks and followed Ryan’s directions. Not ten minutes later, she pulled into parking lot where a shiny diner sat. Scenic 90 Café looked straight out of the 1950s and could have been a twin sister to Dean’s Diner in Morning Glory. “It looks like—”

“Dean’s,” Ryan finished, giving her a wink. “I come here sometimes when I need a little small-town goodness . . . and a good piece of pie.”

Jess felt warmth flood her. Ryan had brought her to a place that reminded her of home. Somehow he’d sensed what she couldn’t admit—that underneath her declarations of what was good for her was a longing to connect to who she truly was—a small-town girl missing her life. How Ryan knew this, she couldn’t begin to guess. Maybe he didn’t. But it felt nice to be parked in front of a place that was so . . . her.

Ever since she’d signed the divorce papers, she’d been pulling on a dress that didn’t fit her. Mostly because she felt she had to. People back home, her mother included, had been giving helpful advice like, “You should be over him by now,” or “Get back in the dating pool,” or people would say, “I always knew this would happen—people shouldn’t marry their high school sweethearts.” Jess had started believing them and had forced herself to be someone she wasn’t. She’d gone to the Iron Bull several times, not counting that night with Eden. And she’d hated it. Even today she’d forced herself to meet Becky and Tanae. As if having a drink in a bar could help her get over everything that had happened to her in the last year.

When Ryan pushed the door to the diner open, the smell of french fries and bread welcomed her. The floors were tiled black and white, and the ceiling was lined with electric-blue neon. A metal roof and booths covered in teal pleather lent a kitschy feel, as did the waitress with the mile-high hair.

Her name tag read
C
INDY
and she popped her gum as she chewed. As soon as she saw Ryan, she placed a perfect lipstick tattoo on his cheek. “There’s my favorite boy. Ooh, who’s your friend?”

“This is Jess. We graduated high school together,” Ryan said, waving at another waitress across the room.

“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. I’m a Mississippi girl myself, darlin’. I’m from Meridian,” Cindy drawled, setting wrapped utensils on the table and jabbing a finger at the plastic menus on the table. “Menus are right there. You want a Coke, Ryan?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ryan said, arching an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, I’ll take a tea.”

“One Coca-Cola and a sweet tea coming right up,” Cindy said, walking away before Jess could say she’d prefer unsweet.

“Guess I’m having sweet tea,” Jess said, unwrapping her fork and knife and placing her napkin in her lap. Like her mama taught her.

“You could stand a few extra calories, and besides, Miss Cindy automatically assumes you’re having it sweet ’cause you’re from Mississippi. She’s the only person who knows I’m from there. Couldn’t bullshit her.” Ryan picked up a menu and handed it to her. “Everything’s pretty good here, but I always have a cheeseburger.”

Jess took the menu and glanced around. “I love this place.”

“I knew you would. It’s like home, though I haven’t been to Morning Glory in so long, I wouldn’t know it.” His green eyes scanned the menu, and she wondered why he was looking at the offerings when he said he always got a cheeseburger.

“You don’t go see your mama and daddy?”

“Not since I moved here. When I lived in California, they’d come out on occasion. They knew my work didn’t afford much time to travel to Mississippi. Besides, why would I want to return to a place where I lived an inferior version of myself?” he said, sliding the menu back beside the napkin dispenser. “I’m sticking with the burger.”

“You hated Morning Glory?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So why do you come here?” she asked, pointing down at the table. Her finger landed on the menu, specifically the all-America cheeseburger. She should go with that. But her little red bikini reminded her she probably needed the chef’s salad. Eh, she’d had a protein bar for lunch—she could splurge for dinner. Maybe.

“I like it here. They make good sundaes.”

“And that’s it? I assumed you liked it because it reminded you of home.”

Ryan lifted a shoulder. She looked at the soft fabric covering that shoulder and wondered what it would be like to lay her head there. He’d feel different than Benton. Smell different. Because he
was
different. “I have some good memories of my hometown. And I have bad ones. It’s the bad ones that keep me here on the beach for Christmas.”

Jess thought about Christmas in Pensacola. What did Ryan do to celebrate? Did he get a Christmas tree? Drink eggnog? Sit alone in front of the TV and watch
A Christmas Story
for twenty-four hours? Or maybe he got together with friends? She couldn’t imagine not making Christmas cookies with her mom and nephews or playing Dirty Santa with the whole Culpepper family. She’d never miss the Morning Glory Christmas spectacular at the civic center and the Christmas cantata at the Baptist church. No stockings, no breakfast casserole in the kitchen, no watching
White Christmas
with her daddy. Sounded horrible.

Cindy came bopping back with their drinks. Taking a pen from behind her ear, she fished her order pad from her apron pocket. “Okay, so Ryan’s having the cheeseburger, medium, with a side of fries. What about you, honey?”

“Um, I’m not sure.”

“I’ll give you a few minutes more,” Cindy said, disappearing.

Jess had been about to blurt out she’d have the burger, but the waitress was like Speedy Gonzales. Vamoose.

Ryan smiled. He did that a lot for a guy who’d spent most of his high school days looking hunted. He should be damaged, skulking around wearing black. But instead he grinned, charmed, made her feel better than she had in almost a year. And it didn’t hurt that he looked like he’d stepped from the pages of
Yachting World
.

“So, Jessica Anne, what’s the plan?” Ryan asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Do I have a shot?”

Oh crap. She wasn’t ready for this conversation. Ryan wanted to know the score, the parameters, the chance he had at getting into her pants. Glancing down, she amended—under her skirt. Or maybe he didn’t. She hadn’t actually gone on a real date before. Unless frat parties in college counted. Maybe he meant something else.

“At what?”

His lips tipped up even more, and his eyes crinkled. Crikey, he had great eyes. They were perfectly green. Burst of gold in the center spreading out into irises the color of the emerald sea. Gray ringed the outer edge, making them look like an agate stone she’d seen in a jewelry store once. “Okay. I see that you’re not ready to have this conversation. That’s cool.”

“What?”