The Reason I Stay (30 page)

Matt turns his face to the side, looking at the couple waiting and all the other new faces filling The Jukebox. He shakes his head, and in a voice loud enough to catch people’s attention, says, “Yeah, I don’t like all of these out-of-towners. It’s time for them to leave.”

I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing, and raise a brow at him, reminding him that a month ago he was the undesirable out-of-towner. But he, being Matt, gives me a crooked smile and shrugs, completely dismissing my point.

“And I was,” he continues, and I frown, lost in the subject. “At Wes’s. But those boys are sucking today, and I wanted to talk to my girlfriend. Is that so bad?”

I finally smile at him. “No, that’s wonderful. But you’ll have to do it sitting at the bar, or wait until we’re closed.”

Matt gives me one of his teasing smirks, and rests an arm on the hostess stand. “Fine, but if one of the vacationers decides to buy me a drink, I’m accepting it, and you won’t be able to complain about it. It’s your fault, anyways.”

I lift a brow at him. He narrows his eyes at me. Trying hard not to laugh, I pick up a Sharpie from my apron’s pocket and hold the wrist he has propped on the stand with my other hand. Using my teeth, I uncap the pen and bring it to his arm.

I recap the Sharpie, and look at Matt with a big-ass grin. He looks from the writing on his arm to my face a few times before bursting into a fit of laughter. He’s still laughing when I reach for his hand, and pull him in the direction of the bar.

While I ask Jen to take my tables so I can spend the last few hours of service at the bar with Mr. Grumpy Pants, I see two whores—I mean, women—approach Matt.

Like most of the single females vacationing in town, they’ve got a decade on me, and are wearing tops so tight their boobs spill out, and skirts that leave very little to the imagination—insert gagging sounds here. Luckily, that awful visual prompts pity from Jen, who agrees to switch tasks with me and goes to tend my tables with a disgusted expression, mumbling words about this place turning into a jungle—a reference to cougars, I believe.

I take an order from a couple on their honeymoon, and watch with a raised brow as the women whisper and giggle with my boyfriend for a couple of seconds. I’m pretty sure that smoke is about to come out of my ears, because although he looks bored, he’s just sitting there, tucking his hair behind his ear and not telling those bitches to get lost.

But then, just when I’m about to throw a rag at them, Matt taps his index finger on the bar, looks down at the visible scribbles on his arm, and smiles. The next thing I know he’s stretching his arm at them, and dipping his head toward me. A grin spreads across my face.

I take his cue, and approach the three of them. “Can I get y’all a refill?” I ask, staring them straight in the eye. They look from him to me, pout, and walk away.

Matt laughs and winks at me. With a smitten smile on my lips, I pour a dose of Jack, and place it in front of him. “To make up for the drink they offered.”

He cocks a brow. “They weren’t offering me a drink.”

Those bitches.
“Well . . . I’ll be happy to make up for that at home.”

He tilts his head, and I lift a teasing brow at him. A slow, sexy smile spreads on his lips, and I bite mine.

Before I notice, he stretches his arm to the right, pulls the rope attached to the bell we use to indicate the end of service, and rings it twice. Commotion follows; people look around for the clock, hands fly in the air, waitresses are called for final orders, and people protest against the end of the booze buzz over the music. And as my coworkers look at me, puzzled and annoyed, I just point at Matt and crack up.

For the next half an hour, I take orders, and assure customers that they still have a couple of hours of fun as Jen and Anna smack the back of my boyfriend’s head whenever they walk by him. When things finally calm down, I stop in front of his seat and start mixing a few drinks for one of Jen’s tables.

“What do you wanna talk about?”

Matt opens a wide smile. “I want you to go to Mobile with me tomorrow.”

I frown. “Can’t. Sorry, I’m working all day.”

Jen stops by for her drinks. As she loads them on her tray, Matt asks, “You’re not working tomorrow, right, Jen?”

She shakes her head, making her chestnut ponytail wiggle behind her. Matt smiles. “Would you like to?”

Big hazel eyes roll all the way to the ceiling. “I knew you were too good lookin’ to be smart.”

He tosses a coaster at her. “I’ve always been one of those rare cases of looks and brains. And this is important, so I’m resorting to bribery.”

I keep my eyes on them as I take the orders of a group of young men. Jen raises a brow at Matt, and brings the tray to her shoulder. “I’m listening.”

“If you work Lexie’s shift tomorrow, the next time you and Jared want to go on a date, we’ll babysit Snotty.”

I burst out laughing, and Jen quirks a brow at him. “Fine, but since you just called my son Snotty, we’ll make that twice with a sleepover, so Jar and I can work on a sibling for
Scotty
.”

Matt grins and nods. “Deal.”

Jen winks and walks away. I finish pouring the beers for the group of boys and return to Matt. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Explain. Why did you put us on Scotty-duty just so we can go to Mobile tomorrow?”

“We have some shopping to do.”

He’s got an up-to-no-good look on his face that makes me narrow my eyes, and shake my head. “Not enough. Explain further.”

“I was finishing up things at the Andersons’ when Papa Wolf called.” I frown, confused at what that has to do with anything, but I smirk at his nickname for Tanie’s dad. “He wanted me to go over to his place to talk a few things over. So I rushed to Sally’s, showered because I was filthy, got a few clothes for tonight, and headed over there on my way to Wes’s.”

He stops talking and just looks at me, his face beaming, his body bouncing up and down with enthusiasm.

“And . . .” I prompt.

“And, I need to buy tools because the high school job he told me about at Tanie’s party came through.” My eyes widen at the news, and keeps on widening as he continues. “I’ll have to open a company and sign a two-year minimum contract before things are completely final, but he wants me to start working there next week so the school will have a garden when classes start.”

I squeal and prop myself on the counter to give him a celebratory kiss. A few men sitting near Matt look at me funny, and I don’t even want to know what is going through their minds. I also don’t care. I’m rightfully happy for my boyfriend.

“There’s more,” he tells me.

I motion with my hand for him to spill it. His smile doubles. “He talked to the mayor, and things are looking good, like really good, for me to take over the common areas around town, and Sally’s garden.”

“Oh my God, Matt!”

He nods at me. “Yeah.”

“That’s huge.”

Again, he nods. “Yeah.”

“And you did that all by yourself.”

He shrugs. “I had help.”

I roll my eyes, and throw a coaster at him. Getting some help to accomplish something doesn’t mean he didn’t do it on his own. We all get help now and then, but the work was all his.

To prove my point, I break my own rule of never drinking on the job and pick a shot glass from under the counter, fill it with Jack, and bring it up in front of my face. He brings his glass to clink with mine. “I’m so damn proud of you, Mathew Ian Rogers, that I think you should go back to Sally’s, get the rest of your things, and move in with me.”

And now it’s his time to stare at me with wide eyes.

Without peeling my eyes away from him, I bring the shot glass to my lips and toss the liquid down my throat. My eyes close, and my face twists when I swallow it. When I open my eyes again, I see Matt leaning over the counter and a raised hand calling me a few feet away. I know I should walk to my customer, but I can’t.

“Are you sure, love?”

I copy his signature smirk, wink, and nod.

He laughs, takes a twenty from his wallet, and places it over the counter. “Buy these guys around to celebrate.” He points to the strangers around him, who instantly start cheering. “See you at home.”

I laugh as he walks away, high-fiving people. As per usual, he stops by the jukebox, puts in a quarter and presses a few buttons. Today’s pick is Lady Antebellum’s “Better Man.” He blows me a kiss from the door before walking out, and I go back to serving guys who thank me for the free drinks, and girls who look at me like I’m the luckiest of us all, and maybe, for the first time in my life, I am.

When I finally arrive home from work, I find a path of roses guiding me to the bathroom where candles, a bubble bath, and my very gorgeous and very naked boyfriend wait for me. Even though we have plans for my day off tomorrow, we spend the whole night and well into the morning making every corner of this house ours.

I yawn for the millionth time since we got up from bed, and take a gulp of the very strong coffee in my hands. By the looks of me, a person would think it’s five a.m, but in reality, it’s close to noon on a gorgeous Friday—exactly a month after our first date—and we’re almost at Mobile. My feet are propped on Greta’s dash and my eyes are carefully inspecting Matt’s shopping list.

“You have some pretty big things on this list. You’re sure it’ll all fit in the car?”

Matt looks at me from the corner of his eyes, and nods. “Yep. I’ve been planning this for days.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You decided to come buy these tools yesterday.”

“Planning and deciding are two different things, my love.”

Still grumpy from sleep, I shrug at his overly-confident ass, and turn my eyes back to the pretty trees lining the road, and sing along with the country tunes playing on the radio.

Matt stays silent for the rest of the drive. Every now and then he steals a glance at me, and smiles, and though there’s nothing out of the ordinary in that, there’s something out of the ordinary with Matt. I just don’t know really know what it is, so I smile and wink at him whenever it happens.

We pass the sign welcoming us to Mobile, and drive for a few more songs before Matt turns right. I frown, because as far as I can tell, we’re going in the opposite direction of the hardware store we talked about. I open my mouth to ask what’s happening, but before I get to it he turns left and enters the parking lot of a car dealer.

“What are we doing here?” I ask, puzzled.

Matt smiles, but doesn’t turn his face to look at me. “Getting the first item on the list.”

I look down at the piece of paper in my hands. The first item listed is a pitchfork. I turn to him with a raised brow. “We’re buying a pitchfork at Tommy’s Auto?”

His lips dance as he parks Greta in a spot close to the dealer’s office. “Let me look at that list.”

I hand the paper to him as a round man with a pretty noticeable toupee steps out of the office’s glass doors, and walks in our direction. I watch him for a second and then turn my attention back to Matt, who curses through smiling lips and takes a pen from the side pocket of his cargo shorts. He props the paper on the dash and scribbles something before handing the list back to me. He kisses my cheek, opens his door and walks out.

I look down to the paper in my hands, and I see he has added a new word above pitchfork:
Truck
.