Drummer Boy (8 page)

“Oh, thanks. That's really deep.”

Tim grinned.

Jane smacked his shoulder lightly. “I'm serious. What did you mean?”

Tim pulled up to the intersection and then meticulously looked both ways, twice, before proceeding.

“I like how you do that,” Jane said before he had a chance to answer her.

“Do what?”

“How careful you are at stop signs. How you drive. I mean…” she stopped. Could she sound any dumber? “It's not how I would've expected.”

Crinkle lines appeared at the corners of Tim's eyes, but he kept watching the road ahead. “How so?”

“Well, you know.”

“No, no, I don't.”

“I followed you a bit when you were with Pick Axe,” she blurted. “I had all your cassettes.”

“
Cassettes
.” Tim laughed loudly. “Right. Those were the days, hey?”

“Whatever. I even have one of your posters.”

Tim darted a look her way. “Really? Now that's pretty cool. There were only about fifty printed.”

“What can I say? I was a fan.”

“See, I find that hard to believe—and a bit disappointing.”

“Why?”

“We were beyond terrible—all that yelling and wailing. And the hair. The hair was too much.”

“I don't know. They had a pretty cute drummer.”

Tim turned his head and held her gaze for a minute. “But I was the only drummer.”

Jane raised her eyebrows, and Tim blushed.

“OK, back to the driving thing,” Tim said, sounding the tiniest bit flustered. “Explain.”

“Let's just say I thought you'd be a little more of a bad boy, a little less like…er…an old lady.”

“Ha, maybe I was a bad boy once upon a time, but I try not to think of those days much. I hurt a lot, and I hurt a lot of people, too.” Tim's expression darkened for a moment, similar to how it had in his apartment when he discussed his tattoos. Then he smiled. “But I'll have you know something. Even at my worst, I always drove very carefully.”

Jane shook her head, smiling. “Excellent, excellent. Now about your good old days that weren't so good. Will you tell me about them sometime?”

“If you want.”

Jane nodded.

“And now you tell me something.”

“OK.”

“When are you going to go out with me?”

“I am out with you.”

“Very funny. You know what I mean. A real date. Dressed up, maybe. Dinner.”

“You don't want to date me.”

“No, as per my request that we talk after Sarah's tea about what you are to me, this is it. Our talk.
My
talk. I'm pretty sure—actually, make that
totally sure—
that's exactly what I want: you to date me. Fall in love with me. Maybe even marry me.”

Jane wished she'd gone home. His face was so open. She could read all sorts of flattering things in it: attraction, kindness, affection, good humor, and it scared her.

“Or,” he said, shooting her another quick look, “we can just keep it friendly.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, wanting to study his eyes for a moment, but he'd refocused his attention on the road ahead. This was exactly what she was afraid of. He was already back-pedaling. Had she misread what she thought she'd seen in his expression just seconds earlier? Maybe his heart didn't race every time he heard her voice. Maybe her feelings were all one sided—nah, she couldn't lie, even to herself. She knew full well he had feelings for her.

But people had feelings for each other all the time. And look how many relationships worked out long term. She didn't want the pain of trying and failing or the agony of letting him in all the way and having him bail.

Jane rested her temple against the cold, hard window and watched the darkness streak by. The warm, happy buzz his initial words—and her imagination as he spoke—had triggered dissipated. She couldn't believe she'd almost succumbed. Almost let them wander into romantic territory where there'd be no turning back without something having to officially end.

Tell him your fears. Put it in words
, a small, tiny voice implored her. She shivered. No way. No, thanks.

“You're quiet,” Tim said. “Is there something wrong?”

“Not at all,” she said. “Just tired.”

“So…” he said, and his voice was so sad that she felt terrible. “I take it, you just want to be friends?”

“Yeah, sorry. I'm not really into seeing anyone right now,” she said, worried that she sounded as unconvinced as she felt. She forced herself to sit a little straighter. She had to send Tim the message they both needed to hear, even if neither of them wanted to admit it.

 

 

 

 

11

 

Jane flexed her left hand gingerly, watching her fingers. She sighed and looked at her reflection in the mirror, turning this way and that in her tank dress and strappy heels. Not bad from the right side.

Kaylie popped her head out of her bedroom when Jane was in the hallway. “It's August 1! Did you know that means it's less than five months 'til Christmas?”

“The whole household knows, doodle.”

“Candy says you'll have your own place by then. Is that true?”

“I think so.”

“Do you want me to make you your own countdown calendar?”

“Do I ever.”

“Excellent!”

Jane shook her head, but smiled. Crazy kid.

“Wow, look at you!” Candy said when Jane entered the kitchen. “Got a hot date with Tim?”

“Tim?” Jane opened the fridge and leaned in, looking for something, but she wasn't sure what. “Of course not. Edward.”

“
Edward
? Who's Edward? And why not Tim?”

“What is this? Twenty questions? Tim's not my type, and I've been thinking about what you said. I don't want to give him the wrong idea. And Edward? Well, he's probably not for me either, but he's drop dead hot. I met him at the ski hill just before…well, before.”

Candy shook her head to Jane's silent offer to pour her a glass of cranberry juice.

“Hot-sch-mot. Tim's cute, too, but more importantly, he's got substance. You should see how nice he is to Kaylie, and how he interacts with Matt and Michael. It's great for them to have him around. He's somehow still “cool” to them, but he's such an integrity-filled guy, too.”

Jane shut the fridge too firmly. “Yeah, he's fantastic, right? Mr. Perfect?”

“Er, I don't think that's what I was saying, or if I was, sort of, I didn't mean it badly. What's up with you? I thought you liked him.”

“I
do
like him. Of course I do. What's not to like?”

“So what's the problem?”

“Oh, come on, Candy. What's the point? He'll see through me in six months, or I'll tire of him, and then where will we be? It's easier this way.”

“But—”

Jane shook her head, downed the rest of her beverage in one gulp, and then set the empty glass down. “I'll see you later. Don't wait up.”

 

****

 

Only forty-five minutes had passed and their entrees, wild salmon with spinach salad and wild rice pilaf, both ordered by Edward, were just finished, but Jane could hardly keep from yawning, literally.

Edward's ramblings about his prowess in various sports, how much he could bench, what his daily diet consisted of, and—not even kidding—what product he used in his hair, made Jane's eyes glaze over.

Was this what talking with her was like? That was the worst part of the ordeal. She thought she saw similarities between her and Edward. Although, to her credit, she could honestly say she never spent a whole meal with her gaze fixed on someone's chest.

“So,” he finally said, locking his hands behind his head and stretching so his biceps flexed, “what do you want to do next? Dessert, maybe, or some other after dinner treat?” Unbelievably, he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Wow.
Just wow
. She shook her head. “No dessert for me. I'm kind of impatient to be out of here.”

“Great, me too,” he said, smiling.

Their server arrived with the bill.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Jane said. “Do you mind separating them?”

The server nodded wordlessly and disappeared.

“Ah, a modern woman,” Edward said. “And hot. My favorite.”

Jane's revulsion probably showed on her face, but she didn't care. She hated that there was a time she would've giggled and felt a bit flattered by his comment. For the umpteenth time, she wished she'd been cleared to drive. She loathed being dependent on others for transportation.

She headed for the cashier's booth, shuffling out of reach when Edward started to drape his arm over her shoulders. She contemplated bugging Candy to pick her up and then remembered Candy and Dean were out on their date night. Maybe she should call Tim, but that might be weird.

“Hey, Edward, would you mind just taking me home? I know we talked about a movie or something, but I'm not feeling up to it.”

One of Edward's eyebrows shot up, and then a slow smile revealed his teeth. “Sure, yeah. I'm good to take you home already. No problem.”

Something like relief unwound in her stomach and then re-knotted. Why had she agreed to go out with him in the first place? She'd seen through him from the get go. Was her ego so big that she always had to have someone on the line? Was she so pathetically like her mother that she constantly needed to have some man in tow, no matter how much she knew someone wasn't for her?

You know full well why you said you'd go out with him. And you know full well it hasn't made you stop thinking about Tim. This only shines a spotlight on all the things that are different about him, that you like, even more.

She sighed.

“That's a pretty big sigh. Anything I can do to help you relax?” Edward asked.

She didn't bother to reply.

He pulled into her driveway, and she calmed down a bit. The night was almost over. He put the car into park but didn't turn off the motor, another good sign. Then her nerves ratcheted up again. He was leaning into kiss her. Seriously? Was he completely delusional? How on earth had he gotten any vibes like that from their awkward meal?

She unlatched her seatbelt and reached to open the door, but like almost every stupid new car on the market these days, the door was locked because the motor was running:
date rape door locks
her friend Terri called them.

She glanced up at the dark house. Candy was out, as she already knew, and had, no doubt, dropped Kaylie at a friend's house. The twins were probably working.

Jane pressed her right hand firmly against Edward's chest.

He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “Not into kissing in the car?”

Jane wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, not so much. Sorry.”

“So you wanna take it inside? I was going to tell you I'm not that kind of guy, but that'd be a lie.” He winked.

Irritation and disgust heated Jane's cheeks.

His lines probably worked on some women.

“I only wanted to have dinner and get to know you a bit. I think we're looking for different things in a relationship.”

“Well, that may be so.” Edward straightened up, stared out the window, and then back at her, rubbing the steering wheel with one thumb. “But I don't think ending a night with a kiss is too much to ask. And who knows? You might like it.”

What are we, teenagers? Like peer pressure is going to change my mind?

Edward's seatbelt clicked as he undid it and he turned, put his arm around her, and leaned in more forcefully this time. “Come on. Just one kiss. If you really aren't into it, I'll let you out.”

She shoved him away. “I'm already not into it.”
Dear God, please help me get out of this. Please.
“It's totally uncool to try to force someone to kiss you.”

“Oh, c'mon. Relax. I'm just joking around.” He stroked her cheek but didn't release her shoulder.

A vehicle pulled into the driveway behind them, and Jane was even more irritated. It probably looked like she was smooching this jerk. “I don't share your sense of humor, and no means
no
. Maybe you've never heard that before?” She yanked away, and then someone tapped on the window and a familiar voice made her freeze.

“Jane? Are you all right?”

Edward sighed, slid back in his seat, then pressed the unlock button without looking at Jane.

“Yes,” she said, relief, anger, and sudden, irrational embarrassment, surging through her as she climbed out of the car.

Tim glanced through the open door at Edward, a scowl marring his usually peaceful face. “What's going on?”

“Nothing,” Jane said, cheeks burning.

Edward smiled and held his hands up in a placating manner. “Sorry. Didn't realize you were involved with someone else.” He revved his engine and peeled out of the driveway, narrowly missing Tim's car.

“Are you OK?” Tim repeated.

“I'm fine, Tim. Fine.” Jane's face flamed hotter. “Just a stupid date. I don't need a white knight. Not every woman's waiting around to be rescued.”

“I didn't think…” Tim's voice petered out as he stumbled for words. “You're
dating
that guy?”

Jane shrugged, staring into the distance.

“I'm sorry. I was just dropping by—I…” Tim practically ran to his idling car.

“Wait, Tim, I'm sorry.”

But he was already clicking his seatbelt. “I should've called. I wasn't trying to interrupt.” His door slammed shut.

Jane hated his obvious misunderstanding—confusion triggered by her.

Not until she'd gotten inside did she realize she'd asked God for help and He'd offered it in Tim.

And she'd failed to thank either of them.