The Talk of the Town (6 page)

She laid awake, regretful, cursing her rashness and wishing she’d not hired him. Already he was fulfilling Marlene’s dire prophesy and causing trouble. Throughout her fitful night the question had battered her:
Why
had she done it?

Unfortunately, morning brought no answer. She didn’t know why she’d given him a job. Contrary to what her brother and sister-in-law had intimated, the last thing she’d thought of was romance. Fesol had been right. She’d felt sorry for him.

But in the light of a new day that hardly seemed enough of a justification. Her coworkers at Stewart’s Warehouse clearly thought she’d lost her mind. She’d seen it in their hurried glances, heard it in their hushed whispers. Maybe they were right. Perhaps her train had slipped off the track. The more she thought about it, the more likely an explanation it seemed. Why else would she have hired Luke Bauer?

She was tired of thinking about it. It was giving her a headache. She glanced at her watch again. The hands finally inched straight up to noon. She grabbed some change out of her clutch purse in the bottom desk drawer and made a grateful escape to the lunchroom.

As she entered, conversation ceased. The chill of unpopularity iced her skin. She knew it would pass, but knowing didn’t make it any easier to greet her coworkers. Lana shifted awkwardly on her chair. Vicky Sue looked away. Willie swiped his hand through his matted brown hair before giving her a terse nod. Several others let their eyes slide past hers without recognition.

She opened the icebox door but the sandwich selections blurred before her eyes. Determined not to let their rebuffs upset her any more than they already had, she took a nickel from her skirt pocket and started to put it in the basket. Then she paused as another shiver danced lightly over her. The sensation was quite different from the cold animosity she’d felt before. Curious, she cast a look over her shoulder.

Luke was sitting alone in the far corner, well away from those gathered around the tables in the middle of the room. His face was devoid of any expression. He looked not at her but at the coffee cup in his hands.

Her heart racing, she returned her regard to the sandwiches. She tried to focus on them, but her eyes still refused to cooperate. They were filled with the image of Luke’s set face. She tossed her nickel into the basket, reached into the icebox and grabbed a sandwich at random.

Pimiento cheese. She hated pimiento cheese, but there was no putting a sandwich back once it had been unwrapped. A burst of laughter brought her head around. Willie was waving his hands, immersed in one of his tall tales, as the two women sitting at the table next to his listened with smiles of enjoyment. Her annoyance with the pimento cheese transferred instantly to them. They should feel ashamed, ignoring Luke so blatantly, treating him like an outcast. He wasn’t a social pariah!

She stole another peek at the far corner. How could they ignore him when his presence charged the very air with a new electricity? His eyes met hers once briefly. She averted her gaze quickly and immediately chided herself. What if he thought he’d offended her just by catching her eye? She turned to the coffee pot perking on the hot plate. Her foot tapped impatiently as she poured herself a cup and added milk until the dark brown brew turned light. The rest of them might have fewer manners than her brother’s hogs, but she, at least, had been reared to behave more politely. Collecting her cup, she spun and crossed purposefully to where he sat.

Surprise shot through Luke as he watched her approach. He tensed, unable to look away. The floaty skirt of her flower printed dress swirled about her slender legs with each step she took. The sight of it was enough to stir his imagination. After so many years with nothing but his own mind for stimulation and release, his imagination was incredibly forceful, uncomfortably so. He dropped his gaze and focused his thoughts on the faded denim of the old jeans he planned to replace as soon as he could afford to do so.

She stopped in front of him, the scent of her rosewater further inflaming his imagination. He finished his coffee before finally looking up at her. The corners of her mouth wavered in a tentative smile.

“How has it been going?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly.

“Fine,” he said.

“Good. Good.” She paused. “That’s good,” she said again, and fell into silence.

They watched each other, neither one of them speaking nor moving. Roxie began to wish she’d just carried the hated pimento cheese back to her office and eaten at her desk. She could feel the heat of everyone else’s stare upon her back, and, worse, the suffocating expectation that hung in the air. It was clearly too late to leave. With all of them observing her so intently, she had to say something, do something.

She cleared her throat. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

He stared at her for a long moment, long enough for her heart to sink all the way to her soles of her T-strap pumps. Why hadn’t she left well enough alone? He flicked his gaze to the vacant chair beside him. Then he reached out and wiped the seat with his shirt sleeve.

It was so unexpected, so curiously quaint, that Roxie didn’t feel as if she could take a breath or move a muscle, much less actually sit down. When she continued to stand immobile, he said, “If you don’t sit, I’ll have dirtied my sleeve for nothing.”

He was teasing, actually teasing! It affected her in ways she couldn’t begin to explore. With every nerve jangling like the firehouse bell, Roxie sat on the just-dusted chair. “Thank you,” she said, and instantly wished she hadn’t sounded so prim.

“Thank you,” he said in return.

She set her sandwich and coffee cup on the table and then swung her gaze to meet his. He looked at her with admiration and an indefinable something else. “Why thank me?” she asked.

“For having the courage to sit with me,” he said simply, and that fire bell clanged even louder in her ears.

“Don’t be silly,” she demurred. “It doesn’t take courage to sit with you. Besides, I never do anything courageous. I just wanted to find out how things have been going your first day on the job.”

There was no way for him to express the fears, the joys, the raw tangle of emotions he’d been feeling. He shifted. “Okay. Things have been okay.”

“Good.” Wishing she could think of something more interesting to say, she smoothed out the waxed paper she’d bunched up around her sandwich and rattled on. “I usually bring a sandwich from home and eat it at my desk but I was running late this morning and didn’t have time to make one. What did you have?”

He held up his empty cup. “Coffee.”

The pimiento cheese remained an inch from her mouth. She gawked at him from over the bread. “That’s it? Coffee? Didn’t you have a sandwich to go with it?”

“Just coffee.” He settled his gaze somewhere in the vicinity of her shoulder. “It’s free, and I’m watching the budget until I get that first paycheck.”

“I could ask Mr. Stewart to make you a loan from the petty cash fund until then,” she offered.

He refused with a quick shake of his head. “I just finished paying my debt to society. The last thing I want is to start out owing my employer.”

She dropped her gaze to the bread in her hand, and then thrust it toward him. “Here. Take this. I’ll get something else.”

“No, I—”

“I insist. You have to eat something. You can’t skip a meal when you’re working so hard. Besides,” she added in all honesty, “you’d be doing me a favor. Really. I hate pimiento cheese. It was a mistake. I picked up the wrong sandwich. Here. Now I can get a ham sandwich. And would you like another coffee?”

He was left holding the pimiento cheese sandwich. She’d jumped up and darted back to the icebox before he could even blink. He knew she was just being kind, sharing with him this way, but such kindness was foreign to him. It had been so long since anyone had cared whether he missed a meal or not, and he didn’t quite know how to accept it now.

She returned, handed him another cup of coffee and grinned triumphantly. “I got the last ham sandwich. You don’t know how grateful I am to you. I absolutely detest pimiento cheese.” She started to sit, but halted in mid-motion. She stared at the uneaten sandwich he still held and her grin vanished. She cast him a look so stricken, it was comical. “Don’t
you
like pimiento cheese, either?”

Even if he hadn’t, even if eating it would have caused him to break out in boils, Luke would have denied it. As it was, he refuted this with complete truth. “Pimiento cheese is fine.”

“Are you sure?” she demanded.

“I’m sure. In fact, it’s one of my favorites.” He stretched the truth just a little with that last as she continued standing there, a mulish expression he was beginning to recognize coming over her pretty face. Any minute now she’d probably whirl and march to the icebox to get him another sandwich, one more to his liking. Slowly, starting at the corners and gradually working inward, his mouth tilted into a smile. “Now stop gawking and sit down. A man can’t eat when he’s being stared at.”

That crooked curve of his lips dazzled Roxie. It transformed him completely. Years washed away, distrust dissolved, severity vanished. She managed to plop down as he took a huge bite of the sandwich. They ate in silence, both aware they were being keenly observed. Subdued bits of conversation drifted over them, and Roxie struggled to find something to say. But she couldn’t tell him how breathtaking she found his smile. She couldn’t tell him how much better, how much younger and more fit he looked in the jeans and blue work shirt instead of that horrid old suit. As she wiped the last crumbs from her lips, she decided work was the most appropriate topic.

“So, do you think you’ll like the work here?”

“I’d like working anywhere the air smelled free,” he said.

She tossed a startled look his way. She wanted to say something deep and meaningful, something to let him know how much she was touched by him. All she managed was another inane, “Good,” which sounded so hollow and stupid to her ears, she decided she would do best to excuse herself and leave. She started to rise but happened to glimpse Willie’s face. He glared at Luke with unmistakable hostility.

Annoyed, Roxie turned a bright smile to Luke. “I’m certain you’ll like it even more once you’ve gotten used to the routine. And, of course, once everyone’s gotten used to you.”

His long lashes lowered. He studied her from beneath them. For no logical reason her heart gave a little bump.

“You mean once they’ve gotten used to an ex-con?” he asked on a drawl that held a tinge of menace. Or perhaps it was a twinge of pain.

Her brows drew together. She searched his expression, trying to decipher what, exactly, his tone had conveyed. His eyes were carefully void, his mouth an indefinable line, his cheekbones angularly set. She would not discover the answer that way. He was closed to her.

“Yes, I suppose in a way I do mean that,” she said slowly. His jaw tightened and her heart twisted. “But what I really mean is once they’ve realized you’re more than that. Once they’ve gotten to know you as a person, things will even out.”

His distrust was plain for her to see. He didn’t believe her, and she didn’t know how to convince him otherwise. She didn’t know why it was so important to her that he believe her. But it was important, heartstoppingly important, that she make him believe.

“Luke, I realize it isn’t easy for you,” she began in an earnest tone. “I know it can’t be. But try to understand that it’s not easy for us either. You’ve got to give us a little time—”

“I’ve done my time,” he cut in, his voice clipped.

She drew in a sharp breath. Luke saw the hurt cross her features and hated himself for it. Then he saw the pity that immediately followed and hated her for that.

Chairs scraped back, grating against the silence between them. One by one, the other diners ambled away, leaving only the echoes of their chatter. Roxie watched Willie hover by the door, willing him not to go, but he stayed only long enough to enjoy a seductive swish of Vicky Sue’s departing skirt. Then she and Luke were alone.

Roxie counted each frantic beat of her heart, trying to find something to say amid the tumbling of embarrassment and compassion she felt. At length, she forced herself to look at him. His austere expression didn’t invite apologies or commiserations. But she had to say something. She couldn’t go on sitting there like a lump of lead.

After an eternal moment she jerked to her feet. “I guess I should get back to work.”

“Wait,” he said, which was the same thing she’d said to him the day he’d applied for work.

She hesitated.

Luke glanced around the empty room, finally bringing his gaze to rest on her face. He had no idea what to say. He just knew he couldn’t let her walk out on such a negative note.

“Yes?” she prompted.

Rising, he stood next to her.

Roxie tipped her head back to look up at him. His black hair glowed with a clean sheen while the scar on his cheek shone whitely against his tanned skin. She saw his pulse beating furiously against his temple and felt an urge to soothe it with her fingertips. She took a step away from him, away from his magnetic force, before she did something she would live to regret.

Luke read rejection in her hasty movement. Nothing in his life had ever seemed as important as regaining her acceptance, and he spoke with quiet urgency. “I’m sorry. After so much time waiting, I guess I’ve gotten impatient. I know acceptance won’t come easily, from them or from me.”

“From you?”

“It’s not easy for me to accept being an ex-con,” he admitted. Before she could give way to another burst of pity, he crooked his lips in that uneven smile and said, “Anyway, I never did thank you yesterday for the job.”

Like sunshine spilling from behind clouds, her smile suddenly brightened the room. “Oh, you needn’t thank me for that.”

“I want to. I want you to know I appreciate what you’ve done for me.”

“I haven’t done anything. It’s what you’ll do that matters.”

“But you’ve given me the chance.”

Happiness gripped her, squeezing her until it was almost painful. It crushed the breath from her, and Roxie didn’t have enough left to speak another word. It was just as well. She wouldn’t have known what to say anyway. Giving him another smile, she again turned to leave.