Oops.
“Ow!” he yelped. “Mother...” He stopped his expletive in the nick of time and wrapped his hand around the doorframe. “Wait.” For a second, he looked really puzzled. “Wait, okay? I’m sorry about my language, but I paid for my burger.” He paused, taking a deep breath and pitching his tone just right to appease me, this banshee of a girl. “May I please have it?”
I simply stared at him. Call it delayed shock setting in. Finally, I managed to snap out of it and stepped aside allowing him entry.
He looked at me warily and then walked past.
I closed the door behind him and locked it. It was a weird move, I admit.
“You taking me hostage?” he asked, his tone light.
“Can’t be too careful with the kind of people who loiter around in the dark,” I muttered. I honestly don’t think he could tell if I was teasing. Hell, I wasn’t sure. I mean, I was obviously, but I couldn’t be too sure how things were coming out of my mouth. He looked like he was thinking the quicker he grabbed his food and got out of here, the better. Great. I get to meet Jack Eversea, the Jack Eversea, and I act like a complete imbecile. It was so good Jazz wasn’t here, she would have clobbered me by now. For that matter, she would have clobbered him and dragged him back to her lair.
“So why did you say I was rude?” he asked. He shook his head slightly. In all likelihood at his idiocy in prolonging this weird encounter.
I stalked around the bar with a sigh, grabbing utensils and napkins as I did. Well, it couldn’t get any worse, so I thought I might as well speak my mind. Or at least justify my odd behavior.
“Well, how about a list? You were so busy texting you didn’t bother looking at me while I took your order. You mumbled it, didn’t say please, and when I delivered your drink, you didn’t say thank you. Did you not learn any basic courtesy growing up?” I delivered a plate to the bar counter and snapped open the Styrofoam box, sliding the contents out neatly, spilling nary a French fry on the way. Impressive. Even though I knew he wanted this order to go. What was I doing?
I continued, “Or are you so used to getting your way, because you look like God’s gift to humanity? Maybe the fame has gone to your head a little bit?” My tone suggested a little bit was not what I meant.
“So I guess that answers my question about whether you know who I am?” He leaned forward against the bar and gave me a familiar furrowed-brow bad boy look. The same look that had been captured in Vanity Fair no less. Bad idea.
I huffed and rolled my eyes.
Jack Eversea finally looked stumped. Like he had no idea what to say and how to get his burger out of this place.
My nerves were subsiding. Not fully, considering I literally had some tabloid poll’s sexiest man alive standing across the bar from me. But enough that I thought I might finally be able to converse normally.
“Sit and eat, you can keep me company while I shut this place down. It gives me the creeps after Hector locks up the kitchen and goes home.” The fact that I didn’t know whether Hector had left yet didn’t seem to phase me.
I stuck out my hand and Jack took it warily. His hand was warm and strong, and if touching him didn’t give me weak knees and a buzzing head, I was a monkey’s uncle. “I’m Keri Ann Butler.”
“Ja—”
“Jack Eversea, I know. Have a seat. Another drink?”
He nodded, still not releasing my hand. “Please.”
I smiled at him then. The most natural smile I could muster despite the fact that holding his hand had launched a butterfly migration through my insides. I untangled my fingers from his after a few awkward beats, and Jack Eversea sat dutifully on the bar stool in front of his food.
He snapped open the ketchup bottle. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“Another one?” I winked to let him know I was teasing.
“Can you please not mention to anyone ... I mean, anyone, including your blonde friend from earlier ... that you saw me?”
I stayed quiet a few moments weighing the pros and cons. If anyone found out he was here, he’d never get his space to figure his shit out. And from what little I had gleaned from that tabloid article, he needed to. But this was Jack Eversea and Jazz was a huge fan.
“Please?” he asked again, quietly. Pleadingly.
“Of course.” I inclined my head. “Your secret’s safe. Not sure anyone would believe me, anyway.” I laughed lightly.
He seemed to relax infinitesimally.
I delivered him a fresh Bushmills, and then set about wiping down the bar and closing out the computer, trying to look as relaxed as possible and not trip over my own feet.