Finally shutting the computer off, I calmly took a tray of plates through the swing door into the kitchen. As soon as it shut behind me, I put the tray down and sank against the refrigeration room door.
A flood of pent up reactions ballooned inside me. Holy shit! Jack Eversea was on the other side of that door. The Jack Eversea. Oh my God, Jazz was gonna tilt. Except, I couldn’t tell Jazz. How was I supposed to keep something like this bottled up? Okay, okay, breathe. I was just a little star-struck, I would be fine in a minute. I mean, he was beautiful and everything, but he was also just a tad full of himself, and—I reminded myself—he was rude earlier. A spoiled celebrity. Not crushing material, at all. Well, maybe just a tiny crush. But only because I had seen him play Max from my favorite Warriors of Erath book series that made it onto the big screen.
I thought back to the movie and his bare, muscled torso with the medallion tattoo on his bicep. That was his body.
Jazz, literally his biggest fan, had watched every movie he had been in since she was fifteen, and had proudly declared he performed every one of his scenes with no stunt man or body double. It was natural a bit of her enthusiasm would rub off on me, right?
My face flamed as I remembered I’d just lectured Jack Eversea on his manners. Nice. He must think me a complete pain in the ass.
Hector was still there loading the last dishes. He turned and came for my tray, stopping as he saw me heaving for breath and clutching my middle.
“What’s the matter, Chiquita?” he asked urgently.
I shook my head roughly and brought a finger to my lips. Oh man, I hoped Jack Eversea hadn’t heard that. My eyes flicked to the pass-through and Hector did a quick head duck to look through before I could stop him.
He turned back to me, eyes wide. “Is that...?”
Shit. I couldn’t keep a secret for ten minutes.
I nodded.
“Dios mio!” Hector whispered, crossing himself.
“Hector!” I hissed. “You can’t say a word, okay? Not. One. Word.” I bored my eyes into his crinkled gaze, willing him to get how serious I was.
“Okay, okay.” Hector put his hands up in surrender.
“Seriously, Hector.” I softened my whisper. “He’s going through a bad break up, I get the sense he’s here to get away. Let’s not invade his privacy?”
He nodded sagely.
I thanked my lucky stars Jazz had been in earlier, or I might never have known about his personal issues. I could tell Hector thought this a good enough reason not to tell his granddaughter about who he met at work tonight. He looked disappointed, though.
“Sorry, Hector. Maybe you can tell Maria in a few months? I don’t know how long he’s staying in town, or even if he is,” I whispered.
“Can I ask him for an autograph, as proof, you know?” Hector looked so hopeful.
I sighed. “I guess we can ask him and tell him we promise to keep his secret until after he leaves.”
I took a deep breath and went through the door followed by Hector.
*
“I can’t give you your change, I gave it to Hector as a tip. I thought you weren’t coming back.” I shifted nervously as I delivered the news a few minutes after Hector left out of the kitchen door, happily clutching the autograph he’d promised not to show for at least three weeks.
Jack watched me through hooded eyes as he ate the last few French fries on his plate. He hadn’t said anything yet about the fact I was a lousy secret keeper.
I tried to put a positive spin on it. “Thank you for doing that for Hector. His granddaughter, Maria, is a fan of yours. But you can trust him.”
“He had a good night, huh? A hefty tip and an autograph.” Jack’s tone was teasing. Thank God. “What about you?” His eyes searched mine.
“What about me? Why didn’t I take the tip?”
“No, not that. But why didn’t you?”
“We both do the work around here.”
Jack nodded, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the side of his plate. “So, do you need an autograph?”
“No!” I blurted, my face flushing warm. “I mean, no, that’s okay. But thank you for asking.” I swallowed. Could I sound any more petulant?
Jack laughed.
It was a mesmerizing sound. Coupled with the way his gray green eyes twinkled when he did so, and the dimple in his left cheek ... it was no surprise half the world was in love with him. This was bad. I did not want to be a Jack Eversea groupie. But I was beginning to realize what charisma really meant. He certainly knew how to use it.
“Why?” he asked.
“Why? I don’t know why! Maybe because you sound full of yourself for just asking.” I huffed at him. “God, I’m sorry, I act bitchy when I’m nervous.”
He pursed his lips and nodded sagely. “I wouldn’t call it bitchy. God knows, I’d know the difference.” He thought for a moment. “Let’s call it ... well, bitchy works.”
“Hey!” Great.
“Yeah, bitchy ... and disapproving ... like unimpressed.”
“I am unimpressed,” I snapped.
“I can tell.”