His face reddened, and I had to smile at his embarrassment. It was kind of charming, almost sweet. I mean, if someone else had shown up on my doorstep for a first date like this, I’d have already pepper sprayed him, because well, it would have been creepy. But Jed was just too damn nice.
“It’s okay, Jed,” I said. “I didn’t think you had any kind of nefarious intent.” I mean, not after that display, anyway. “Just let me grab my purse and phone and I’ll be ready.”
At the restaurant, we lingered over dinner, but I couldn't focus on Jed. Out of his sheriff's uniform and in normal clothes, Jed looked even better, his eyes highlighted by the blue collared shirt he wore, sleeves rolled up over his forearms. I tried to picture Cade wearing a button down shirt, and almost laughed out loud. There was no way he'd be caught dead wearing one, I knew that without even needing to ask. Jed made it look sexy somehow.
So why couldn't I pay attention to what he was saying?
Why did my mind keep returning to Cade?
I played with my wine glass, my fingers dancing on the rim as I half-listened to Jed fill me in on the gaps in my knowledge about the town, all the gossip about the people we had grown up with, and the things that had changed.
Then he stopped. “I’ve been running on and on, haven’t I?” he asked.
“No.” I laughed. “Well, maybe a little.”
“You’re such a good listener, you know?” he said. “You probably get that a lot. I need to shut up more.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said. “It’s nice to hear about this place. I missed it, in a lot of ways.”
"I admire the way you reacted after well...all that happened in high school, June," he said. The compliment brought a wave of embarrassment over me. I hated when people did that. I hated when they made my family tragedy into something I had overcome, making me out to be some kind of noble person. I was far from it.
"It was nothing," I said. "So, how did you end up being town sheriff?"
It was my blatant, unsophisticated attempt to veer away from discussing my family, but it didn't get through to him, and he barreled ahead. "Not many people would be able to get past that, and then become a doctor, join the Navy, serve their country."
It drove me crazy being made out to be some girl struggling against all odds to make something of myself. There were lots of people genuinely struggling in the world, living hand to mouth, and I had never been one of them. My parents died in a tragic accident, and my sister killed herself. But they didn't leave me destitute, and I had people who loved me, an aunt who took me in, enough money for years of therapy. I was more fortunate than a lot of other people.
"No, really," I said. "It happened a long time ago, Jed. I tried not to let it define my whole life."
"See, that's what I'm talking about." He sipped his coffee, set it down. I sat there, detached, trying to decipher his expression. That's what it was. Adoration. Like some kind of damn puppy dog.
"You are just so modest," he went on. "That's what I like about you, June. That's what I've always liked about you."
Oh, hell.
He kept talking, extolling my virtues, and I just sat there, staring at him, while his words drifted into the background. I wasn't some kind of goddamned saint, and I wasn't the straight-laced do-gooder Jed seemed to think I was. Yeah, I joined the Navy to do something meaningful; but I also joined for selfish reasons. The idea of moving every few years, re-inventing myself, not getting too attached...there was something alluring about it.
I wasn't Mother Theresa.
"Really," I said weakly. I smiled, but it felt forced. "It's no big deal."
"How can you say that?" Jed continued, oblivious to my growing discomfort. "You deployed with the Marines. I mean, I read about what happened when you were in Afghanistan. The explosion. It was amazing stuff. The hero surgeon - they didn't call you that for nothing."
I felt chilled, down to my fingertips. “It’s not something I like talking about.”
Jed plowed ahead, leaning forward, his eyes bright. "Oh, I read about it, though, the interview you gave -"
"That was for a Navy magazine," I said.
Cade doesn't think you're some kind of saint.
The thought nagged at me.
Jed opened his mouth again, started to say something, and I stood up. "I'm going to the ladies' room," I said.
He cleared his throat, face reddening, and I couldn't tell if it was embarrassment at being blown off or anger behind his eyes, but I didn't care. I was tired of dropping hints. Actually, I was just tired.
On the way home, we made awkward small talk, the ride stretching out for an interminably long time. That is exactly the kind of thing I was trying to avoid by meeting him at the restaurant. Why had he insisted on picking me up at home?
We stood awkwardly on the doorstep, and I looked behind him, scanning Stan's house for any sign of movement, half-expecting Cade to come walking out at any moment, brandishing a shotgun and making threats to Jed.
In your dreams.
You told him your dating life was none of his business, and he told you to go out with Jed, to do whatever you wanted.