“Hey, don’t tell me you were gonna sneak out of here. Sorry I got busy. You need help?” He reached out to take my laundry sack.
“No, I think I got it. You didn’t tell me you were the manager here.” I continued adjusting my grip.
“Well, you never really asked. And just so you know, I’m not really the manager,” he said as he dragged his hands across mine and tightened them below my grip. He pulled my clean clothes bag out of my hands and swung it over his shoulder.
“So you just randomly fix broken change machines and hang out in laundromat offices?”
“Yeah, well, something like that. Now where am I taking this, Miss Complicated?”
I wanted to say my apartment, but instead I just smiled and told him my car.
SHANE AND I met at Boxing Room, the Cajun restaurant that he swore by. I didn’t want to lead him on but I figured he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Maybe this would be the perfect place to explain that I wasn’t looking for anything right now.
I walked up to the restaurant, expecting it to be some rundown, shabby oyster shack where people didn’t have too many manners. To my surprise Boxing Room wasn’t like anything I expected. I peered through the window, it was modern and fresh. The bar curved around in front of the kitchen, while a couple handfuls of tables were scattered throughout the dining area. It was jumping with hungry people who ate with utensils and used their manners. Instantly, my judgment changed as I pulled the door open and soaked up the aroma of spicy garlic.
I scanned the room and noticed Shane was sitting tucked away in the back corner. He was absorbed in the menu, looking so . . . peaceful, so perfectly delectable. It may have been the restaurant that complimented his complexion that made my pulse thrash through my veins, or maybe it was the fact that he actually got me to meet him for lunch. I had worked so hard to resist him. Either way he was beginning to weaken my resolve.
I slipped past a couple of tables filled with people chatting and saw that Shane was watching me. His face beamed with desire, his eyes locked on mine, he dropped his menu as he stood up. Playing right into the idea that this was going to be too easy, once I saw him . . . suddenly, what we were doing wasn’t so cut and dry.
I took a deep breath, pushed away the wisps of hair that tangled in my eyelashes and put one foot in front of the other. Chatting with the doubting voice in my head, I was supposed to be strong and definite in my feelings. Bruised hearts, well, they just didn’t heal as quickly as most people thought.
Don’t let him in, Rose. Stop looking at him!
I’m not.
Yes, you are, look away, did you forget you’re a hooker?
Maybe he won’t care!
Guys like Shane care, they don’t want used up broken women.
“You came!” Shane interrupted the shit talk in my head. He came around and planted a sweet delicate kiss on my cheek before he pulled out my chair.
Damn, and he’s attentive.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“No problem, I’ve been keeping busy with these Cajun boiled peanuts and a second pint of Blue Moon.” He slipped back into his seat. “I’m so glad you came.” He picked up the menu from his chair and handed it to me.
“Oh, you already know what you want?”
“Sure, been here for a little while so, I’ve already decided on the Oysters on the Half Shell.” A smile broadened across his face.
My cheeks flushed. Suggestive to the complete and utter message he was sending, there was nothing lost on me in his choice of food.
We looked at each other, both waiting for a reaction to fill the silent moment between us. Suddenly Shane reached over to the empty chair next to him.
“Oh, and I almost forgot . . . this is for you.” He picked up a beautiful single yellow rose and held it out to me.
I froze. A chill tarnished my flesh as his actions marked and cracked through the rock hard shell I thought I had built so perfectly around myself.
Fuck, he’s already breaking through.
He pushed the rose toward me, waiting for me to take it. I didn’t.
“They say that a single yellow rose represents the beginning of a friendship. I looked it up online,” he said in a choppy defensive tone.
I sat silent, shocked that he actually took the time to be so thoughtful. Nobody I knew ever did such a thing.
I still didn’t take it, I was afraid if I held it my whole defense would collapse in his favor.
“Well, if it’s too cliché, giving Rose a rose, then let’s just get rid of it right now.” He pulled it back and acted as if he was going to toss it over his shoulder.
“Hey, now!” I snapped, hoping that he wasn’t going to let go. So many times, people have let go. “I just got that from my new friend,” I whispered.
Lost in the moment of his kindness his eyes consumed me as I plucked the rose cautiously from between his fingers. I closed my eyes and inhaled, filling my lungs with the scent of a single beautiful rose and my head with visions of him loving me for who I was.
“Thank you,” I whispered.