The abrupt change in tone and spirit from Catch’s phone call to this domestic bliss of me, Boner, and Becca eating a meal together was nothing short of whiplash. I settled back in my seat and gulped at my ice water.
During those few years with Catch, my normal had been this very same all-systems-at-high-hell adrenaline level which was shooting through me right now. It was a shock after all this time. I couldn’t come down and lie about it right this very second.
How can I tell Boner right now, here in a crowded restaurant and in front of Becca?
No, I had to keep it together until I could think about this later when I was alone in my room. Later, yes.
Under the table, my feet rose, and my toes ground into the floor.
Boner drained his beer, his eyes on me, and set the bottle back on the table with a clunk. “Becca decided she loves sweet potatoes now.”
My shoulders fell. “Really? Wonderful, sweetie.” I kissed my daughter’s greasy hand. “We’ll have to buy some for home.”
I forced myself to eat my burger.
“Everything okay?” he asked after we’d finished.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Thank you for this. I really loved it.”
He wiped at his mouth with a napkin and pushed a lock of hair behind his ear.
Make conversation. Say anything. He’s the Sergeant at Arms of an MC. The man’s life is all about deciphering suspicious behavior and clues. Damn it, where’s your ramble now?
I got out the mini packet of baby wipes from my handbag and wiped down Becca’s face and hands. “Did you and Dig come here?”
His brow furrowed. “What?”
“Did you two come here and eat burgers in the old days? Did he like them as much as you? You never talk about him, you know. I’d love to hear a few stories.”
His head tilted. “Would you?”
“Sure I would.”
His teeth dragged across his bottom lip. “Yeah, we used to come here. Back then, it was a dump though, a real hole-in-the-wall, and the burgers were dirt cheap. It was about all we could afford on a good night. Times have changed, as you can see.”
The small space was crowded and noisy, and the oversized vintage counters trimmed in chrome gleamed, as if they were new. The restaurant had been featured in several travel magazines, judging from the framed articles on the walls. People sporting suits and ties, probably all the way from Rapid, were sitting at the small square cloth-covered tables alongside local ranchers and farmers. Times had changed. Local, home-grown was “in” and in demand.
He stuck a toothpick in his mouth and signaled for the check. “You think Becs has room for ice cream?” He nudged my leg under the table with his own.
My head ached, my chest felt like a lead weight was pressing on it. Boner was expecting things from me, Catch was expecting things from me...Catch was terrorizing me.
I zipped up my handbag. “I should get Becca home. It’s coming up on nap time. She only takes one a day now. And she’s had a big day. Boy, do I miss that second nap.”
“I’ll bet. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Plastic smile. “Thank you for this, but you don’t have to—”
“Take you to eat?”
“I mean, if it’s part of the Old Man/Old Lady show, I get it.”
He quirked a dark eyebrow. “Jill, you’re trying to tell me something, but I’m not getting it.”
I unzipped my handbag, tugged on another baby wipe, and wiped down my own fingers. “You don’t need to entertain me.”
“You gonna tell me what I need now?” His tone was brittle, slicing.
I shot him a look. “Maybe all you needed was to save me.”
He tossed the toothpick onto his empty dish. “And maybe all you ever needed was to be saved.”
Boner was right.
But I didn’t want to be saved this time. I wanted to handle things on my own. I needed to be able to do that.
I unbuckled Becca from the restaurant high chair.
I would give Catch a day or two to cool off, and then I’d call him. Offer him a compromise. Something. Something that did not involve the Jacks and the Flames.
“WHO THE HELL knew babies needed so much shit?”
Grace’s eyes blazed at me from across the stroller department of the baby store in Rapid. A young couple shuffled out of my way.
“A lot of stuff. They certainly need a lot of stuff,” I said, lowering my voice.
“It seems to get worse every time,” Grace said. “My nephew was born almost seven years ago, and I really don’t remember my sister needing half of this”—she glanced at me—“stuff.”
“See what I mean?”
“I can order the stroller for you.” The petite salesgirl returned from the stockroom. “We should have it within two weeks.”
“That would be great. Thank you,” Grace replied.
“I have your information on file. We’ll give you a call.”
Grace slid her arm through mine and led me to the other end of the store. “Let me show you the crib we picked out.”
“We’re not shopping, are we?”
She elbowed me. “We already bought it. I just want to show it to you.”
“Fine. Show it to me.”
“So, how are things with your old lady?”
“How long have you been waiting to ask that question?”