Not Quite Dating By Catherine Bybee
Chapter One
“This one’s for the ball,” Mike said, slurping down his tequila shot. “And this one’s for the chain.” He chased it with his beer. “Your turn.”
Jack sat back as Mike pushed Dean to another round. Dean, the bachelor of the weekend, was well beyond three sheets but kept drinking anyway.
“W-what time is it?” Dean asked.
“You’re not allowed to ask until Sunday,” Tom reminded him.
“It’s not Sunday?” Dean’s gaze followed a cocktail waitress wearing a skintight miniskirt.
Jack, Tom, and Mike busted out laughing. “Damn, Moore, we might need to stay in your fine establishment for an entire week to work the bachelor out of this groom.”
Jack Morrison’s friends always called him Moore: more money, more women, and more time to do whatever he wanted due to his family’s portfolio. His buddies at the table had known him since high school. If they ever wanted to stay at the Morrison Hotel and Casino on the Vegas strip for a week or a month or however long, for that matter, Jack would make it happen. They all held executive positions or owned their own businesses, making it nearly impossible for them to get together as it was. The weekend bachelor party would have to do.
Jack had insisted they drive instead of jet over the California desert. With Dean walking the plank—or aisle, as it were—they wouldn’t have this golden opportunity again. Dean was the first of the four of them to get married, making this their last trip together as single men. The last time one of them didn’t need to rush home to a wife or kids. The last time they could all get pissing drunk and not have to explain themselves to a woman. One last bash, complete with Vegas and a road trip…what could be better? Once Dean said “I do,” it was all going to change. Deep inside Jack knew this…was ready for it. Life was a series of chapters, and this one would end in style if he had any say in the matter.
“Oh man, is that Heather?” Tom nudged Jack’s arm and nodded toward the casino floor.
Jack followed Tom’s gaze as it landed on the back of a woman he knew all too well. She had her platinum blonde hair piled high on her head; her shoulders were bare except for the spaghetti straps of the slim-fitting dress that hugged every surgically enhanced curve of her body. Just when Jack thought he could turn away without her noticing him, she shifted a glance over her shoulder and offered a painted-on smile.
“Well, hell, how did she know we’d be here?” If there was one woman Jack never wished to see again, it was probably Heather. As she swayed her hips while walking in his direction, Jack knew he wasn’t going to get his wish.
“She probably heard through the grapevine it was Dean’s bachelor party. And you do own the hotel, so where else would the party be,” Tom reminded him.
“Jack, sweetheart, what a surprise finding you here.” Heather’s wispy tone was born of practice and not sincerity.
Unable to avoid her, Jack stood as she approached. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. He quickly stood back and motioned toward his friends. “You remember Tom, Mike, and Dean?”
“Of course.” She offered them the fakest of smiles, her eyes narrowing on Dean momentarily before moving back to Jack.
“What brings you to Vegas?” Jack asked, as if he didn’t know.
“You told me this was one of your nicer hotels. I thought it was past time for me to spend time in it.”
“My father owns the casinos, Heather, not me.” All Heather saw was money. Didn’t matter where it came from so long as she could access it.
She waved a hand in the air. “You’re splitting straws again, Jack.”
“Hairs. Splitting hairs.”
She placed her fingers on his arm and squeezed. “You know how I dislike being corrected,” she reminded him.
You know how I hated you always showing up where I didn’t want you. And that was when they were dating. Jack had broken up with her midsummer.
It was now November.
She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Can we find a moment alone?”
He loosened his tie and tilted his Stetson back on his head. “We’re in the middle of a bachelor party, Heather.”
Dean tossed back another tequila and sucked on a lime.
“Won’t take but a minute, darling.”
It hurts to smile when you’re gritting your teeth. Jack forced his jaw to unclench at her syrupy endearments. He remembered the day he put a halt to their brief affair. They were attending a fundraiser at the club in Houston and Jack noticed a beautiful brunette across the room eyeing him. Heather had scolded him with her breathy voice. “Jack, dear, please try and keep your eyes on me when we’re together. I don’t care what you do or who you might play with once we’re married, but to be so obvious when we’re standing next to each other, it’s simply boorish, don’t you think, darling?”
Where Heather cooked up the idea she would ever be Mrs. Jack Morrison, he’d never know, but it was then Jack realized how superficial his arm candy was. In a way, he felt sorry for her.
“Well?” Heather pulled him into the present with her question.
Jack knew exactly how to get rid of her, for the last time.
He nodded toward Tom. “Out front in ten?”
Tom grinned. “We’ll walk this one around, sober him up a little.”
Mike helped Dean to his feet while Jack motioned Heather toward the door.
The two of them wiggled around the people hovering at the slot machines. Someone at a craps table yelled out and the crowd around him cheered. An older woman leaned back in her chair as Heather walked by and brushed against her. Heather scowled and muttered something ugly under her breath.
“Excuse me, miss.”
Heather tilted her jaw higher, said nothing, and walked away.
The older woman looked genuinely sorry but at a loss for words.
Embarrassed, Jack took Heather by her arm and led her outside under the bright lights of the valet parking lot. The valet noticed him and snapped to attention. Before the valet moved a foot, Jack waved him off.
“So what are you really doing here, Heather?”
She angled her head to the side and painted on a smile. “I don’t like where we’ve been lately, Jack. I miss you.”
Jack held his ground when she moved forward. “There isn’t a we any longer. I thought I made myself clear.”
“I’ve given you a break. Now I want the break to be over.” She slid her hand over his chest.
He stopped her by holding on to her wrist.
“I didn’t ask for a break. I said we were over. We don’t want the same things.” He didn’t want a trophy wife, and that was all Heather could offer.
The edges of her lips fell into a pout. “We know the same people, play in the same circles. We’re perfect for each other.”
“No, we’re not. I want someone to be with me for more than my wallet. We both know that woman isn’t you.” Jack noticed the diamond-studded bracelet hanging off her wrist. They had been dating during her last birthday and Jack had given it to her. He regretted the gift now.
Heather’s fake pout faded and a spark of anger flashed in her eyes. “Every woman with you is going to be there for the money, Jack. I just happened to be honest about it.”
Her words stung, probably because they held some truth. It was hard to look past his father’s billions and Jack’s own millions. Still, the blonde in front of him had just made it clear she didn’t care about him at all. Jack drew the line there.
He waved to the senior valet, who quickly ran over.
“Yes, Mr. Morrison?”
“Can you bring my car around?”
The valet glanced at Heather, then back at Jack. “A hotel car, sir?”
“No, my car. The one I arrived in.”
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
Heather smiled up at him, probably assuming she’d won something.
“Is there somewhere I can have my driver take you?” Jack asked. “Or are you staying here?”
“I have a suite at the Bellagio. But I don’t mind a move.” Another sickening smile lifted her lips.
Jack’s friends made their way out of the casino through the heavy glass doors.
“The Bellagio is perfect for you. I suggest you enjoy your time there.”
Her facade fell and anger straightened her jaw. “You’ll regret this someday, Jack. You’re going to marry some woman thinking she loves you and in the end be brokenhearted because she wants your trust fund.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his ride pull up. He walked to his twin cab, a well-past-its-prime pickup, dirty from the long drive, and opened the door.
“What is that?” she barked and stepped away as if the truck was a snake about to strike.
Finally, a real smile lifted Jack’s lips. The look of absolute horror on Heather’s face was worth her annoying presence. “It’s your ride to the Bellagio.”
“I’m not getting in that thing. What did you do, drive it from Texas?”
Actually, he’d had it shipped to California for his latest business venture, and that’s when he and the boys had decided to drive it to Vegas. “Something like that. C’mon, get in.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“Suit yourself.” Jack opened the door wide and waved his friends in. “C’mon, boys. We have a bachelor to send off.” Jack turned to the kid who had jockeyed the truck around. “What’s your name, buddy?”
“Russell, sir. I’m new here.” The kid was maybe twenty-four.
“You know your way around Vegas, right?”
“Lived here all my life.”
Jack patted him on the back while Mike helped Dean into the backseat. Tom loaded in behind them. “Well, Russell, my friends and I need a driver tonight. We have some serious drinking to do and could use someone sober with us. You game?”
“I’m working.”
“And I’m paying you.” Jack waved the head valet over. “It’s Carrington, right?” he asked the senior valet.
“Yes, sir.”
“Carrington, Russell is going to help us out for a few hours. I hope that’s OK.”
“Of course, Mr. Morrison. Whatever you want.”
Jack winked at the man and turned toward the truck. When he lifted his foot into the cab, Heather called out.
“What about me?”
Jack spared her a glance. “I offered you my ride, darlin’. Maybe a Vegas cabbie would suit you better. Carrington, would you mind finding Miss Heather a ride?”
Carrington shifted his eyes from Heather to Jack a few times and then lifted his hand for one of the many cabs waiting in line to take guests to their next destination.
Heather lifted her arms over her shoulders. “Jack!” she yelled as he shut the door.
He tilted his hat as a good-bye while Russell shifted the truck in gear.
“Jack Morrison!” Jack could still hear her screaming as they pulled away.
“Ho boy, that is one ticked-off woman,” Tom said, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t know what you ever saw in her.”
“She was a mistake.” A huge one. Jack was thankful his heart never got involved.
“Jack Morrison. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be related to Gaylord Morrison, the owner of the hotel, would you?” Russell asked as he pulled out onto the strip.
Dean, Mike, and Tom started laughing.
“Did I say something funny?”
Jack buckled his belt and sat back. “That would be my dad.”
“Overdue…overdue…oh great, a shut-off notice.” Jessica Mann placed the highlighted water bill on the top of her pile with a grunt. Looking around the tiny break room of the twenty-four-hour diner she worked in proved just as bleak a view as her future. She really did need to make some changes in her life, and soon.
Leanne, the other graveyard shift waitress who worked with her, poked her head through the door and said, “You’re up. A party of four just sat on twelve.”
Jessie glanced at her watch and saw that it was twenty minutes past two in the morning. The after-bar crowd would soon start strolling in for black coffee and a place to sober up before their trek back home. Like clockwork, Sunday mornings were the worst. The truly stupid actually thought they could grab a cup of joe and still manage to make it to work on time. After tucking her bills into her purse, Jessie stepped out of the break room, through the short hall separating the kitchens from the service counter, and proceeded to table twelve. With any luck, one of the four people in the party would be sober enough to remember to tip her before they left.
Hearty male laughter met her ears before she rounded the corner to greet her customers.
Two faces peeked over open menus while the other two caught her gaze as she approached.
“Whew, hey, darlin’. Are you our waitress tonight?” a dishwater blond sitting on the end of the booth asked. With his question, the other men at the table lowered their menus to look at her.
A quick assessment told Jessie that the yahoos at the table were definitely coming off a night of drinking. Maybe even a couple nights from the state of their five o’clock shadows.
Dishwater flashed his white teeth and a little-boy smile. The man to his left elbowed him in his side. “Pay no attention to Dean. He hasn’t been sober for three days.”
“You’re one to talk, Mikey.” These words came from a robust man wearing a baseball cap and at least two days of stubble on his chin.
“Jack is the only one remotely sober,” Mikey said.
Yep, definitely a party crowd.
The one they called Jack took his time lowering his menu before acknowledging Jessie. His dark brown hair, topped with a Stetson, tilted as he moved his head. The stubble on his chin held the perfect amount of sexy. The slow, steady soaking in of his stare settled on her from the most unusual gray eyes Jessie had ever seen. Those smoky eyes took their ever-lovin’ time as his gaze slid over her hair, her face. After looking his fill, he caught her eyes again and held them. As if calculated for effect, Jack allowed a slow and delicious smile, complete with dimples, to spread over his face. A smile meant only for her.
Smiles like that should come with a warning label. His staunch attention did a number on her belly and raised gooseflesh on her bare arms. She swallowed hard, and her skin tingled as if he’d caressed her.
Jessie blinked a few times, broke eye contact, and asked, “How about some coffee?”
“That would be great,” Jack replied with an accent that matched his cowboy hat.
The Texan accent pulled a warm and fuzzy blanket over her insides. Southern California natives didn’t have any discernible accent at all, so when she heard one, she remembered it.
Pivoting, Jessie shoved her notepad into her apron and walked to the coffeepot.
“Isn’t she something to look at?” one of the party boys said.
Jessie knew she wasn’t ugly, but she didn’t see all that much when she looked into the mirror. Her light brown hair sat twisted into a knot at the base of her neck; her dull hazel eyes had dark smudges beneath them indicating a lack of sleep, and it was hard to be fat when all her money went to bills and care for her son, Danny.
The four men…no, make that boys…at table twelve probably didn’t have one decent responsibility to scrape together if they combined them. They were all wearing jeans and T-shirts, and two of them smelled like beer.
Frat boys who never grew up. Heck, maybe they were all still in school. Jessie guessed their ages to all be about the same, around twenty-eight or so.
Returning to the table, Jessie set down coffee cups and filled them. “Thank you…Jessica,” Jack with the mysterious gray eyes said after a quick glance at her name tag.
“Jessie, actually. Where are you boys coming from?” she asked, making conversation.
“Weekend in Vegas,” the one named Mikey told her.
She should have guessed.
“Our buddy Dean here is tying the knot in a few weeks, so we decided to send him off in style.”
“Vegas can be a dangerous place to have a bachelor party,” she said.
“See, that’s what I said,” the man sitting next to Jack told them. “But does anyone listen to Tom? Heck no. You think everything went great and next thing you know your drunk ass is dancing naked on YouTube with some chick you don’t even remember.”
“I didn’t dance naked with some chick…did I?” Dean rubbed the back of his neck and frowned.
Jack shot a dimpled grin at his friend. “You were pretty wasted.”
“I still don’t remember any naked dancing.”
“Oh, chill,” Mikey told him. “No one was taping you dancing naked.”
Jessie had to smile. The boys were giving their friend a hard time, and it was fun to watch. From the look on Dean’s face, he wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t danced in the buff.
“You guys know what you want, or should I give you a few more minutes to decide?” Jessie asked.
“I know what I want,” Tom said, setting his menu on the table.
The others chimed in the same. After taking their orders, Jessie left.
Leanne smiled her way once Jessie gave the cook the order. “Looks like a handful over there. Cute times four,” she sighed with a smile.
“Two of ’em have accents, too.”
“Lookie you, checking them out.”
“I’m not checking anyone out. The last thing I need is another playboy messing up my life.”
Jessie turned around and refilled the coffee cup of one of her night-owl customers sitting at the counter. “How are the pancakes, Mr. Richman?”
“Fine, just fine,” he replied.
When Jessie turned back to Leanne, the other waitress continued talking. “Who’s to say they’re a bunch of playboys?”
“Frat boys who never grew up, most likely.”
“Playboys, frat boys, whatever. One of ’em could be the rich guy of your dreams.”
Jessie raised an eyebrow. “Right.” Grabbing Leanne’s hand, Jessie led her to a far window overlooking the parking lot. “Take a look, sister. See any crazy-expensive cars out there?” Actually, the only cars in the lot belonged to the employees and Mr. Richman. Except for one lone pickup that was new sometime in the mid-1990s. That seemed about the right speed for the cowboys at table twelve.
“That doesn’t mean nothing.” Leanne pulled away and frowned. “Besides, dating means free meals and a movie. Nothing wrong with that.”
“Dinner and a movie in my world consist of McDonald’s and SpongeBob on TV. Dating and Danny don’t mix.”
“Your sister will watch him for you.”
“Yeah, but why waste my time on someone dreaming of the future instead of living it? You know my mom isn’t the wisest woman in the bunch, but she told me once that it is just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is to fall in love with a poor one.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So don’t date poor men.”
Across the restaurant, Jack with the gray eyes and the Stetson was watching her over his coffee cup. When he caught her gaze, his lips pulled into a grin, dimples and all. Then, without any provocation, he winked.
“Oh boy.” Jessie lowered her eyes and tried to ignore the flirting frat playboy and the way his attention made her insides squirm.
“Mr. Cowboy is sexy.” Leanna giggled when she spoke.
“I’ll bet Mr. Cowboy mooches off one of his friends for the bill.”
“Oh, come on, he can’t be that bad.”
“He’s flirting with a waitress at Denny’s, Leanne. His ambitions can’t be all that high.”
“Dissed!” Mike laughed, punching Jack in the arm. “Doesn’t look like the waitress is taking a liking to you.”
“Might have something to do with the way you’re dressed, Moore.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the way I’m dressed.” In fact, he liked the fact that Jessie, the sexy waitress wearing a god-awful brown skirt, had no idea who he was. Jack stayed out of the spotlight as often as he could. Here in California, people didn’t know him by sight. In Houston, the story was entirely different. The thought of charming the waitress without waving his wallet felt like the right thing to do, especially after his recent encounter with Heather.
Jack removed his wallet and quickly handed Tom a twenty.
“What’s this for?”
“Breakfast.”
“Why are you giving it to me now?”
“Just hold on to it. If it comes up, I’m just a shit-kicker coming off a long binge of a weekend.” Jack followed Jessie’s movements until she disappeared around the corner.
Hell, he’d be in Ontario, California, for several weeks, overseeing the construction plans of a new hotel off the convention center. He might as well hook up with someone while he was there. He would love to burn the image of every Heather he ever knew out of his mind once and for all. Plastic What can you do for me baby women who flirted with his wallet more than him. There were times this kind of woman didn’t bother him at all, but lately he’d been searching for someone he could talk to, someone to share his ideas and dreams with, maybe a down-to-earth waitress who wasn’t ashamed to get her hands dirty and work for a living. Or ride in an old pickup truck.
Jack wasn’t afraid of hard labor on the ranch or pushing papers at a desk. Ever since he’d finished college and his father put him in acquisitions and mergers, he’d gone out of his way to excel at his job. Unlike his sister, Katie, who probably did lunch with Paris Hilton, Jack actually wanted to work for a living. Living off his father’s money didn’t sit well with him. When the day came for Jack to take over for his father, no one could accuse him of being a slacker who was handed the job without any knowledge of how to do it.
“Hookay, I see what you’re doing,” Tom said.
“Do you?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, I do. I saw you this weekend, dodging the women at the hotel. For a while there I was wondering who was getting married next month, you or Dean,” Mike said. “Tired of all the gold diggers, aren’t you?”
“Tired of all the liars.”
“That would suck,” Tom agreed.
“My Maggie is the best th-thing that’s ever happened to me,” Dean told them.
“Lordy, now he’s gonna go and get all emotional on us.” Tom pushed Dean’s coffee cup closer to him. “Drink up. Maggie, the fair maiden, isn’t going to like it if you come home smelling like a bar.”
Dean propped his elbows on the table and held his head up with his hands. “She’s the best. And the sex.”
“We’ve heard it, Dean.”
“All friggin’ weekend,” Tom chimed in.
“You guys are just jealous.”
Jack sipped his coffee and kept his mouth closed. He was happy for his friend, but not so sure Maggie was the right choice. Dean loved to play: motorcycles, camping, boating trips on the river. He wasn’t afraid of hard work to pay his way, either. But ever since Maggie walked into his life, Dean gave up a little bit of himself daily.
“Maggie’s worried that I’ll get in an accident on the motorcycle.”
“Maggie doesn’t enjoy the river; boating makes her nauseous.”
“Maggie would rather stay at one of your hotels instead of an RV.”
Maggie might make Dean smile, but how long would it be before he blew his lid being molded into what she wanted him to be?
Jessie strolled around the corner with her arms stacked with plates. With choreographed ease, full breakfasts slid over the table and condiments emerged from the pockets of her dull, stiff uniform.
“It smells great, Jessie,” Jack told her before she walked away.
“I’ll let the cook know you’re pleased.”
Tom and Dean shoveled food into their greedy mouths.
Jessie disappeared long enough to grab a pot of coffee to refill their cups. “Are we missing anything?” she asked.
“I think we’re good.” Jack tried to capture her eyes, but she avoided them.
“Let me know if you need anything. You can see we’re just swamped tonight.”
Jack noted the one lone customer at the counter. “I’ll bet you could tell some stories about working the graveyard shift at Denny’s,” Jack said, trying hard as hell to get her to reveal a thing or two about herself.
“It’s hard to stay awake most nights. We start to pick up around four thirty.”
“That’s an ungodly hour,” Tom said between bites.
“You’d be surprised at the number of suits that come in for a bite before heading into LA to work. They start early to avoid traffic.”
“I’d heard that LA traffic was bad, but that bad?” Jack asked.
“The worst. You must not live here if you have to ask.”
“I’m from Texas, mostly. My most recent job brought me here, near the airport.” Ontario International Airport took some of the burden off LAX and Burbank, but the land around those airports was built out, without any ability to grow. Ontario provided plenty of room for new hotels.
Mike nudged him in the arm. “Bums off my place when he wants a decent night’s sleep.”
Which wasn’t exactly a lie, Jack thought. Mike lived over in Claremont, and Jack sometimes stopped by to crash when he wanted a break from the hotel. The Morrison was a five-star luxury hotel filled with champagne and caviar. Sometimes Jack just wanted pizza, beer, and a ball game on the tube with a friend.
Jessie seemed to mull over the information a bit too long. She shrugged her shoulders with a flash of disappointment. “Well, enjoy your food.” With that, she turned and walked away.
Dean laughed. “Not so easy, is it?”
“I’m not done yet,” Jack told him as he picked up his fork. Not by a long shot.
By three, most of the food was gone and a few new customers had shown up at the counter, pulling Jessie away from their table.
An older man in his seventies turned in his chair to leave the counter and Jessie rushed to his side. “I told you to let me help you, Mr. Richman.”
“I can do it,” the older man said. But as he rose to his feet, he swayed against Jessie.
“It’s the moisture in the air. Swells up my old bones,” he explained.
Jessie wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him to the door, where he’d left his walker. Even then, she didn’t turn away.
“I can make it from here,” he told her.
“I’m sure you can, but I could use some air. All this bacon grease is getting to me. Walk me outside?” she asked him.
Mr. Richman offered a small smile as she opened the door and helped him to his car.
A couple minutes later, she walked back in with a contented grin on her lips.
“Hey, Jessie,” the other waitress called from the cash register.
“Yeah?”
“Your buddy didn’t leave enough money again.”
Jack watched Jessie’s eyes travel to the door. She shrugged and reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out her tips. “I’ve got it, Leanne.”
Leanne shook her head. “I don’t know why you cover him all the time.”
“It’s pancakes, Leanne. And he doesn’t have anyone. Give the guy some slack.”
Jessie covered the rest of the man’s bill and walked away from the register.
Something inside Jack clicked into place. He absolutely needed to know more about Jessie.
Each time she returned to refill the coffee, Jack tried to engage her in some kind of conversation. She didn’t bite. Jack started to think that maybe she wasn’t interested, but the fact that she wouldn’t look him in the eye, and how her cheeks took on an adorable rosy color when he paid her a compliment, proved she wasn’t unaffected by his charms.
Jessie cleared their table and placed the bill in the middle. “I’ll take this whenever you’re ready,” she told them.
For a minute Jack was tempted to toss his credit card on the table and cover the meal to see if Jessie would look him in the eye then. Tom saved him the trouble.
“Guess you want me to cover this one, too, huh, Jack?”
“Hey, I drove,” he said.
“And we paid for gas.” Which actually was the arrangement; staying at the Morrison Hotel and Casino in Vegas was on Jack.
Tom, Dean, and Mikey tossed bills on the table and handed them to Jessie. “Keep the change,” Tom told her.
After Jessie walked away, Mike said, “Looks like you struck out with this one.”
“Man, I can’t believe my head is still spinning,” Dean said.
Jack dug into his pocket for the keys to the truck. “Here, Mike. Why don’t you see Tom off at the airport? Dean and I will stay for another cup of coffee.”
“You know, that’s a great idea. Getting in a car right now probably wouldn’t sit well with my stomach.” Dean looked a little green.
“When does your flight leave again?”
“Six,” Tom said.
“We best get you there. Airport security takes forever to get through these days.”
They all stood and shook hands.
“See you back home next month,” Jack told his friend.
A strong pat on the back and Tom said, “Good luck, Moore.”
Jack sat back down after Tom and Mike left. Dean laid his arms on the table and rested his head in them. “Why did you guys let me drink so damn much? Maggie hates it when I drink too much.”
“We’ll get you sober before we drag your sorry ass home.”
Jessie did a double take when she noticed only two of their party leaving. Jack waved her over to the table.
“Your friends leaving without you?”
“Tom’s flying back to Texas, and Dean is in need of more black coffee before we release him to his fiancée.”
“Fair enough.” Holding a pot in her hand, Jessie poured another splash for both of them.
Before she could walk away, Jack flashed his winning smile. “So, Jessie, could I interest you in a night out?”
She cocked her head to one side. “Was that a pickup line?”
Miffed, Jack shook his head. “If you have to ask, I must be losing my touch.”
Dean laughed but kept his trap shut.
“I’m flattered, Jack. It is Jack, right?”
He nodded. “Why do I feel a but coming on?” Jack asked.
Jessie placed a free hand on the table and leveled her eyes with his. “But I’m a very busy woman. So unless you have a checkbook as big as your ego—and my guess is, since your friends spotted you for your meal and gas, you’re probably broke—I’m not interested.”
Dean blew out a whistle.
Jack was nearly too stunned to answer.
Jessie just kept on staring at him until he uttered, “Well, I’ll be damned. I think that’s the first time anyone has ever said that to me.”
Jessie straightened her shoulders and lifted her eyebrows. “Well, at least I’m honest. You’re cute, cowboy, I’ll give you that. But cute doesn’t buy you a cup of coffee in this town. Now maybe in Texas it does. You might try a waitress back home.”
“I’m not in Texas. Besides, it’s you I want to take out.”
“Again, I’m flattered, but no thanks.”
“You think I’m cute,” he said, which wasn’t the highest compliment he’d been given in recent years, but he’d work with it.
A smirk played on Jessie’s face. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“No. Not easily.”
“OK then, how about this…I wait tables in this dive at night so I can spend more time with my five-year-old son at home.”
Jack’s gaze flicked to her left hand. No ring. “If you’re married, why don’t you just say so?”
She shook her head and rolled it back. “Married, as if. Honey, I don’t even get child support. Not that any of this is your business.”
Not married, raising a son on her own, and having to work graveyard to do it. No wonder she was looking for a wallet and not love. Heather’s words hovered in his mind. Every woman is going to be with you for your money, Jack. But this woman, Jessie, didn’t have a clue about his wallet. And if she was so money hungry, why did she routinely foot the bill for her customers’ pancakes? There was more to this beautiful woman than she was letting on. Suddenly the challenge of winning her over besieged him.
Jessie started to turn away.
He stopped her. “Kids love me.”
Jessie’s jaw dropped. “Does he ever give up?” she asked Dean.
“Nope.”
“Do all the women fall for him?”
“Yep.”
She mumbled something as she walked away.
“Dude, you’re barking up the wrong skirt,” Dean said after she left. “She’s just not into you.”
“No, she doesn’t want to be into me.”
“She has a kid, Jack. She’s smart to not wanna date men who are posing as losers.”
The gentle sway of her hips kept his attention as she walked away. In that moment he realized how long it had been since he had to pursue a woman. “Posing being the key word.” Jack scratched the stubble on his jaw and smiled beneath his hand. Posing as a loser.