The Fear of Letting Go (17 page)

“So much I can hardly stand it,” I say with a smile. “Can I get a bottle of Sterling Cab?”

“Maybe,” he says, one eyebrow raised. “If you come out with me after our shift tonight.”

I laugh and lean over the counter. “In your dreams,” I say.

Colton and I have been carrying on a mild flirtation for the past year. Okay, maybe more than mild. We slept together a few times last summer, but it was more of a friends-with-benefits type of situation. I know from experience that can only last so long before real feelings get involved and someone gets hurt, so we put some space between us for a while. Lately, though, he's been flirting a lot more. Must be spring fever.

It's not that I don't like Colton. I think he's a fun guy with a good heart, but he doesn't make my arms break out in goosebumps the way Preston does. No guy's been able to make me feel that way in a very long time. The fact that I have no interest in taking Colton up on his offer for a good time makes me realize how much I want to see things through with Preston.

Which scares the ever-living crap out of me.

“Why not?” Colton asks. He sets two wine glasses and the bottle of Cabernet down in front of me and leans in closer. “I know we agreed to cool things off and just be friends, but I was hoping since we're both still single, maybe we could hang out some. Rekindle some of what we had last summer.”

“As enticing as that sounds, I'm actually kind of seeing someone,” I say. It's the first time I've actually said it out loud to anyone, and butterflies start fluttering around in my stomach, causing all kinds of trouble.

Colton's mouth drops open and he steps back. “I had no idea,” he says. “Don't tell him I propositioned you. I don't want some thug coming in trying to beat me senseless.”

He says this with a wink and I narrow my eyes at him.

“What makes you think it's some thug?” I ask.

He laughs. “You know I'm just teasing you, Jenna,” he says. “I'm sure he's a real nice guy. He's certainly a lucky one, whoever he is.”

“Thanks,” I say. I take the bottle and glasses off the bar. He really is a sweet guy. Life would be so much simpler if I was into someone like him instead of Preston Wright. No one in this town is going to believe it. In fact, I don't even want to think about what the people in this town will say. “I'd better get this out.”

“See ya later,” he says. “And if things don't work out with this mystery guy, give me a call.”

I laugh and head back to my table to serve the wine.

The table where the two couples were earlier is empty now, and I wonder if Maria kicked them out, or if they left of their own free will. Either way, I'm glad they aren't my problem anymore.

I finish up with my last three tables and get my work done in the kitchen by eleven, so I decide to text Preston and let him know I'm finished early. He texts back immediately, and says he's going to swing by and pick me up, which gets the butterflies going again.

He's waiting for me when I step outside. The evening air is chilly and I shiver from both nerves and cold. Preston is leaning against the side of his expensive black sports car. I might be annoyed at that if he didn't look so amazing standing next to it, in his dark denim jeans, a plain white v-neck tee, and a navy blue blazer. He smiles as I walk out the door.

“A full hour early. Couldn't wait to see me, huh?” he says. “I have that effect on women.”

I try to hide my smile. “Maybe I just wanted to get this over with so I could go out and have some real fun.”

He places a hand on his chest. “That hurts, Jenna,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. “That hurts deep.”

I playfully punch him on the shoulder. “Maria let me off a little early,” I say. “Where do you want to go?”

To my left, a bottle breaks against the pavement. I turn and peer into a dimly lit area of the parking lot. Someone laughs and footsteps scatter against the asphalt.

“Wherever you want,” he says. “Ladies choice. You're always welcome back at my place.”

I try to shrug off a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, but it won't go away. A car starts up and lights come on, shining straight at us. The engine revs and the car pulls out, barely missing a van parked beside it. I move closer to Preston and he puts his arm around me, his face turned toward the lights of the approaching car.

They swerve toward us, again barely missing the back-end of Preston's car as they come along beside us. The windows are rolled down and the guy from my trouble table earlier leans his head out, one arm resting on the door.

“Let's get out of here,” I say to Preston.

“What's going on?” he asks.

But it's already too late to make a quick escape. “Well, if it isn't the whore who ruined our night,” the dick says. He throws the car into park and steps out. “Wasn't expecting to see her with you, Preston. I knew you were dating again, but have you really reached the bottom of the barrel so quickly?”

“Jason, sounds like maybe you've had a little too much to drink,” Preston says. He carefully steps in front of me and protectively puts an arm out. “Can I get you guys a cab or something?”

“Nah, man, I'm fine,” the guy says. Apparently he and Preston know each other. “We were hoping to get some food and have a good time inside, but your little friend here had to go tell her boss on us.”

Someone inside the car mutters the word bitch just loud enough for us to hear.

“Can we just get out of here, please?” I whisper to Preston, but he's already taken a step toward the guy.

“I don't think you're in any condition to drive,” he says. “You're definitely not in your right mind if you think you can call my girlfriend a whore and get away with it.”

Did he just call me his girlfriend? My eyes snap to his face, but he's staring straight at the Jason guy, his shoulders tense.

Jason laughs. “Man, I knew your family was going through some hard times, what with Penny's little escapade, but I didn't realize you'd gone off the deep end, too,” he says. He looks back at the other guy in his car and runs his thumb across his nose. “What? Did the two of you make some kind of pact to start dating the worst losers you could find?”

“You really should learn to shut your mouth,” Preston says. “Don't think for a second I won't kick the shit out of you if you make another crack at Jenna or my sister.”

“You? Kick the shit out of me? You're joking right?” Jason laughs again and takes another step toward Preston.

I don't like the way the tension out here keeps building, and I definitely don't want to see a fight break out between these two. I've been called a lot worse than a whore and a loser in my life, and I know myself well enough to know I'm neither of those things. It isn't worth fighting over.

I tug on Preston's arm, but he shrugs me off.

“Don't test me, Jason,” he says. “Let me call you a cab, so y'all can get home safely.”

He pulls his cell phone from his pocket, but Jason smacks his hand and the phone goes flying to the pavement, the screen cracking as it hits.

Preston's jaw tenses and his hand closes into a fist, but he doesn't throw a punch. “I'm going to let that slide, because you're obviously a stupid drunk, but you need to get your act together before you really piss me off.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason says. He looks back at his friends as if to say watch this. “You want to know what I think of your girlfriend, here? I think she must be one amazing fuck if you're willing to stand up for a piece of trash like her.”

Preston rears his fist back and sends it flying through the air at Jason's face. It lands with a loud thud and Jason falls back three steps until his butt hits the door of his car. Preston opens his fist and shakes it out.

“I warned you, man,” he says.

Jason shakes his head and takes a moment to recover before taking his revenge. He's shorter than Preston by a couple of inches, but he's bigger in every other way. His meaty fist flies toward Preston, but he's too slow and Preston easily side-steps him and grabs his wrist, pulling it behind Jason's back. He puts his other hand on the back of Jason's neck and forces him to bend forward.

Jason curses and tries to pull away, but Preston has a good hold on him now. The two girls and the other guy get out of the car, but thankfully don't join the fight.

I stand there watching them, my mouth open in disbelief. I have never had a guy stand up for me like this, and even though I'm normally the kind of girl who likes to fight her own battles, I'm glad Preston was here when I walked out into this parking lot tonight. Had these guys been out here waiting for me to get off work?

“Don't you ever talk about Jenna like that again, you understand me?” he says.

“Shit, man, I'm sorry,” Jason says. “I was just joking around.”

“Here's what's going to happen,” Preston says calmly. “First, you're going to hand over your car keys. Second, you're going to let me call you a cab so you can go home and sober up. Third, you're never going to speak to me or my friends again until you get yourself some manners. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Fine, whatever, just let me go. You're hurting me.”

Preston lets go and pushes Jason toward his car. He holds his hand out flat. “Keys.”

Jason rubs his face where Preston hit him and reaches into the car to grab his keys. He dumps them in Preston's palm.

I bend down and retrieve Preston's cell from the asphalt, but there's a huge maze of cracks all along the screen. It won't turn on, so I take mine out of my apron and hand it to him instead.

He makes a quick call to the local cab company and throws a twenty on the ground at Jason's feet. For the second time this week, I'm impressed at how well Preston handles even the toughest situations.

“Don't call my dad, okay?” the Sheriff's daughter pleads with Preston. “He'll kill me if he finds out I've been drinking tonight.”

Preston doesn't answer the girl. He turns and tosses me the keys to Jason's car. “Do you mind parking that really quick?”

I catch the keys and nod. “Sure,” I say.

I pull the car into a parking spot near the front entrance and lock it up. With the keys still inside.

Jenna

Preston and I climb into his car and leave the restaurant—and the four jerks still waiting outside—in the dust.

“Does that kind of stuff happen to you a lot?” he asks.

I shake my head. My heart's still pounding from the confrontation. “First time,” I say. “Thank God you were out there. I don't know what I would have done if I was out there alone. I park out back where it's much darker. Do you think they were out there waiting for me to get off my shift?”

“I don't know,” he says. “It sounded like they were drinking out in the parking lot, though. Who knows.”

“So, you're friends with that Jason guy?” I really hope the answer is no.

Preston makes a face. “Friend is too strong a word. We went to high school together, and we've been at a lot of the same parties over the years, but I wouldn't really say we were friends. And definitely not after tonight. What a douche.”

I laugh. “You handled it well,” I say. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“One perk of having money. You get to send your kids to classes like karate and kickboxing instead of actually spending time with them,” he says. His jaw tenses, and after our conversation about how his parents ignored him even on vacations, I take it this is a really sore spot for him.

“Well, my parents were poor and they still didn't spend any time with me,” I say, leaning back against the seat. “I did fun things like stealing my dad's lighter and burning grass and leaves in the backyard. Totally not as cool as karate lessons.”

Preston laughs and looks over, a flash of something in his eyes that makes my stomach flip. He takes my hand and squeezes it before having to take it back to shift gears.

“Where do you want to go for this big talk we're going to have, anyway?” he asks. “Want to just go back to my place?”

“Let's go somewhere neutral,” I say. “Like the beach. But first, I need to go home and change clothes.”

He turns on Main Street and navigates to the side of town where my apartment is. I don't say much the rest of the ride, wondering just how big of a talk this is going to turn into. Things were so much easier when I had my walls up and thought there was no chance of a relationship between us. Talking about my past, and why his gifts bother me so much, makes me a lot more nervous. Those are the types of conversations that either lead to pity or dumping, or at the very least some kind of discussion about where this is all heading between us. I'm not sure I'm ready to go there.

He parks in front of my apartment building and I jump out. “I'll be right back.”

“Wait,” he says. He opens his door and gets out. “I'm coming with you. I've never seen your apartment before.”

I stand there, open-mouthed for a second. “Um, it's not exactly the Taj Mahal or anything,” I say. “You're not missing anything, I promise.”

“I want to see your paper art,” he says.

I take a deep breath. He really was paying attention the other night. “Okay, but you stay in the living room. No peeking.”

He laughs and follows me up the stairs to my door. I live on the second floor, just a few doors down from Leigh Anne. The apartments are small and nowhere near as fancy as where Preston lives, but I'm proud of my place, simply because it's mine. I know someone like Preston could never understand that, and I hate that there's this awkward feeling of shame as I open the door.

No, not exactly shame. Maybe embarrassment is a better word. I'm embarrassed over things that normally wouldn't matter to me, like the fact that I got every single piece of furniture at Goodwill or yard sales on the cheap. There's a large scar across the entire top of my small kitchen table, which is the only reason I got the set for less than fifty dollars. The couch pulls out, which is a nice bonus if someone needs to come stay with me, but the upholstery is stained with wine or juice on one side and the cushions are well-used. I flip the lights on and can't help but glance at him to see his expression as he takes it all in.

Everything is neat and tidy, but I don't think there's one thing here that isn't used.