Page 49 of Opening Strain

Sensing Jenna’s dilemma, I whip out my cell and call one up. Selfishly, I want to spend alone time with my physical therapist. “All ordered.”

“Aren’t you sweet? Thanks.” Her mother bends down and whispers something in her daughter’s ear, to which Jenna seems todisagree. I’m sure it’s about her ducking out early. In any event, the pair end their standoff when I say the car’s out front.

With a hug for her daughter and a small wave to me, Faith exits the restaurant.

“Everything okay?” I finish my drink.

“Yes.” Jenna plays with her hair. “I don’t like Ma leaving early.”

“I’m sure she’ll feel better soon and you two can go on a makeup date.” Something in her demeanor tells me she’s not sharing the whole truth. “Sweet Pea.”

Jenna’s scowling at me when the server comes and clears the plates. She drops a dessert menu for us to share, so I slide into Faith’s abandoned chair. Not without aggravating my pulled fucking muscle, though.

Ignoring the throbbing, I ask, “See anything you like?”

I sure do.

Chapter Sixteen

Jenna steals the last bite of tiramisu. “That was delicious.” She wipes her lips.

I’ll never finish a meal again without thinking of the glorious noises coming out of her mouth. “I can tell you enjoyed it.”

A blush stains her cheeks. “I didn’t want you to have any doubts.”

She’s sweet. All of a sudden, I remember the birthday card and gift I have for her. I signal for the server, ask for the dessert plates to be taken away, and a couple of glasses of champagne brought over.

“Why on earth did you order that?”

“Because it’s your birthday. You need to celebrate.”

She motions toward the table. “Isn’t that what we were doing? Dinner with Ma. The tiramisu?”

“They were merely a precursor.” I reach into my pocket and hand her my card. “Happy birthday, beautiful.”

“Shhh, keep your voice down. Don’t want to tip off the other diners.”

The idea of serenading her holds a lot of appeal. “I wish I could, but I’m trying to keep a low profile out here. Besides,I don’t doa capella.” The one and only time I did was when I was five and rehearsing a song for Father’s Day. Mom put her hand over my mouth, saying my voice could make my sister roll over in her grave. Over the years, I’ve gotten over her criticism, although I refuse to sing without instrumental backup.

“Oh, right.”

She looks at the envelope in her hand, which I urge her to open. She takes her time reading the thoughtful message written by the card company. Wish I could do it half as well as them. Next, she opens the gift card to the arcade and starts laughing. “No way!”

“Cut me a break. I was limited in time and location.” I pull out my phone and tap a few things. “There. Now your birthday is programmed into my calendar forever. I’ll never miss another one of your birthdays.”

She shakes her head. “You’re crazy.”

“Seems like you’re going to have a blast at the arcade with a crazy person then.” I’m proud of my gift to her. I rented out the entire arcade for a few hours on a date of her choosing, figuring we can use it in between my therapy sessions.

“Bennett, I haven’t been in there for years.”

I rub my hands together. “Then you better be ready for me to whoop your ass!”

Her eyes turn to slits. “Don’t be so sure of yourself.” Her palm brushes over her shoulder. “I have skills.”

I laugh. “Oh, it’s on!”

I motion for the server to bring the bill and pass her my credit card without looking at it. Jenna huffs, “You didn’t have to do that. I invited you to join us.”

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