Page 26 of His Last Shot
Every time, though, a woman tries to flirt with him, Johnny’s eyes always find mine, lingering for a moment before he glances away with a slight smile. He refuses them with a polite but definite no. It’s like he’s waiting.
For me.
And that’s an insane thought. No one wants to be with me. Even a man who had me willingly found someone better. Prettier. Less arthritisy.
And to make matters worse, his gentlemanly actions are becoming increasingly obvious, making it even harder to cope with my feelings. Johnny has taken the time to get to know the OBGs and has even managed to get grumpy Tiny to like him.
Recently, Slick needed a ride since his car died while he was at the bar. Johnny arranged the tow truck and made sure Slick got home safely. Rumor has it he paid for the tow and Slick’s repairs, but neither of them is talking. Micah spilled the beans when I threatened him.
Then it’s what he does for me. He stays every night I’m working, after hours, to help me. He takes the time to clean and close the tables—my least favorite chore because of my joints.
And even though we have spent all this time together, he hasn’t made one move on me. There have been accidental touches and soft hand grazes, all of which send my nerve endings on fire. But nothing other than that. Which, if I’m being honest, leaves me somewhat disappointed. But at the same time, it’s refreshing. It’s almost as if he cares more about my mind than my looks. Themen who come through the doors of the bar can be forward and downright disgusting with their comments and innuendos.
But not Johnny.
Maybe it’s his age. And with age comes experience. Or his parents raised him that way. Whatever the reason, the man is kindness personified.
And the age gap, a worry that initially had me spiraling, surprisingly feels nonexistent now. Yes, he was a freshman in high school when I was born. Yes, when he was starting his business with his cousin, I was still in elementary school. But when we are together, under these stars, the years melt away and don’t feel like years.
It shouldn’t be this good. Should it?
Which is the part that makes me sad. Johnny is the perfect man, the kind of man who makes you believe in fairy tales, and I’m like a broken toy next to him. And besides, he’ll find out, eventually, about my RA; the moment he does, his interest will get tossed right out the window. So why get my hopes up?
Taking his eyes off of the stars, he scans the surroundings of our little comfy bubble, then glances at me. His eyes narrow slightly as a flicker of concern flashes across his features. “Are you warm enough?”
My body is chilled and aching as it usually is, but it’s his question, laced with nothing but concern, that warms me.
But it’s also the five hundredth time he’s asked.
“Johnny, I’m fine. I told you.”
He sighs, directing his attention back to the heavens above us. “Sorry, I just want you to be comfortable.”
“I am. I’ll tell you if I’m not, okay?” I promise him as I nudge my knee to his under the blanket.
With a grin, he playfully nudges me back, his touch feather-light, but also not pulling away.
Oh, God. Now we are touching.And why does that excite me like I’m still a teenager?
He seriously wants to know if I’m cold. No, Johnny, I’m not cold since now I’m burning up because our knees are touching. And barely.
This is insane.
We lie in comfortable silence when a wave of bravery washes over me.
Throughout our evenings together, the conversation always flows. It’s as if we have known each other for decades and not just one month. It’s so easy and stimulating. We talk about our lives, funny stories from the bar, our likes and dislikes. Gradually, through his words and stories, he is becoming one of my closest friends.
Some topics are off-limits for me, though. My RA being one of them and then my ex, Drew. The way things ended with Drew made me feel like a fool. I don’t want him to know about any of it. On our first night together, in this very spot, I briefly mentioned my biggest heartbreak. But I’m not quite ready to tell him the full story.
Not yet anyway.
But his dating history … well, I want every detail. I know it might not be fair, but for whatever reason, I have to find out why this man is still single.
I bite my lower lip as my stomach somersaults with nerves. Interlacing my fingers and laying them over my stomach, I turn to take in his beautiful face. “Johnny, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” He stares at the stars above.
“Are you a serial killer?”
