Page 26 of Carry Me Home
“Then why did she ask me what my favorite dinosaur was?” I asked. I pictured her serious gaze studying me and shook my head.
“It’s how she relates to people, I guess.” Janie glanced around the room, noted the lack of clientele, and moved to the cabinet where she kept the cards. “When she wants to be friends with someone but doesn’t know how, she asks them about dinosaurs. I honestly don’t know where it came from, but somehow she got the idea that everyone loves dinosaurs. She’s not wrong, that’s the thing. It works a lot better than trying to talk to people about frogs. People really don’t have much to say about frogs.”
She dropped the pack of cards on the bar between us, her lowered gaze obscured by the dark sweep of her lashes. But I could see tension in her jaw and the firm press of her lips. Someone had hurt Maya’s feelings, and Janie hadn’t forgotten that. I had the sudden feeling thatIwasn’t going to forget it, either, and I hadn’t even witnessed it. I wanted a name and an address so I could rectify whatever wrong had been done.
“She likes you,” Janie said. Her dark eyes shifted back and forth between mine, like she was searching for an answer there.
“I like her, too,” I said honestly. Mostly what I felt these days was annoyance. Boredom. Maybe a little bit of anger when people made their petty problemsmyproblem. But I didn’t feel that way about Maya or Janie. I felt…curious. Interested.
“Good. Because we can’t be friends if you and Maya don’t get along.”
I tipped the bottle to my lips. “We get on just fine. She’s wrong about the T-rex, that’s all, and I need you to tell her that.”
“Real mature, soldier.” Janie rolled her lips together like she was holding in a laugh.
“Not a soldier,” I reminded her.
“Oh, right. You’re a cowboy now.”
Cowboy. It didn’t feel right, having that title directed at me. It didn’t fit. I jiggled my knee. “Yeah,” I said gruffly.
Janie studied me, head tilted, all that pretty copper hair tumbling over her shoulder. “You don’t sound too happy about it.”
All I could muster was a grunt. I didn’t want to say the words out loud. I didn’t want to be another whiny asshole venting his stupid problems to the hot bartender.
“Jack.” She lightly flicked my knuckles.
“I get to watch the sunrise over the mountains every morning. I spend the day on horseback—which I love—in the fresh air. I work with people I care about and respect, and they’re good to me.” I stared into my beer. “Nothing to complain about.”
“Hm.” She fidgeted with the cards but didn’t shuffle. “I get that. You have everything. A thousand people would trade places with you in a heartbeat, but they’ll never get the opportunity. It feels ungrateful to say that this amazing life that you’re so fortunate to have is maybe not for you.”
The way she was able to so clearly articulate what was in my head made me look up. Her expression was open and curious. There was a softness in her dark eyes, but it wasn’t pity. She looked at me like she cared. More than that, like sheunderstood.
“Is that the voice of experience?” I asked.
She squinted at me quizzically. “I can’t tell if you’re being facetious.”
I squinted right back at her. “What do you mean?”
“Jack.” She sank her hands on her hips. “You know my last name is Belmont. As in, Belmont Ranch and Cattle. You know my family has more money than they could spend in five lifetimes. Are you honestly going to sit here in my bar and tell me you never once asked yourself why I was serving drinks instead of…oh, I don’t know…literally anything else? I thought tier one operators were supposed to be observant.”
“Yourbar, huh?” I muttered into my beer, mostly to cover my shock. Because no, it had never occurred to me to wonder why Janie Belmont, of all people, was slinging drinks at a dive bar.
She pursed her lips. “Yes, Jack,mybar. Where I work. I understand that your best friend owns the place so you think it’s yours, but I’m the boss here. Not you. But my point is that I expected better of you. Pay attention, Jack.”
I loved that she was giving me shit right now. No one gave me shit except Essie, and even she had eased up since I’d come home for good. Everyone in this town either fawned over me like I was some kind of hero, or they were scared of me. But Janie didn’t fawn over me, and she definitely wasn’t scared of me—even though she was the only one who actually had a reason to be.
My eyes locked on hers. “I’m paying attention now, Janie. Tell me why you work here.”
She stuck her tongue out like a bratty child. “Well, now I don’t want to.”
This time, I didn’t pretend I was looking anywhere but right at her. “That’s okay. It doesn’t have to be today. We have time.”
Days, weeks, months, years. For once, the thought of it didn’t fill me with dread.
Because time meant more time with Janie.
10
