Page 30 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
“Please.”
His eyes softened, just a little. He released the death grip on Mike’s shirt, then shoved him backward. “Stay away from her,” Steve warned.
Mike put his hands up in surrender and backed away. Shannon took his arm and pulled him off to the side. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but her tone and hand gestures showed she was clearly angry.
Lou turned to Steve. “You got this?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah, I got this,” Steve assured him.
“All right, show’s over,” Lou said, waving everyone off and herding them backward.
Most people obliged. Except Rose. She was hovering, stubbornly trying to push another glass into my hands, sloshing booze onto me in the process. Thankfully, John intervened and gently but firmly guided her away.
“How about some fresh air?” Steve asked, now crouched beside me.
“Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks.”
He extended his hand. I took it without hesitation and let him pull me to my feet. We walked outside, and I took a moment to inhale deeply. The air was heavier now, rife with the scent of approaching rain.
He stepped up next to me, a quiet, solid presence.
I wanted him to put his arms around me and hold me close. He didn’t, and I didn’t blame him. I’d just put my crazy on display for everyone to see. I imagined they’d be giving me a wide berth from now on. The upside, if there was one, was that it would make it easier for me to leave.
We stood in silence as the minutes ticked by. Me with my arms wrapped around myself. Him with his hands shoved down deep into the pockets of his jeans.
“I should go,” I said finally.
He nodded, which, for some reason, felt like a knife in my chest. I did want to go, but some part of me wanted him to not want me to. To offer a protest, even a feeble, superficial one.
“I’ll drive you,” was what he said.
The blade twisted.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m fine. I haven’t had anything stronger than cider tonight.”
He frowned, and I knew that wasn’t what concerned him.
“I overreacted, is all,” I said quietly. “And now, I just want to go.”
He considered that. I could practically hear the debate raging in his head, his chivalrous, protective side at odds with respecting my wishes.
“All right,” he said finally. “I’ll follow you.”
I shook my head. “No. You have things to do here, and I’d prefer to be alone right now.”
His lips thinned, and his eyes darkened to a deep bronze. He wasn’t happy about letting me go, but this was about me and what I wanted, not about him and what he wanted.
“Will you text me the moment you get home?”
It was an acceptable compromise. I nodded.
“Give me your phone.”
I reached into my pocket, pulled out a burner, and handed it to him. He typed in his number, and a moment later, I heard his phone ring. Now, he had my number too.
“As soon as you get home,” he said, handing my phone back to me.
I nodded. “Good night, Steve.”
