Page 15 of Down Shift (Driven 8)
A girl can hope.
* * *
“Good night.” I shrug my sweatshirt on as I shut the door of the bar behind me and start walking down the streetlight-lined waterfront. My feet and back ache, but I made some great tips tonight, so I’m exhaustedly content.
“Getty?”
I nearly jump out of my shoes at the deep timbre of Zander’s voice, and I’m sure I squeal like a little kid, but the jolt of fear overrides any sense of embarrassment. “Jesus!”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Leaning with one shoulder against the streetlight, he steps out of the shadows and into the light once I see him. He has a grocery bag in one hand and his other is shoved in the pocket of his pants. “You heading back to the house?”
“Yep.” There’s not an ounce of warmth in my voice. Not a trace of welcome. Not a hint that maybe I’d like his company walking me home because sometimes my overactive imagination turns the shadows into scary shit that doesn’t exist. I keep my head down, keep moving, not wanting to question why he’s standing outside the bar where I work at midnight when he left his table well over two hours ago.
It’s not like I was paying attention or anything, though.
“Getty.” Where mine lacked warmth, his tone is full of something else. Apology? Remorse? I can’t place it, but it’s enough to stop me in my tracks so I can turn to face him. I don’t say a word, just wait for him to finish his thought. “I know it’s late and you’re probably tired, but do you want to go sit on the beach and have a beer?” He lifts his hand with the grocery bag, where I can make out the shape of a six-pack.
Bewilderment returns as a glimpse of the man I met last night resurfaces, not the one from this morning. I take stock of my fragile emotions and know I don’t want to be the ball in his Ping-Pong match of mood swings. “No, thanks. You made yourself more than clear this morning. I’m happy with keeping my distance.” I start to walk again, to gain space, because even though I know I need to keep moving, a small part of me wants to stay and try to figure him out.
“Hmpf. Now the socks make sense.”
“Huh?” That comment stops me. He’s got my attention now. “What are you talking about?”
A flash of a grin. A boyish shrug. “When I was lying in bed last night, I was trying to figure out what was up with your socks. It’s not every day you meet a woman wearing nothing but knee-high socks, you know? I thought that style went out in grade school, but I’m a guy, what do I know?”
I crack a smile, kind of liking the fact that when he was lying in bed last night, he was thinking of me. And then I stop myself. “No.” Hands on my hips as his eyes narrow at the sternness in my voice. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to be nice like you were to me last night after what an ass you were with me this morning.”
My own words throw me, since it sounds so foreign to be standing up for myself when normally I’d slink away without a word.
“An ass?” He makes it sound like I’m being unreasonable.
I twist my lips as I contemplate my terminology. “If you want nicer, we could use the term grumpy.”
“I was not grumpy.”
“Yes, you were. What? Do you have something against Sundays or something?”
“Now I do.”
His cryptic answers make zero sense and are beginning to get on my last nerve. I’m tired, I’m hungry, and frankly I’d rather waste my energy on someone who deserves it. “You were grumpy. And you’re starting to get there again.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” He wants to have a school-yard back-and-forth, I can too.
“No, I’m not. I’m just a moody guy.”
“Gr
umpy, moody, same difference. And you weren’t moody last night, so I don’t believe you.”
He reaches down and the crisp crack of a beer can opening fills the air. “Last night was . . . there were special circumstances.”
Huh? “How’s that?”
“You were unexpected.” And the way he says it—so matter-of-fact—mixed with the intensity in his eyes causes something to flutter in my stomach. “It’s not every night I come face-to-face with a sock-wearing, wand-wielding woman. I mean I’m so traumatized, I need to drink to cope with it.”
“I assure you it won’t happen again.” I bite back the snicker but can’t hide the ghost of a smile from my lips.
