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“What?” Her head rears back as if I slapped her. “It’s nothing like that. Hank is my boss. He’s a good guy, and I work because I have to. I have no one to lean on but myself. My aunt and uncle helped me get back on my feet, and I never want to feel that way again. I never want to feel dependent on another person for my basic needs. I work my ass off to ensure I’m never in that situation again. I take care of me,” she adds.
Her chest is rapidly rising and falling with each ragged breath she pulls into her lungs. Her blue eyes are dark as midnight, burning with determination, and if I’m not mistaken, shame. My gut twists. I let my unwarranted jealousy get to me and, in turn, upset her.
“Ramsey, order up!” the cook calls out.
Without a word, she turns and walks away. I want to chase after her, but she’ll be back with my food, and I can apologize. In the meantime, I text my sister back.
Me: Ramsey is off tomorrow night. You pick the time. I’ll throw some burgers on the grill.
No way am I going back on my offer. I want to keep Ramsey there as long as possible. Quickly, I tap on the group message and save Ramsey’s number to my contacts. I tell myself it’s just in case, but I know it’s more than that. I like knowing I can get ahold of her whenever I need to. If and when I would ever need to. Damn, she’s making me sound as if I’ve lost my damn mind.
Palmer: What?? Are you sure??
“Here you go.” Ramsey sets my plate of food in front of me on the bar, reaches underneath the bar, and produces a bottle of ketchup.
“I’m sorry.” She’s not looking at me, and I’m desperate for her to. “I was wrong.” She’s still not looking at me. Her hand is still on the bottle of ketchup. She’s staring at it as if it is the most fascinating thing she’s ever laid eyes on. She’s avoiding me, and it’s all my fault. “Ramsey, will you look at me?” At my request, she gives me those baby blues. “The thought of him or anyone else touching you drives me mad. I was wrong. I let my mind get away from me.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“You’re all I can think about.” It’s a confession I wasn’t planning on making, but at this point, I’ll do whatever I can to get that smile back on her face.
“Deacon-” she starts, but she’s once again called by another customer.
“Go. I’m going to be right here.” She still looks uncertain. “I’m not leaving this bar until you do, Ramsey. Go do your thing. I’m going to eat my dinner and try not to stare at you like a creeper.” That’s what finally does it. One corner of her mouth ticks up just a fraction, but I see it. With a nod, she rushes off to fill her orders.
Me: She’s really off. Hank just told her it would be dead and that she’s not to come back until her shift on Sunday.
Palmer: How do you know this?
Me: I’m having dinner at the Tavern.
Palmer: Interesting.
Palmer: Ramsey, I’m picking you up at four thirty. Deacon, have the burgers ready to go on at five.
Me: So bossy.
Palmer: The perks of being the baby of the family. Love you, big brother.
Me: Love you too, little sister.
Palmer: Ramsey?
Ramsey: I’ll be ready.
I can’t help but smile when I read her reply. Glancing down at the other end of the bar, I see her watching me. I hold my phone up in the air and wink. Even from here, I can see the slight blush on her cheeks. Never in my life has a woman blushing turned me on.
Not until Ramsey.
nine
Ramsey
When Deacon said he wasn’t leaving the Tavern until I was, I didn’t think much of it. Now, here we are several hours later, and he’s still perched on the same stool. There’s a beer that’s barely been touched sitting in front of him. I dropped it off to him about an hour ago when I realized he really wasn’t leaving. He’s taken a couple of sips at best. I’m sure it's warm and nasty as hell by now. I’ve kept his glass of water full, and each time he smiles at me.
It’s not just a “thank-you for the refill” smile. No, this smile is one he only seems to be giving me. It makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. I know it’s more than just the smile responsible for those feelings. It’s the man behind them who gets full credit. He said he can’t stop thinking about me, and I so badly want to tell him that I know exactly how he feels. I’ve done nothing but think of him since the photo shoot, and then after our dinner on Monday night, he's my first and final thought each and every day. The in-between is filled with thoughts of him too. So, yeah, I understand what he’s saying.
