Paige Harbison

Anything to Have You


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I’ll be there in, like, five minutes.”

      CHAPTER FIVE

      I WENT BACK in, appreciating the warm gusts of heated air that beat down on our table. I cleared my throat and tried not to make eye contact with either my dad or Marcy. Which was difficult, since they were both staring at me.

      “Was that a boy, Miss Natalie?”

      “No...I mean, yeah, but it’s Brooke’s boyfriend.” I avoided my dad’s gaze.

      “Ooh, that tall one? She showed me a picture of him a long time ago when she first met him. He is cute. They’re still together? That’s so sweet.”

      “Yeah, they’re pretty cute. Um. Daddy, he’s going to stop by here for a minute if that’s okay.”

      He studied me, probably trying to figure out what was really going on—he didn’t stand a chance, since even I didn’t know—and Marcy elbowed him.

      “That’s fine, sweetie, I’ll keep your dad company.”

      I spent the remaining few minutes trying to calm my unnecessarily wrought nerves and to not watch every set of headlights. I failed, though, and finally one of the sets of headlights was his. He pulled into the lot and parked right outside. I looked down at my Sprite, but found myself watching him step out of his Jeep, lock it and make his way inside.

      He looked particularly good, wearing a pair of dark jeans he’d had forever, a gray T-shirt and a black zip-up that was not zipped up. I really wished it was, since I realized my gaze had dropped to his abdomen. I had a flash of what it would be like to race my hand up under the cotton and feel his warm skin.

      Whoa. That thought was super not okay. Get ahold of yourself, Shepherds.

      He walked over to our table, and I could smell his body wash. I had always liked it, but it seemed like an odd thing to notice, much less to compliment.

      “Hey, all,” he said. “Mr. Shepherds, how you been? He held out his hand and gave my dad a firm handshake.

      “Hey, guy, good, good, how are you?”

      I blushed a little at my dad’s enthusiastic greeting.

      “And you’re...Marcy, is it?” Aiden shook her hand, too, and I noticed that his grip was considerably softer.

      “Yes, it is,” she said, blushing a little.

      “Natalie says you’re their favorite waitress, and she’ll accept diner fare from no one else, so I figured it must be you.”

      “Oh.” Marcy waved a hand at me, blushing even more than I was.

      “Do you all mind if I steal Natalie away for a few?”

      “Of course!” responded Marcy, not my dad. “Here, why don’t you two settle up here at the counter, and I’ll grab you a nice piece of coconut cream pie. Natalie and John get it every time they come in, and I know you’ll love it.”

      “Sounds awesome,” he said.

      I couldn’t help but like a guy who didn’t hate dessert. It seemed like so many guys did.

      We sat down on the red vinyl stools, silent as we waited for Marcy to return from the kitchen. My stomach churned and I bit my tongue as I tried to both think of something to say and stop myself from talking. She came back after only about a minute, coming over with one small plate with a perfect slice of pie on it, and two forks.

      “Enjoy.” She smiled, and went back over to my dad. She sat in my spot and started in on my half of his pie, and—I suspected—on distracting him from my conversation with Aiden.

      “You have the first bite,” I said, pointing to the sharp top of the triangle. “It’s the best part until you get to the back crust.”

      “You sure? I don’t want to steal your favorite bite.”

      “Oh, please, I have it at least once a week.”

      He laughed and took the bite. His eyebrows went up and he nodded. “That’s extremely delicious pie.”

      A smile tensed my cheeks as that hint of an accent showed through on the word pie. I wanted to tease him for it, like I might ordinarily do, but something stopped me.

      “Isn’t it? It’s my favorite.”

      “Yeah. Wow.” He took another bite.

      I liked that he liked it. I didn’t know why.

      “So...what’s up?” I asked.

      “I wanted to make sure everything was cool about last night.”

      “Oh, you mean—” I dropped my voice “—sleeping in the same bed? I didn’t tell Brooke. She didn’t ask, either, I don’t think it matters. I say, let’s not bring it up.”

      He looked at me for a long moment, looking a little frozen, and then took another bite. “Yeah.”

      I became conscious suddenly of my increasingly strong heartbeat. “Or do you mean...”

      He waited for me to go on.

      “I know we were flirting...when we were playing cards and all,” I said. After sitting around feeling guilty and dehydrated all day, I had begun to fear that maybe I had been the initiator more than I realized, and that perhaps it had all been in my drunken brain that he had been flirting with me, too. “I’m really sorry about that. I totally didn’t mean to be like that. I mean, Brooke is my best friend.”

      “Right. I guess we’ll forget about the whole thing. I’m sorry, too.”

      “You have no reason to be sorry, I was being a flirt. I don’t know. I must have picked up the habit from Brooke and not even noticed.” I laughed, feeling nervous and knowing I was talking a lot.

      “She’s certainly flirtatious.”

      “Hey...I know she acts how she acts, but that’s just because she’s like that. It’s nothing to do with you or how she feels about you.”

      That felt better. That made up for how I had acted a little bit: doing some damage control for her.

      “Right,” he said again. He seemed to go into deep thought, and I felt suddenly like I had made him angry again.

      I took a deep breath, glanced at my dad’s table to be sure they weren’t looking at us and then asked, “Aiden...we didn’t hook up...did we?”

      Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. I couldn’t believe I had asked that. But no, it was good that I’d asked, I needed to know. Needed to be sure. Because while the evidence pointed to Eric...I had woken up with Aiden, and if I was forced to choose sober who I would rather kiss, I knew who that would be. Even admitting that to myself was difficult, but there it was.

      He hesitated, probably thinking I was an idiot, and then said, “No. We didn’t.”

      “Right. Of course not. It’s really embarrassing how little I remember. It’s pretty messed up.”

      “Not a good feeling, I’m sure.”

      His tone was still clipped and impatient-sounding.

      “So, um, I guess let’s go back to normal. Is that okay?” I asked.

      “Yeah. Sure.” He gave me a tight smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Well, I better head out. You should, too, the roads are getting kinda tricky out there.”

      “We will. I guess I’ll see you in the morning—you’re picking us up?”

      “School’s canceled tomorrow, I just heard it on the radio.”

      “Nu-uh, really?”

      “Really really.” He still looked annoyed. I longed to bring him out of whatever it was.

      “Well...Tuesday,