“I get that you don’t seem to want to be here which only confuses me more as to why you brought me, but unless you plan on using a favor to treat me like gum stuck on the bottom of your shoe, stop deflecting your bitterness onto me.”
The truck jerks to the side of the road, and he slams on the brakes.
Thank goodness for seatbelts.
He swivels in his seat, facing me with an expression that could scare a mountain lion.
“Listen, I have no idea why I brought you here either.” His fingers thread through his hair. “It was wrong, but you’re here now. You’re going to see where I came from. How fucked up my childhood was. So let me just give you the lowdown now. I don’t have a father so don’t ask about him. My mom raised me when she wasn’t waitressing down at a bar where she screwed most of the clientele at one point or another. My sister, Allie, is the product of one of those one-night stands. Life here wasn’t squeaky clean or picture perfect, but we made do.”
We continue to stare at one another for a moment before I respond. “Do you think I’d judge you?”
He looks away from me and out the windshield. “You’re practically Chicago royalty.”
For the first time, Roarke is not the mean shark from the courtroom who facilitated the stealing of half my shit. The man who saunters around Chicago like he owns the city is no longer in this car.
“First of all, I’m not judging you. Second, I don’t judge people based on how they were raised—period. I understand how lucky I am to grow up with what I did. And if I made a habit of looking down on people, I wouldn’t have started my own foundation with my own money. If you don’t want me making assumptions about you, don’t make them about me.” I cross my arms and stare out the window.
Still nothing but trees.
The weight of silence presses down on my shoulders for a minute before his hand lightly covers mine. “I’m sorry. It’s just…there’s no excuse for me taking the bullshit overloading my brain out on you. In my demented head, I thought you being here would help you understand me more, but there’s ugliness in this town that I should’ve remembered. A past that still haunts me. But I apologize. Write the date and time of this right now because I might never say this again.”
I turn to look at him and tilt my head.
“You’re right. I can’t very well want you to see the true me if I’m assuming you’re like every other rich society woman I’ve met. I know your foundation, I know the work you’re doing and if I really thought you were like that, I would never have invited you along. Let’s start the day over, all right?”
My smile forms without a fight. “Fine.”
His hand squeezes mine and he straightens his back and merges out onto the road.
“Thank you,” I say.
“For what?”
“The compliment about my legs.” My cheeks heat.
His grin slowly spreads across his entire face. “You’re welcome. You wouldn’t be thanking me if you knew what I was really thinking.”
My face warms again and I bite the inside of my cheek trying to suppress my grin.
“One day I’m going to tell you exactly what that was—in great detail—ungentlemanly or not.”
I cross my legs hoping to stifle the hum of desire between my legs.
How am I going to survive two more nights with this man?
Chapter Sixteen
“I have to run an errand. I’ll be back before you can finish your breakfast,” Roarke says.
“Fine.” I sit down in the booth, picking up the menu placed behind the fake jukebox. “This place is cute.”
Roarke stands on the outside of the booth, leaning over and positioning both cups up for coffee.
“Who said I wanted another coffee?”
He smirks. “I doubt they have soy milk, but you’re on a vacation of sorts so you can live a little.”
I lean back in the seat, my arms over my chest. “This is my vacation?” My eyes shift out the window to a Mayberry-type town.
His smirk grows wider, like it usually does the longer we converse, but he doesn’t have time to reply because a woman walks up to our table.
“Roarke?” she asks. Her black waist apron is stained with grease suggesting it’s already been a busy morning for her and her blonde hair is pulled up into a ponytail, makeup smeared, but she’s an attractive woman.
“Liv?” he asks, backing up a step. I note the sound of surprise in his voice.
She awkwardly rocks forward on her worn out sneakers unsure if she should hug him or not, telling me they knew each other well at some point.
“It’s good to see you.”
“I had no idea you worked here.” Roarke’s back stiffens, his hands finding his pockets once again. “How long?”
“Two months.” Their eyes lock and for a moment, and suddenly I feel like a third wheel.
Roarke breaks eye contact first, shifting his gaze to the stained linoleum floor.
Liv’s bright blue eyes shift in my direction as I gawk at the two of them. “I’m sorry, did you want coffee?”
“Sure.” My voice croaks as though I just figured out how to talk.
“Be right back.” A smile creases her lips and she ignores Roarke, beelining it behind the counter.
“The one who got away?” I ask.
Roarke puts on the sunglasses that were hanging from the front of his shirt. “I’ll be right back.”
“You’re not going to answer me?”
He turns back around, his hand resting on the edge of the booth. “Not the one who got away, but an ex. Yes.”
A sprout of jealousy bursts through the soil in my heart. “Oh.”
“Be right back.” He heads out of the diner without another look at either of us.
Questions bubble in my head like a baffled cartoon character. They remain unanswered as I watch Roarke walk across the street to a big white building in the middle of the town square.
“Do you take cream?” Liv’s voice pulls me back to my surroundings.
“Any way you have soy milk?” I ask, feeling a little pretentious for doing so.
Liv smiles and her effortless beauty waters that tiny sprout of jealousy, causing it to grow another inch.
“We do. One of our farmers makes the best soy milk. Let me grab you some.”
How can I be sitting here resentful toward this woman who is only being sweet to me? She should be hating me unless…she was happy to get out of the relationship with him. Maybe he cheated on her or ran off and left her behind.
She arrives back at the table with a little carafe of milk.
“I think you’ll love it. Do you know what you want for breakfast?” She poises her pen over the pad of paper in her hand. It’s then that I see the ring on her left hand. The diamond is small but the gold band worn. It’s not a new marriage.
Ah, that’s why there’s no jealousy on her part.
“Um… I’ll just have the American breakfast. Eggs poached and instead of hash browns, can I have fruit please?”
She scribbles my order down. “Sure thing. Do you know what Roarke wants?” She eyes the empty spot on the other side of the booth.