"At the risk of sounding patronizing, I think that's admirable," he said. "And I'm proud of you."
Coming from him, it didn't sound patronizing. It sounded sincere.
I smiled. "Thanks. I'm kinda proud of me, too."
Steph came over to the table then, bringing a tray with his tea and our food on it.
He opened his mouth, as if to tell her he wasn't going to be eating with me after all, but I nudged his ankle with my foot. He glanced at me and I shook my head.
"Thanks, Steph," I said to her. "Everything looks great."
"You're welcome, darlin'. Y'all enjoy your lunch."
She walked away to ring up a customer waiting at the cash register and J.J. turned to me.
"You might as well stay and eat your lunch," I said before he could speak. "Unless your ego is too bruised from my cruel rejection to handle my company any longer."
He grinned at my teasing, that beautiful smile spreading across his face.
"Cruel rejection?" he joked. "That was nothing. You should have heard how often I got shot down in college."
I wanted to ask him more about it, but he said something else that left me speechless.
"Besides, you never said I couldn't try to change your mind."
4
I was right about how life would be with J.J. McClane back in town.
I swear, I saw him everywhere. The cafe, the grocery store, at Crave.
I know that sounds like stalking, but it was truly small-town reality. You couldn't go anywhere without seeing someone you knew and that included men that you'd lost your virginity to. I guess I'd never given it much thought because it hadn't been an issue before now. One bad thing about waiting until my mid-twenties to have sex. I was too old to act ridiculous around a guy I'd slept with, even though I wanted to.
He texted me occasionally and even called, but darn it, the man was intelligent and crafty. He quickly figured out that I could cut our conversations short over the phone, but if he saw me in person, I couldn't do it.
I know, I know. I'd love to be able to blame my mother's constant drilling about manners when I was growing up, but I knew it was because of his smile. And the way he smelled.
The man was a menace to my resolve.
He had said he would try to change my mind about dating and he did a darn good job of it.
He called me one evening while I was studying to ask me if I'd had dinner and, if not, if I wanted to grab some with him.
I'd replied with the excuse that I had a quiz the next day and I had to study.
Instead of showing up with his distracting self, J.J. ordered my favorite food from a Chinese restaurant the next town over, left it on my porch, and texted me that I had a special delivery at my front door.
That was definitely a big blow to my conviction that I didn't need to date someone right now.
Then, there were the little presents that showed up at my house from random websites. An adorable coffee mug from Etsy, a notebook that said "The notebook where I keep a list of where the bodies are buried" on the front, even snacks with a note that he didn't want me to get hungry while I was studying.
In all my years of watching my brothers chase women, I'd never seen them act like this. I'd known J.J. since he was in high school and I'd never seen him this way either, though I hadn't seen much of him since he left for college and then stayed in Dallas for work.
I had no resistance to this...this...courting. Because that's what he was doing. I'd read enough romance novels to understand the concept of courting, but I'd never, ever seen a man do it in real life.
And I was beginning to comprehend why it worked so well.
Every time I made a cup of coffee in the morning with my new mug, I thought of J.J. Every time I opened that notebook to make a to-do list, I thought of him.
Every time I was feeling peckish during a late-night study session, you guessed it, J.J. popped into my head when I dipped into the box of snacks he'd sent me.
The man barely spent any time around me, but he was constantly on my mind!
I probably would have caved to his machinations a lot sooner if it hadn't happened.
Three weeks after he moved back to town, I woke up one morning incredibly dizzy. When I tried to sit up on the bed, I groaned and covered my eyes with one hand.
Oh, no, I must have picked up a bug at work or at one of my in-person classes at school. I tried to do most of my work online since Texas A&M - Commerce was nearly an hour away, but I still had to go for one evening class every week.
Last week, one of the guys in the class had been hacking and sneezing into his elbow all night. He'd claimed it was allergies, but now I wasn't so sure because I felt horrible.
I couldn't lie in bed all day though. I had a house to clean this morning and a shift at the shop later. If I was going to get my housecleaning gig done, I had to get up now and get to it.
Moving gingerly, I turned on my side and used one arm to push myself up into a sitting position with my legs hanging over the edge of the bed.
I sat very still for a few moments, hoping the swimming sensation in my head would disappear.
No such luck. In fact, it worsened so much that my stomach joined in the wild twisting sensation.
Oh, crap. I was definitely going to puke.
I clapped a hand over my mouth, jumped to my feet, and dashed to the bathroom. I made it to the toilet just in time to lean over and vomit. My stomach was empty, so it was basically dry heaving, but, God, it was miserable.
Finally, the spasm wracking my body passed and I knelt on the cool tile floor next to the porcelain tub and rested my overheated forehead against the side.
It felt like heaven against my face.
When the world stopped swaying, I staggered to my feet and took two steps to the sink. Leaning my hips against it, I turned on the cold water and splashed it on my face before I rinsed my mouth. The taste lingering on my tongue was horrible, but I didn't think I could handle a toothbrush at the moment.
I also knew I couldn't handle coffee, but I was pretty sure I had some tea bags in my pantry from last winter. Weak tea and dry toast might help settle my stomach enough that I could go to work.
My body was hunched as I trudged down the hall toward the kitchen and opened the pantry door. Yes, the tea was exactly where I'd left it the last time I'd used it.
I took the box to the counter and filled up my electric kettle. I used to microwave my water for tea until a British student in my dorm saw me one night and insisted on giving me her old electric kettle.
After using it a few times, I had to admit I could see her point. It still worked even now, four years later, so I used it whenever I had a yen for tea or the homemade hot chocolate mix my mother made up for me every fall.
While my tea steeped, I stuck two pieces of wheat bread in the toaster and left them inside just long enough to give them a light crust. The idea of the crunchy toast I usually made left a sour feeling in my already tender belly.
Sure enough, after a piece of dry toast and half a cup of tea, I was already feeling better. By the time I finished my small meal, I was nearly normal so I risked a carton of yogurt.
At least if it came up later, it wouldn't be so bad.
I checked my temperature but it was normal, so I assumed that my blood sugar had gotten too low because dinner last night had consisted of four crackers and a couple of pieces of cheese. I'd been too tired for anything else before I fell into bed and slept ten hours.