Worried about him burning his fingers, I suck in a breath and say, “Careful, it’s hot.”
Without acknowledging my warning, or even that it’s hot, he lets go of the plate, and his large hand gently grasps my wrist. The rough calluses of his palm scrape my skin, and he looks at the small pink mark left behind on my skin.
His hand is warm, and his thumb gently slides over the pink spot. My heart doubles its pace as I watch the crotchety, unfriendly man in front of me turn soft as he inspects a tiny spot on my arm like he’s looking for third-degree burns.
The contrast between the tender intention behind the scrutiny of my wrist and the coldness he has expressed every other time he’s seen me is so unexpected that I don’t pull my arm away. The part of me that has read too many romance manuscripts is curious about what he will do next.
Warmth travels up my arm, wrapping my chest, almost melting away the irritation I feel about his treatment the past two times I’ve seen him. I would never have thought this kind of tenderness could live inside a man who seems so uncaring.
It almost takes my breath away.
Seeming satisfied with his inspection, he nods his head and releases my wrist without looking at me and picks up the napkin next to his plate holding the silverware. Almost like he wasn’t just tenderly holding my hand in front of him to make sure I’m okay.
Like a gentleman.
Taking a step back, I wrap my own fingers around where he was, his warmth still hugging my skin. It takes a second to shake off the shock I’m feeling after seeing the night and day transformation in front of me.
Like a traitor, my heart pitter patters in my chest, and I clear my throat as I remind myself that I don’t have any room in my life for attachments. No matter how sweet they can be.
Like I’m not there, he slips from warm back into cold and cuts into his chicken fried steak, so I turn on my heel and go back to work.
Stepping up to the bar to rattle off an order to Stony, Sammy steps up next to me and sets her drink tray on the bar.
“Did I just see Tucker Harlow touching you?” She’s moved close to me and is talking quietly out of the side of her mouth.
Looking around us to make sure no one is listening, the ghost of the calluses on his palm still warming my skin, I nod my head. “The hot plate touched me, and he was checking for a burn.” I look at her sideways, my eyes wide. “It was unusual, to say the least.”
Her eyes flare as she looks at me. “Girl, that man doesn’t have a nice bone in his body, not anymore.”
Keeping my voice low, I watch Stony pour beer into mugs from the tap as I think about Kinley’s kind words about him this morning. “Maybe he’s just misunderstood.”
She snorts softly. “Before he got hurt, he was a huge player, interested only in one thing. He hasn’t even looked at a woman since he was discharged.” She bumps her shoulder against mine. “I think he likes you.”
Casually looking over my shoulder like I’m looking in my section, his eyes lift to meet mine as he puts a bite of mashed potatoes in his mouth. A spark of something that I shouldn’t befeeling ignites in my chest as I wonder if what she says could be true.
The part she shared about him being a player squashes my thoughts, as her description of him scrapes like sandpaper, and disappointment settles over me as I turn to her and clear my throat. “Well, I’m not a one-night-stand kind of girl, so he’s barking up the wrong tree.”
Even a hint of getting back into something that takes away my autonomy and self-esteem makes my stomach twist in knots. I’ll never let that happen again.
The same shoulder that just bumped me shrugs once, and she grins. “Too bad, I’ve heard he’s great in bed and has a big wang.”
Turning my head toward her, I scowl and wrinkle my nose. “Ugh. Gross, Sammy. That doesn’t change anything.” Rolling my eyes, I follow up with, “And besides, I don’t want to be with a man known to every woman in town.”
Stony sets the drinks I’m waiting for on my tray. “It looks like it’s going to be a slow night, I’m letting you go early tonight.” His voice is so loud that it booms across the pub every time he talks.
My heart drops because I need the money. I’ve got a couple more manuscripts to edit since I’ve been here, but I would need twenty more to get the amount of money I need for my car.
Stony’s right, though, the rain has kept some of the regulars away, and there are only two tables in my section with customers, one of which is the aforementioned grump. Since I’m low man on the totem pole, I get sent home before Sammy.
“Okay, when do you want me to clock out?”
His eyes flick to the windows at the front, and Sammy and I do the same. The earlier sprinkle has turned into a downpour, and he looks back at me. “Give it another hour, and you can clock out.”
Nodding, I grab my tray and turn to deliver drinks. Feeling like I’m being watched, the skin on my arms pimples. Glancing in Tucker’s direction again, I suck in a breath and ignore the little flip my heart just made in my chest when I make eye contact with him, which he holds for just a second before giving his attention back to his dinner.
I only get one other customer before my hour is up and set my tray on the stack of trays at the end of the bar. My tips are the lowest they’ve been in the two weeks I’ve worked here.
As I turn to go to the back room, Tucker stands from his table in the corner, unfolding his long body from his chair, his eyes on me before he puts his baseball hat on his head and starts limping to the front door.
