Nell just looked at me, mystified. She had the same beautiful blue eyes as Vaughan. Like a clear blue summer sky or your favorite jeans, which you’d washed a hundred times. But right now, those eyes seemed shaken, and her white face was a stark contrast to her bright red hair. She was a woman pushed to the edge, then given a little nudge over. God, did I know that feeling all too well.
While my fingers were busy with the apron ties, I took a deep breath. “Rosie can get me up to speed on the table numbering and the rest.”
Vaughan’s hand moved to the back of my neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. His thumb stroked over my skin, giving me goose bumps. It was impossible not to lean into him, to take a little more of what he was giving. All that heat and strength. The truth was, I liked his touch far more than I should have. Definitely far more than was wise. Also his smell. Man, he smelled good. Soap and him and sex. Though the sex was probably just my fevered imagination.
Then he was gone, heading back to the bar.
“You don’t have to do that,” said Nell.
“I know.”
She blinked, frozen for a moment. Then the moment was gone. Loudly, Nell clapped her hands, getting back in the game. “We got a full house, people. Let’s go. Boyd, how many times do I have to tell you to stop standing around gabbing? Work. Work!”
CHAPTER TEN
“Don’t move an inch. I’m just going to run inside and grab my camera.”
Looking amused, Vaughan straightened. He had been leaning over the front of the Mustang, doing deep and meaningful things to the vehicle’s engine. I had to admit, the position did amazing things to his jean-clad ass. And the fact that he was sans T-shirt got me all a-tingle. The ink work on his arms made for an amazing display. The man was living art.
“Good morning, Lydia.”
“Morning, Vaughan.” I passed him one of the cups of coffee I’d made from the supplies Nell shoved at me the night before. Coffee, sugar, creamer, and containers full of restaurant leftovers, god bless her.
“Thanks.” He took a sip, smiling at me.
“What?”
“You,” he said. “Smirking and giving me crap. It’s like you’ve freed your inner happy smart-ass self. Let it loose to run wild.”
“Nah.” I leaned a hip against the driver’s side door. “That’s just me complimenting your rear and practicing my come-on lines now that I’m swinging single again.”
“I’m glad you felt my ass worthy of your attentions.”
“No problem.”
“And I want you to know, minute you give me the signal and lift-up your shirt I’ll be more than happy to give your breasts all the best lines I’ve got.”
“That’s sweet.” I took a sip of my coffee, trying to keep a straight face. In my infinite wisdom, I’d raised the subject of sex. Now here we were, my pulse speeding, heading straight toward a panic attack over the way he looked at me. How insane. I both wanted, and didn’t want, his attention with all of my heart. “I’ll give some thought to your shirt suggestion.”
“Wish you would,” he said. Oh, that sly little smile of his. It made my everything go weak.
I laughed, a little unnerved.
“Will you be falling for my flirting sometime soon?”
Whoa. I stopped, thrown.
“Not that I mind hitting on you, Lydia. Just curious,” he said. “And I’m not being kind or trying to boost your self-confidence.”
Ugh. “Am I that obviously neurotic and needy?”
He took another sip of coffee. “To be fair, the crap you’ve been through lately would make anyone doubt themselves.”
Overhead, a bird flew by. How nice to just be able to up and disappear so easily. I wanted wings. Awkward conversation, shitty situation, I’d be out of here, suckers. Poof! Gone. They didn’t even have to be pretty, any old pigeon wings would do.
“I guess so,” I said, watching the bird disappear out of sight. “We’re always hardest on ourselves, right?”
A shrug.
Right. As if this guy would be swimming in a sea of inner doubt. Beautiful. Talented. Loved by his family and friends. Imagine having the bravado to take to the stage in front of hundreds, no, thousands of people. It was up to schmucks like me to find their spines and get their shit together. Some people just naturally knew how to strut.
“I blame it on women’s magazines and the media,” I announced, setting my cup of coffee aside. “‘Are you too needy? How to be more confident and look less like crap in seventy-eight simple steps! Only three hundred thousand dollars to a better you!’ Well, thanks. I hadn’t realized how everything about me was godawful until you pointed it out.”