Chance turned his head, and in the sunlight angling through the window, his eyes looked inexpressibly weary. “Thanks.”
I tried to smile. “You’re welcome.”
Jesus, I didn’t know what to do with this Chance. He frightened me with his intensity. Once, I’d believed he was all cool calculation, but I was starting to think that maybe he’d hidden a lot of what he felt. I just didn’t know why.
“Nothing in the world is like I thought it was.” He paused before adding quietly, “Not even you.”
I put the car in gear without responding. Just what did he expect from me? As I saw it, by accompanying him to Laredo, I’d already gone above and beyond the call as an ex. That was for his mother, though, and I suppose he knew it.
Instead of taking the opportunity to rehash our relationship, I said, “We should put Eva on researching Southern Sanitation. Find out who owns it and, if possible, the parent company. The trail has to lead somewhere.”
My brisk tone woke a similar response. “Good idea. We’ll get on that as soon as we get back to the house. What would you like to do for dinner tonight?”
Uh-oh.
“I already have plans.” I made a left onto highway 59, heading away from the city and toward Chuch’s house. “In fact I was hoping to borrow the car.”
“What plans?”
Here it comes.
“I’m having dinner with Jesse Saldana.”
“The cop. You’re really going to dinner with the cop who won’t let us look at my mom’s purse, the purse we’ll probably need to bribe someone for you to handle?” His voice sounded tight, but I didn’t risk a look at him.
There was a special circle in hell reserved for me. I should tell him the truth; I knew Saldana only wanted to talk about my gift.
“Like I said before, maybe I can change his mind.”
“You sure this is a good idea? How do you know we can trust him?”
“I don’t.” After turning into the driveway, I put the car in park. Angled my body to face Chance. I hated that he looked so good in the late afternoon sunshine. “There is no us. I’m doing this for me.”
He flinched as he climbed out of the Camry. I wanted to think it was his back, but I knew better. “You’re right. Of course you can borrow the car. Just be careful. I’ll talk to Eva about Southern Sanitation so you can get ready.”
Why did I wind up feeling like I’d kicked a puppy anytime I tried to put some distance between us? I am not still half in love with him.
It didn’t help that whenever he got that look in his eyes, I wanted to brush the dark hair away from his forehead. I wanted to press my cheek against his and let him lean on me. Shit, who was I kidding? Even with his back torn up I wanted to take him to bed and make him forget about his troubles for an hour or two.
Instead I went inside and got ready for my “date.”
More than One Way to Skin a Potato
To annoy Chance, I spent more time getting ready than I needed to and headed out smelling of frangipani.
I’d borrowed Chuch’s computer long enough to print out a map to Logan’s Roadhouse, so I just needed to follow it. All the way back to town, my conscience jabbed me. I could have told Chance why I was going. I didn’t know why I hadn’t, except I wanted to keep this part of my life separate from him. Disastrous things happened when I let myself get too wrapped up in him.
Typical of its kind, the restaurant possessed lots of heavy wood and neon, metal buckets of peanuts for people to munch on and then throw the shells on the floor. I supposed it added to atmosphere but I wouldn’t want to be the one sweeping up at the end of the night. I got a booth near the bar and waited.
The waitress, whose name tag read Betsy, beamed a gigawatt smile at me. I decided she must’ve had her teeth capped recently. “Evenin’. Are you waiting for more?”
Well, I’d told the hostess somebody would be joining me, so, “Yes.”
I hate repeating myself.
“Well, then. I’ll get you started and then let you be. We have loaded baked potato soup and chili tonight, hon. You want a drink? Maybe start with some nachos or some Texas onion petals? Some potato skins?”
“Diet Coke with lime, please.” I must admit, it was a little strange to order in English. I didn’t know what Saldana would want, but the skins sounded good. “And potato skins to start. We’ll order after he gets here.”
She made a few notes and wove through the crowd, looking like every other server in her Logan’s shirt and jeans. I wished I could have a something with tequila in it but I was my own designated driver, dammit. One plus about such a noisy place: nobody would overhear us. The waitress brought my Diet Coke and, later, the potato skins. Still no cop, though.
“You sure you don’t want to order?”
I shook my head. Betsy just thought I didn’t notice the pitying look she slid my way as she headed back to the kitchen.
Nerves jangling, I fiddled with the pail of peanuts until Saldana arrived, a full half hour after the appointed time. He slid into the booth opposite me, offering a smile. “Sorry I’m late. Work stuff.”
“It’s all right.” But I’d begun to wonder if he would show.
“Jesse,” the waitress said with evident delight. “Don’t you know it’s not nice to keep a lady waiting?” She flirted shamelessly.
If he really was my date, I’d be pissed. Since he wasn’t, I sat back with a smirk and let him deal with Betsy. I helped myself to another potato skin while he ordered an iced tea.
Then and there I decided my next boyfriend would be a big, cuddly teddy bear type. No more watching other women devour my men with their eyes. But I enjoyed the kind way he managed to dismiss Betsy without hurting her feelings.
“Sorry,” he said again when he’d gotten rid of her.
“It’s not a problem.” My smirk became a grin.
Saldana arched a brow. “You think this is funny?”
“I do, actually. Serves you right.”
“What does?” He took the last potato skin.
“Being both cute and sensitive. You deserve to beat women off with a stick.”
“You think I’m cute?” At that Saldana paused, a half smile playing at the corners of his well-made mouth.
I sighed. “Please. You know you are. It doesn’t matter what I think.”
His mama would be so proud of his ability to turn the charm off and on like that. “Of course it does.” Saldana gave me a sorghum smile. “You’re a woman, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I gave up hot guys for Lent.”
He laughed. “It’s November, Corine.”
“See how well I’m doing?”
“Hmm,” he said, eating the potato skin. “Sadly it’s not my place to question that decision. We may as well get down to business if you won’t flirt back, even a little bit.”
I didn’t know how much more I could take. “Isn’t that against the rules, Obi-Wan?”
“Yes. Gifts tend to run in family lines, so . . .” He made a face, encapsulating his opinion of swimming in your own gene pool. “It’s pretty rare for somebody gifted to grow up without a mentor.”
My spine stiffened. I didn’t want to talk about how I came to be on my own, with no parental figure to explain about special powers, secret societies, and little blue sparks. Then again, if my mother were still around, I probably wouldn’t have a gift.
I muttered, “I’m weird. I get it. What’s the deal with the underground?”
Before he could reply, Betsy came back with his iced tea and took our orders. We both chose a New York strip, but he got a giant baked potato in addition to the skins. I opted for a salad out of respect for the size of my ass, although if I really cared, I wouldn’t eat potato skins.
He waited until she walked away with a last wistful look over one shoulder, but Saldana was all business now. “Like I said, we have a quiet support network. I’ll give you the log-in information for the Web site, and I know of a few gathering spots. The closest is a club in San Antonio called Twilight.”
“Web site?” I blinked at that.
“Good place to get specialized help. We pretend to be a conspiracy theory group: aliens, men in black, all that. The site’s called Area Fifty-one.”
“Cute.”
“Mostly it makes us feel less alone,” he said. “Sometimes it’s hard being surrounded by people who have no idea what you can do, and if they do find out, sometimes it’s worse. Sometimes it means you have to—”
“Move in the middle of the night?” I offered a wry smile at his startled look.
“Yeah. Well, not me personally. My talent is pretty low-key. But I dated a pyro girl for a while.” His mouth twisted. “She was hunted coast-to-coast.”
Pyro. Firestarter? I couldn’t imagine a positive outlet for that gift, but then I was biased. I shouldn’t let myself get distracted.
“What happened?”
To my surprise, he shut down. “We’re not here to talk about my romantic history.”
Since he didn’t want to talk about it, of course I couldn’t let it go. That aspect of my psyche explained a great deal about my relationship with Chance.
“White knight complex,” I realized aloud. “You go for the bad girl, the one with problems who blows up your car, trashes your house, and steals your wallet. It’s not her fault, of course. If she only had someone to love and understand her, that shit wouldn’t happen.”
“Shit.” He regarded me with narrowed eyes as Betsy served two sizzling steaks. “I thought I was the empath.”
“You are. That’s why this makes perfect sense. You want to save everyone because you know what they’re going through. Must make it hell on dating.”
“Tell me about it. Try arguing with someone, even if you know they’re wrong, when you can feel the hurt rolling off them in waves.”
“You just want to wrap her up in your arms and tell her everything’s going to be okay,” I said softly.
Saldana studied me with bitter chocolate eyes, and to my surprise, his gaze dropped first. He attended to cutting his steak with a care that said I’d stepped too close to something private. We’d just met, after all.
For a while we just ate, didn’t talk. I thought maybe I’d crossed the line. The white noise of other voices covered the fact that nobody spoke at our table.
Finally he said, “Yeah, well. I can’t make everything better, but I can put you on the path to meeting more people like us. You already know you can recognize them from the shock. Let’s see, what else? Oh, I’ll write down the Web site address and log-in.” He pulled a pen from his pocket, scrawled something on a napkin, and passed it to me.
“Thanks.” I tucked it into my handbag, a gorgeous beaded creation I’d bought at Mundo E.
“On those boards you can find witches, warlocks, psychics, far-seers, pyros, empaths—pretty much the whole gamut of talents, though I don’t think I’ve ever run across another handler on there. I don’t vouch for character, though, Corine. Just because they’re gifted, it doesn’t make them trustworthy. So if you decide to see someone off-line, use the same care you would under normal circumstances.”