The place was crowded with young people—of which you are one, she reminded herself. Zane got them a booth in a back corner. Rebecca decided he was one of those people who felt at home anywhere. Like a big slouchy cat, he relaxed against the seat, arm stretched along the back and knees sprawled casually. Rebecca wished she could imitate him. Her limbs all felt as stiff as pokers.#p#分页标题#e#
When the waitress came, he convinced her to bring them a tray of small samples for the beers. “With labels,” he said, slipping a folded hundred into her hand. “I know it’s a hassle, but we’d really be grateful.”
“How did you know I wanted to do that?” Rebecca asked.
“Just a guess,” he said, pleased again. “Chefs like to taste things, don’t they?”
“They do,” she said, pleased with him as well.
By the sixth tasting sample, Rebecca’s neck unkinked.
“So . . .” Zane said on a teasing note. “What’s the story about that dress?”
“Oh God.”
“I told you I didn’t mind but, seriously, only one? What do you wear on dates? And don’t tell me you never go, because you’re too pretty.”
“I guess I don’t go on date-y dates.”
Zane put his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand. He was silently—and grinningly—inviting her to go on.
“Oh fine. I feel most comfortable in work clothes. My closet is full of black trousers and button-up white shirts.”
She turned the shot glass she was currently sampling from in a circle. Zane reached lazily out and covered her hand with his. His touch stilled more than her fingers. She could actually feel her pulse slow. “Why do you feel most comfortable in work clothes?”
“You don’t really want to know that.”
“Yes I do.” His thumb rubbed the side of hers, stirring hot sensations his knowing eyes seemed completely aware of. Rebecca tensed her thighs. “Does it have to do with raising your brothers?”
She sat back but left her hand where it was, under his. “Work didn’t just save us,” she admitted. “It saved me. I’d lost my mom. My dad had walked out.” She grimaced, but let the memory go. “I needed something to keep me from constantly worrying. I could cook, and restaurants aren’t always fussy about who they hire. I made money to cover bills, and I found a calling. Putting on my chef’s whites is my idea of dress up.”
He took that in, his blue eyes steady and quiet.
“Tell me about you,” she said.
The waitress returned with their loaded burgers. They were delicious, charred and juicy and rare on the inside. Good though they were, Rebecca wasn’t going to let a little thing like eating get him off the hook.
“Tell me about you,” she insisted.
“That’s a long and unsavory tale.”
“So?” she said around a bite of red meat.
He thought for a moment. He was such a charmer, he must have a standard answer, one that would relay amusing and evasive truths. Rebecca hoped that wasn’t the answer she’d get. He set down his burger and faced her.
“My father used to beat me.”
That she wasn’t expecting. “Like . . . as a regular thing?”
“Once a week, I’d say. Depending on how much he was drinking and if I ‘made’ him lose his temper. Starting when I was ten or so.”
“And your Mom?”
“She wasn’t in the picture. She ran off with the Mattress King, ironically enough.”
“The Mattress King?”
“He owned a warehouse store in Trenton. Wore a bad toupee and ran loud commercials on late night TV. We lived in a small town. My father didn’t much like having been thrown over for a bad joke.”
“Wow,” Rebecca said, picking up her food again.
Zane did as well, though she doubted he tasted it before he swallowed. “I don’t talk to him anymore. When Trey and I left for college, I never looked back again.”
“That was probably smart,” she said, though she knew people did look back—whether they wanted to or not.
He nodded and looked down. He didn’t seem like a mogul. He just seemed like a person. Rebecca wondered if she should touch him the way he had her. Giving in to the impulse, she rubbed his strong-boned wrist. He didn’t pull away.
“I’m okay,” he said. “I had Trey to get me through. We had each other.”
Something in his voice said this hadn’t been an ordinary friendship.
“You two are close.”
“Yes,” he said and lifted his gaze to hers.
She couldn’t read what was behind it but sensed she was seeing a side of him he didn’t show most people. How did souls connect? People talked about it in books: The eyes were the window to and all that. Pete and Charlie were part of her, but other folks were a mystery. Was Zane’s soul talking to hers as he stared at her? Did hers understand the secrets that weren’t coming out his mouth?