Almost Famous Page 5

  He looked at her and smiled. “See? Something else we have in common.”

  “Ice cream and migraines. Obviously, we were separated at birth.”

  That made him laugh, and the sound warmed her. As hard as she had tried not to, she was starting to like Jake very much.

  Maybe she should find out his last name soon, she thought in bemusement. She was learning so many other trivial facts about him that it seemed odd she didn’t even know his full name. She tried to remember if he had ever mentioned it. Maybe he had introduced himself by his complete name and she simply hadn’t bothered to remember since she hadn’t expected to spend any time with him. But, no—she distinctly recalled him saying only his first name. Just as she had given only her first name in return.

  “We haven’t seen the stuff in that corner,” she said, nodding toward the back of the store. From where she stood, she could see that the merchandise there seemed to focus on NASCAR. Even she, who knew almost nothing about the sport, recognized the black-and-white-checkered pattern, and the prominent display of the car number of a late, beloved racing icon.

  It looked as though there were some die-cast cars and other memorabilia for sale, but apparently Jake wasn’t interested in racing knickknacks. He took one look in that direction, then turned toward the cash register with his jar of blackberry jam. “I think I’m ready to check out. Would you like a soda or anything?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you.”

  While Jake paid for his purchase, she examined a revolving rack of postcards close to the door. She heard him chatting congenially with the garrulous man behind the register, and she marveled at how easy it was for Jake to make casual conversation with strangers. She was terrible at small talk, her mind going frustratingly blank when it was her turn to speak. Her usual pattern was simply to smile and nod a lot.

  “You know,” the other man said to Jake as he bagged the jam, “you look kind of familiar to me. Have you been in before?”

  “Nope,” Jake responded lightly as he handed over cash to pay for his purchase. “First time. Probably won’t be my last, though. I might have to come back for some of that hot sauce over there.”

  “It’s good stuff. You should try it,” the shopkeeper urged, easily diverted.

  “I’ll do that. You have a good evening, now.” Tipping his baseball cap, Jake carried his purchase toward Stacy, who opened the door as he approached.

  “Do you hear that a lot?” she asked as they belted themselves into the car.

  He turned the key to start the engine. “What’s that?”

  “Two or three times today someone has commented that you look familiar.”

  “Oh, that.” He shrugged as he drove out of the parking lot. “Yeah, I get that sometimes. Guess I have one of those faces.”

  “One of those faces,” to her, meant average. Generic. She wouldn’t have put Jake in that category at all, she mused, studying his profile. Even beneath his short, dark beard, his strong bone structure was evident, as were the dimples that flashed with his bright smiles. The dark glasses he wore now hid his eyes, but they were definitely memorable. Dark, gleaming, just slightly devilish when he grinned.

  It was a face that any camera would love, she decided—and she could almost picture him smiling up at her from a glossy magazine page. Actually, the image was so clear that she frowned. Was it possible…?

  “So, what do people do around here in the evenings?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “There are several good restaurants. At least half a dozen musical shows in various venues. A drive-in theater. Or, of course, the music on the square. People sit around until all hours sipping sodas or lemonade or hot drinks, gossiping and listening to the musicians. Sometimes they join in and sing the old songs.”

  “That sounds relaxing.”

  “It is. My brother and I both enjoy it. My fourteen-year-old nephew, of course, is bored out of his mind. He brings his MP3 player and a handheld video game system.”

  Jake chuckled. “I guess most fourteen-year-old boys aren’t into listening to bluegrass under the stars.”

  Not many thirty-year-old men were into such passive activities, either, she mused. But Jake seemed different from so many of the men her age she knew. She was still having trouble picturing him as a truck driver. She supposed she was guilty of stereotyping, but he was just…well, different.

  “I suppose you need to get back to Oscar,” he said, just a hint of reluctance in his tone.

  “Yes, I should. He’s been alone for several hours now.”

  “Poor pup’s probably getting lonely.”

  “I’m sure he is.”

  “You said there’s a drive-in theater in town?”

  “Yes. One of the few remaining in the country, I believe. The films begin whenever it gets dark through the summertime, until the nights get too chilly. Another week or two—into early October, I think.”

  “I haven’t been to a drive-in movie since I was a little kid, still in pajamas with feet in them. Maybe you’d like to check it out with me one evening? Oscar can come, too.”

  She bit her lower lip, trying to decide how to answer. She hadn’t expected him to try to prolong their time together. Was he having that much fun with her? Or was he that reluctant to be alone again?

  “Actually, Oscar doesn’t do well at the drive-in,” she said finally. “People in surrounding cars don’t appreciate him barking at everyone who walks by.”

  “Then maybe he could stay home again for a few hours one evening this week? Maybe Thursday?”

  “I’m sure he’d be okay for a few hours Thursday evening.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Jake flashed her a grin that made her glad she’d made an effort—and then made her wonder if she was making a mistake to spend so much time with him. Just the way she reacted to that gleaming smile, with a little thrill of excitement and a rush of warmth to her cheeks, was enough to make her question her decision to accept his invitation.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  STACY HAD JUST COME IN from a long, brisk walk with Oscar early that evening when her cell phone rang. For a moment, she thought it might be Jake, and her pulse jumped a little. They had exchanged cell numbers when they’d separated, just in case anything came up. And then she chided herself for being an idiot. She’d only parted from the guy two hours ago, for heaven’s sake.

  Noting her best friend’s number on the caller ID, she opened the phone. “Hi, Mindy.”

  “Tired of your lonesome hidey-hole yet?”

  “Not just yet, no.”

  “Really? I’d be going crazy there all by myself with nothing to do but work.”

  “I’m not all by myself.”

  “The dog doesn’t count.”

  “Don’t tell Oscar that. He would be highly insulted.”

  “People, Stace. You need to see people.”

  “I have nothing against people—in general. It’s reporters I don’t want to see.”

  “You can’t blame them for being intrigued by your story. The guy was a foot taller than you, outweighed you by seventy-five pounds and had a gun to your head. And you still managed to disarm him and kick his knee so hard he’s still walking on crutches. People find that interesting.”

  “Okay. Maybe,” Stacy conceded reluctantly. “I could understand the initial news reports, even a couple of feature items afterward. But it just kept going. Everywhere I went, it was all anyone wanted to talk about. The local reporters kept begging me to go on the morning shows and reenact the whole ordeal.”

  She shuddered at the idea.

  “This morning one of the local shows had a couple of Junior Leaguers demonstrate how to make place-card holders out of apples. I mean, seriously, does anyone really use place cards anymore? And how hard is it to cut a slice in an apple and stick in a card? We gotta have step-by-step instructions?”

  Sensing that her friend was about to go off on one of her infamous diatribes, Stacy murmure
d, “Uh, Mindy—”

  “Right. My point is, local morning shows are notoriously desperate for anything to fill airtime for a couple of hours every day—as are the national morning shows, for that matter. I know you got called by a couple of them, too. You were just the latest feature fodder. Just keep turning them down, and they’ll move on soon enough.”

  “That’s my plan. I figured if I lie low here for a few more days, they’ll forget all about me.”

  “Better stay a bit longer, then. Alvetti’s being arraigned Tuesday, and that’s likely to get it started all over again.”

  Stacy groaned. “Just what I need.”

  “So, do you at least have someone to talk to there? Any nice neighbors on vacation?”

  Hesitating, Stacy tried to decide how completely to answer that question. “Actually, there is a nice man staying in the cabin next door,” she said finally.

  “A nice man?” Mindy jumped on that description like a duck on a June bug, as Stacy’s grandmother would have said. “Single guy?”

  “Yes.” At least, she assumed Jake was single. She hadn’t actually asked, but he wouldn’t be here recuperating alone if he had someone in his life, would he?

  “How old is he? Is he good-looking?”

  “He’s around our age, and yes, he’s nice looking.” Which, of course, was a major understatement, but if she were to tell Mindy exactly how attractive Jake was, her overreactive friend might read too much into the description.

  “And he’s there by himself?”

  “Coincidentally, he was in an accident recently and he came here to rest and recuperate until he can get back to work.”

  “What does he do?”

  “He’s a truck driver.”

  “Like my Paul,” Mindy exclaimed. “I wonder if they know each other.”

  “I doubt it. He’s from North Carolina. The cabin belongs to a friend of his who usually rents it out to vacationers and fishermen.”

  “Sounds like you’ve talked to him a bit.”

  “Some. We drove into Mountain View for a couple of hours today. He’s never been to this area before, so I showed him around the square.”

  “Really.” There was a great deal of speculation in the one word.

  “And we, um, sort of have a date Thursday night. Well, not a date, actually—we’re going to the drive-in. Just for something to do.”

  “Stacy. That’s a date.” Mindy sounded as though she was trying not to laugh.

  “Well, technically. Maybe. What I meant was, it isn’t a romantic thing. We’re just being friendly. Neighborly. He’s going back to North Carolina in a week or so, and I’ll be coming back to Little Rock, so it’s not like there’s a future in it.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Truck drivers can settle anywhere, you know. Plenty of work around here for them. For that matter, freelance editors can work anywhere, though I’d have to protest loudly if he tried to take my best friend too far away.”

  Stacy sighed loudly. “Put away the bags of rice, will you, Min? Jeez, I just met the guy.”

  “Well, yeah, but you never know. Something could develop.”

  Mindy had been trying to fix Stacy up for the past three years, ever since Mindy had married Paul. But this was going too far—planning a long-term relationship between Stacy and a man she’d met only two days before. A man Mindy hadn’t even met herself. For all she knew, he could be a creep with a capital C! Of course, Mindy trusted Stacy to know a creep when she met one, but still…

  “We’re just killing time together until we can get back to our regular lives, okay?” she said flatly. “For all I know, he could leave tomorrow, and I’d hardly even notice. So don’t get all excited. And please don’t mention him to anyone—especially Nick, if you should run into him. Nick’s been overprotective ever since the incident at the courthouse.”

  “Can you blame him? I’ve been feeling the same way. Every time I think about how easily we could have lost you that afternoon…” Mindy’s shudder carried clearly through the phone lines.

  “I love you, too,” Stacy said with a smile.

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re just trying to distract me from asking more about Mr. Next Door.”

  “Okay, you caught me.”

  “Fine. You don’t want to talk about him. I get it. So, have a good time with him. And be careful—just in case he’s not as nice as he seems. But look who I’m talking to,” she added with a laugh. “He gets out of line, you’ll just kneecap him.”

  “Don’t you start,” Stacy warned.

  “I won’t. Call me later in the week, okay? I’m going to want details.”

  “I will,” Stacy promised before disconnecting. Not that she expected there would be any details to pass along, she mused, moving to fill Oscar’s food bowl. As she had assured Mindy, she and Jake were simply going to see a movie as a way to kill a couple of hours. Nothing in the least romantic was implied.

  Which didn’t at all explain why she’d been unable to resist telling her best friend about her impending date with the good-looking guy next door, a tiny, unnerving voice inside her pointed out.

  STACY DIDN’T KNOW if she would see Jake Wednesday, but he hailed her as soon as she went outside for a walk with Oscar that afternoon. Jake was already on the hiking path that led into the woods, just about to start climbing the hill as she approached.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi, yourself. How’s your leg feeling today? You didn’t overdo it yesterday, I hope.”

  Smiling, he shook his head. “I was pretty tired last night,” he admitted, “but I took a couple of ibuprofen and crashed in front of the TV, and this morning it felt a lot better. I thought a hike would be nice today. Weather’s perfect, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s very nice,” she said. “I’m glad it’s not too warm.”

  “Would you like to join me for a walk?”

  “Oscar and I would be pleased to join you.”

  Jake’s smile deepened, and she gruffly, silently ordered her racing pulse to behave itself.

  Oscar, for whom half a hamburger patty had forged a lifelong friendship, was delighted to have Jake along for their walk. He bounced at Jake’s feet until Jake obliged by reaching down to scratch his ears, and then the dog was off, straining at the end of his leash to investigate every interesting sight, sound and smell.

  Stacy and Jake followed at a more leisurely pace, watching him indulgently. They talked about Oscar for a few minutes, Stacy telling Jake how she’d come to own the Yorkie, and sharing a few amusing stories about his puppy antics.

  Laughing, Jake was reminded of a dog a friend had once owned, a mutt named Doofus, who, Jake insisted, had been the dumbest dog that ever walked the planet. He backed up that claim with several stories that had Stacy laughing until tears filled her eyes.

  “I think you’re right,” she agreed after several of those anecdotes. “Doofus was the dumbest dog ever. If all those stories are true, of course. Are you sure you haven’t exaggerated just a little?”

  Looking overly innocent, Jake raised a hand. “I swear it’s all true. I haven’t even told you all the stupid things he did, just a sampling. It was a wonder he lived to a ripe old age. I like to think he’s still bumbling around somewhere, having a wonderful time and giving everyone around him nervous palpitations.”

  “Maybe he is. Pets are a real blessing, aren’t they?”

  “I’ve never really owned one myself. My mom and I never settled any place with a yard for a pet to run in. And now I travel so much that it doesn’t seem like it would be fair to the pet. Someday, though, I’d like to have a dog. Or maybe a cat.”

  She couldn’t imagine never having a pet. She and her brother had owned several during their childhood, including a lazy cat that had let Stacy hold him and cry into his fur during the roughest times of her youth.

  They talked a while about the different types of pets people they knew owned, from dogs and cats to birds and lizards. Stacy even knew someone who had a pet pig that thought
it was a person, and she entertained Jake with a few stories about the pig. And then they were back at where the path diverged to their separate cabins, and the pleasant walk was at an end.

  “That was nice,” Jake said, looking reluctant to part with her.

  “Would you like some fresh lemonade?” she heard herself asking without consciously intending to do so. “I have a pitcher in my refrigerator.”

  His eyes brightened. “I’d like that, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all,” she assured him, telling herself that sharing one glass of lemonade and a few more minutes of conversation couldn’t cause any problems.

  The one glass turned into two. They drank the second while they played Monopoly. She couldn’t remember how the subject came up, but it turned out they both loved that particular game, and were both fiercely competitive at it.

  Stacy chose the dog token, and Jake the race car, and the game was on. It lasted a long time, as Monopoly often did, and by the time it ended, Jake was nearly bankrupt.

  “You won,” he said, sounding surprised, and making her wonder if he wasn’t used to being beaten.

  “I told you I was good at it,” she said, putting her piles of brightly colored money back into the box.

  He took the defeat well, though he did warn her that if they ever had another chance to play, he wouldn’t go so easy on her.

  She smiled, and then noticed how late it had gotten while they’d played. It seemed only polite to invite him to stay for dinner. “I was playing on making a chicken quesadilla for myself,” she said. “I have plenty of ingredients for us both.”

  “That sounds great. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Telling him he could chop the salad while she prepared the ingredients for their quesadillas, she ushered him into the kitchen. Another hour or so together was no big deal, she assured herself. They were just being neighborly.

  At least, that was what she tried very hard to believe.

  Jake left just over an hour later. He paused as she showed him to the door, and for just a moment she thought he might be thinking about kissing her good-night. But then he simply thanked her again for the lemonade and the dinner, told her he’d like a rematch at Monopoly sometime and let himself out.