Right Place, Right Time (Second Chances Book 2) (2 page)

Kate

“One Black and Tan and one Killian’s,” I set the two pilsners down on the high-top table with a smile. “Would you like to order any food tonight?”

“None for me,” the black haired guy says.

“We’d like to start a tab,” the bald one states as his eyes seem to undress me from head to toe. It takes everything I have not to visibly cringe. You don’t get good tips by recoiling from your customers.

“I’ll take care of that for you. My name is Kate, holler if you need anything.” I quickly move away from the table and check on a few others on my way to the back for a bit of reprieve. St. Patrick’s Day is always a great day to work because the tips are generally high, but it brings out the creepers, even to an upscale establishment like Five.

I step outside the back door and take a deep breath of fresh air. The salty bay air is mixed with a little exhaust from the highway and a little garbage from the nearby dumpster, but it’s close enough to fresh.

“Kate,” Laurie, Five’s hostess, calls out through the cracked back door. “You have a visitor.”

A visitor? I know it’s not Casey, or any of my classmates from school, since none of us can afford a place like Five on our starving student budgets. Could it be my parents? That thought makes me laugh out loud, garnering an odd look from one of the dishwashers I pass on my way back through the restaurant. It would be extremely unprofessional for a professor to ask for me at work, so that can’t be it…

I continue to wrack my brain of the possibilities as I weave through the crowded bar area and make my way to the hostess stand. Out of the billion scenarios I’d imagined in my head, not one of them included
him.

I nearly trip over myself coming to an abrupt stop just a few steps away.

He hasn’t seen me yet; I can still make a run for it.

Not the most mature thought, I admit. I’m just not sure I can handle this…handle
him
. What is he doing here after all this time? How the heck is he in California? How did he even know where to find me? He’d told me flat out he stopped reading my letters. It’s been
years
since I’d last seen or heard from Jay, and during that final visit I’d gotten the impression I’d never,
ever
see him again. I’m not going to lie, it had hurt. Bad. And he knew it. So what is he doing here now? On the opposite side of the country from where he should be.

Before I can decide whether to speak to him or run far, far away, he looks up and sees me. His cold, gray eyes drill into me, taking me in from head to toe in a much more invasive way than the bald guy at my table, yet it makes me tingle with desire rather than unease. I don’t move and I don’t speak, I stand stock-still as he continues making his assessment, expecting him to turn and flee once he’s gotten his fill. I’m sure he’s real impressed with my uniform—knee-length pencil skirt and long sleeve button-down shirt, both in black, with a small red scarf tied around my neck. Standard Five uniform.

Jay looks about the same as he did the last time I’d seen him with the exception of his hair. It’s a little bit longer than the super short buzz cut, with some messy spikes on top. His hair is dark blond, I note. He’s clean shaven and he’s got a small scar on his left cheek. A tremor runs through me at the thought of how he might have gotten that. He hadn’t had it the last time I saw him. His square jaw is locked in a perpetual scowl he seems to have gained proficiency in over the years.

When his eyes meet mine again, he doesn’t flee, instead he hesitantly steps forward and my breath catches.
This is it
. This is the moment I’ve been waiting years for. The moment when he says, “I’m sorry; I was an idiot.” Only he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say that at all.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

Those are the words that come out of his mouth. After
years
…
that’s
what he says to me.

“Then go,” I tell him flatly, pure disappointment flowing through my body. Without wasting another moment, I turn away from him and go back to the busy dining room. I will not let him affect me the way he did before. I will
not
give him that.

***

Laurie seated
him
in my section thirty minutes ago, and I haven’t been by his table once. I’m pissed he’s taking up space, but I know he’ll leave a tip whether he orders or not. That’s just the type of guy he is. At least I think it is. It’s the way he had been when I thought I knew him. I guess it turns out I hadn’t really known him at all. But still, there’s just something about him…something I’ve trusted since the moment I first saw him…which is completely crazy, considering his past.

Deep down though, I know he’s a good guy. He’s a good guy trying to do the right thing. Isn’t that always when they hurt us the most? When they think they’re doing the right thing? Whatever.

Bald guy is pretty lit and black-haired guy is unsuccessfully trying to get him to chill out. He hasn’t made a grab for me yet, but he’s been getting closer and closer every time I pass by their table. I’ve only served him two Black and Tans, so I suspect their evening started before they’d arrived here tonight, either that or he’s an incredible lightweight.

While I’m at the bar getting refills for my less obnoxious guests, I chance a look at Jay. He’s tucked away at a high-top table in the corner by a window. His feet are resting on the lower bar of the stool, his knees are bent, and his elbows are resting on the table. His head is down, focused on the paper coaster he’s decimating with his hands. When he was standing at the hostess stand earlier, he looked like a rugged man in his black work boots, faded jeans, and leather jacket that covered the sleeves of tattoos I know he has. Now, hunched over the table like that, he reminds me of a vulnerable boy.

“Order up,” the bartender, Ted, says, and I pick up my tray of drinks. “That table treating you right?” he asks, nodding to bald guy’s table.

“So far.”

“You let me know if they get out of line.”

“Thanks, Ted.” I give him a smile and move to deliver the drinks to my table.

Ted’s a…nice guy. He’s in his early thirties, tall, dark, and handsome with brown eyes and brown hair. He could be a really great friend, too, if he didn’t have a crush on me. He’s worked at Five as long as I have and asks me out at least once a season. I find a way to politely turn him down every time, with school being the most frequent excuse. I’m pre-med at Stanford, and I truly don’t have the time for a relationship or dating. I also never really envisioned a guy almost ten years older than me being my boyfriend. Not that there’s anything wrong with dating older people, it’s just not for me at this stage in my life.

Still, it’s good to have Ted around on nights like tonight when patrons can get a little out of control. He’s not overly buff or anything like that, but he practices martial arts, so he’s got some moves. It helps considering we don’t have bouncers like many of the other bars around. We’re known for our upscale cuisine, not as a drinking establishment, but the “rules” pretty much fly out the window on holidays—especially ones celebrated with alcohol.

I deliver my drinks, and as I walk by bald guy, he stops me with a hand on my arm. I gracefully remove myself from his hold and refrain from rolling my eyes as I turn to face him.

“Whatcha doing working at a place like this?” he slurs, and I notice black-haired guy isn’t at the table.

He better not have left him here.

“Where’s your friend?” I ask.

“You should be working at a place called Ten, not Five
.
” This time I do roll my eyes. It’s not the first time I’ve heard some variation of that line before, and it certainly won’t be the last.

“Can I get you some water?” I pick up the empty glasses from the table and set them on my tray.

“I’d like some of this,” he says, and before I realize what’s happening, he grabs my ass and squeezes.

Stunned, I twist away from his touch. The tray I’m holding crashes to the floor with my choppy movement, and the glasses shatter on the hardwood floor. Nearby patrons shriek in shock and surprise. I’m about to lay into the guy about keeping his hands to himself when I’m gently pushed back and a pair of wide, leather-clad shoulders are suddenly between me and the drunk patron.

“Put your fucking hands on her again, and I’ll break them,” Jay growls.

This is
so
not good.

“Hey, now, let’s calm down here.” I peek out from behind Jay to look for the owner of the nervous-sounding voice, and see black-haired guy has returned to the table.
Nice timing, jerk.

“
Your
friend got handsy with
my
friend. Don’t you tell
me
to calm down.” Jay’s voice is deadly calm, and I can just imagine the look he’s giving the two men because black-haired guy’s eyes widen as he takes a step back.

“We were just leaving,” he mutters. “Can we get our check?” he asks me, not taking his eyes off Jay. Smart man.

“Sure,” I tell him, reaching into my apron for the check.

“Everything okay over here?” Ted asks, finally making an appearance.

“It’s fine,” I hand the guy his check, and Ted says he’ll cash him out. I thank him and put my hand on Jay’s arm, tugging on it to get him to stop glaring and step away from the dumbass duo. On the third tug, he finally looks down at me, and it’s as if he’s seeing me for the first time. As if he hadn’t even realized where he was until this moment. He looks almost as vulnerable now as he had when he was sitting alone at his table.

“I think you need to go,” I tell him. The vulnerability is immediately replaced by a steely resolve as he nods and walks away, stopping by the table to leave some cash before he walks out the front door.

“Who was that?” Laurie asks in awe, walking over and standing beside me as I watch Jay leave.

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

And it’s true…I’m not sure I know who Jay is anymore. Or if I ever did.

Jay

“I shouldn’t be here.”

No truer words had ever been spoken.

So why am I still here?

I pace the parking space beside my restored Harley Roadster, trying to figure out what to do. She’d said I should go.
Twice
. She’s probably not going to be thrilled when she walks out and sees that I’m still here. At first, I’d intended to stick around just long enough to make sure those assholes left. But once they were gone, I couldn’t bring myself to hop on my bike and drive away. This is the closest I’ve been in years to the girl I’ve been dreaming about ever since we first met almost four years ago.

I arrived in California six months ago on a whim. I’d read her letters—all her letters—and had to see her. Truth is…I have no idea what possessed me to physically come here, rather than call or reach out through social media, but I know what’s kept me here. And now I’ve got a month-to-month lease on a cheap apartment near the garage I work at as a motorcycle mechanic. I’m just winging it. Taking it day by day and trying to figure out my place in the world…if I even have a place in the world anymore.

Admittedly, I’ve seen Kate a few times since getting here, too afraid to make contact. Add stalking to the list of my many stellar qualities. I just didn’t know how to approach her…or what to say. I’d said some pretty mean things the last time I saw her and, while I thought I’d been doing it for her own good, in retrospect, it had been a pretty shitty move.

My brooding is put on hold by the sound of laughter.
Her
laughter. I stop pacing and look towards the back exit of the restaurant. Kate, the hostess, and the bartender are all walking out the door. She’s looking up at the bartender, laughing at whatever he’s saying, and he’s looking down at her with stars in his eyes. Can’t say I blame him.

I don’t know what to make of this guy. He looks like a preppy tool bag, which is exactly the kind of guy Kate should have in her life. Someone safe and smart and stable.

Not a guy like me.

I curse myself for sticking around this long. There aren’t enough vehicles in the parking lot for me to duck and cover, so it only takes seconds for the hostess to make me out in the shadows and nudge Kate in the rib with her elbow. Kate scowls at the girl, and the girl gestures towards me. When Kate’s brown eyes meet mine, they widen.

Yep, I’m still here!

She says something to her friends and as she walks away from them, towards me, the bartender puts his hand on her arm. She stiffens, and I take a step forward, feeling a possessiveness I shouldn’t. I don’t deserve to feel anything towards her. She says something over her shoulder that I can’t hear, and he lets go, looking properly chastised. I smirk, glad to see she’s got some sass. Her friends watch her for a minute, then go to their respective vehicles.

“I told you to go,” she says when she steps in front of me.

“I wanted to see you.”

“What you did in there wasn’t very smart,” she continues, ignoring what I’d said. “That situation could have escalated and someone could have called the police.”

“Hold on just a minute there, Sunshine. I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but no one is going to treat you that way when I’m around and get away with it. Let them call the cops, I will protect you whenever and however I can. Always.”

Her lips forms a surprised “O,” and she seems stunned for a minute. Then she shakes her head and comes back to me. “Why are you here, anyway? Not just at the restaurant, but in California? Are you visiting someone or something? Just passing through?”

It hurts a little that she sounds so hopeful my stay is only a temporary one, but that’s what I’d wanted, right? For her to not want to be around me? Then why the hell did I come here?

“I kind of live here now,” I tell her honestly, rubbing the back of my neck in anticipation of her freak out.

“You what?” she shrieks.

“I moved here in September.”

“To Stanford?” There’s still a high-pitch tone to her voice.

“San Jose.”

“You moved here,” she says like she still can’t believe it. Hell, I can hardly believe it most days.

“Yes.”

“Why? How? Can you even do that?” She furrows her brow and waits for answers.

“I drove here on my bike—”

“From South Carolina?” she almost shrieks again, and I nod. “Are you crazy?”

“People do it all the time.” She gives me a look that says she doesn’t believe me and she still thinks I’m crazy. Understandable. Even
I
think I’m crazy.

“And you’re not going to get in trouble for being here?”

“No, I’m not going to get in trouble,” I answer, sounding like a child getting scolded. I feel like a child being scolded, too.

“I just don’t get it, Jay. Out of all the places you could have gone…you had to come here.”

“I don’t get it either,” I say quietly, staring at the asphalt under my boots.

“Look, I’m not really sure what you want me to do here,” she starts, and I quickly interrupt her.

“Nothing. I don’t expect you to do anything. I just wanted to see you. I
needed
to see you.”

“That’s quite the contrast from the last time we saw each other.”

I let out a sigh and lace my hands behind my head, looking up at the sky for a moment as I try to find the strength to explain my fucked up reasoning for doing what I did. For pushing her away. I’d never wanted to hurt her. I still don’t. I was only trying to protect her. To keep her safe.

“I was in a really bad place back then,” I say after a minute of absolute silence.

“No shit.” The way she says it, so matter-of-factly, as she’s standing in front of me with her arms crossed, hip cocked, and a take-no-shit attitude has me barking out a laugh. “So this is funny, now?”

“No. I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head between laughs. Then I nod. “Yes. You gotta admit…”

Her lip starts to quirk up on the side. “You have a nice laugh,” she says after a minute. “I’d forgotten what it sounds like.”

“Thanks. So do you,” I tell her. She does. Her laugh sounds like church bells. Holy and innocent. I’d never forgotten that sound. Just one of the things that got me through it all.

She blushes at my compliment and shifts from one foot to the other, finally relaxing her stance. “So you’ve seen me. Now what?” she asks, briefly lifting her arms to her sides before letting them drop against her hips.

Now I should leave and never look back. Let her live her life, finish school, become a doctor, marry the preppy bartender, buy a house, and have two-point-five kids. And a dog. Can’t forget the dog.

Instead I ask, “Want to grab some coffee?”