“Yes, but people are definitely staring,” she insisted.
Jack didn’t have a self-conscious bone in his body. There might be a thing or two on his mind today, what with his uncle’s unexpected and unwelcome visit. Not to mention the fact that he’d already heard about Jack’s intended bid for a Council seat. But in the grand scheme of things, he was grounded enough to not worry about the Wilder grapevine. He’d been the star of it on a regular basis as a rebellious teen and as a wild twenty-something. He was more settled now, but still managed to send a ripple through the universe with his actions from time to time.
He didn’t let the rumor mill get the best of him, but others weren’t always as thick-skinned. He’d learned that lesson several times over. The hard way—with his family. He hoped Liza was strong enough to withstand whatever ridicule might be coming her way as a result of her clothes or her association with him.
“You know,” the beauty beside him said, drawing his thoughts away from the past and returning him to the very enjoyable present. “You warned me earlier that people around here talk. So what was that all about if you don’t care what they’re talking about?”
“Just wanted you to be cognizant of it, sweetheart. And take whatever they have to say with a grain of salt.”
“Huh,” she mused, as though trying to figure out small-town life. Then she added, “So I should expect some flack for being an outsider? The ‘which one is different from the others?’ mentality?”
“Something like that.”
“Well,” she said as she lifted her chin a notch. “I suppose I don’t blame people for staring. Hell, how could anyone not notice me when I’m holding hands with you?”
Jack chuckled. “Darlin’, I’ve lived here my whole life. Trust me, people are going to draw whatever conclusions come easiest to them. And you either get mired down in it or you rise above it.”
“I can take it if you can. Grain of salt,” she added.
“Atta girl.” He winked at her.
Then he ducked into an alley, pulling her with him. He pushed open a glass-and-wood door that creaked on its hinges. The faded green lettering that arched like a monochromatic rainbow on the glass read, “Pietro’s Fine Dining.”
When they entered the establishment, Manhattan laughed softly, getting the joke. Pietro’s was cozy and quaint, with red-and-w
hite checkered, vinyl tablecloths, brown cafeteria-style plastic cups and flatware rolled in paper napkins. The ambience screamed roadside diner.
“Fine dining?” she whispered mockingly.
“Take a good whiff,” he whispered back.
She lifted her nose in the air and sniffed at the decadent smell coming from the kitchen.
“Oh my God.” Her stomach growled again. “Holy shit,” she said, a little louder. “Someone’s got the spicy sausage, peppers and roasted garlic down pat.”
“Good nose,” he said with a grin. “Now keep your wits about you, sweetheart. Things are about to get interesting.”
* * * * *
“Well, there you are, sport.”
Liza tore her eyes from Jack as a rather robust woman in her late forties descended upon them, her faded red hair pulled back in a tight bun. The white apron wrapped around her large frame was stained with tomato sauce, and scrawled across her sagging breasts were the words, “Keep the Tips Up.”
The strategic position of the two red arrows on her chest, pointing upward, made Liza smile at the double entendre.
“Been waiting all day for you,” she said to Jack. “You getting lazy on me and sleepin’ in?” She didn’t give him the chance to answer. “Well, better late than never. I still have your table.”
Liza found this amusing, considering there were only a handful of people having lunch this late in the afternoon.
The woman’s warm, dark brown eyes shifted to Liza and she added, “For once the town chatterboxes got it right. Damn, you are a pretty little thing. Interesting dress.” And then she turned, rather cumbersomely given her large frame, and grabbed a menu from the podium. “Follow me,” she said as she wound her way through the narrow aisles, leading them to the back of the restaurant. Her hips brushed every chair she walked past. An airline flight attendant she’d never make, for all the obvious reasons, but Liza instantly liked her.
“I’m Ruby, by the way,” she said as she gestured to an intimate booth, tucked away in a quiet corner.
“Liza Brooks.”
Ruby handed her a menu as Liza slid into the forest green, vinyl-covered booth.
“Pick your poison, sweetheart,” Ruby said.