Читать книгу Between Love and Duty - Janice Johnson Kay - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

DUNCAN CALLED IN THE LATE afternoon a couple of days later to let Jane know he couldn’t make it to Hector and Tito’s second outing. She was disappointed, she knew, only because the whole thing was so ridiculously awkward. With Duncan there, her position felt less awkward. He was a distraction. Without him, she was left lurking like some kind of Peeping Jane.

Hector had taken Tito to a game arcade, which had the boy really excited. Hanging around the arcade, as noisy as it was, pretending she was interested in other people playing games while really keeping an eye on her targets, pretty much sucked as an evening’s entertainment. She so didn’t fit in. Plus, she’d been on her feet all day, and now for close to two additional hours, and she was beat and hungry and getting grouchy.

Finally she saw the two heading toward her. “You’re still here?” Hector said, when they reached her.

She knew darn well he’d been aware of her presence. “Of course I am,” she said with a smile that felt fake.

He rolled his eyes, letting her know what he thought. He appeared oblivious of the anxious look his son gave him. “We’re going for pizza now.”

“Where?”

He told her, then walked out with Tito. Technically the boy should ride in her car, not with his father, but she was willing to give them the three minutes or so it would take to get to the pizza parlor. She saw them get into a battered pickup truck, then jumped into her own car and followed them out of the parking lot. Her cell phone rang as she turned into the pizza place behind the pickup.

She groped for the phone.

“This is Duncan,” he said brusquely. “Is Tito still with his father?”

“Yes, we’re going out for pizza now.”

“I’ll join you. Where are you?”

She rolled her eyes and probably looked as adolescent as Hector had, but she was conscious of relief, too, as she told Duncan where to find them. She hadn’t been looking forward to sitting in a booth by herself. Maybe, she thought optimistically, Hector would invite her to join them. He’d already had time alone with Tito. If he wanted to impress her, he’d be a little friendlier.

But no. Father and son walked into the pizza parlor without even giving her the courtesy of a glance. She trudged after them. They had a spirited consultation and ordered, neither apparently interested in the salad bar. Then they headed for a booth, leaving her to order her own food.

Would Duncan be hungry? Would he want to share with her if he was? Who knew? She decided to be gracious and order a pizza large enough for both of them. If he didn’t want any, she’d take the leftovers home.

She’d gotten her salad and drink and plopped herself into the booth right next to Tito and Hector’s when she saw Duncan come in. He swept the room with a glance and homed in first on Tito and then her like a heat-seeking missile.

Jane waved him over. “I ordered a pizza. It’s got pretty much everything on it. If you want to share, you’re welcome. Anything else, you’re on your own.”

“Fair enough.” He went to the counter, and soon returned with a salad, as well, and a drink. He slid into the booth across from her.

Jane had decided to let him sit facing the other booth in hopes he wouldn’t be close enough to eavesdrop. She’d been trying, but was frustrated by the rapid-fire Spanish father and son were speaking.

Duncan was as intimidating as ever. Today he must have been wearing a suit, although he’d left the coat in the car and had pulled his tie loose and unbuttoned the top button on his white shirt, which was rumpled. She was a little surprised to see that he looked tired. His hair was disheveled and his eyes bloodshot. He let out a breath that was almost a sigh as he leaned back in the booth.

“Bad day?” she asked.

“Average to lousy.”

“Which part was lousy?”

His eyes met hers. “Do you really want to hear about my day?”

“We have to talk about something,” she pointed out.

He grunted, displaying his excellent male communication skills. “What are they talking about?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed, keeping her voice low. “Well, I’m getting the gist of it, but they’re talking fast.”

“In Spanish,” he realized.

“Yes.”

“You speak it.”

“Yes, but not well enough to keep up when somebody is chattering away at full speed.”

His eyes narrowed. “Which makes you a lousy chaperone.”

“There’s no requirement that I have to hear every word they exchange.”

With clear disapproval, Duncan said, “He shouldn’t be talking to Tito in Spanish. He needs to improve his English.”

Jane sympathized, but felt compelled to argue. “Spanish is their native language.”

“Which Tito can’t use in school.”

Suddenly tired herself, Jane pushed her half-eaten salad away. “Should I turn around and demand they switch languages so we can understand them?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

She studied him in fascination. “You’re grinding your teeth. That can’t be good for you.”

He quit grinding and clenched instead. Strong muscles flexed in his jaw. Finally he set down his fork. “Thank you for pointing out the obvious to me.”

Jane smiled. “I take it I’m not the first.”

“No.”

“Oh, well. I guess we all need a bad habit.”

His expression relaxed and she thought she saw a glint of humor in his eyes. “What’s yours?”

“Oh, I’m sure I have dozens.” But did she want to admit any of them to Police Captain MacLachlan? “Ice cream.”

One of those fascinating half smiles curved his mouth. “In large quantity?”

“When I’m in a bad mood, a pint of mint chocolate chip makes me feel way better.”

“Since it’s obviously not going to your hips, that doesn’t sound like a bad habit. Only a habit.”

“I suck on my hair.”

He stifled a laugh. She loved what that did to his face. “You what?”

Oh, why had she told him? Resigned, she lifted the hank, a little bit stiff and clumped together, that provided her with comfort. As a kid, it had been the tail end of her braid.

The laugh burst out of him, low and deep. “Now that I have to see.”

“I only do it when I’m by myself,” she said with fraying dignity.

“That’s worse than grinding your teeth.”

“No, it isn’t. I’m, well, soothing myself. It’s like cracking your knuckles or nibbling on your fingernails. It’s a nervous habit. I’m not suppressing an overflow of anger or hostility like you are.” So there.

“If you had my job, you too might have some hostility that needs suppressing.” Apparently unperturbed, he ate hungrily.

A number was called and Tito hopped up.

Duncan laid down his fork and said, “Hey, kid.”

Tito looked embarrassed. “Hola, I mean hi.”

Jane was aware that, behind her, Hector had turned to watch his son.

“Your pizza ready?” Duncan asked.

“Yes.”

“Good.” All amusement had left the wintry gray eyes when they apparently met Hector’s over Jane’s shoulder. “I hope ours will be soon. I’m starved.”

The boy shuffled his feet and finally took himself off to fetch the pizza. Duncan kept staring what was plainly a challenge at Tito’s father. Jane let it go on longer than she should have. Finally losing patience, she kicked him, hard, under the table.

“What the…?” He switched the hard stare to her.

She glared at him. “Enough already.”

Tito returned, triumphantly bearing pizza. Jane looked away from Duncan long enough to smile at the twelve-year-old, who smiled shyly in return.

She realized that her number was being called, and slid out of the booth. “Will you behave yourself while I’m gone?” she asked.

Duncan’s look reminded her painfully of ones all too familiar from her childhood, the kind that had once hammered at her self-confidence. Wow. And she’d been glad he was joining her. What had she been thinking?

He’d finished his salad by the time she returned with the pizza and two plates.

She didn’t say a word, only helped herself to a piece and then reached for a napkin from the holder.

After a minute, Duncan said, “Thanks for ordering for both of us.”

“You’re welcome.” But she didn’t mean it.

“My day was lousy because the city council is pushing us for layoffs and because one of two teenagers who were in a car accident last night died this morning.”

“Oh, no.” The morning news had mentioned the accident. A boy who’d barely gotten his license had been taking his fifteen-year-old girlfriend for a drive, even though in Washington State he wasn’t allowed to have minors in the car with him unless an adult was also along. He’d apparently been showing off by speeding. They’d left the road and rolled several times before coming to rest in a large drainage ditch. “The girl?” Jane asked.

Duncan shook his head. “The boy. The girl’s still hanging in there.”

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry.” She made a face. “When I have a lousy day, it means my receipts are down or an employee called in sick. Not that someone died.”

Duncan took a bite and didn’t say anything else for a long time. Somehow she knew he intended to, however, so she waited.

“The boy’s mother is a dispatcher. She was at work when…” He stopped.

“Oh, no,” Jane whispered again.

“Oh, yeah.” He sighed. “It really brings it home. You know?”

“I can imagine.”

He told her about how hard the responding officers were taking it, about how the car had been nearly flattened, about calling the boy’s parents himself. And then he talked about the proposed budget and about the maddening inability of city council members to grasp the needs of the police department they took for granted. His voice grew hoarse. Jane ached to reach across the table and take his hand in hers, but she kept hers on her own side of the table.

We are not friends, she told herself, and had to repeat it. We are not friends.

Uneasiness stirred in her. She hardly knew Duncan. They were strangers sharing a pizza. So how had this conversation morphed into something so…intimate?