Two days later, Jace called and asked if I could have lunch with him. It was my day off, although I had a late afternoon appointment with the realtors. We met at a downtown café called Marie’s.
We’d ordered homemade lemonade and perused the menu. I’d settled on a soup and sandwich combo. I could envision this place as a television sound stage. It reveled in kitsch and the waitresses wore red gingham dresses with white collars and aprons.
“Leslie, I’m not sure we left things in a good place the other night. Maybe I’ve been overly tense with this whole FBI case, but I think they have what they need from me. I’m back in my regular rotation again with the patrol.” He glanced around the crowded diner. “Are you going to fill me in about your broken engagement?”
“No.” I sipped lemonade through my straw. “I will sometime. Not the time or place.”
Jace studied my face as though decoding hidden meanings.
I felt a flush rising due to his extra scrutiny. “I’m glad you were candid about your opinions. Even if we don’t agree on everything, we should communicate. But I’m not having sex with you just because you want me to.”
His laugh came out in a bark. “Well, you made that clear.”
I smiled at him. He might get to the finish line if he was patient. I saw potential in Jace Lassiter. God, now I sound like my mother.
“Tell me honestly, why did you want to go out with me?” Would he give me a straight answer?
The corner of Jace’s mouth twitched. “I think you’re very attractive in a wholesome way. And I already know most of the women in my age group in this town. The majority are married or divorced.”
“You wouldn’t date someone who was divorced?”
“I might, depending on the circumstances. It’s more complicated. Not looking for complicated. I’m looking for easy.”
My brows shot up. “You think I’m easy?”
He scoffed. “Not sleazy easy. Uncomplicated. No baggage.”
I pursed my lips. Because you want to be in control? Am I dealing with another macho type A personality?
“Well, if you think there are no desirable women in this town, I won’t have much competition. And I went out with you because I haven’t met any men that meet my criteria. So far, it’s limited to the employees at Freeman’s. They’re too young, too old, or married. I’m not giving up, though.”
“You’re looking for an unmarried man in your age group. You don’t even care if he’s good-looking or has a steady job?”
“Not really. As long as he doesn’t try to change me. I suppose there aren’t any men in your line of work who aren’t control freaks.”
Jace frowned. “Wait, you don’t think I—”
A different waitress brought our lunch plates. She was tall and slender, with shiny dark hair pulled into a high ponytail. When she smiled, her cheeks made me think of peaches, round and rosy. She had a gazillion teeth filling her broad smile.
“Jace, I thought I saw you come in. How’s it going at the patrol?” she asked.
“It’s going well, thanks for asking. Leslie, this is Shireen Applebee. Or are you still going by Shireen Thomas?”
“I went back to Applebee after the divorce was final. Leslie, you said?” Shireen directed a smile my way.
“Leslie Hamilton.” I extended my hand, and Shireen wiped hers on her apron, and then we shook.
“I went to high school with Jace and his brother,” she said. “It’s great to see Jace back in North Platte. He’s been missed.”
“Leslie is working as an interior designer at Freeman’s,” Jace said.
“You must be very talented.” Shireen stole another glance at Jace, then moved back toward other tables.
“She seems pleasant.” I watched Shireen flit between tables, pouring coffee refills and chatting with customers.
“Shireen is perky. Which is surprising, considering what she’s been through. Her six-year-old son is a character. We went fishing a couple of months ago and he was so enthusiastic.”
“You took her son fishing?”
“They had a little kid’s fishing tournament. His dad’s a truck driver and isn’t here much. Shireen went along but wasn’t about to touch the worms.”
A cartoon lightbulb popped over my head. My eyes bounced from Jace to Shireen, who delivered another order. I side-eyed Jace watching me.
I leaned over the table and lowered my voice. “Shireen isn’t the girl you had sex with in high school, is she?”
Jace’s jaw tightened. He nonchalantly put a French fry in his mouth and then took a large bite of his double cheeseburger. After chewing, he said, “They have good food here, don’t you think?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. I suppose it was none of my business, although he had sort of told me the story. Maybe I didn’t want to know about everything in his past.
“I’m meeting with the realtors this afternoon. I might meet more of your high school cronies.” I sampled my chicken tortilla soup—tasty. The turkey salad sandwich had a nice crunch, sweet grapes, and the right ration of tangy mayo.
The mention of the realtors again took the sparkle out of Jace’s eyes. Before he could respond, we heard a commotion at the cash register. A deep voice asked for Shireen.
Jace glared at the entrance. “Oh no. Talk about one of the high school troublemakers. That’s Tyson Thomas, Shireen’s ex-husband.”
Tyson towered at six-four with tattooed sleeves and wore an Old Milwaukee T-shirt, which didn’t quite cover his pronounced gut. Shireen set down her pitcher of lemonade when she spotted him. Tyson marched over, grabbed her roughly by the upper arm, and forced her outside onto the sidewalk in front of the restaurant windows. The whole place grew quiet, watching this tableau unfold. A woman in her fifties came out of the kitchen wearing a full white apron. She crossed her arms and sneered at the scene we were all observing. I wondered if she was Marie, the restaurant owner.
It was clear from his flamboyant hand gestures and red face Tyson was yelling at Shireen, but we couldn’t make out his words. That became easier once the restaurant fell silent.
“I have every right to test his paternity! Child Family Services tried to hit me with a child support bill. The jokes on them, ain’t it? Cuz now I don’t owe you nothin’. They tell me I have to pay to have my name removed from his birth certificate, but it’ll be a hell of a lot cheaper than another twelve years of supporting your bastard kid.”
We could see Shireen gesturing toward Tyson, her ponytail whipping back and forth, but her back was to the window and her voice lower.
“Who is Logan’s father? Does he even know? For once, you’re going to tell me the truth!” Tyson grabbed Shireen and pushed her against the window with one beefy hand on her neck.
Jace was out the door before I realized he’d left his seat. He pulled Tyson away from Shireen by the back of his shirt.
“Back off, Thomas!” Jace roared. “This is no place to argue with your ex-wife. She’s working. You want to talk, give her a call when she’s done.”
Shireen stayed near the window, rubbing her neck.
“It’s you, Lassiter, right? You had the hots for Shireen in high school.” Tyson’s voice still boomed.
Jace beckoned to Shireen, and she came back inside with him. Tyson turned on his heel, climbed into his pickup truck across the street, and slammed the door. Shireen made a beeline for the woman I’d pegged as Marie, and they disappeared into the kitchen.
Jace tried to resume his seat subtly, but several older patrons applauded. He blushed. That made me smile; I’d never seen him embarrassed.
A couple of police officers rushed into the café and scanned the occupants. Someone must have called in the disturbance. The cashier directed them back to the kitchen.
I waited for Jace to explain more, but he resumed eating his lunch. He didn’t seem to care if his once-warm cheeseburger had gone cold. He mostly ate to fuel his body. Potential, yes. He had potential.