Jack and Djinn (The Houri Legends, #1)(9)
She did listen to one of the voicemails, though: “Miriam, it’s me,” Ben’s voice said. “I’m sorry if things…got out of hand. I must’ve had too much to drink and blacked out or something. I’m not entirely sure. I don’t remember much of last night, and what I do remember…it doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know. Just…call me when you get off work, okay? All right, ’bye.” Miriam felt a rush of hope when she heard that. He thought he’d blacked out, so he might not remember seeing Jack at all, which would make things a lot easier. She’d spent the entire morning trying to come up with an explanation he might believe; maybe now she wouldn’t have to.
Miriam dragged herself through the day, her thoughts returning to Jack more than they should have. She found herself waiting for orders at the service bar, staring at the liquor bottles, and wondering how she could arrange to see him “accidentally.” She had the card he’d given her in her server book, tucked behind the order pad.
Larry, the general manager, was cutting her a few minutes before six, since the bar was dead. Miriam sat on the stainless steel counter in the kitchen, counting her cash, staring at Jack’s scrawled name and phone number. She told herself to go home and catch up on The Bachelor. But…her car did need brake work.
It couldn’t hurt anything to just see him, could it?
Yes, it could, the logical side of her brain answered. You won’t just go see him. You’ll end up going somewhere with him, and he’ll be charming and perfect, and you’ll think he’ll be different. But he’s not. All guys are the same. Don’t go down that road. Just don’t. Go home. Watch The Bachelor.
Logic lost the argument when she thought of Jack, remembering the warmth of his blue eyes, the feel of his hard abs through his thin T-shirt, his strong back against her face as she’d held on to him for balance. She thought of how close she had come to kissing him. It was crazy, and she knew it. She’d just met him, had spent barely three hours with him, and yet she couldn’t stop thinking about him. And about what he’d said. How he thought she was beautiful. She would just go home. She pocketed her tips, changed out of her uniform, and continued to tell herself to be sensible and stay home.
When she did get home, though, the TV stayed off. She took a short shower, just to wash off the smell of the bar. When she got dressed, she found herself putting on a low-cut top, because it made her feel sexy. A girl needed to feel good about herself, right? She curled her hair so the long dark brown spirals hung at her shoulder blades and framed her face. She wasn’t doing her hair for Jack, she was just…doing her hair. And the makeup she put on, the eyeliner, the lip stain, and the hint of mascara…that was for….
Oh, hell, she thought. I want to see Jack, and that’s what I’m going to do. No sense in pretending.
She Googled the address of Jack’s garage on her phone as she pulled away in her rattling old Volvo. Miriam found the place without a problem, a mere fifteen-minute drive away. The front office smelled like oil and old coffee, a pile of tires stacked in one corner, a few cracked plastic chairs lined along one wall on either side of a small table holding a coffee maker and a couple of Auto Trader magazines. A thickset, balding man in blue mechanic’s coveralls sat behind the counter, wiping his hands on a rag and staring at a computer monitor. He looked up when the little bell attached to the door tinkled.
“Can I help you, darlin’?” He had a slight Irish accent and brown eyes. A name patch on his coveralls read Doyle.
“Well, I need my brakes looked at,” Miriam said, trying to peer past him into the garage, hoping for a glimpse of Jack.
“Okay, well, what’s wrong with ’em?” Doyle tossed the rag onto the counter, digging in his ear with a pudgy forefinger.
“They’re squealing when I stop, and shuddering when I get off the freeway.” She didn’t really care about the brakes, but now that she was here, she was finding it hard to come right out and ask for Jack. She shifted to one side, seeing a flash of blond hair from underneath a car.
Doyle glanced behind himself and back to Miriam. “Are you lookin’ for someone?”
Miriam blushed, nodded. “Is Jack here?”
Doyle laughed, an uproarious belly laugh, as if she had said something hysterical. Miriam just stared at him, unsure how to respond.
“Why, sure he is! Why didn’t you ask in the first place? I ain’t gonna bite you, you know. Hang on a tick, I’ll get him.” He leaned backward in the chair, tipping over so far Miriam was sure he’d fall over.
“Jackie!” he bellowed, loud enough that Miriam flinched. “Hey, Jackie-boy! There’s a girl here to see you.”
She heard Jack’s voice call out, “A girl? Who is it?”
“Well, I don’t know, do I? A pretty one!”
Jack entered the office, wiping his hands on his pants leg. “Miriam! I wasn’t expecting to see you…I mean, I’m glad you’re here, but—” He cut himself off, grabbed the rag, and wiped his face with it, smearing grease across his forehead and eliciting a laugh from Miriam.
“Well, I needed brake work….” Miriam gave the excuse, hoping he’d see through it.
“Yeah, sure,” Jack said, coming around the counter and walking her out into the early evening sunlight. “You know you just came to see me,” he teased. If only he knew how true that was. Now that she was here with him, she wasn’t sure what to do next.