Free A Wish and a Prayer by Beverly Jenkins Page B

reason, she had a deep sense of foreboding, as if something bad loomed on the horizon. Hoping it was nothing more than spillover from Stillwell’s anger, she picked up her phone and put in the promised call to Sheriff Will Dalton.
    R ocky finished the prep for tomorrow’s breakfast and looked around at the now-sparkling kitchen. The floor had been swept and mopped, counters wiped down. The only items still on her to-do list included checking on the state of the dining room and assembling the one hundred napkin and silverware packs common to every eatery. Placing the large tub of clean silverware on a cart, she added a bundled stack of napkins and pushed her way out to the dining room.
    And the first thing she saw, of course, was Jack. He was bent over, wiping down one of the tables. His back was to her, so it gave her a moment to view him at her leisure.
    His dark hair was touched with gray and worn a bit longer than was deemed trendy, but she’d never paid any attention to such things. As a teen, he’d probably been as gangly and thin as his son, Eli, was now, but age had added weight to his frame, making him no less tall, but fit, like a swimmer. The small gold hoop in his ear added a rakishness to his already good looks, and Rocky knew she could stare at him for the rest of her life. After the farmers’ meeting ended, he’d asked if she wanted his help with the cleanup, and because his presence had her so off her game, she’d said yes. A few other people stuck around to lend a hand taking down the buffet table and putting the chairs back in their normal configuration, but they’d gone home a while ago. Now the two of them were the only ones in the building.
    Jazz great Sonny Criss was playing on the jukebox. The sweet, velvety sound of his horn against the diner’s silence gave the air a hushed, intimate feel. She pushed the cart farther into the dining room. He glanced her way and slowly straightened.
    â€œI have a couple more tables to do, and I’ll be done. What’s in the tub?”
    â€œSilverware I need to wrap in napkins, but I can do it alone. You don’t have to stay any longer.”
    â€œHow many do you have to make?”
    â€œOne hundred.”
    â€œWouldn’t four hands be faster than two?”
    â€œIt’s almost ten o’clock,” she said, fighting the parts of herself that wanted him to stay.
    â€œAnd?”
    She sighed around a smile. He was persistent, if nothing else. “Okay. Finish the tables and then come sit over here, and I’ll show you how to do this.”
    He joined her a few minutes later, and she demonstrated how the wraps were made. His first few attempts were crude, but he improved steadily.
    â€œHow’s this?” he asked, holding up one of his better attempts for her inspection.
    â€œPerfect.”
    Their gazes held—longer than was necessary. Rocky ducked her head and resumed working. They didn’t talk much, but words didn’t seem necessary. With only the silence and the hushed jazz between them, she took a few peeks at him and found him peeking back. She decided the time had come to make a decision; if she didn’t, she was going to lose her mind. “Are you busy Saturday morning?”
    He stopped and searched her eyes as if trying to discern the reason for the question. “Um, not that I know of. Why?”
    â€œI’m driving down to Hays to pick up a bike. Thought you’d like to ride along.”
    He appeared so shocked she almost smiled.
    â€œIs this like a date?”
    â€œNo, Jack. It isn’t. Do you want to go or not?” She loved his accent.
    â€œYeah, sure. What time?”
    â€œLeaving here at six.”
    â€œIn the morning?”
    She waited.
    â€œOkay. Where should I meet you?”
    â€œI’ll pick you up at your place. Just be ready.”
    â€œSure.”
    Now he was the one who looked rattled. For her, that made them even.
    He was