good. I'll just have a sandwich here. Would you like a glass of iced tea while you wait, Sheriff?"
Jerry nodded to Lucille. "Yes, ma'am, I believe I would."
For some reason I felt like I'd been set up, even though we'd already planned to go to dinner. I glanced at my mother and then at Jerry, feeling like I should give him a chance to get off my mother's hook. "Listen, Jerry, if you need to work or you're tired, we can have dinner another time."
"Hurry up, Jolene," he said, that soft Texas drawl rolling across the kitchen like an electric-charged thunderstorm. "I can't even remember the last time I had a bite to eat."
Chapter 4
We laughed and talked all through dinner, chatted about old times, old spouses, kids, football games and steamy rides home after the games. We didn't talk about the specific details of those nights, but it was pretty clear we were both thinking about them.
The food was fabulous, the filet mignon so tender I'd cut it with a butter knife. And I'd had a beer, which is one beer too many for me. One little bottle of Coors Light and I was having way too good of a time. It was all the beer's fault, too. It had nothing at all to do with Jerry. Nothing at all to do with the fact that I thought Jerry Don Parker looked better than any man I'd ever seen, including Mel Gibson, Tom Cruise and any male on the cover of a romance novel. "The first time wasn't so great, you know."
He chuckled then took a sip of his beer. "I think I got the hang of it pretty quickly."
I laughed. "Yes, you certainly did."
Silence reigned for too long and I let my tongue start wagging before my brain started paying attention. "I guess you were a pro by the time Rhonda came around." Well, now, I hadn't really meant for that to slip out. Admitting that your bitter little twenty-five-year-old grudges were alive and well wasn't real great dinner conversation. I was trying to think of a tactful way to unsay what I'd just said, but it wasn't coming.
Jerry cocked his head a little, curved one corner of his lip up in a sad grin and shook his head. "I never slept with Rhonda, Jolene. I told you that about a hundred times. You just didn't want to believe it."
Even through the beer haze, I couldn't deny that. He'd told me nothing had happened between them, but I hadn't believed him. All I could hear was Rhonda's blow-by-blow of their so-called date, running over and over in my head. I'd thrown up--literally. And then I'd done the worst possible thing I could have. I pushed Jerry away and accepted a journalism scholarship to UT to get away from it all, none of which I really wanted to do.
Within a day, for reasons that mental health professionals would no doubt tie somehow to my mother, I'd completely changed the course of my life. And I'd never allowed myself to talk about it ever again. Until now. And oddly, I probably knew that it hadn't really been about Rhonda even back then, not that it still didn't infuriate me. "She lied to me, didn't she? God, why didn't I realize what a lying little--"
"We were seventeen, Jo. We all made mistakes."
Some of us made a few more mistakes than others of us. "I came out to find you, and that little twit she ran around with told me that you and Rhonda had gone to get a Coke and then were going parking. I should have just smacked her."
He shook his head. "Rhonda needed a ride home after the game and you were busy doing something, I don't even remember what, but I figured I had time to run her to her house and get back to the school before you were ready to leave. But you were gone when I came back. I didn't see you for two days, and well...."
"By that time, I had ruined both our lives," I said, rather morosely. This was not exactly how I'd envisioned our romp down memory lane.
"Look, Jo, I don't blame you for any of that. We were kids. And frankly, what was between us was so intense that it scared me. Sometimes it seemed so overwhelming I didn't know if I could handle
Jerry nodded to Lucille. "Yes, ma'am, I believe I would."
For some reason I felt like I'd been set up, even though we'd already planned to go to dinner. I glanced at my mother and then at Jerry, feeling like I should give him a chance to get off my mother's hook. "Listen, Jerry, if you need to work or you're tired, we can have dinner another time."
"Hurry up, Jolene," he said, that soft Texas drawl rolling across the kitchen like an electric-charged thunderstorm. "I can't even remember the last time I had a bite to eat."
Chapter 4
We laughed and talked all through dinner, chatted about old times, old spouses, kids, football games and steamy rides home after the games. We didn't talk about the specific details of those nights, but it was pretty clear we were both thinking about them.
The food was fabulous, the filet mignon so tender I'd cut it with a butter knife. And I'd had a beer, which is one beer too many for me. One little bottle of Coors Light and I was having way too good of a time. It was all the beer's fault, too. It had nothing at all to do with Jerry. Nothing at all to do with the fact that I thought Jerry Don Parker looked better than any man I'd ever seen, including Mel Gibson, Tom Cruise and any male on the cover of a romance novel. "The first time wasn't so great, you know."
He chuckled then took a sip of his beer. "I think I got the hang of it pretty quickly."
I laughed. "Yes, you certainly did."
Silence reigned for too long and I let my tongue start wagging before my brain started paying attention. "I guess you were a pro by the time Rhonda came around." Well, now, I hadn't really meant for that to slip out. Admitting that your bitter little twenty-five-year-old grudges were alive and well wasn't real great dinner conversation. I was trying to think of a tactful way to unsay what I'd just said, but it wasn't coming.
Jerry cocked his head a little, curved one corner of his lip up in a sad grin and shook his head. "I never slept with Rhonda, Jolene. I told you that about a hundred times. You just didn't want to believe it."
Even through the beer haze, I couldn't deny that. He'd told me nothing had happened between them, but I hadn't believed him. All I could hear was Rhonda's blow-by-blow of their so-called date, running over and over in my head. I'd thrown up--literally. And then I'd done the worst possible thing I could have. I pushed Jerry away and accepted a journalism scholarship to UT to get away from it all, none of which I really wanted to do.
Within a day, for reasons that mental health professionals would no doubt tie somehow to my mother, I'd completely changed the course of my life. And I'd never allowed myself to talk about it ever again. Until now. And oddly, I probably knew that it hadn't really been about Rhonda even back then, not that it still didn't infuriate me. "She lied to me, didn't she? God, why didn't I realize what a lying little--"
"We were seventeen, Jo. We all made mistakes."
Some of us made a few more mistakes than others of us. "I came out to find you, and that little twit she ran around with told me that you and Rhonda had gone to get a Coke and then were going parking. I should have just smacked her."
He shook his head. "Rhonda needed a ride home after the game and you were busy doing something, I don't even remember what, but I figured I had time to run her to her house and get back to the school before you were ready to leave. But you were gone when I came back. I didn't see you for two days, and well...."
"By that time, I had ruined both our lives," I said, rather morosely. This was not exactly how I'd envisioned our romp down memory lane.
"Look, Jo, I don't blame you for any of that. We were kids. And frankly, what was between us was so intense that it scared me. Sometimes it seemed so overwhelming I didn't know if I could handle
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