The Shop on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #1)

The Shop on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #1) Page 22

He raised his eyebrows. “True, but I figure you owe me an explanation as to why you ditched me in sixth grade.”

“I didn’t ditch you. I…I got caught up in circumstances beyond my control.”

“All right, but consider it common courtesy to explain what happened.”

He’d obviously been taught etiquette. She, on the other hand, didn’t know anything about it.

“Listen,” she said aggressively, “we can spend the rest of the evening arguing about something that happened in grade school or we can talk. You decide.”

It was all too apparent that Jordan intended to pester her until he got the answers he wanted. She’d already decided she’d rather not get involved with a minister, but he was making that difficult. Frowning, she slid into the booth across from him.

“What’s wrong, Alix?” Jordan asked.

This was an interesting approach but before she could answer, the waitress appeared. Alix knew Jenny, who worked swing shift, and she watched as the older woman glanced between them, not bothering to hide her surprise.

Folding over the top sheet of her pad, Jenny asked, “What can I get you two?”

Jordan closed the plastic-coated menu. “I’m thinking about a bacon cheeseburger with the works.” Then he looked at Alix. “How about you?”

Her mouth watered at the thought of one of Annie’s mammoth cheeseburgers. But first she had to find out who was paying for it. “You buying? Or am I getting my own?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”

Alix tucked the menu behind the sugar canister. “I’ll have the same.”

“Two bacon cheeseburgers,” Jordan said. “And two Cokes.” He gave Alix a questioning smile and she nodded.

Jenny wrote down the order and left.

As soon as the waitress was gone, Jordan rested his hands on the table. “So,” he began.

Squarely meeting his gaze, Alix sighed heavily. “So I’m not interested in church,” she said.

“Why not?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the church-going kind.”

“And what kind is that?”

Alix rolled her eyes. “Ladies who wear hats and gloves and exchange polite conversation with a few ‘praise the Lords’ thrown in.”

Jordan’s head reared back and he snorted with laughter. “You’re describing a garden party, not church. I can tell you haven’t attended in a while.”

“I went to Sunday School back in grade school but skipped the church part,” she told him. The truth was, she’d gone a few times but left early, bored by all the preaching. “Like I said, I’m not interested.”

Jenny brought their Cokes and Jordan waited impatiently before he responded.

“How do you know?” he burst out when she was gone. “Jordan, I think you’re great.” She took a long sip of her drink. “I remember your dad and he was nice, too.” Jordan’s father had come to the house once to talk to her mother, after Alix had been awarded that prize Bible. It was the one and only time he’d stopped by, and she didn’t blame him for never visiting again.

“How do you know you’re not interested in church unless you try it? Why don’t you come one Sunday and see?”

“Listen,” Alix said, trying to be as honest as possible. “I don’t need anyone to save me.”

He frowned. “So that’s what you think?”

“Damn straight.”

“You’ve certainly got me figured out,” he said, a little sarcastically.

Being rude was natural for her, but she was determined to keep the peace until after she’d eaten the cheeseburger. After all, he was paying for it. And she was hungry.

“Why is it so important for me to go to church?” she demanded, and then answered for him. “It’s because you want to change me.”

“No,” he argued. “I want to see you.”

Sure he did!

“I liked you in sixth grade and I like you now. Do I need an excuse?” He leaned across the table, unwilling to break eye contact.

“I’m not your type.”

“Did you decide that on your own, or did someone else make up your mind for you?”

She bristled at his question. “I make up my own mind.”

She could see he was growing angry. His hand clenched the silverware wrapped in a paper napkin. “Let me see if I understand you. I was all right to hang with until you found out I’m someone you knew ten or twelve years ago—who just happens to be a minister?”

Alix lowered her eyes and refused to answer.

“You liked me just fine in grade school, and now you don’t?”

That bacon cheeseburger had better show up fast, because holding her tongue was damn difficult. Alix bit the inside of her lip.

“The least you can do is answer me.”

“What do you want me to say?” she snapped. “That it doesn’t matter? Well, it does.”

“What changed?”

She opened her mouth and then faltered, unsure of herself. “You’re…You’re…” She gestured toward him, making circular motions with her hands. “You’re…good.”

“Good?” Jordan repeated. “What do you mean by that?”

She folded her arms and searched with growing desperation for Jenny. It never took this long for an order to come up. Her stomach growled and reminded her it’d been midafternoon since her latte and she was hungry. As soon as her meal arrived, she could say what she wanted and take her cheeseburger home. Only he was confusing her. All she could think about was how badly she’d wanted to attend that valentine party. She hadn’t told him, but she’d had a valentine for him, too.

“You know what I mean,” she challenged.

“No, I don’t,” Jordan said, “so you’d better explain it to me. What the hell makes me good?”

She blinked and realized he was serious. “God,” she whispered.

His expression went blank. “God?”

She nodded. “You’re this lily-white guy who grew up with a perfect family. I didn’t. You had parents who loved you. I didn’t. You—”

“None of that’s relevant,” he countered, cutting her off.

“My mother did jail time for shooting my father. Did you know that?”

He nodded slowly. “There was plenty of talk about it, but all I wanted to know was what had happened to you.”

“Oh.” This was unexpected.

Alix nearly sighed in relief when Jenny appeared with two plates. The cheeseburger was left open and the cheese had melted perfectly. The French fries glistened and sizzled, fresh from the fryer. Her mouth watered just looking at her meal.

“I asked my dad to find out where you were. He tried, but didn’t get anywhere. Apparently you and your brother had already been sent to foster homes in another part of the city,” Jordan said.

Alix reached for the salt shaker but her eyes didn’t leave his the whole time she salted her fries. “You did?”

He nodded and picked up a fry.

Hungry though she was, Alix hadn’t touched her food. “What made you decide to go into the ministry? Like father, like son?”

“That’s a story for another night.” He added lettuce and a slice of tomato to his burger and closed it before taking his first bite.

Alix bit into her burger, too. “Just remember I don’t need you to save me,” she said, still chewing.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

She swallowed and drank some more of her Coke. “Why not?”

“It’s not what I do. I leave the salvation up to God. He saves, I just point the way.” He took another fry, dipping it into a small pool of ketchup he’d squirted onto his plate.

She still didn’t trust him. “I don’t get it.”

“What’s to get?”

“You,” she said. “Wanting to see me.”

He cast her a strange look. “Is there some law that says I’m not supposed to be attracted to you? I liked you in sixth grade and I still think you’re kinda cute.”

He liked her? He thought she was cute? “You do?” she asked and was mortified by the slight quiver in her voice.

“I wouldn’t say so if I didn’t.” He stretched out his hand and stole one of her French fries.

“Hey.” She slapped his hand.

He laughed and gave her his sliced pickle.

They finished eating, talked about movies they’d both seen and then left the café an hour later. “Are you going to stop avoiding me now?” Jordan asked.

Alix figured she’d play it cool. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Decide soon, will you?”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know how much longer I can afford to rent movies.”

Alix laughed.

“You coming to church on Sunday?” he asked.

“Probably not.” She didn’t see herself sitting next to any church lady with sagging panty hose and a big purse. Jordan might want her to show up, but she didn’t think those goody-goody types would take kindly to her purple-tinted hair.

Church was for people who had regular lives and who had goals and dreams. Okay, Alix had dreams, too, but damn little chance of ever seeing them come to life. She wanted to be a chef. Not just a cook, but a real chef in some fancy restaurant. She’d worked in a couple of cafés like Annie’s over the years and always liked the kitchen jobs best. The last place she’d worked—before the video store—had closed down, but working there had set the dream in place.

She suspected he was laughing at her. Before she knew what he intended, he pulled her into the shadows of the alley and backed her up against the brick wall.

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither breathing, neither saying anything.

Then his mouth was on hers, and it was all she could do not to crumple at the effect of his kiss. Her head started to spin and her knees actually went weak. The only thing left to do was hold on to him, so she wrapped her arms around Jordan’s neck. From there, her senses took her on a roller-coaster ride more exciting than anything Disney had to offer.

“What was that for?” she asked, her voice sounding like something rattling around in a tin can.

When Jordan finally lifted his head, he whispered. “I figured you owed me that because I had my heart broken in sixth grade.”

Alix moistened her lips. “Yeah…well, you weren’t the only one.”

CHAPTER 22

“In the hands of a knitter, yarn becomes the medium that binds the heart and soul.”

—Robin Villiers-Furze, The Needleworks Company, Port Orchard, Washington

LYDIA HOFFMAN

A nother Friday had come to an end. The knitting session was one of the best ever, with Alix laughing a lot and Jacqueline more relaxed and tolerant than I’d ever seen her. Carol was at home—doctor’s orders. By the time I turned over the closed sign on the shop door and headed upstairs to my apartment, I was exhausted. But this was a good kind of tired. When I first opened A Good Yarn, I’d had plenty of empty hours to work on my own projects.