Stealing Flynn

He was back.

Chloe wasn’t sure if she was pleased, relieved, or both. And yet, a part of her wasn’t sure she should feel either. According to the other waitresses at this little truck stop cafe, in this little, barely there town of Willamet, he had been stopping in to eat at Mona’s for a couple of years now. He always sat alone, always just ate and left. And there were never less than two weeks between his visits.

But this day marked only four days since his previous visit. And on that time he’d talked only to her, again. His name was Dalton Marshall, and he was a big, well-built charmer of a man. Dressed similar to the other patrons, he somehow stood out as different.

“I’d make a move was I the one he had those pretty blue eyes set on,” Cassie, the only waitress near Chloe’s age, spoke with envy. “That one’s a good catch, I’d say.”

Mona, acting cook today, was bending low to watch under the overhead divider that ran the length of the counter, on which she was setting two plates piled high with roast beef and gravy-topped mashed potatoes.

“Girl your age can’t be too fussy. Another few years and you’ll have to pay a man such as that one to look your way,” she remarked and then returned her attention to the grill.

That does it, Chloe thought. The next time he offered to take her away from this greasy spoon where she spent most every evening, she was taking him up on his offer. Yeah, right, then she would get to watch him backpedal in surprise.

None of these truck stop men would know what to do if all the girls they offered to take home actually said yes, Chloe thought as she made her way to the booth in the corner. Dalton Marshall always chose the same one if it was available. Most times it was; business wasn’t exactly booming.

“What can I get for you today, Mr. Marshall?” Chloe felt quite relieved that she’d taken extra pains with her appearance today. She had just gotten her hair cut, styled, and colored yesterday. It had looked so nice that she had actually taken extra care with her makeup.

“Chloe, Chloe. Didn’t we already get past Mr. Marshall the other day?” His dimples were showing as he smiled, evidently pleased to see her.

“We did, Dalton. Now. What can I get for you today?”

“Have you had your dinner break yet?”

“Why, no, I haven’t.” Chloe found herself patting her newly tinted, strawberry blonde waves to be sure they were behaving themselves. Ashamed of her own insecurity, she quickly dropped her hand into her apron pocket to retrieve her order pad and pen as he spoke again.

“Well, then...I’m ordering two of the roast beef platter specials, two Cokes, and you as a dinner companion,” he told her as he took off his John Deere cap and set it on the seat beside him.

She stopped writing when he invited her to join him, her eyes drawn to the thick chestnut curls his cap had hidden.

“Oh, but I can’t,” she said quickly. “We’re not allowed to.” No way could she afford to lose this job. If she didn’t get to eat at least twice here on the days she worked, she wouldn’t be able to afford her tiny apartment. As it was, her landlord was a tyrant. Just last week he’d added a fee to her rent that he called a service fee, merely because he had come around and told her to turn her TV down. Imagine considering that a service. She didn’t even have a television!

“Mona!” he called out to the cook who owned the restaurant along with her husband.

“Whatcha want there, Mr. Marshall?” Mona called back.

“Company. Ms. Chloe here hasn’t eaten yet, and I’d like it if she joined me. So how about fixing up two of your roast beef platters and sending out a couple Cokes?”

“I’ll fix up the platters. She can come and get ’em herself, the drinks, too,” Mona yelled back amid their regular customers’ jeers and lewd comments.

“Hurry back now, Chloe, hon.” Dalton grinned and winked. “I’m waiting.”

Funny, Chloe thought as she headed back to get the platters and drinks, Dalton didn’t look so attractive now that he was getting his way. Were all men that way? She never thought when she had left home at eighteen and married Dominic Ellison that she’d end up, at thirty-three, divorced and dead broke, grateful for any attention she could get from the opposite sex.

Chloe spent the next several days filled with self-loathing. She had talked entirely too much to Dalton Marshall. He now knew her entire life history, the whole sordid story behind her divorce and her present, less than desirable living conditions. He also knew she depended on her neighbor to get to work. A man she barely knew, but who was willing to drop her off at Mona’s on his way to his own, fortunately for Chloe, evening shift job.

But Dalton must not have been too put off. He had given her his cell phone number. It was in her pocketbook right now. Somewhere, she thought, grimacing at the idea of having to look for it in the messy confines of her purse. Dalton also now knew she depended on whoever was willing to go out of their way to take her home after work. And she would have to sweet talk someone again tonight.

“Girl, you’ve always got your head in the clouds.” Mona said, interrupting Chloe’s self-pitying train of thought.

“Oh! I’m sorry. Did you say something, Mona?”

“Said Claude wants to see you in the office.” Mona frowned. “Sorry, but Lissa’s back tomorrow. Don’t think he’s going to be able to keep you on.”

“You mean he’s firing me?” Panic flooded through Chloe now.

“No. Letting you go. It ain’t the same. Go on now. See Claude. Get your pay. We didn’t expect Lissa back so soon.” Mona, quickly returning her attention to scrubbing the grill, wasn’t meeting her eye.

And that had been that, Chloe thought, as she now sat on her broken-down sofa in her little apartment. At least Mona had been willing to take her home. And Chloe was grateful for that, but right now all she wanted to do was cry. Or maybe a good floor-stomping scream fest would tamp down the rage and panic. She groaned aloud at the idea.

So much for her nice little savings in the bank, she thought. She’d scrimped, done without, and saved every penny the landlord didn’t take. But her plans to buy a car to get back and forth from work were worthless now that there was no job to get to. And the savings wouldn’t last long.

At least her paycheck was a good one. Claude had paid her an extra week as an apology of sorts. It would pay the rent for the next month. After that...well, she’d just have to find a job in a hurry. The corner grocery just down the street, two blocks from Chloe’s apartment house, sold newspapers.

First things first, she thought. Since she had not been at work long enough to eat her dinner as she usually did, she found herself hungry and with almost nothing to eat. While she contemplated her bare-as-Mother-Hubbard’s cupboard, the teenage son of the neighbor to her immediate left started blasting his radio through the roof again. That was probably the TV that Mr. Bentley had accused her of playing too loudly last week.

A knock sounded loudly, very loudly indeed, she realized, because she could hear it over the music of the spoiled brat next door. God! She was glad she didn’t have kids. She jerked the door open, fully ready to give Mr. Bentley a piece of her mind, and was astonished to see Dalton Marshall standing outside her door.

“Dalton!” she exclaimed.

“May I come in?” he asked. “I assume it’s at least a tiny bit quieter inside.”

“Of course, but I wouldn’t count on it being any quieter. The neighbor’s kid is spoiled rotten, does as he pleases. If he was mine...”

“He’d know better and we wouldn’t have to talk so loudly,” Dalton interrupted as he stepped on in.

“Exactly,” she said, closing the door quickly.

Dalton Marshall was in her house! Well, in her apartment, his intelligent blue eyes taking in everything.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting company.” She glanced around as she spoke, seeing the shabby two-room, second-floor efficiency apartment as he must see it. Threadbare upholstery on worn-out furniture so faded it was difficult to determine the original color. Well, at least it matched the equally worn and faded carpet. She turned to face him at the sound of his voice.

“I came to ask you to join me for dinner. But I’d like to go somewhere besides Mona’s Cafe, if it’s all right with you,” he said, and she felt he was offering her a glimpse of his devil-may-care inner self as he flashed those dimples again.

He took her to Ruby Tuesday. They had to wait nearly twenty minutes for a table. While they waited Dalton kept her entertained by actually telling her a little about himself.

“Oh. So you’ve been married before, too,” she said when he mentioned losing everything to a greedy ex-wife.

“Yeah, I was. I guess it was a mistake from the start. She didn’t want the things I did. We married for all the wrong reasons. Sort of like you and your ex, I guess.” Sadness tinged his voice. The hostess called his name, putting their conversation on hold.

“Marshall, table for two… If you’ll follow me, your table is ready.”

“Well, Chloe, shall we?” Dalton stood and offered his arm.

There was that darn dimple again. It made him look so boyishly young. Foolish, she knew. But she’d always had a weakness for a man with dimples and with eyes as blue as the summer sky.

After they were seated and had ordered, Chloe asked Dalton where he lived now that he was divorced and his ex-wife had gotten everything, assuming he meant his house.

“Like you, I’m renting now,” he said.

For a moment she thought that was all he was going to say on the subject. But to her surprise he continued after the waitress brought their drinks. He sipped his beer and then spoke again.

“I’m renting a trailer. It’s kind of small, but it does have hot and cold running water and two bathrooms.” And he was grinning as he winked invitingly.

“Wow! Two bathrooms, huh?” she said, playing along, as if impressed by such luxury.

“And two bedrooms,” he added, looking pleased.

“Oh my! Do you ever get lost in all that space?” Chloe realized she was actually enjoying Dalton’s company. He was a very charming dinner companion.

He frowned slightly and then grinned. “I’m not there often enough to get to know my way around, so I guess I stay lost when I’m there. It gets lonely rattling around in all that space without someone special to share it with.”

“That’s sad,” Chloe said, then smiled. “All that lovely space going to waste.” Before he could answer, the waitress brought their meals.

“Looks good,” Dalton said, changing the subject and cutting into his medium-rare steak.

“It does,” Chloe agreed, enjoying the fragrance of her own well-done sirloin. And it was, she had to agree, as she dug into her meal. Dalton didn’t say much more until he had almost finished his steak and fries. She also noticed he’d emptied his beer glass twice by then.

After finishing their meals, they mostly made small talk while waiting on the waitress to return with his credit card and the receipt for him to sign.

“Well now, I reckon I’d best be getting you on home. I’ve got a long drive ahead tonight.” Dalton rose and quickly caught her chair.

“Why thank you, Dalton,” she said, pleasantly surprised by his gentlemanly conduct.

When they arrived back at her building, Dalton insisted on walking her up to her apartment and seeing her inside. Just as they arrived at her door, the kid next door turned his music up again. Chloe hadn’t even noticed how quiet it had been at first.

“No sleep tonight, huh?” Dalton raised an eyebrow and glanced at the door from behind which the music blasted.

“Not very likely,” she confirmed. “Well...thank you for dinner, Dalton. I had a lovely time.” She fumbled with her door lock. He took the key from her and deftly opened the troublesome lock.

“There you go,” he said and took the opportunity to kiss her on her parted lips. She could only stare up at him in surprised pleasure. He merely grinned and turned to walk away.

A gentleman all the way, she thought, sighing as she watched him go. His broad shoulders looked even more impressive from behind as he raised a hand to run it through his thick, reddish-brown waves.

“Ms. Ellison!” a loud, very familiar, very angry voice called out to her from the other end of the hallway, causing her to spin around quickly to face her landlord.

“Yes, Mr. Bentley?” she said politely, although polite wasn’t a word Mr. Bentley would understand.

“Ms. Ellison, I told you I wouldn’t tolerate any loud noises or disturbances. That TV of yours was blasting the whole time you were gone.”

The music! It had stopped. But when, Chloe couldn’t be sure. “Mr. Bentley,” she began. “I assure you…”

“Ms. Ellison. Kindly pack your things and vacate the premises at once. It’s bad enough that you disturb your neighbors, what with your coming and going at all hours of the night, but the noise won’t be tolerated. It says so right on your rental agreement.”

“But–”

“No buts. Be out by this time tomorrow.” He disappeared back down the stairs at the end of the hall, leaving Chloe looking after him, a dumbstruck feeling of anger and worry mounting inside her. Hot tears threatened to blind her. “Chloe?”

She turned around to face Dalton. “Oh. I thought you’d left,” she said, no longer holding back; her tears fell freely as he took her in his arms.

“Don’t let the scumbag bottom feeders of the world get to you, you hear?” he told her, and when she stepped back to look up at him, he was staring down the hallway where Mr. Bentley had disappeared.

“I hear. But I don’t know what to do,” she said, feeling totally sorry for herself.

“Do you believe in fairy tales, Chloe?” Dalton asked as he returned his full attention to her.

She smiled. “I grew up on them. But I’m afraid I’ve outgrown such childish beliefs.”

“I like you, Chloe, a lot. I know you lost your job, too. That’s how I found out where you live. I know I’m not home much, so for the most part, you won’t even have to see me. But when I am home, well, I’d sure love to have you to come home to.”

“My knight in shining armor,” she whispered, fighting the threatening tears again. But for a totally different reason, as she realized, in a roundabout way, he was asking her to move in with him.

“Tarnished armor, actually,” he said, giving her a wry grin.

It was just too much like a fairy tale come true. Was that why she also felt a terrible sense of dread and foreboding? A sense that everything wasn’t quite as it seemed? Perhaps because she knew from experience that nothing worth having ever came this easy. But that didn’t stop her from answering quickly.

“I think, Dalton, that I’d like that very much.”