"Damn it!" Lorelai hissed, failing for the third time to twist her curls up onto her head. One long, dark tendril had again missed the teeth of the clip she was using and swung from behind her ear down to her shoulder.
"You know what? Fine! Just stay that way!" she grumbled. She had other concerns to tend to. She grabbed a dark blue pencil and lined her eyes as fast as she could.
Up until ten minutes ago she'd been ready. She'd had on nice but unspectacular black slacks and a perfectly decent turquoise sweater. She'd plopped down at her dressing table to quickly repair the damage a full Saturday of running errands had done to her makeup when the eerie thought crossed her mind that Nicole was probably doing the same thing, getting ready for her date with Luke.
She knew she wasn't in competition with Nicole. She certainly wasn't fighting her for Luke. Their situations tonight couldn't be further apart. But all the same…She'd be damned if that anorexic attorney was going to come off looking better than she was.
Half of her closet got tossed until her hands landed on a soft jersey dress, midnight blue and predisposed to cling to her best spots. She indulged in her favorite pair of high spiky heels, knowing that as tall as Luke was, she could wear them easily.
Of course, not that that would actually matter, she conceded, because he wouldn't be with her, anyway. He'd be with Nicole. She needed to remember that.
She heard the knock at the door and she swooped the brush filled with rosy blush over her cheekbones. She heard Rory open the door, and then her ears strained to try and make out the conversation between her and Luke.
She opened her jewelry box and lifted out her one piece of real jewelry, the simple square-cut diamond on a silver chain given to her by her Aunt Hope on her fifteenth birthday. She loved it not only because of the provenance that came with it; she loved it because it suited her so well. Into her ears she poked some sparkly chandeliers that she'd found on the clearance rack at Target. She moved her head back and forth, watching them skim her jaw and twinkle from the overhead light.
Rory bounded into the room. "You about ready?"
"Almost." Lorelai rubbed some tinted gloss over her lips.
"He looks good," Rory told her. She came to stand behind her mother, judging her appearance. She gave her a nod of approval.
"He does, huh?" Lorelai lifted her eyebrows at Rory in the mirror.
"Yeah. Suit, tie, the works. He looks―" She waved her hands around at her body, trying to put his image into words. "Groomed," was what she finally landed on.
"Can't wait to see that," Lorelai commented, grinning in the mirror. "I'll be down in a second."
Rory nodded and headed back downstairs to keep Luke company. Lorelai opened the bottle of 'good' perfume Christopher sent her every Christmas, since his imagination apparently could never come up with another idea. She dabbed some lightly on her neck and wrists. Then she quickly she threw her necessities into a small black clutch and made her way downstairs.
Luke had his back to her, chatting with Rory. He turned casually as he heard her descending.
"You can adore me now," she announced, pausing for just a moment on a step.
The look on his face let her know that the last panicked fifteen minutes of her life had been well worth it. Words, composure, breathing: She watched as they all deserted him. He could deny it until his dying day, but she'd seen his true feelings wash across his face. They might not include the love and devotion everyone else insisted was there, but right now, in this moment, he wanted her. Of that she had no doubt at all. Smugness gave an extra bounce to her step.
Behind Luke's back, Rory smiled and gave her a thumb's up.
"You look nice," she told him pleasantly, stepping up beside him, giving him another second or two of breathing space.
He pulled his lips in and took a deep breath. He looked at the floor, frowning. "Well, of course you'd think that. You bought most of this."
She smiled, only marginally disappointed that the Luke who served her breakfast every morning was back.
"Stand in front of the fireplace," Rory ordered, picking up the camera she'd had waiting on the side table.
"Rory," Lorelai started to protest.
"This calls for a picture," Rory insisted. "The two of you, going out on your first date? This needs to be immortalized. Come on now. No dilly-dallying. Go pose pretty."
With a sheepish smile, Lorelai took Luke's arm and tugged him over to stand in front of the fireplace, their traditional posed-picture spot.
"I hate havin' my picture taken," he grumped.
"Of course you do," Lorelai said, sounding understanding. "You hate having the evidence out there showing how nicely you clean up. You worry that a fashion photographer might see it and insist that you become a male model. Probably for those underwear ads where the guy always has his t-shirt tucked down into his underwear. Very wise, my friend. We promise, though, to keep this shot buried in our photo box. It'll be our secret." She wrapped her arm around his waist, leaned her head towards him and flashed Rory a bright smile.
Luke sighed but his arm came around her back and his hand rested on her shoulder. His head tipped towards hers. She didn't know if he was smiling or not, but Rory quickly took the shot.
"Nice," she said, approvingly. "One more," she wheedled, looking again behind the viewfinder. "Come on, look like you're excited to be going out on your first date."
Luke's fingers dug into her shoulder in reaction to Rory's words and Lorelai winced. Rory glared at them over the camera. "That doesn't look happy. You can do better than that. Come on, Mom!"
Giving Luke an apologetic smile, she turned towards him and gave him a measured kiss on his cheek.
Oh, nice, she found herself thinking once again, her lips finding a comfortable spot on his unexpectedly smooth cheek. She lingered for longer than she should have, breathing in the mild spiciness of his aftershave. The camera flashed as Rory took the shot.
"That'll do it." Rory sounded pleased.
"We'd better get going," Luke urged.
She hustled into her coat and grabbed her bag, and after a few teasing remarks from Rory about curfew, they made their way to his truck. They both paused and waved at Babette, clearly visible in her front window, a phone pressed to her ear.
"Are you going to be warm enough?" He frowned at her bare legs and the thin spring coat as he started up the truck. "It takes awhile for the heater to kick in."
"Are you?" she retorted, gesturing at him. "You don't even have on a coat."
"Guys are tough," he replied, smiling.
"Women are tougher," she argued automatically, trying to suppress a shiver.
He drove slowly through town and she waved at a group of townspeople clustered in front of Weston's. "Very smart, letting everyone see us like this."
"And, it's the only way to get us to the highway that takes us to Litchfield," he pointed out sardonically.
"True," she had to admit.
"So how was your dinner in Hartford last night?" he asked, his head swiveling as he checked for traffic before pulling out. "Usually I hear all about it."
"Um, funny you should ask."
"Why?"
"Well, next week you get to have a front row seat to the festivities."
"What are you talking about?"
Her fingers worried the clasp on her little bag. "Rory spilled the beans to my parents about us. My mother is insisting you come with us next week to dinner."
Lorelai would have thought that Luke didn't hear her except for the way his knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. "She told them?" he finally said, aghast.
"She told them," she sighed.
"Why would she do that?" His voice was as horrified as when he caught her eating a deep-fried Snickers bar at last year's 'Stand Up for Salsa' Festival.
"She thought she was doing us a favor," she tried to explain. "She's watched me screw up my relationship with my parents for years by keeping them clueless about my life here. She didn't want to see me make the same mistake again, so she threw herself into the breech and told them about us. She says she doesn't want to see anything mess us up."
Luke's mouth was grim as he turned to quickly look at her. "There is no us."
"I know that, and you know that, but Rory unfortunately is our head cheerleader." She paused and tried to think of a way to delicately phrase it. "She apparently thinks that you and I are destined to be together."
"Ah, geez," he muttered, looking straight down the road. "We should have never let it get to this point. We should have told her truth right away."
"And miss our date?" she asked jokingly, before shaking her head. "I want to let her down easily. I don't want to crush her hopes about us. We can pretend for a little bit, can't we? For Rory?"
"I guess," he groused. "But I can't go to your parents' house. They hate me!"
"I don't think they hate you."
"Well, maybe they don't exactly hate me," he conceded. "But I'm surely not the guy they have in mind for you. I can't see them welcoming me to the family with open arms," he mocked. He was silent for a few moments. "What did they say, when Rory told them?" he finally asked, hesitantly.
"My Dad was all gung-ho about it," Lorelai revealed. "He thought the way you brought me to the hospital showed your good character. He likes that you own your own business and that we've been friends for years. And my Mom said ―" Lorelai abruptly edited what she was going to say. "My Mom said you should come to dinner."
He glanced over at her, his forehead wrinkled in worry. "Do you think there's any way in hell we could pull that off?"
Lorelai shrugged. "Maybe we can find a way to 'break up' by then," she offered, her fingers twitching air quotes around the words. "Anyway, think about it, please? It'd make my life easier."
"Oh, well, if it makes your life easier," Luke said, rolling his eyes. "What was I thinking?"
She grinned as she watched the darkened landscape outside her window. She judged that they were still a good fifteen minutes away from Litchfield. "Are you nervous?" she asked, looking back over at Luke.
His hands tensed again on the wheel and something about seeing his bare wrist stretched out from under the strange dress-up clothes made her heart go fluttery with need. She suddenly and fiercely longed to save him from any pain or hurt the evening had in store for him. She licked her lips, tasting the tang of the cherry-flavored lip gloss, and then forced her eyes away, staring instead at the speedometer.
"Of course I'm nervous," he admitted. "Isn't everyone nervous before a first date?" He looked at her then, and shook his head. "No, wait. You wouldn't be."
"Why would you say that?" she questioned, glad to have something else to occupy her mind.
"I've never seen you nervous," he observed.
She smiled grimly. "You weren't with me when I went to my parents to beg for money to send Rory to Chilton. I sat out in their driveway forever, trying to get up the courage to go knock on the door."
He glanced swiftly over at her again. "I can't picture you nervous about anything," he commented.
She considered his words seriously. "I guess the way I was raised sort of took away a lot of the normal nervous stuff. It's hard to be nervous when you feel entitled," she stated, mocking herself and the lifestyle embraced by her parents. "And I was never nervous at school, I guess, because even though I wasn't Rory, that stuff came easy to me. I'd been with the same kids since Day One. The girls liked me because I was funny and the guys liked me because I'd go into the bathroom before class and roll up my plaid skirt another couple of inches."
"I bet," Luke said, his voice teasing.
"Then, when I got here with Rory," she began, her tone sobering, "I couldn't afford to be nervous. I had to pretend I had it under control. Nerves were a luxury."
"I bet," Luke said again, only this time his voice was softly serious and sympathetic.
"Anyway," she said, shaking off the shiver from thinking about her early life, "what's making you nervous about this date?"
"What isn't making me nervous?" he muttered. "This woman's some highly-educated lawyer. What in the world am I going to talk to her about?"
Lorelai shrugged in the darkened cab, not sure if he could see her or not. "Talk to her just like you do when she comes into the diner. Apparently that's been working just fine."
Luke snorted. "Making conversation during a 10-minute cup of coffee is a lot different than having to sit through a whole dinner at some fancy restaurant."
"I don't think you need to be nervous at all. Look, she obviously likes you, right? She's the one who came back to diner and initiated this date, right?" Lorelai didn't enjoy pointing this out to him, but she didn't want him feeling bad about himself, either. "Face it, Luke, she's already made her mind up about you. You only have to sit there and be your usual charming self."
"You really think so?" His voice was still doubtful.
"Yeah, I do," she sighed. "Stop worrying."
Light from passing cars showed her he was still frowning. "I'm worried about the truck," he finally admitted.
"What?" Lorelai tried to hold back her giggles. "This classic vehicle? What woman wouldn't want to ride in this?"
"It runs just fine," he started, already defensive.
"I know it does," she agreed swiftly, laying a quick hand on his arm.
"See, this is the sort of crap I hate about dating," he complained. "I like this truck. I've always liked this truck. You can't hurt it, it's indestructible. It's never let me down. I can't tell you the number of times I've needed it to haul stuff around. It suits me and my life, but because suddenly I'm goin' out to dinner with some woman, I feel like I have to be drivin' some shiny sedan just to measure up I hate dating!" he growled out, smacking the steering wheel for extra emphasis.
"If she hates the truck, just take her car," Lorelai suggested casually. She looked around the truck's interior, trying to peer through the darkness. "Where are her flowers?"
"What flowers?" He sounded defensive again.
"You're not taking her flowers?"
He wouldn't look at her. "I've never given a woman flowers."
She gasped. "Really? Never?"
"Never."
"Rachel? You never gave Rachel flowers?"
"No." She thought he sounded rather proud. "Rachel wasn't the type to appreciate that sort of sentimental symbolism. She had all sorts of arguments about that type of stuff."
"Poor, poor thing," Lorelai mourned, shaking her head. They were reaching the outskirts of town and she spotted the shining lights of a grocery superstore beckoning just beyond the next intersection. "Pull in there," she ordered, her voice giving him no room to disagree.
"What? Why?" he asked, even as he put on the turn signal and rolled into the parking lot. "We don't have a lot of time to waste here."
Lorelai was already half out her door. "Then hurry up."
He rushed to catch up as she sprinted towards the automatic doors. "What are we doing here?"
"We're getting you flowers to take to Nicole," she said, swiftly looking around and locating the floral department.
"No, I'm not," he argued, following after her anyway.
"Yes, you are," she disputed, quickly glancing over the offerings. "It's a great ice-breaker, it shows you care about her and the date, and I don't know a woman alive who doesn't get a little thrill knowing that a guy cared enough to stop and pick her up a prepackaged bouquet of half-dead flowers." She stopped long enough to glare at him. "This is non-negotiable."
"OK, fine," he grumbled. He jammed his hands in his pockets and looked around unhappily at the floral arrangements displayed around him. "What about these?" he asked, pointing sullenly at a bunch of dyed carnations.
"No," Lorelai said, scoffing.
"Why not?" he asked, confused. "They smell nice."
"Because… "She stopped and looked at him, wide-eyed. "I don't actually know why, but carnations have a bad reputation. Too reminiscent of high school proms, I guess." She continued on her quest, now humming 'I don't give a damn 'bout my bad reputation,' under her breath.
Luke stood between the refrigerated display case and a table full of houseplants, looking defeated at all of the choices. "What would you pick?"
"Me?" Lorelai's head shot up and she looked around, seeing the offerings in a new light. "Those," she said, pointing at a bouquet of daisies that had been dyed bright, vibrant colors.
"Oh, right," he said, his voice a cross between sarcasm and something she couldn't identify. "The thousand yellow daisies. How could I forget?"
She gave him a sharp look. "I like daisies. I've always liked daisies." She took a breath. "And for your information, the 'thousand yellow daisies' thing was something I threw at Max while we were arguing. It wasn't even his own idea."
Luke's fingers experimentally felt a philodendron leaf. "But he did it," he commented grudgingly.
"He did it," Lorelai sighed, trying to distance herself from that memory. "Here. These are perfect." She pulled a wrapped bouquet out of the bin and brought it over to him, shaking off the droplets of water from the stem.
"You think?" Luke took the flowers from her but looked at them doubtfully.
"Yes," she said quickly. "There are a couple of roses, but they're a really pretty dusty pink color, so you're not stuck with the clichéd red-roses thing. And they're surrounded by stalks of lavender, which is unusual, and looks really pretty with the roses. It's great. It looks like you actually put some thought into this." She was urging him towards the checkout as she talked.
"Whatever you say," he capitulated, standing behind her in line.
Lorelai automatically started scanning the headlines on the gossip magazines. She wondered if she should pick up some to take with her to read during her solitary dinner. The thought of dinner made her stomach rumble and she turned to the candy bars arranged on the other side of the lane. She wondered if she could get Luke to buy her some M&Ms and some Milk Duds to tide her over. She grinned to herself, imagining the rant that would inspire.
She jumped guiltily when he poked her in the ribs. "Is that what you meant?" he asked, keeping his voice low. He nodded at the woman ahead of them in line, who was carrying her toddler on her hip. The woman was leaning a little sideways, compensating for her daughter's weight.
Lorelai's emotions took a double hit as she absorbed the subtle craving brought on by young mother in front of her as well as the warm knowledge that Luke had retained their conversation from the other night. She suddenly needed to swallow hard before speaking.
"Yeah. That's it." She threw a quick smile back over her shoulder at him.
He was quiet, studying the woman before them as she paid for her groceries, deftly balancing her little girl. "I can totally see you like that," he whispered next to her ear. "I can picture how you probably looked with Rory."
Her stomach felt like it dropped down to her knees. Her eyes caught on the bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand and she wondered what the hell she was doing, helping him charm someone else Then she remembered. She was helping a friend with his confidence. Who was dating another girl. Not her. It wasn't her. This wasn't their date. And…this was Luke. She didn't feel like that about Luke anyway.
She squared up her shoulders. "You get really good at doing everything with only one hand," she told him.
"I bet," he agreed, watching the woman capably maneuver her cart one-handed.
They quickly paid for the flowers and rushed back to the truck, glad to be out of the chilly air.
"We're cuttin' it close here," Luke said, glancing at his watch as he backed the truck out of the parking space. "Where's this place, again?"
"On Broadway," Lorelai said, leaning forward to read street signs. "It should be the second street after this one. Turn right."
"What's it called?"
"The Liar's Club," she grinned. "I thought that was remarkably appropriate."
He was frowning again. "You sure you'll be OK there?"
She nodded vigorously. "I looked at the website and read the menu. Plus they've gotten some really good reviews." Her eyes were rapidly scanning the buildings on the street. "Oh, there! That's it!"
Luke was able to pull into an empty parking spot on the opposite side of the street, not too much farther down the block from the restaurant.
"OK," she said, picking up her purse and checking to make sure she was set, "I'll just jump out and ―"
Luke was already out of the truck and coming around to her side.
"What are you doing?" she asked as he opened her door.
His eyes rolled. "Do you really think that I'm just going to drop you off at some unknown place without even making sure it's safe?" He glared at her as if she'd insulted him.
"I'm sure it's fine," she protested, even as she involuntarily took his proffered arm to help her out of the truck. They ducked their heads against the chilly April breeze and quickly jaywalked across the street. "You really don't need to do this. I already totally buy the gentleman thing."
He shook his head at her as he opened the restaurant's door and they tried to push their way into a mass of hungry humanity waiting in the lobby.
Every seat and bench was taken and nearly every foot of available wall space had someone leaning against it. Soft jazz was playing in the background but it was hard to hear over the hubbub of so many people having conversations in the enclosed space. The opening into the dining area showed a blazing fireplace, dark wood and rich leather, and candles burning in the middle of every packed table.
"See?" Lorelai said, self-righteously. "I told you it was a nice place."
He gave a silent nod of agreement and they cautiously made their way over to the coat-check, stepping around the waiting couples. Lorelai slipped off her coat and Luke hung it up for her. Then, just as carefully, they worked their way back over to the entry.
"You're sure you're OK here?" Luke asked one more time, his face still distrustful.
"Luke! Yes! I'm fine!" she snapped, tired of his doubting of her judgment.
He sighed, but nodded. "Then I'll see you later," he said. He gave her shoulder a light pat and started shuffling his way to the door.
Lorelai started her trek towards the hostess station, murmuring "Excuse me," to everyone she was displacing along with a tiny smile.
Just as she reached her goal she turned once more to the door, just to confirm that Luke had made it out. He had paused, holding the door open for a group of people coming inside. Her eyes landed on his stretched out arm, holding the open the door, and once again she saw his wrist in that white cuff. Her eyes went to his face and she could see the grim resolve and the nerves still there. His jaw tightened and tilted up, and he stepped outside in the cold.
Before the door swung shut behind him she was fighting her way back through the crowd, her apologies this time insincere. She struggled with the heavy wooden door and staggered out onto the steps as a new potential diner opened it from the outside. She hugged her arms over her chest and ran after him.
"Luke!" she yelled, but the breeze was from the opposite direction and blew her shout the wrong way. She shouted again as he reached the truck, and this time he heard her and turned his head.
"What are you doing?" He crossed back across the street and met her on the sidewalk. "You're going to freeze!" he scolded. He unbuttoned his suit coat and enveloped her in it, pulling her against his chest.
She flattened her hands against the smooth white shirt doing such an excellent job of covering the solid Luke chest. She took a moment to breathe in his aftershave, knowing that the scent forever after would always make her remember this moment.
"What is it? Do you not want to stay here?" he asked against her hair, sounding concerned.
"No, no, that's not it," she assured him. She forced her gaze upwards, looking into his face. "You have nothing to be nervous about. This date with Nicole, I mean. You look really good, Luke, and she's gonna plotz when she sees you. You're a wonderful guy, maybe the best guy I've ever known, and if she doesn't see that, she's crazy. So I don't want you to worry, OK? You go and have a good time, and if she doesn't like the truck, then she's not worth the bother, do you hear me? It'll be her loss!"
His eyes watched hers seriously as he absorbed her message. His arms tightened around her and he smiled that lopsided grin of his. "OK," he said. He took a deep breath. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." She forced herself to step away from his warmth. "Now you go pick her up and I'm going to fight my way back inside and get something to eat." She took a few backwards steps. "Have a good time," she added. "Don't forget the flowers!"
"I won't," he assured her, and she turned around and quickly made her way back to the restaurant's door, shivering.
Once inside she closed her eyes in regret, seeing that she was going to have to ease her way through the same people she'd already inconvenienced twice. "Excuse me," she began again, only this time her smile was sheepish. "Sorry. Excuse me. Last time, I promise."
"Two?" the hostess asked robotically when Lorelai finally reached her, her pen already poised over the seating list.
"Um, no, just one," Lorelai said uneasily. She'd noted on her way through the lobby how couples made up the vast majority of those waiting. Apparently the Liar's Club was a romantic locale, judging by how many people were cuddling together as they waited on a table. She shot the hostess a nervous smile, thinking that if Luke could see her now he'd ditch his belief that she never experienced that emotion. "Listen, do you serve from the menu in the bar? That way you wouldn't have to do that whole awkward table-for-one thing in the dining room for me."
"Sure," the hostess said eagerly, happy to not add one more name to the wait-list. She pointed over towards the entrance into the bar. "Just make sure to tell the server or the bartender that you want to see a menu."
"Thanks," Lorelai said, and started to pick her way over to the other side of the room.
It was a relief once she pushed through the café doors separating the lobby and the bar. There was room to breath and it was possible to hear the music and walk normally. A smaller fireplace gave warmth to one end of the room, and several couples and a group of four occupied tables by it. Actually, she saw, most of the tables were filled in here, too, but several seats were open at the bar itself. Lorelai made her way to a seat at the end, feeling pleased. Sitting at the counter would feel completely normal to her, anyway.
She carefully hoisted herself up onto the upholstered seat, watching to make sure she didn't inadvertently show off the good china as the chair swiveled underneath her. She took a few minutes to look around, adjusting to her surroundings. As usual, she absorbed the decorating, mentally noting the things that worked, adding them to the file of things she'd like to do one day in her own inn that existed only in her dreams.
She was thankful to see that this place was not filled with all sorts of kitschy memorabilia, as so many other restaurants were. This room looked more like her father's study on a larger scale, except that it was inhabited by happy people.
Her eyes went to the bartender, mainly because she was really hungry and she couldn't wait to see a menu. He was busy, which made sense, since the restaurant was so packed. His eyes kept darting out over the floor, keeping track of the tables there as he quickly and efficiently filled the orders of the servers who came to the end of the bar. Every so often he'd scan the drinks and hands of the people seated at the bar, too, and she could almost see him mentally calculating where he was needed next.
She openly watched him as she waited her turn. She couldn't decide how old he was. His face seemed weathered in a way that suggested he'd done a lot of living in short time, but there was something about the quick way he'd occasionally flip back his reddish, chin-length hair that made her think he was younger than she first thought. He was sporting a close-cropped beard, and although she wasn't usually a fan of the facial hair thing, she had to agree it worked for him. He finally made his way to her, smacking a napkin down in front of her. His eyebrows tilted up, silently asking for her order.
"Hi!" she said, giving him her usual bright smile. She put out her hand. "I'm Lorelai, and ―"
"Not happenin'," he said brusquely.
"What?" She pulled back her hand, frowning. "What's not happening?"
"Rule number 1 around here, sweetheart." His voice was softer than what she'd expected, but it was firm and no-nonsense, and had a gritty quality to it. "You order the drinks, I serve the drinks, and that's that. There's no chit-chat or tellin' me your name. This ain't a dating service, and I'm not bachelor number 1. Once we get that straight, we'll get along just fine."
Lorelai felt herself gaping at him. "I… I…" She was flustered for a moment, but then she pulled herself together. "Wow," she said, pinning him with a cold gaze. "They warned me, you know? They warned me, when I left home for the big city, that I'd run into people like you. They warned me that my small-town charm would be lost on you sophisticated city slickers. I guess I shoulda listened to my mama and daddy."
Something passed over his face, and she had the impression he was stifling a smile. "What'll it be?" he asked impassively.
"Well…" She sighed, mightily. "I was going to ask for a martini with some extra olives, because I'm really hungry, seeing as I just got off the train from Hooterville here, but I suppose that wouldn't be allowed. That's probably rule number 2. No extra olives. So I'll just take a martini and a menu, please. Or will that cause too much chit-chatting for you?"
She thought there might have been a slight twinkle in his eye as he reached for a menu without looking and placed it in front of her. He gave her a brief nod and headed back down to the other end of the bar.
She tried to shake off his assumptions about her. Her eyes skimmed over the options in the menu while she tried to remember what sounded good to her from her perusal of their website. As long as she got something to eat and drink she decided it didn't matter how rude the conceited bartender was. It wasn't like she was ever going to see him again, anyway.
A glass thunked down on the napkin in front of her and her head snapped up to see a martini glass with hardly any liquid in it, since it was filled to the brim with olives instead.
"That's not rule number 2," he told her. Then he smiled, and she saw that the lines weathered into his face actually had a purpose.
"Ooh." She instantly stuck her fingers into the glass and snagged an olive, popping it into her mouth. "Thanks," she said, smiling back at him tentatively. She dove back in for another olive.
"I'm Hank," he said, putting out his hand to her over the bar.
She quickly wiped her fingers on the napkin. "Lorelai," she said again, giving his hand a shake. She used the opportunity of retracting her hand to snatch up several more olives.
He reached for the martini shaker and topped off her glass, since she'd made room for the actual drink. "Lorelai," he said, trying out her name. "That's pretty," he decided. He studied her for a moment. "It suits you."
"Really?" she scoffed, tossing another olive in her mouth. "You work in a bar and that's the best line you've got?"
"Not a line," he grinned, and she decided she liked his eyes when he smiled. "That's merely an observation on my part. So, Lorelai, what's your story? What brings you here to the big city?"
"Oh, same old thing," she told him, munching on her olives. "You know, girl meets guy, girl and guy decide to prank the town, prank backfires, and then they have to pretend to date."
Amusement lit up his face. "Man, if I had a dime every time I heard that one," he pretended to commiserate with her.
"Yeah," she agreed seriously. "You always think it won't happen to you."
He laughed openly, a nice, warm laugh. "You ready to order?" he asked her.
"Pretty soon, I think. Still trying to decide if I need something more than an olive appetizer." She smiled and he nodded and moved down to where a server was waving a ticket at him.
She returned to her study of the menu. This might not be such a bad place to wait, after all.
"I used to work at a truck stop, years ago," Hank related, as he came to stand in front of her. "Real greasy spoon type of place. I hope you're not offended when I tell you that you could eat some of those big guys I used to serve under the table."
"You wouldn't be the first to tell me that," Lorelai agreed, licking her lips after her last baby-back rib. She tried to wipe the sticky sauce off of her fingers, and smiled gratefully when Hank handed her a packaged wet-wipe.
"Dessert?" he asked, his tone sounding somewhat challenging.
She considered that carefully. "Not yet," she decided. "Coffee, maybe, for now?"
"How about if I make it Irish?" he suggested.
"Perfect."
She watched him select a clear, footed coffee mug, pour whiskey into it, and fill it nearly to the top with coffee. He left room for the whipped cream to not splatter as he sprayed it on, and then he drizzled the chocolate sauce over the top.
"Don't be stingy with the chocolate," she advised him.
"Hey, I already gave you extra olives," he pointed out.
"Oh, so that's rule number 2," she said sagely.
He was once again smiling as he sat the drink in front of her. "So tell me, was any of that story true you were feeding me earlier, about the prank?"
"All true," she insisted.
"You're pretending to date someone?"
"Yep." Unable to resist, she tried to take a sip of the coffee, and ended up having to wipe whipped cream off her nose. "First off, you have to understand the crazy little town of Stars Hollow. Maybe all little towns are like this, but we seem to have more than our share of busy-bodies. And for some reason, these people want me and the guy who owns the diner there to get together."
"But you don't like him," Hank surmised.
"I like him fine." Lorelai shrugged. "We've been friends for years, and he's a great guy." She cast a sudden glance of enlightenment at Hank. "In fact, you kind of remind me of him. Back home, this is what we do," she said, gesturing between them. "I sit at the counter and he feeds me, and we pick at each other. He's good at what he does, just like you. I notice how you're constantly checking on your customers, trying to stay ahead of what they need, even as you're chit-chatting with me, and that's just exactly what Luke does."
"Luke, huh?" Hank commented, ignoring her dig about the chit-chatting.
She nodded, and managed to get a sip of the coffee. "Luke's totally sensible, and I'm…not. I had this crazy idea that on April Fools' Day we should pretend to be in love, just to get back at all of the townspeople who are always trying to see if there's something between us. It took a lot of convincing, but even Luke finally had to admit how satisfying it would be to get the last laugh on them. So we acted out this little scene in the diner, and everybody totally believed us. Including my daughter," she said gloomily.
"That's what backfired?"
"Oh, yeah," she sighed. "She was giddy with excitement that Luke and I were together. I was flabbergasted. Never saw that coming at all."
"And now you're scared to hurt her feelings," Hank guessed.
"Right. So I further convinced Luke to play along for awhile, just to keep Rory satisfied. Eventually I figure she'll see we're better staying the friends we've always been, and then we can pretend to break up, and everyone stays happy."
"How old is she?" Hank asked sympathetically.
"Eighteen," Lorelai said casually, taking another mouthful of drink, but keeping her eyes on him to gauge his reaction.
She watched as the ramifications of that flitted across his face, but to his credit, he didn't react in the typical fashion. Instead he smiled, and leaned over a little closer to her.
"You know, 18-year-olds can probably accept disappointments like that in stride," he pointed out.
"I know. But Luke's been in our lives for so long, and I just don't want her to think I'd tease her with something that's actually been important to her." She ran her finger over the clear handle on the mug. "I don't want her to be disappointed in me."
Hank sighed, his hand rubbing over his beard that had a lot of silver mixed in with the red. "That I understand." His eyes swept over the bar before they came back to rest on her. "I have a son myself He's five."
"That's a great age," Lorelai said instantly. "Old enough to follow directions, but young enough to still be in awe of you."
Hank chuckled, looking down at the bar. "Yeah, that's it exactly."
"What's his name?"
"Ian." He shut his mouth abruptly, as though he was considering how much to tell her. "I've got custody of him now. His mom…Well, she's not exactly in touch with what the rest of us would consider to be reality, but I still had to fight for him. We live with my sister and her two kids. They're teenagers, and the whole situation works out pretty well for us. There's always somebody home to watch Ian when I come to work, but somehow tonight everyone got their wires crossed and I had to leave him with a neighbor to get to work on time. That's why I wasn't very hospitable when you first got here."
"I totally understand," she said, returning his sympathetic tone from earlier. "Hey, do you have a picture?"
He stepped over to the cash register and returned with a picture that had been held under a magnet there. He handed it to her proudly.
"He's adorable." Lorelai smiled, examining the little boy whose red hair was spiked straight up on top of his head. "Love the freckles," she commented, handing him the picture back. She grabbed for her purse and pulled out a picture of her own. "This is Rory."
He snorted a laugh. "Man, you guys have good genes. She doesn't look 18 at all." He handed the picture of a baby Rory covered in bubbles in the bathtub back to her.
She grinned and flipped the picture sleeve over, revealing a more-adult Rory in her posed senior picture.
His amusement faded as he studied the picture. "She looks like a lovely girl, Lorelai. I can see why you don't want to disappoint her."
He handed her the picture back as he stepped away to fill an order, and Lorelai sighed as she stared at the picture of the most important thing in her life.
"Exactly," she muttered, and took a gloomy mouthful of whipped cream.
Hank came back as soon as he could. "So you're pretending to date," he prompted. "Why isn't he here with you, then?"
"Because he has a real date tonight."
"Wow. That's...awkward," Hank said, his eyebrows rising.
"No kidding. The guy hasn't dated in like two years, but he has to pick this week to start something new."
Hank opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but closed it quickly. His hand once again smoothed his beard.
"What?" Lorelai prodded him.
"Just thinking that she must really be something, if he's opting to be with her instead of here with you."
Lorelai considered his words. "Thank you," she said. "I mean, I think that's a compliment, right?"
"It was," Hank agreed, "and I'm kinda of stingy with them, so remember it."
She ducked down to take a drink, hiding the pleased look on her face. "So anyway, I'm hanging out here with you until his real date is over, and then he'll take me home so everyone thinks we've been out."
"Sounds complicated."
"Welcome to my world," she sighed dramatically. "Hey, do you have any cards?"
"Cards?" Hank frowned.
Lorelai eagerly nodded. "We could play poker when you're not as busy."
"No cards," Hank said thoughtfully, "but hang on."
He moved away and flagged down a server. She looked puzzled but soon returned with a small pile of paper placemats and a cup full of crayons. Hank brought them all over to her, flipping the kid's placemat over to reveal preprinted games on the back.
"Have fun," he said, managing to give her a wink that didn't look cheesy in any way. "I'll be back when I can and we'll play tic-tac-toe."
"Prepare to lose!" Lorelai warned him, and eagerly set to work finding hidden words.
They'd rapidly become tic-tac-toed out and had moved on to Hangman. Hank had just figured out her phrase.
"You have a truly dirty mind," he said, his voice a mixture of awe and disgust.
"Yes, I do!" Lorelai confirmed proudly.
He looked up when a movement at the bar's door caught his eye. "Hey, is this your guy?"
She swiveled around to see Luke bearing down on her. She smiled at him, which only made his scowl more intense. She noticed that he'd taken off his tie and had unbuttoned his collar. She noticed because it was a very, very good look on him.
"Hi, Luke!" she chirped. She flourished her hand at Hank. "This is Hank, Litchfield's best bartender. Hank, this is Luke, who makes the best burgers in Stars Hollow. Possibly in all of Connecticut."
She waited, but neither guy acknowledged the other. Instead they stared hard at each other, trying to size each other up. Finally Hank, who seemed to realize he was representing his workplace, gave a slight nod. Luke didn't return it.
"Let's go," he said curtly to Lorelai, putting his hand on her elbow.
"OK," she said agreeably, anxious to diffuse the smoldering tension. She hopped down as she opened her bag, finding a bill to stuff into the tip jar. "Thanks a lot for entertaining me, Hank. Remember that when you come to the Independence Inn I'll be happy to play tic-tac-toe with you and Ian."
"It's been a pleasure, Lorelai," Hank said with deliberate affability, even as he crossed his arms firmly over his chest.
She waved good-bye and then Luke took her hand and pulled her quickly out into the lobby. He grabbed her coat from the nearly empty rack and once she was bundled into it he hurried her out the door.
As soon as they were outside he exploded in irritation. "I can't believe you! What, it was too subtle to just write your number down on a napkin? You had to make sure he knew where you lived and worked?"
She grabbed his arm and dug in her heels, trying to bring his march to the truck to a halt. "What are you talking about?"
"In there!" He flung his arm back towards the door. "You were sure anxious to make sure he knew where to find you!"
"I did not ― I did no such thing!" she protested.
"I seem to recall you were pretty thrilled when a dad from Chilton followed you all the way to Stars Hollow," he reminded her, heat coloring his words.
She rushed her steps and managed to get in front of him. "I don't understand why we're arguing over this! I'd think you'd be happy that I found someone willing to talk to me and keep me company tonight! Otherwise I would have had a very long, boring night!"
She gave his arm an annoyed shake and they stared at each for a minute, with Luke breathing hard. At last he hunched his shoulders against the cold and shook his head. "You're right. It just seemed ―" he broke off his thought and shook his head again, as though he was trying to shake an idea out. "Never mind. I'm glad you found a nice place to wait on me tonight."
"It was nice," Lorelai confirmed, letting Luke help her into the truck. She let him get in and get the truck started back towards Stars Hollow before she started her inquisition.
"So how was the date?"
"Beats me," he sighed. "It was full of stilted conversation, long, awkward pauses, and way too much talk about how to properly cook fish."
"Sounds like a typical first date, then," Lorelai chuckled. "Did she like the flowers?"
"Yeah, she did." Luke turned to her, and she could see the pleased smile on his face from the pale light coming from the dash. "It turns out that purple stuff ― What was it again?"
"Lavender."
"Well, it turns out that lavender is like a thing with her. She loves it. She thought I was some sort of psychic genius."
"Oh, well, good then." Lorelai said hollowly, pretending to be pleased.
"Yeah, you were right about it being a good ice-breaker."
"Good," she repeated.
"When we got back to her house ―"
"You went back to her house?" she asked, alarm bells ringing in her ears.
"She wanted me to come in for coffee ―"
"You drank coffee?" she all but screeched.
"I let her give me a cup of coffee. I didn't actually drink more than a mouthful." She watched him grimace. "I still hate coffee."
"Oh, my God," Lorelai murmured, grasping the door handle for strength.
"Anyway, when we got there she sat the flowers in the middle of the coffee table and couldn't stop talking about how amazing it was that I'd brought her a bouquet with lavender in it."
Lorelai let the disturbing vision of Luke and Nicole alone at her place settle for a few miles. "So how was the restaurant?"
"Pretentious and overpriced." He was grimacing again. "The food was arranged on the plate like it was an artist's palette, what little food there was. Ounce for ounce, it probably cost the same as gold. Hey, you want to come to the diner for a peanut butter sandwich when we get home?"
She smiled as she shook her head. "No, my meal was great."
"Well, lucky you, then," he muttered.
"Who drove?" she asked.
"She did. She said it made more sense, because she knew where the restaurant was."
"Uh huh," Lorelai said, not trying to even sound convinced.
"Yeah," Luke said sourly, shrugging his shoulders. "That's what I thought."
"So is there going to be another date?"
"I think so," he said, thoughtfully.
"Really?"
"We're going to talk on Wednesday. We'll plan something out then, I think."
"Well, good." Lorelai heard that same hollow note in her voice again. "That's good."
"Thanks for helping me get through this," he said, breaking a stretch of silence. "Everything you said to me really helped."
"I'm glad," she replied automatically. "Don't ever forget what a great guy you are."
He turned towards her, favoring her with one of his genuine smiles and a nod of thanks, and she settled down into the passenger's side, letting the silence fall between them again.
She roused when he turned into her driveway. "Do you want to come in?" she offered, unfastening her seat belt.
"I think I'll go home and make my peanut butter sandwich," he said blandly.
"OK." She put her hand on the door handle, but then stopped. "When we talk about this, do we say we went to your restaurant or mine?"
"I'm not gonna talk about it at all," he reminded her, "so I suggest you use yours."
"That's probably best," she agreed with a grin. "We had a good time," she then instructed him, sternly.
"Yes, we did." He nodded at her, for once playing along.
"OK," she said again. She peered towards her house and also glanced at Babette's. "I don't think anyone's watching, but just in case…" She leaned towards him, intending to give him a friendly hug that could be mistaken for anything in the darkened cab, but she was stopped cold by the olfactory brick wall of another woman's perfume. She reared back, hurt and confused.
"You OK?" he asked, concerned.
"Just ― just twisted my wrist the wrong way," she said, giving out the first lie her tongue landed on.
He picked up her arm and rubbed her wrist, his fingers caressing her pulse point as he tried to make it feel better. "Sorry," he soothed her.
"It's OK," she mumbled, anxious now to get out of the truck.
His hand went to the back of her neck and he pulled her over a little bit towards him. He gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.
"Just to keep in practice," he told her, grinning.
"You ― You don't need to practice," she managed to stutter out, and then she bailed out of the truck and quickly walked up to her door, hoping her daughter was either asleep or out with her own boyfriend, saving her from having to make up more lies tonight about what a wonderful date she'd had.
Author's Note: I want to give credit to Peach, one of the funniest contestants to ever appear on Project Runway, for the 'good china' comment. I knew as soon as she uttered it that I was going to have to use it in a story someday. Also, it's OK to like Hank, if you want. He's not going to get in the way. Promise.