Читать книгу Seeking Shelter - Angel Smits - Страница 10

CHAPTER TWO

THE SCREEN AT THE BACK door slammed with a loud thwack. Amy looked up from where she was wiping down the coffee bar to see Katie trudge down the main aisle with her half teddy bear, half husky, Butcher, trotting behind.

“Hi, sweetie. How was your day?”

Katie didn’t respond, simply tossed her backpack to the floor by the coffee bar and headed for the tall stool on the opposite side of the counter. Butcher flopped down at her feet.

The store was quiet this time of day, so Amy could stop what she was doing and focus on her daughter. Amy knew that look, knew not to push. “So, everything okay?” She slowly wiped the counter, all the while watching Katie out of the corner of her eye.

She’d known today would be rough for Katie. Her beloved teacher, Miss Davis, was out on medical leave, and the new teacher started today.

“Yeah.”

That wasn’t much help. Maybe distraction would loosen her up. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Nope.”

Amy sighed again, put her cleaning supplies away and wiped her hands. “What’s up?”

Katie swung her legs and looked down at the scarred surface of the old counter. Her tennis shoes resembled a pendulum swinging back and forth.

She’d chosen to wear her favorite pink jeans and a shirt they’d bought on their last trip into Phoenix. Her blond hair hung in two not-so-neat ponytails that just hit her tiny shoulders.

“Mama?”

“Yeah?”

“How come I don’t have a daddy?”

Amy’s stomach dropped and she swallowed hard. Here we go again. She did not want to get into this conversation, not now, not ever.

Ever since the mother of one of Katie’s schoolmates had gotten remarried, Katie had been obsessed with her own lack of a father. Every time Amy thought they’d moved past it, something brought it back.

She walked around the counter and sat on the matching bar stool beside Katie. She’d have pulled her into her lap and never let her go, but Katie had resisted “being treated like a baby” for some months now.

Katie wasn’t ready to hear the truth—of the man Amy had thought she’d loved, who’d forced himself on her and left her shattered and pregnant. Now he was nothing more than a sperm donor and a piddly monthly check.

“What brought that up?” Amy stared down at her little girl. Katie’s beginnings had been...difficult. Remembering those days always proved painful.

Matt had been so much stronger, and the body that had violated hers had been conditioned by hours of football practice and steroids. She’d never had a chance. Or a choice.

She’d thought about an abortion, but couldn’t do it. When she’d realized she was pregnant, she’d confronted him. What a mistake. He’d laughed and written her a check.

“Thanks for the good time, babe,” he’d said as he tossed it at her and walked away.

She’d decided then—at all of eighteen—that her revenge would be to keep the child. One day he’d change his mind and she’d deny him any connection.

She hadn’t planned on falling so completely and wonderfully in love with the baby. Her baby. But she had, and now Amy had to find a way of giving Katie answers.

“Honey, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know, Mama, but my new teacher had us draw pictures of our family today. I didn’t have a daddy to draw.”

Amy knew she wasn’t the only single parent in the community. “What about Emily?” She mentioned the name of another girl in the class whose mother was single.

Katie frowned. “She drew her dad in Chicago with the new lady. Even Rachel Bishop drew her daddy up on a cloud in heaven.” Katie pouted. “I don’t have anybody to draw. Just a big old empty spot.”

Amy’s heart hurt for her daughter. “Sweetie, we’re all different. It’s a good thing.” She shuddered. If this was so important now, what were Katie’s teen years going to be like? Amy bit back the groan.

“No, it’s not. I don’t want to be different.” If Katie had been standing, she’d have most likely stamped her foot.

“I’m sorry, Katie. I can’t change it. It’s the way things are.” Amy reached over and stroked one of her daughter’s silky ponytails. She silently debated if she should talk to the teacher. What should she say?

Katie didn’t seem satisfied with the answer, which Amy knew really wasn’t one, but she didn’t say anything more, either.

“How about a cookie?” She didn’t normally let Katie have sweets so close to supper, but figured if there was ever a time for sugar therapy, now was it.

“Okay. Long as it’s not one of those homemade ones.” Katie pointed at the glass display on the counter and wrinkled her nose. Butcher sat up eagerly, though.

“Butch likes these.” Amy grinned at Katie. “Don’t you want to share with him?”

“Nope.”

Katie smiled back and Amy felt her heart catch. If only all of life’s problems could be fixed with a simple cookie. She pulled one of the store-bought cookies Katie preferred out of the jar on the back counter.

Halfway through her snack, Katie called to her again. “Mama?”

“Yes?”

“I have a question.”

“I have an answer.” Amy repeated one of her mom’s old quips.

“Mama...” This time Katie drew out the word with a long-suffering sigh and Amy laughed. “I’m serious.”

“Okay.”

“Since I don’t have a daddy now, is it okay if we start looking for one?”

Amy froze and stared at her. “What?” She hadn’t really heard that, had she?

“Can I—we—look for a dad?”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Amy glanced away, staring out the window at the little town they called home. On a good day, Rattlesnake Bend boasted four hundred residents, including the surrounding ranches. If half were male, that’d be a stretch. Single and under the age of fifty? The numbers dwindled even further.

The tension in Amy’s stomach eased. “It’s not like getting a puppy, you know, but, uh, sure, honey.” She reluctantly agreed, as much to appease her daughter as to get out of this conversation.

What was with the world all of a sudden? First Hank pushing her to sell the ranch, now Katie back to wanting a dad.

What was wrong with the way things were? Amy looked around at the store, at her daughter munching away on her cookie. She’d managed to support them for the past two years with this store. They weren’t rich, but they made it.

No, she wasn’t ready for any changes. Things were going to stay just the way they were.

* * *

JACE HAD JUST PASSED the highway sign that told him Rattlesnake Bend was another twenty miles when the bike’s engine started to miss.

Damn. He should have taken the time for the tune-up. After driving to Pennsylvania when Linc had been trapped last spring, then back to Los Angeles, he’d known the bike needed some TLC. But there hadn’t been time. Or motivation.

Mac’s dying had been damned inconvenient.

The bike missed again, and he cringed. He hated driving the twenty miles, pushing the bike into probable damage, but stopping out here in the middle of nowhere wasn’t an option.

By the time he’d forced the bike to the city limits, he was worried about the engine. It finally gave up, sputtering and falling silent, a pathetic state for the Harley beast Jace loved. He’d have to push the big bike the last couple of blocks to the old-fashioned gas station up ahead.

As he walked, Jace looked up and down the street. Rattlesnake Bend, Arizona, boasted a population of 423 if the city limit sign was to be believed. The bullet holes in the sign and a few scattered cars parked at uneven angles to the curb crowned this as Podunk, America. The Café sign said simply what it was. It probably didn’t even have a full name.

Jace had seen town squares like this back in the Midwest with one major difference. Those communities had actual parks in the center of the square. Here, the desert provided only hard-baked dirt for a couple scraggly pines and an old, dead cottonwood that looked more like the local hanging tree than actual landscaping.

The town was quiet as it baked in the sun. Lord, it was hot, despite it being midwinter. How did people live here in the summer?

Sweat poured down his face as he finally stopped by the pumps. Gas wouldn’t help, but he wasn’t pushing any farther. The desert sucked.

A man about his age came out the front door. Jace glanced up and smiled. The good-ole-boy look was still in style. Grimy ball cap, bill forward, not sideways. T-shirt beneath an unbuttoned denim shirt with one of those ovals on his left side that labeled him as Rick.

“That’s sure one pretty bike.” The man’s gaze roamed over the Harley’s body almost as if it were a woman.

“Yeah. You should see her when she’s cleaned up.” The chrome and denim-blue paint were covered in road dust at the moment. “She was running rough out in the desert. I let her go as far as I could.”

“Been pushing a ways? Whatcha think’s the problem?” Rick crouched down next to the bike, peering at the engine with a practiced eye.

“She needed a tune-up a while back. Sounds like a plug, maybe a plug wire that’s toast.” Jace knelt beside him.

“I think it’s more than plugs, but don’t think I got this kind, anyway.” Rick leaned in closer, poking around in the compact engine. “We’d better look at the points and the generator. Nearest parts store is over in Gilcrest. That’s fifty miles. Could be a challenge to get it quick. You might be stuck for a couple days.”

Jace cursed. Getting the bike there, or the part here, wasn’t going to be easy. And that was if it was just the plug and wires. He sighed. He wasn’t really in a hurry. There wasn’t anything or anyone waiting for him in L.A. And he had business here, anyway.

“We got a problem?” Another man’s voice cut through the desert heat.

“Nothing we can’t handle.” Rick stood and glared at the other man. He didn’t seem much older, but Jace couldn’t tell for sure, as a worn cowboy hat shaded his eyes. The badge on the man’s shirt proclaimed him the local law. Jace looked up at him from where he crouched.

Jace had had enough run-ins with cops to know they either trusted you and left you alone or they didn’t—and the latter could be pure hell. He’d learned long ago to keep a low profile until he knew which kind he was dealing with. Not always the easiest thing to do, but the wisest.

Rick interrupted Jace’s thoughts. “Gavin, quit being an ass.”

Jace turned his attention back to the engine, but kept his ears open. He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t here to get involved with the locals, at least not these two.

“Rick, I’m just tellin’ you. You need to be careful.”

Rick sighed. “If this town is going to survive, we can’t chase off everyone who comes to town who doesn’t fit your standards.”

Jace heard more than words in their conversation. He heard a history he wanted no part of.

Ah, small towns. He’d grown up in one. Everyone knew everyone else’s business. There were no secrets, no true privacy. He’d run away from just such a place when he’d turned sixteen. He was in no hurry to go back.

“It’s my job to keep everyone safe.” The lawman stepped closer, crowding Rick.

“Yeah, and you’re an elected official. Screw up and we’ll vote you out of office. We need people to come here. You like them tumbleweeds blowin’ across your doorway?”

As if on cue, one the size of a VW Bug chose that moment to meander across the wide street.

“Shut up, Rick.” Gavin had the sense to step back. He still loomed over Jace, though. “You just watch yourself,” he said in a low voice.

Jace resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and slowly unfolded his lanky frame. He realized that he was a good head taller than either man. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of my business as soon as I can, and be on my way.”

He didn’t explain that his business in Rattlesnake Bend was more than fixing his bike. He didn’t think good old Gavin could handle that piece of information.

Jace had traveled five hundred miles over the past two days to get here. He was tired and hot. No local yokel was going to get in his way, but he didn’t intend to get in theirs, either.

He took another glance around the deserted town and sighed. Just because he had the address didn’t mean Madeline Grey and her daughter were still here. He wished he’d pushed that attorney for more info, but then he’d probably still be in L.A. Behind bars, most likely.

All the way here, he’d thought about Mac’s family, wondering what the heck to say. He still hadn’t figured it out.

Until he did, he wouldn’t start asking questions, even if one of these men could give him answers. He could wait a little longer. Until he knew the lay of the land and the mood of the people, he’d keep his business to himself.

Jace stood watching as the lawman strolled away, little puffs of dust rising up behind his boot heels.

“You can leave her here, and I’ll call over to Gilcrest to check on the parts, if you’d like,” Rick offered.

“Thanks.” Together, they pushed the bike inside one of the bays.

“Be a shame for something to happen to such a pretty girl.” Rick grinned as he eyed the bike with that same sense of awe. Jace almost felt sorry for the man’s wife, if he had one. She hadn’t a chance measuring up to the machine. The mechanic pulled down the old garage door to block the bike from view.

“The diner open?” Jace didn’t remember how long ago he’d had breakfast.

“Not till five. Lunch rush is over. Caryn heads out to her place to take care of her horses this time of day. There’s stuff over at the grocery you can eat up quick, though. Just stay away from anything in the front counter.” Rick shuddered and then laughed as he walked back into the air-conditioned glass box that served as the office for the station.

Jace headed toward the tiny grocery store. He was surprised to see that it had a screen door, and the old Rainbow Bread sign on the handle had seen better days.

The wood frame slapped shut behind him, and Jace blinked several times as he stepped into the comparatively dim interior. The air was blessedly cool, and he thought he’d stay right here forever. Finally, his eyes adjusted, and he was pleasantly surprised at the neatness.

It wasn’t kitschy or frilly, as so many small-town shops were. Only the roadrunner wallpaper up near the high ceiling gave an indication anyone had tried to decorate in anything but stock and boxes.

Three aisles lined with well-filled shelves ran the length of the building. Canned and boxed goods sat like little soldiers in neat rows.

The counter stretched across the front, including a glass case filled with pastries and other baked goods. Next to that, a glass meat counter glistened under the fluorescent lights. A giant meat slicer and state-of-the-art steamer sat behind it.

A young woman stood behind the displays. He wondered if she was the owner or just a clerk. She didn’t seem old enough to own a business, but looks could be deceiving. A hunk of meat lay on a wooden chopping block, and she held a cleaver in her hand. She brought the blade down with a loud whack. At first she didn’t look up. Good thing, too. It could have been disastrous.

“Can I help you?” she asked as she turned around. Her voice was warm, but there was a wariness in her eyes. She took a step forward, keeping the counter between them.

She wasn’t tall, but her stance was straight and proud. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a haphazard ponytail with enough pieces left loose to fall down around her face in a golden cloud. She stared at him with wide green eyes.

She wiped her hands on a rag, and he saw that the once-white apron she wore over her jeans and T-shirt was stained with red, like the butcher he remembered Mom going to back home. A hundred years ago.

He couldn’t help but smile. It made him think of the millions of campy horror movies he’d seen. He loved those movies. It’d been a while since he’d seen one.

He shook his head to focus on the now. He’d spent way too much time in the sun.

Jace squinted at her, trying to read her expression. She wasn’t old enough to be Madeline’s contemporary but maybe she knew the daughter. “Yeah. Thought I’d get some supplies.” He indicated the aisles with a tilt of his head.

“Canned goods are on the far wall. You’ll find the snacks front middle, and beverages over there.” She waved the blade in the general direction. “If you need personal stuff, you’ll have to go see Sam down the street at the drugstore.”

“Thanks,” Jace mumbled, and headed down the center aisle. There must be a basement under part of the wood floor, as he heard a hollow tone beneath his steps toward the rear.

A wall-length, glass-fronted freezer stood at the very back, and he couldn’t resist opening the door. The cool air blasted him and he drank it in, letting it cool him as well as clear some of the dust from his lungs.

A box of Häagen-Dazs ice cream bars sat open on the bottom shelf. He grinned. They weren’t tagged, and he bet he’d just found her private stash. He grabbed one and tore open the wrapper. The rich chocolate ice cream tasted sweet and cool as he sauntered through the aisles. He grabbed a couple of sodas, some canned meat and a bag of chips along the way.

Traveling on the bike meant frequent stops, and he didn’t have much more than his clothes in the saddlebags.

He hadn’t planned this trip. Not that he planned much of anything, anyway, but definitely not this one. He’d just taken off, needing to complete this self-appointed mission. He suddenly realized that the past year—going all the way to Pennsylvania to see his brother and back—had done a number not only on the bike, but on him. As well as the emotional upheaval of losing Mac.

All of a sudden, Jace felt tired. He sighed loudly and headed toward the checkout. Dropping the pile on the counter with a loud clatter, he tossed the still damp stick on top so she’d know to charge him for the ice cream.

Their eyes met, and hers widened as she looked up at him. For the first time in a long time, something inside Jace stirred to life.

* * *

ALL HER LIFE, Amy had been warned against letting strange men in the front door. That was much easier in the context of her home. Owning a grocery store in a small town, well, she couldn’t afford to be too picky.

That was one of the reasons she’d agreed to let Katie adopt Butcher. She glanced down at the dog, who was flopped at her feet, watching the man. Fat lot of good the mutt was right now. He’d found his favorite spot in the store—on the vent beside the big old butcher block where she worked. He was currently a puddle of contented fur.

She’d been watching the man since he’d come into town, pushing the big motorcycle over to Rick’s station. The bike was a monster and must weigh a ton. He’d pushed it easily, any strain hidden by his black leathers.

He had to be baking in that jacket. The only breeze was what he created as he moved. It barely stirred his dark, shoulder-length hair.

Her gaze had been drawn to the form-fitting leather pants he wore like a second skin.

When he moved down the aisle, the dog perked up one ear. Nothing more. But it was enough to reassure her that she was safe. Or as safe as a woman alone in the middle of nowhere could be.

She returned to the butcher block and the package of steaks she was preparing for Hank. The old man would be here at four to pick them up, so she had plenty of time. As the stranger wandered down the aisle, she wondered what would be Butcher’s greater motivation—the need to protect her, or to protect his perceived dinner—if the man proved to be a threat.

She put the meat cleaver on the butcher block, but within easy reach. She’d hoped to keep track of him, but too late, he was in her space, standing on the other side of the narrow counter.

And Butcher was simply thumping his tail against the floor.

She swallowed hard before turning to face her customer. “Did you, uh, need anything else?” She cringed when her voice quavered, and inched her hand toward the cleaver.

“Not a knife, if that’s what you’re offering.”

She pulled her hand back, and the smile that was too good-looking for such a rough guy sent heat to her cheeks. People who rode motorcycles like the one she’d seen him with shouldn’t have pearly white teeth. But he did.

“It’s not.”

“Can you ring me up?” He tilted his head toward the stack on the counter.

“Oh. Sure.” A paying customer. What a novelty.

“Nice dog.” Butcher’s tail moved faster.

“He’s my watchdog.”

“Uh-huh.” The man didn’t sound convinced. His smile widened.

She chose to ignore it. But if Butcher decided to take a hunk out of his leg...well, she might let him, though it’d be a shame to ruin that nice backside with teeth marks. Her cheeks warmed and she looked away.

Amy wiped her hands on the apron and stepped behind the register. She punched in the amounts, and after each, the ratcheting of the paper feed filled the silence.

“The ice cream is a buck twenty-five.” She didn’t have a clue what they should cost. They weren’t really for sale. Too late now.

The purchases fit in one bag. He pulled a worn wallet out and peeled off a crisp new bill. She smiled. Much easier to deal with than a credit card, or God forbid, a check. The fact that it was a fifty-dollar bill surprised her.

She counted out his change, then extended her hand to give it to him.

He smiled back and reached out to take it. Her heart did a funny little flip as she looked at his wide palm.

Back in junior high, she and her best friend, Caryn, had bought a book on palm reading. They’d pored over all the meanings of the lines in a person’s hand. Looking at this man’s hand, with its calluses and lines, she wished she remembered some of that information. He intrigued her. She didn’t usually care about strangers, especially not men. But this man had been places outside this town. And he was heading someplace else once he left here. She wondered where.

She shook her head to dispel her thoughts, and nearly dropped the coins.

To keep the money from falling, he curled his hand around hers.

Heat that had nothing to do with their location in the middle of the Arizona desert shot up her arm. Surprised, she looked up, then tried to hide her uncertainty. “Your change.” She pulled back her hand, and he let her go, though the feel of him lingered. She moved to the butcher block as he headed to the door.

He stopped, holding the screen door open, and faced her. “So, is there somewhere I can get a room for the night?”

Startled, she actually dropped the meat cleaver, but thankfully, managed to miss her foot. The unmistakable clatter echoed through the store. Why in the world would he want to do that?

“You want to stay here?” She turned and looked at him. There was something about him that rubbed her the wrong way, a way that made her itch all over. She hadn’t felt that way since...since... She shut that thought down nearly as fast as it appeared. It must be that conversation with Katie yesterday that had stirred up all this...awareness.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He frowned at her.

“No one stays here.”

“I’m going to. You friends with the sheriff?”

“What?” She’d seen Gavin talking with him and Rick. What had that idiot said now?

“Oh, nothing.” The man shook his head and smiled as he popped one of the sodas he’d bought and took a deep drink.

Amy could only stare at the muscles of his throat as they worked. “Damn,” she mumbled. Without another word, she walked past him, pushed the screen door open wider and tilted her head toward the old Victorian house across the square. “Hank runs the B and B. Over there. He can always use the business.”

The house had seen better days, but Hank was slowly fixing it up. The stranger moved close—close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body. He stared past her toward the house, then stepped outside. An eyebrow lifted, but that was his only reaction.

“Thanks. I’m Jace.”

His hands were full, but she thought he’d have offered his hand to her if they hadn’t been. He waited expectantly, apparently for her to offer her own name. She swallowed hard. “I’m...Amy.”

“Amy?”

He said her name softly, and despite the heat, she shivered. His eyes moved, as if his gaze were drinking in every detail of her face.

“Amy,” he repeated. “Uh, nice to meet you.” He took a deep breath, and it seemed as if he shook his head slightly. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear something had just startled him.

“Mama!” A high-pitched voice cut through the thick air between them, and Amy backed a step away. Then two.

Katie came barreling down the sidewalk toward them and Jace turned to look at her.

There are few things that set a mother off more than a threat to her child. Though the man now standing on the sidewalk was smiling down at Katie, Amy couldn’t let go of the fear that rippled through her. She was the one person Katie always turned to, the one who was there whenever she needed something. The one whose job it was to protect her.

Right now, that little girl was looking up at a tall stranger with great interest. Amy barely held herself back.

“Hi.” Katie walked right up to Jace, craning her neck to look at him.

“Well, hello,” he said, hunching down next to her.

“I’m Katie. I’m six.”

Amy barely resisted the urge to warn her daughter about sharing personal information. She needed to ingrain that into her before she got old enough for Facebook and Twitter, or whatever would follow.

“I’m Jace. I’m older than six.”

Katie grinned widely and Amy nearly leaped toward her daughter. But not to protect her this time. She knew that look and what was coming next.

She wasn’t quick enough.

“Do you have a wife?”

Amy wanted to sink into the sidewalk. When Jace turned to her, her heart dropped to her knees as he glanced from mother to daughter and back again.

“No, I’m not married. Why do you want to know? Are you proposing?”

“Katie,” Amy warned, knowing there was no chance her daughter was going to heed her. She stepped forward, placing her hands protectively on Katie’s shoulders, since, tempting as it was, putting her hand over her daughter’s mouth would probably be frowned upon.

Katie giggled. “No, silly. I’m too little. But Mama can. She’s not married, either.”