Читать книгу His Hometown Girl - Jillian Hart - Страница 7

Karen McKaslin scrambled out of her car in the small back lot behind her coffee shop. The gravel crunched beneath her sneakers as she strolled toward the back steps, squinting against the first fingers of sunlight. Dawn painted the eastern skies with bold strokes of crimson and gold, and larksong merrily drifted on the temperate breeze.

Another beautiful Montana day.

“Hey, Karen!” Jodi Benson called out from the alley as she hurried, the hem of her short skirt snapping with her fast gait. “I heard about you and Jay. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Fine, except that everyone keeps mentioning that man’s name.” Karen lifted one hand to her brow to shield her eyes from the low glaring sun. “You’re late for work, too.”

“Don’t mention it to my boss, will you? He won’t be in until seven. Hey, don’t let this get you down. Every bride-to-be has cold feet. You and Jay will patch things up.”

Not in this lifetime. Karen hiked her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “Thanks, Jodi. Have a good day.”

Jodi was already at the end of the alley and lifted a hand in answer.

It’s not as if they were close friends, Karen thought, so there was no reason to try to set the woman straight. Rumors were rumors and they didn’t matter.

She knew the truth, but her troubles felt heavier as she hurried up the back steps. Sweet peas tumbled from the planters on the wooden rail and waltzed with carefree happiness in time with the breeze.

Karen’s key clicked in the lock, and she pushed open the glass door with one elbow. She wasn’t going to worry about small-town rumors and setting everyone straight, because Jay wasn’t her true problem. No, the real problem was before her as she stepped into the little dining room she and her older sister Allison had decorated together.

Today was the third anniversary of Allison’s death. Karen had vowed to try to live this day like any other, but at 6:10 in the morning, she’d already failed. She only had to close her eyes to see how this shop looked four years ago when she’d unlocked the door for the first time.

Allison’s footsteps had tapped across the subflooring as she’d held her arms wide. “Imagine all these windows with ruffled gingham curtains. And a counter over there. Our coffee shop is going to be a success, I can feel it.”

Karen opened her eyes, the remembrance slipping away, her heart aching. The echo of her sister’s voice bounced off the walls, an eerie echo of a memory that felt too real.

Gone were the days when she’d made plans with her sister to run the coffee shop together. Plans cut short by a small-plane crash on this day three years ago. Allison’s loss would be forever felt.

Sell the shop, Jay had told her. When we get married, I won’t have my wife working for anyone but me.

Red-hot rage sliced through her like a sharp blade, and she hated it. Hated both the force of her anger and Jay’s unsympathetic demand to sell this place she loved so much.

“Karen?” A man’s chocolate-smooth voice broke through her thoughts.

Startled, she spun around. Zachary Drake stood in the doorway, wearing his usual gray Stetson, a white T-shirt and jeans.

Wide and strong and a little rough around the edges, Zach nodded once in greeting. “Standing around daydreaming?”

“Wishing I could pay someone else to get up this early every morning and open for me.” She pasted on a smile, since her problems were her own. “You’re early today.”

“Got a busy morning. Saw you pull in the alley and figured you might make me some coffee even if you aren’t open yet.” He ambled inside, bringing with him the scent of fresh morning breezes and Old Spice. “So, how about it?”

“For the man who keeps my trusty car running, anything.” She slipped behind the counter without another word and stowed her purse.

“Looks like you’ll have a busy day, too.” Zach couldn’t stop his gaze from following her every movement as she broke open a fresh bag of coffee beans. “What with all the tourists dropping by for a cold glass of whatever you’ve got.”

“The tourists are too busy staying on the highway heading for Yellowstone.” She flashed him an easy smile, one that didn’t reach her beautiful eyes. “Besides, it’ll be too hot for anyone to want coffee.”

“I might stop by later and get one of those iced things you make.”

“That’s why you’re my favorite customer.” Karen grabbed a pitcher of water. “Let me set up and I’ll get your cappuccino. It’ll take just a minute.”

“Appreciate it.” Zach turned toward the window, pretending to watch the activity out on the street. Except at eighteen minutes past six on a weekday morning in this small town, there was no activity to watch.

Larks roosted on the edge of the green planter boxes on the wooden rails out front. The streets were empty, and the stores still closed up tight. In the window of the diner just down the road, Jodi Benson appeared and turned the Closed sign to Open.

Truth was, he’d rather stare out at nothing because if he turned around and watched Karen work, she just might notice the way he was looking at her. Mooning after her like a man with a secret crush.

Sure, she’d broken off her engagement. Normally a man might take hope in that. But Zach knew, figured like everyone in this town, that Karen and Jay belonged together. Whatever had torn them apart a month before their wedding would be easily fixed, he was sure, and the two would marry at the end of the summer.

He could deal with that. His heart took a blow every time he talked with her, every time he saw her.

“Here you go. One cappuccino, double shot.” She set the paper cup on the counter and held up her hand when he reached into his back pocket. “No, I don’t have my till set up yet, so don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

“I’m real worried.” She flashed him a smile, a friendly one that had entranced him since his first day of kindergarten. She leaned both elbows on the counter and studied him for a moment. “Can I ask you for a favor? I know you said you’re busy, but could you possibly find a spare minute to take a look at my car?”

“You mean that rusted-out rattletrap you drive?”

“That rusted-out rattletrap is paid for, cowboy. That’s how I can afford the luxuries of being self-employed.”

“Sure, you can’t afford a vehicle that runs.”

“Hey, my car runs. Sometimes.” She lifted one shoulder and made an attempt at a smile.

“Since I’m the only mechanic in town, I guess the real question is, can you afford to have me look at it?”

“Now you’re getting greedy.”

“Lots of folks accuse me of that.” He winked. “But for you, being my favorite customer, I’ll make an exception.”

“Oh, boy,” she teased back, but the sadness in her eyes remained, dark and steady.

And he knew why. He didn’t know if he should say anything. Didn’t know if bringing up the subject of her sister would give her more pain. Comforting her…well, it wasn’t his right. That right belonged to the man whose ring used to sparkle on her left hand, a small diamond on a gold band.

“I’ll come over and take a look when things get slow. On a hot day like this, I never know if I’ll be bored to death or if radiators will be boiling over all around town.”

“I’m running late. I’ve got to get in the back and start the muffins baking. Thanks again, Zach.”

“No problem.” He watched her move away, heading toward the kitchen with ease and grace, leaving his heart hammering.

Longing filled him, and he controlled it. He didn’t want her to suspect how he truly felt. Not today of all days, with the memory of her sister’s death and the pain of her breakup written on her face.

Zach grabbed his cup of coffee and headed out into the morning. The sun didn’t seem quite as bright.

Thank heavens for a busy day, Karen thought as she laid two slices of bread on the cutting board. A few hours ago, a tour bus had limped into town, blowing blue smoke out the back. The stranded senior citizens had divided themselves between the coffee shop and the town’s diner. Add that to the regulars and she could hardly make sandwiches fast enough.

“How are you, dear?” a kindly woman asked from the other side of the counter. “I heard about the breakup. You look like you didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.”

Karen reached for the mustard jar and slathered a knifeful on both slices of bread. “I’m doing fine, Mrs. Greenley, and don’t believe those rumors you’re hearing.”

“I never do. Just don’t you worry about what people are saying. What matters is doing what’s best for you.” The older woman turned around in line. “Helen, come up here and take a look at your granddaughter. She appears exhausted to me.”

“I’m not exhausted.” Karen layered ham and cheese slices on top of the mustard-coated bread.

There was a shuffle in the line, and Karen saw Gramma elbowing her way up to the counter.

Great, just what she needed—the woman who could see past her every defense.

Karen concentrated very hard on laying thick slabs of fresh tomato and crisp lettuce leaves just so, before she sliced the sandwich in half. “Gramma, I’m fine. Go back to your place in line. You’re cutting.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Gramma protested, causing a louder ruckus as she pushed her way to the edge of the counter and circled behind it.

Karen laid the sandwich neatly on a stoneware plate and set it on top of the glass barrier. “And, no, I don’t need any help.”

“Hogwash. Nora’s right. You’re as pale as a sheet, and the only place I’ve seen dark circles like that is on a raccoon. You need to hire help so you can take a day off now and then, missy,” Gramma admonished as she grabbed Nora’s five-dollar bill and marched to the cash register. “Now, go. Scoot. Nora and I will cover the rest of the lunch crowd.”

“You bet,” Mrs. Greenley said eagerly. “I’ve made a sandwich or two in my time.”

“There’s no way.” Karen shouldered against her grandmother and counted out change from the till. “I’m perfectly fine. Make yourself a sandwich, go sit with Mrs. Greenley and have a good visit.”

“You can’t fool me, sweetie.” Gramma’s arm settled firmly around Karen’s shoulders. “Use that line on someone who hasn’t been around as long as I have. You haven’t been sleeping.”

“I have a long line of customers—”

“Karen.” Gramma’s voice was firm but caring. “I don’t know all that’s going on between you and Jay, but I’m on your side. Never forget that. And I know what day it is. Allison would want you to visit her, you know.”

“I can do that later—” Karen turned away, hating that Mrs. Greenley had stepped behind the counter and was taking the next order. “I can’t afford to pay you—”

“That’s good, because we’re volunteering.” Gramma gave her a grandmotherly shove toward the door. “I know, it goes against your grain to accept help, but you’re always doing for others, Karen. Don’t deprive me of the pleasure or I’ll drag you to my Ladies’ Aid meetings for the rest of the year.”

Suddenly the shop was too loud. The clatter of plates, the scraping of silverware and the cackling din of voices all scraped over Karen’s raw nerve endings.

A hand closed over hers, one whose touch was dear and loving. “Sweetheart, let me finish up for you.”

“No, I’ll be fine.” She would be fine.

“Go outside and get some air. Give yourself all the time you need. Nora Greenley, I can’t read your chicken scratch on this ticket. Does that say turkey and Swiss?”

“Of course it does,” Nora answered back, digging through the commercial refrigerator. “See? I told you that you need new bifocals.”

“That’s the last thing I want to hear.” Gramma grabbed a pair of plastic gloves from the box on the counter.

Just like that, Karen was superfluous in her own business.

“Hey, are you all right?” someone asked. A hand lit on Karen’s arm, the touch warm and caring.

“No, Julie, I just need some air.” Stumbling away from her friend, Karen headed straight to the back, threading around customers and cloth-covered tables to where sunlight glinted on the glass door.

Her hand hit the brass knob and she sprinted into the hot sunshine.

Hot aching tears that wouldn’t fall turned the world into a blurred mass of green, blue and brown as she tripped down the walkway, running her hand along the banister so she wouldn’t lose her way. A nail head gouged into her skin and pain jolted through her palm. She felt the wet sting of blood and dropped to the stairs, burying her face in her uninjured hand.

Mom was tumbling into another bout of depression and it seemed like nothing could stop it. The coffee shop was on the brink of disaster—the shop her sister had loved. And she’d just broken her engagement to a man her parents practically worshiped. She couldn’t stop the weight of failure pressing like a thousand-pound rock on her chest.

Worst of all, she still missed Allison with a fierceness that nothing could erase. Not time. Not grief. She’d lost her best and lifelong friend and even now she felt as if she had no one to turn to.

“Hey, it looks like you need a handkerchief.” A rugged male voice broke through her thoughts.

Zachary Drake settled onto the step beside her. Grease smudged his cheek and was smeared across the front of his otherwise white T-shirt.

He certainly was a handsome man. Her heart kicked at the sight of him. He looked tough as nails, as if growing up the way he had could never quite be taken out of him. But she knew Zachary Drake was as strong and dependable as the day was long.

He pressed a folded handkerchief into her hand. Only then did she notice that her car’s hood was up. He’d been taking a look at the troublesome engine and she hadn’t noticed him.

Ashamed and embarrassed to be caught crying, she rubbed the cloth across her eyes and down her face, wiping away the wetness of her tears. “Don’t tell me you have bad news about my car.”

“Okay, I won’t.” He caught hold of her right wrist. His touch was hot and unsettling. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing serious.”

“I’m not too sure about that. Looks like a lot of blood to me.” He stood and strode down the steps, his big body moving with an athlete’s power and ease. He disappeared in the shadow of his tow truck, parked behind her car in the alley.

She heard the click as he opened his truck’s door and the crunch of his gait on the gravel as he returned.

Even without his motorcycle, which he frequently rode through town, Zach still looked a little untamed as he’d always been in school. Maybe it was the way the wind caught his dark hair and whipped it across his brow, or the slight swagger to his walk.

“Let me clean this up and we’ll see who’s right—if it’s nothing or not.” He knelt before her, opened the first-aid kit on the step between them and reached for her injured hand.

At the first touch of the gauze to her cut, she winced.

“Sorry about that. It’s got to hurt.”

“It does,” she lied, because that was the easiest explanation. She felt jumpy, as if every nerve had been laid open from his touch.

It’s only Zach, she told herself. I’ve known him forever. But her heartbeat picked up as he leaned closer, his fingers a warm touch on her skin.

He swabbed the blood away from her cut with careful brushes of the sterile gauze. Each swipe was gentle. Soon he’d exposed the two-inch gash along the side of her palm.

“See? I was right.” His words were a smile of victory, but his gaze felt like something else, something deeper. “This is going to require some expert care.”

“You’re a mechanic, Zach, not a doctor.”

“No, but I get a lot of scrapes, so I know how to take care of them.”

“That makes you an expert?”

“It ought to make me something.”

“Clumsy?”

“Watch what you call me. I’m the only mechanic around, and let’s face it, Karen, if your car’s any indication, you need me. Badly.” He dug through the small plastic kit and produced a sealed packet of antiseptic.

The air caught in her chest when he leaned even closer and rubbed the salve across the tear in her skin. Like a bee’s sting, sharp pain traveled the length of her cut. “I hate to break it to you, but you’ll never be a doctor. That hurts.”

“Is that so?” He lifted one brow as he laid a butterfly bandage across her wound, his voice warm with teasing. “What are you? A wimp who can’t take a little pain?”

“Thanks. I suppose you’re one of those tough guys who never admit to a weakness like pain.”

“You’ve got that right.” He tore open another package and removed a bandage, a wide pad that covered her entire wound. His fingers were a warm pressure in the center of her palm as he made sure the adhesive stuck. “There. An expert repair job.”

How could it be that she was smiling? The weight on her chest remained, but it was easier to breathe, easier to find a way to face what she had to do. All because of Zach. “Now I owe you two favors.”

“Good. I like it when pretty women are in my debt.” He snapped the kit closed.

When he straightened, unfolding his six-foot frame, he towered over her, casting her in shadow. The sun gilded his hair and the width of one shoulder. The wind caught in his brown locks and tousled them.

He held out his hand. “You look like a woman who needs a friend. Lucky for you, I just happen to be available.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely.”

Karen fit her good hand to his. Her pulse jumped, leaving her shaken.

Normally when she was with Zach, she didn’t react like this. But today, everything was off balance. She didn’t know what was wrong with her.

“Thanks, Zach.” The words caught in her throat, and the lump of tears was back, thicker and hotter than ever. “I appreciate the patch job. Now tell me what’s wrong with my car.”

“I’m still working, but I can tell you it looks like a cracked head. We’re talking about a whole new engine.”

The strength went out of her knees and Karen leaned against the banister post. She stared at her poor car.

A new engine. There was no way she could afford that. No way at all. “It’s still working, right? How much longer can I drive it?”

“Hard to say.” Zach raked one hand through his thick hair, stepping closer, casting her in his shadow again. “I’d say you have anywhere from an hour to a week. It just depends. I can find you a rebuilt engine if money’s a problem.”

“Money’s a problem.” This was the last thing she needed. “Are you sure it doesn’t need a new belt or hose or anything cheaper?”

“I’m sure. I can order a rebuilt engine and have it here in a couple of days. Since you’re my favorite customer, you wouldn’t have to pay for it all at once. I trust you.”

“A dangerous move. I could be a bad credit risk. I’ve got a balloon payment on the building coming up at the end of next month.” Karen sighed, feeling the weight of stress clamp more tightly around her chest. “Even if I scrape everything together to pay for it, it’ll be tight for a long time.”

“I know what that’s like.” He lifted a big round car part from the ground and dusted it off. “Take some time to think about it and let me know if you want an estimate.”

She looked at the raised hood of her poor car and the grease-coated engine beneath. “How long will it take you to get all these parts back where they belong so my car’s running again?”

“Ten minutes tops.”

“I have a few errands to do. I’ll be back. Thanks again, Zach.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Hey, Karen, are you going to be okay? Do you want me to call someone for you? Your grandmother or your sister Kirby?”

“No, I’m fine.” She had to be. She had no other choice.

But she suspected Zach didn’t believe her as she hurried down the alley.

She didn’t believe it herself.