Читать книгу His Hometown Girl - Jillian Hart - Страница 9

Karen was placing fresh flowers on the tables in the quiet hours before the lunch rush started when an engine’s rumble on the street outside her shop caught her attention. A gleaming black motorcycle pulled into an empty parking spot out front, ridden by a man wearing a white T-shirt and jeans.

“There’s trouble,” matronly Cecilia Thornton, Jay’s mom, commented over her iced latte.

“With a capital T,” Marj Whitly agreed.

With the way Zach’s muscled shoulders and wide chest stretched out that T-shirt, there was no word other than ‘trouble’ to describe him. Karen watched him swing one leg easily over the bike’s seat and unbuckle his helmet. Shocks of thick brown hair tumbled across his brow.

Zach might look larger than life, but she knew at heart that he was a good man.

He strolled down the walk in front of the row of windows and winked when he caught sight of her. Eager for the sight of a friendly face, Karen quickly set the last little vase in the center of the last table.

The bell above the front door chimed. Zach strode through the door. Her pulse skipped and she didn’t know why.

“Working hard on a Saturday, as usual. Don’t you know you’re missing a fantastic morning out there?” Zach raked one hand through his tousled locks, rumpling them even more. He lowered his voice. “I’d offer you an escape on my bike, but I don’t think Jay’s mom will approve.”

“You noticed her glaring at you?” Karen circled around the counter.

“Always.” His eyes sparkled, holding no ill will toward the woman who frowned at him from the far corner of the dining room.

“Is it too early for lunch?”

“Not in my shop.”

“Then I’ll have a bologna and cheese with mayo and mustard, on white.” Zach nodded in Cecilia’s direction. “Good morning, ladies.”

The two women’s eyes widened in surprise. Cecilia managed a polite response, even though it was clear she didn’t approve of the likes of Zachary Drake.

See? With that kind of attitude in Jay’s family, it was a good thing she’d broken her engagement.

Zach leaned over the counter, a mischievous grin curving across his mouth. “I don’t think they approve of my mode of transportation.”

“It’s not the bike, Zach.”

“Are you saying those woman don’t approve of me?”

“You’re crushed, I see.”

“Devastated. Is Cecilia’s death-ray glare of disapproval getting to you?”

Biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing, Karen donned clear plastic gloves. “Cecilia’s death-ray stares aren’t hurting me any. I missed you this morning. You didn’t come in for coffee. Are you two-timing me over at the diner?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m a devoted man. Not even the diner’s full breakfast menu can tempt me away from your charming shop.”

“A loyal customer. Just what I like to hear.”

“I have to confess I made my own java and took a thermos of it fishing with me this morning.”

“I didn’t know bachelors could make coffee.”

“You see, there’s this little scoop that comes in the can. It’s easy to measure.”

“A can? You didn’t even grind your own beans?” Karen unwrapped a loaf of fresh bread. “I’m disappointed in you.”

“I know, but I’ve learned my lesson. Next time I’ll bring my thermos over and let you fill it for me.”

How did he do it, she wondered. With that dazzling smile and his melting-chocolate voice, Zach could chase away her troubles and leave her smiling.

“How’s that car of yours?”

“Still running, and don’t look so surprised.”

“Only prayers are keeping that heap going, believe me. When it finally breaks down for good, give me a call and I’ll help you out.”

“Unlike you, I have complete faith.”

“Unlike you, I’ve looked under the hood, and that car’s doomed, Karen. I’m telling you this as a friend. I’ve already ordered a used engine.”

“I can’t afford it.”

“We’ll work something out or we can barter. Car parts for sandwiches?”

“That’s a lot of sandwiches.”

Zach sent Cecilia a brief, imposing glare. “Mrs. Thornton still hasn’t forgiven you for dumping her son?”

“Does it look like it?”

“If she’s upset, what’s she doing in your shop?”

“This is the only place in town to buy a latte.” Karen sighed.

“You’re doing the right thing, giving it time.” He meant to be comforting. “Everyone knows you and Jay will get back together.”

“Everybody doesn’t know me, not if they believe that. I’m never going to marry Jay.” Karen concentrated extra hard on her sandwich making. “I suppose that’s what you think, too, isn’t it? That good, dependable Karen will do what’s sensible. And why not? It’s what I’ve always done.”

“That’s the problem with a small town. People make up their minds about what kind of person you are, and it doesn’t matter how honest you try to be when it comes to their repair bills, they still see what they’re used to seeing.”

“I know what you mean.” Karen’s pulse skipped again. Had Zach’s eyes always been so blue? “Have a good afternoon.”

“Good luck surviving Cecilia’s death-ray stare.” He tossed a five-dollar bill on the counter and took the paper sack from her.

His hand brushed hers and burned her like a hot flame.

Why was she feeling like this? Confused, she watched Zach push open the door, causing the bell to jangle overhead. For a brief moment he glanced at her, his eyes dark with unmistakable sympathy.

Then he turned and was gone. The bell chimed again as the door snapped shut, and Karen felt as if all the warmth had gone from the room. What was wrong with her? What was going on?

She didn’t mean to be watching him, but there he was. Striding down the walk with the wind tousling his dark hair. He looked as rakish as a pirate, and yet as dependable as the earth. He hesitated at the top of the stairs and then he disappeared from her sight.

Caffeine, that’s what she needed. Karen reached for the pitcher of iced tea and poured a tall glass. The sweet cool liquid slid down the back of her throat, but it didn’t ease the confusion within her.

The bell chimed again. Zach—had he come back? Karen held her breath as the door swung open to reveal not her handsome mechanic but someone just as welcome. Her grandmother swept into the room wearing a red T-shirt, a pair of denim shorts and tennis shoes.

Karen nearly dropped her glass. “What happened to you?”

“I raided Michelle and Kirby’s closets. I’ve been wearing dresses all my life. It’s time for a change.” Gramma set her purse on the counter. It was a neat slim red pocketbook instead of the sensible black handbag she always carried.

What was going on?

Gramma faced the dining room and clapped her hands. “Ladies, Karen sure appreciates your business, but she’s going to have to close up shop for a few hours. I know you understand. Here, Cecilia, let me get a paper cup so you can take your latte with you.”

Cecilia’s disapproving glare gained new intensity. “Helen, whatever have you done to yourself?”

“What? A woman can’t wear shorts in the heat of summer?” Her grandmother looked nonplussed as she transferred Cecilia’s latte from the mug to the paper cup. “Now, head on out so I can lock the door.”

“Gramma!” Karen stepped forward before her grandmother took over completely. “You can’t do this. It’s nearly time for the lunch crowd.”

“But you have to leave right now.” Gramma flipped the sign in the window so it read Closed. “It’s the only time Dawn over at the Snip & Style could fit us into her schedule.”

“What do you mean by ‘us’? You’re the one getting your hair colored. I’m going for moral support. That’s what we agreed to.”

“That’s not how I remember it. Come on, get your keys. I’m not about to be late, not when Dawn has promised me a whole new look.”

“Gramma, I’m glad you’re doing this. I’m thrilled, really. But lunch brings in the biggest sales of the day. I can’t miss it. Maybe Michelle can—”

“Your sister has a client scheduled—you. I mean it, ladies, out of those chairs. Hustle.” Gramma gave a good-humored clap, looking as if she were herding reluctant deer from her rose garden. “Thanks, ladies. Karen sure appreciates it.”

“Anything for our Karen,” Marj Whitly said warmly. “That’s just the thing she needs, Helen. Time for herself at the beauty parlor, a complete shampoo and facial. Restores the spirit, it does. Then she’ll be over her wedding jitters and can get down to the business of marrying your son, Cecilia.”

Karen opened her mouth to protest, but Gramma winked at her, so she offered Marj a lid for her cup instead.

Gramma locked the door after the women departed. “Leave your purse. This is my treat.”

“What treat? I’m going to say this one more time so you understand. I’m going along for moral support only.”

“Of course you are,” Gramma said indulgently. “Now get a move on, because I don’t want to be late for my new life.”

See? This is what always got her into trouble. In the end, she hadn’t been able to disappoint her grandmother. Look what that had gotten her.

“It wasn’t supposed to do this,” Michelle, her youngest sister, apologized. “Working with hair is always tricky. You have a lot of naturally gold highlights in your hair, which was a surprise considering it’s such a dull brown—”

“I never should have agreed to this.” Karen wished she had Cecilia Thornton’s knack for a death-ray glare. “I should’ve never trusted you.”

“I guess I left the color in too long.”

“You guess?” She could only stare in the mirror at her wet, scraggly hair. It hung in limp, ragged strands and shone perfectly gold. Except in about ten or twelve places. “Look what you did to me. My own baby sister.”

“Sorry. This is the first time I’ve ever turned someone’s hair green. Honest.”

“Fix it. Whatever you have to do, do it now.”

Michelle grabbed a fresh towel. “I know what to do. I think.”

“You think? What did they teach you at that school anyway?”

“They warned us never to work on our own relatives. Now I know why.” Michelle dashed away and disappeared from sight.

“It’s certainly different, I’ll grant you that,” Gramma said from the neighboring chair. “With those green streaks, you could be in the latest fashion. Anywhere but in Montana.”

“Thanks, I feel so much better.” Karen peered at her reflection, her heart sinking. What if Michelle couldn’t fix it? “I didn’t mind being mouse brown. At least my real color wouldn’t glow in the dark.”

“That’s the spirit. Don’t worry. We’ll turn you into a dazzling blonde yet. Michelle might be new at this, but Dawn here has decades of experience. She can work wonders. Why, look at me.”

“I’m looking.” Karen couldn’t believe her eyes as the other beautician switched on a blow dryer and began styling Gramma’s hair.

No more gray curls. Rich auburn locks fell in a short, feathery cut. She looked beautiful. Infinitely beautiful.

“I’ve always wanted to be a redhead,” Gramma confessed above the hum of the dryer. “It’s a whole new me.”

“You don’t need any improvement.” By contrast, Karen’s hair looked like a cosmetology school disaster. “Look at me. I could sure use something. Michelle, I want you to put this back the way it was.”

“Don’t be silly,” Gramma admonished. “You promised moral support, so don’t think I’m going through this alone. You’re staying at my side every step of the way, missy. It’ll be good for you.”

“I don’t want a makeover.”

“You need one more than anyone else I know, my darling sister.” Michelle returned, armed with a cup that smelled like varnish. “I don’t know how it happened, but you got all the recessive genes in the family. A shame it is. Gramma, you wouldn’t know a good plastic surgeon, would you?”

“Mess up my hair again, and you’ll pay,” Karen threatened.

Michelle didn’t look a bit afraid. “I know you too well. You’re all bark and no bite. How about platinum blond streaks? What do you think, Gramma?”

“No! No streaks. No blond anything.” Karen couldn’t help panicking a little. “I’ve come to adore mouse brown. Really. It’s the way God meant me to be. Just give me a rinse or something to get this color out of my hair.”

“Trust us, Karen.” Gramma winked. “They say that blondes have more fun. Let’s find out if it’s true.”

Seeing the happiness on her grandmother’s face, how could she refuse—even if disaster loomed?

Zach felt the hot midday sun burn the back of his neck as he twisted the bolt with his pliers. “Your car should start fine, Mrs. Greenley.”

“You, my dear boy, are nothing short of an angel.” The older lady blew him a kiss. “Tell me why a handsome man like you doesn’t have a ring on his finger.”

“No girl can catch me, I guess.” Zach shut the car’s hood.

“Doesn’t a smart fellow like you know not to run too fast?”

He wiped the grease smudges from his fingers off her gleaming hood. “No one said I was a smart man.”

“You can’t fool me, Zachary Drake.” Nora Greenley shook her head at him, watching every movement he made as he reached around the steering wheel and turned the key. “You’re not as bad as you seem, even with the motorcycle. How much do I owe you?”

The engine rolled over, purring contentedly. He released the key. A movement caught his gaze on the sidewalk across the street. Karen with hair as gold as summer sunshine breezed out of the Snip & Style. She looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

Then he remembered Mrs. Greenley was watching him. Anyone with good eyesight would be able to see how he felt for Karen, so he closed his mouth and turned to his client. “I’ll bill you for the battery. Have a good afternoon.”

“I’ll sure try.” The older woman glanced across the street before she climbed behind the wheel. “You behave yourself, you hear, young man?”

Zach closed Nora’s car door and waited until she pulled away. Alone, he dared to look across the street again. There she was, with her grandmother at her side, talking with a group of women who’d spotted them on the sidewalk. Their conversation rose and fell with merry energy, but all Zach could see was Karen.

She looked great as a blonde. The lighter color made her eyes bluer. Somehow it made her seem more wholesome, if that could be possible, as if she’d spent all summer outdoors in the sun.

Karen’s words from earlier in the day echoed in his mind, replaying over and over again. Everybody doesn’t know me, not if they believe that. I’m never going to marry Jay.

Words like that could give a man hope.

Home. Finally. Zach snapped on the light switch just inside the door of his apartment over the garage. A bulb popped with a bright flash, leaving him in darkness.

Great. Just great. Too exhausted to even summon up a little anger, Zach rummaged around in the dark. His closet was too messy and so he couldn’t find his flashlight. His stomach grumbled in loud protest, not wanting to wait a second longer for supper. He’d change the bulb later and make do with the light in the kitchen.

Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, and he tugged off his T-shirt. Man, it was hot. He headed straight for the air-conditioning window unit and flicked it on high. Tepid air sputtered reluctantly, and the fan inside coughed. A lukewarm current breezed across his heated face.

What? No cold air? He flicked off the machine, marched across the small apartment to the kitchen and yanked open the window above the sink. Humid air blew in. As he circled his apartment, opening the windows wide, his stomach clamped with hunger.

Food. He needed it bad and he needed it now.

Not overly hopeful, Zach scoped out his kitchen cupboards. At the sight of the practically empty shelves, his stomach twisted harder. A can of olives, a stale box of cheese crackers and there was mold growing on the remaining slices of three-week-old bread.

Okay, maybe the refrigerator held more promise. He jerked open the door and stood in the welcome icy breeze, surveying the empty metal racks. There was only a half-empty jar of mayonnaise, the butter dish and an empty container of salsa. His stomach growled so loud, it hurt.

Maybe there was something in the freezer.

Bingo. He’d found supper. Even if it was two beef franks, heavily iced in their original package stuck to the empty ice tray, which was iced to the bottom of the freezer. This was not a problem—he was ingenious and he had a knife.

Using it like a chisel, he inserted the blade’s tip between the thick bed of ice and the frozen franks. Cold air wheezed across his face as he leveled a careful blow.

The phone rang—the shop phone. It was work and he couldn’t ignore it. Reluctantly he set down the knife and knocked the freezer shut with the flat of his hand. A meal, air-conditioning and time to relax—was it too much to ask?

He grabbed the old black phone in the corner by the door.

“Zach’s Garage.” He tucked the receiver between his ear and his shoulder.

“I know it’s late.” Karen’s voice came across the line, tight with strain. “But remember that offer of help you made? I could really use it.”

“You called the right man. Don’t tell me your engine went and died, just like I said.”

“Okay, I won’t, but that’s why I’m calling.” Static crackled across the line. “No one at home is answering the phone. They’re probably outside on the deck, so I’m stranded. I’m at the grocery store.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, Zach.”

“No problem. That’s what friends are for.” He eased the receiver into the cradle and grabbed his keys.

Dinner could wait. Relaxing could wait. Karen needed him. Even if it was only as a mechanic, only as a friend.

He grabbed a clean shirt before heading out the door.

He spotted her sitting on the curb the minute he turned onto Railroad Street. The night breezes ruffled her silken hair around her delicate face. Her slender shoulders slumped with either exhaustion or defeat. He couldn’t tell which.

She turned at the sound of his truck and waved. Behind her, the lights of the closed grocery store were dim and cast a faint glow over her, emphasizing her willowy shape. She stood, holding a plastic grocery bag in one hand.

He stopped the tow truck in the middle of the road and leaned out the window. “Hey, good lookin’. Need a lift?”

Her new blond locks danced against the side of her face, driven by the wind. “Do you like the new me?”

“There was nothing wrong with the old you.” He reached for his door to climb down and assist her, but it was too late to help her in. She was already breezing through the beams of the truck’s headlights, so he leaned across the seat and opened the door. He gave it a shove for her because it was heavy. “What’s with Helen? I saw her new hairdo.”

“Gramma is having a midlife crisis three decades too late.”

“Good. Everyone needs to try something new now and then.”

Flashing him a grin, Karen climbed inside the cab as if she were used to climbing into big trucks. And then Zach remembered she was a ranch girl and had probably helped her father in the fields through the years by driving hay trucks and tractors.

What would it have been like to grow up as she did, with a solid and close-knit family and hundreds of acres of land to roam on? It was a far cry from living at the edge of town where he’d called a singlewide trailer home. And where he’d struggled to take care of his younger brother and sister.

The bench seat dipped slightly with her weight. The air-conditioning circulated her vanilla and baby shampoo scent. Yes, a man had to have hope. That’s all it was—hope—and not the right to be more than a friend.

Not knowing what to say, Zach released the clutch. The truck eased down the street in a smooth rumble.

He headed north, away from the lights of the small town where rolling fields stretched into the deepening twilight. The roar of the engine and the whir of the cool air through the cab covered up the silence that fell between them. But it didn’t change the fact that she was sitting next to him with only two feet between them.

Yes, it was good for a man to have hope.

“What are you looking at?” she asked, her hand flying to the sassy ends of her hair. “You hate this, don’t you? I can’t get used to looking at myself.”

“Neither can I.” He fought the urge to tell her just how great she looked. He thought her beautiful before, but she looked better now. Not because her hair was different, but because there was a sparkle in her eyes he hadn’t seen in a long while.

“Gramma forced me into this.”

“She strong-armed you, did she?”

“She guilted me into it. Works every time.” Karen shook her head and her jaunty locks swept her slim shoulders. “I’m a soft touch when it comes to her.”

“When it comes to everyone.”

“Sometimes.” She looked unhappy, and he never much thought about the pressures she might face always looked to as one of the well-behaved McKaslin girls, even now when she’d been an adult for many years.

“I have the same problem,” he confessed with a grin. “I’m always a real softhearted guy. That’s why I drive my motorcycle through town at least once a week. So no one suspects the real me.”

“It’s a good disguise. It fools a lot of people, but not me.”

“Really? Maybe I shouldn’t have left the leather jacket at home.” He tossed her a grin as he slowed down to turn into her family’s long gravel driveway.

How she liked Zach’s smile. Kind and warm with a hint of charm, and when his smile touched his eyes, she could see the goodness in him. In fact, there was a lot to like about the man.

Aside from being a dependable friend, he was probably the most handsome man in town. He’d certainly been considered the best-looking boy in her high school class. All the years since had only improved him.

Even in the dark interior of the truck and silhouetted by the encroaching night, he looked amazing. His profile was strong with a dark shock of hair tumbling over his forehead, a straight nose and a well-carved jaw. Just looking at him made her pulse drum.

Zach slowed the truck down to take the final corner of her parents’ long gravel driveway. She looked through the windshield and saw her family’s home up on the knoll. The lit windows shone like beacons in the descending darkness.

The truck eased to a stop in front of her house, and the silence between them lengthened. Light from the house spilled through the open windows to cast a glow on the trimmed juniper bushes lining the driveway.

She didn’t want to walk through that door. The pressure of her parents’ disappointment in her pressed like an anvil against her chest.

“I can take that in if you want.” His voice startled her, and his big warm hand curled over hers.

His heat seared her like a jolt of electricity and she jumped at the contact. Then she realized he wasn’t trying to hold her hand. He was taking the plastic bag from her grip.

To her amazement, he opened the door and hopped from the cab. His boots crunched in the gravel and then tapped on the brick walk. The light from the windows burnished him with a golden glow. His silhouette was impressive—broad shoulders, wide back, tapered hips and long legs.

He was all male, that was for sure. Hard and strong and powerful. Something she’d never quite noticed to this degree before.

Her heart kicked for some unexplained reason, and she fled into the fields where the darkness swallowed her. She knew every bump in the dirt path that led from the house to the stable.

She splayed both palms on the worn smooth curve of the top rail and let the calm of the night surround her. Dark clouds blocked out the stars. She didn’t know how long she waited before she heard Zach’s gait on the path behind her and felt his presence, substantial like the night.

“Karen? I’ll head back to town and rescue your car. I can have an estimate ready for you sometime tomorrow.”

“There’s no hurry. It’s not like I can afford that engine.”

“Stop being so difficult. In my book, you’re a good credit risk. Besides, you’ve got a business to run. You need your car.”

“I do.” Trying not to give in to her troubles, she took a breath and let the wooden rail take the weight of her head. Too late—her neck muscles had coiled into one hard aching mass.

Gathering her hair in her free hand, she held it up in a loose ponytail so the winds could caress a warm current across her knotted muscles.

His work boots tapped behind her. “A little tense?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Let me see what I can do about that.”

She felt a swish of air over her exposed skin and then his warm fingers settled on her neck. She stiffened at his touch, but the heat of his palm felt like heaven.

A sigh escaped her as his big, callused hands caressed and soothed the pain from her muscles. Her tension melted with every glide of his fingers over the back of her neck.

Too soon he stepped away, leaving her breathless. His touch was like nothing she’d known before—electrical and enlivening and comforting all at once.

She was grateful for the dark. She didn’t know what to say, and even if she did, how would she say it?

As if he were flustered, too, Zach walked away without saying a word.

The thick blanket of clouds broke apart overhead, and thin, silvery moonlight brushed the ground where Zach walked. A verse from Matthew came to her as soft as the breeze. “…and He will give you all you need from day to day.”

There was no doubt about it. She was blessed with Zach for a friend.

She stepped into the swatch of moonlight and began jogging to catch up with him. “Hey, where do you think you’re running off to? Did you get supper?”

“No. I was in the middle of chiseling frozen hot dogs out of my freezer when you called.”

“Chiseling? Unbelievable. I’ve heard bachelor stories before, but I didn’t think they were true. Even my father can cook well enough to make an omelet in a pinch.”

“I’ve been busy. I didn’t have time to get to the grocery store.”

“Sure, a likely story.” She met him halfway across the yard. “Zachary Drake, you’re pathetic, but I can’t in good conscience let you starve.”

“Pathetic? C’mon, give me a break, I’m not that bad. Usually.”

“Sure, like I believe you.” She led the way up the brick steps and onto the porch. “A man who thinks crusted-over hot dogs is a worthy meal is a danger to himself.”

“Does this mean I’m in luck and you’re going to feed me?”

“Somebody’s got to.”

He laughed, a rich, wonderful sound that warmed her all the way to her soul.