by Debra Kayn
Even when death was expected, he truly believed anyone would try and slow the process, even on that last breath. If it was him, he'd want one more minute. And, then another minute.
"Will you let me use your kitchen?" he asked, grasping at ways to help her.
"Uh." She wrinkled her nose and rubbed her eyes. "I guess."
"Do you have a pot?"
"Pot?" She sniffed.
"A pot." He made a circle with his hands. "To boil water."
"Underneath the stove." She turned around and stepped toward the kitchen.
"No. I'll find it. Go sit down." He scooped the can of hot chocolate mix out of the bag and hid the container behind his back. "Better yet, go try on the clothes and see if anything fits you better than what you've got on. You're swimming in your clothes."
She opened her mouth. He shook his head. "Just doing your dad a favor, honey. Besides, you don't want your jeans dragging in the snow. You'll freeze all day."
"I have boots."
He pointed toward the hallway. "No arguing. Let's get past this. When you're done, you'll feel better."
She blew out her breath. "I'm never going to feel better."
He motioned her to go on and do what he asked. She walked toward the hallway, picked up the bag, and disappeared from view. He relaxed and went into the kitchen.
Finding the pot was the easy part.
Having never made hot chocolate before, he read the directions on the back of the canister. He could use water or milk. Taking a step to the left, he looked in the fridge and found a carton of milk. He opened the top spout, sniffed to make sure it was still good, and poured half into the pan.
The hardest part was finding which knob to use for the burner and what heat level to cook it on. He never had the chance to cook for himself. When he was younger and still living at home, he remembered making grilled cheese sandwiches by himself. That and a bowl of cereal would ease the hunger until his mom cooked a meal.
Living in the van, he relied on peanut butter sandwiches and apples. When he got tired of eating the same damn thing, he'd pick up a burger at the small drive-in restaurant a couple blocks away.
Watching the milk, he tried to listen for Callie coming back in the room. He put a lot of hope in her accepting the clothes, and they could get past their differences.
He looked through the drawers until he found the silverware. Taking a spoon, he stirred. It sure was taking a long time to heat up. He put his hand over the pot, feeling the warmth. Rereading the container, he was only supposed to warm the milk, not boil. He'd have to test it somehow before he took it off the burner.
He checked the two cabinets on each side of the sink and found coffee mugs in the last one. Taking two down and setting them on the counter, he filled one up and drank. Shaking his head at the nasty taste of warm milk, he gave the liquid two more minutes.
Once he had it the right temperature, he dumped several spoonsful of cocoa in each mug and stirred. It looked okay.
It was milk and pre-made chocolate. He couldn't screw it up.
"Kent?" called Callie.
"In the kitchen." He turned around.
"I thought maybe you left." She entered the room. Her gaze went to the stove and the counter. "What are you doing?"
He reached over and picked up a filled mug and handed it to her. "Hot chocolate in honor of your dad, and it's snowing."
She gawked at him. Not wanting her to cry again, he picked up his drink and motioned toward the living room.
"You listened to me," she said behind him.
He sat in the chair by the woodstove. Knowing she hadn't started a fire, he put the cup down and kneeled on the floor. He crumbled a few pieces of paper into balls.
"You don't have—"
"It's no problem. I'll get a fire going, drink my hot chocolate, and then leave you to enjoy the rest of the night." He concentrated on stacking the kindling and getting the flame to grow. Once he was sure it would stay lit, he put two logs on the fire. "Remember to damper it down before you go to sleep. It should help keep the house warm enough through most of the night."
"You're pretty good at building a fire. You must've lived in northern states growing up."
"When I worked in North Dakota, wood was our only source of heat." He closed the doors on the woodstove and sat down in the chair. "I learned fast after spending one night half-frozen that I wanted to figure out how to make the fire last longer."
She shivered, putting her legs up on the couch. He noticed she wasn't wearing a pair of new jeans he gave her. But he wasn't going to push the matter anymore. She knew how he felt and why he'd bought them for her.
Sure that Ed's idea of him looking after Callie hadn't involved buying her clothes or falling in love with her, he decided to leave the choice of accepting his gift up to her.
He took a drink. "It's not bad, huh?"
She lowered her cup, licked her top lip, and smiled warmly. "It's good."
"It was the first time I made hot chocolate." He relaxed against the chair. "By the way, I'll pay you in the morning when I get to work. I stole the chocolate mix before I left when you weren't looking."
She laughed softly and waved her hand. "I think we can call it even. You did share with me, and it was a sweet thing to do. Thank you."
Their gazes connected. His chest tightened. She needed to smile and laugh more, just like that.
She lowered her eyelids and looked at the cup in her hands. Puckering her lips, she blew gently over the rim. His cock pulsed. There were so many ways he could do for her to make her feel better.
"I think if you come in a half-hour early in the morning, you can get most of the front plowed. Of course, I'll do it the next day. We can go back and forth. That way there are some days we can sleep a little later." She took a drink and did that sexy thing with her tongue on her upper lip.
"I can come earlier," he said.
"The city's plow won't come by until six, and we'll have to wait for him, or he'll shove all the snow in front of the entrance." She yawned. "I got so busy at work, I never paid attention to what the forecast was going to be. I hope we're not in for a long storm."
"Snow through tomorrow, and then just cold for the next week."
"Good." She sighed. "That takes the pressure off a little. Though half the time, the newscasters are wrong."
He finished his drink. After rechecking the fire and banking it for the night, he stood and stretched his legs.
Callie got up from the couch and walked him to the door. Her eyelids were getting heavy. It'd been an emotionally draining day for her, and all he felt was pent up energy.
He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "Lock up behind me."
"I will, and Kent...?" She stretched to her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for everything, but especially for actually listening when I talked about my dad and making the hot chocolate. It meant a lot to me that you gave me a little bit of my dad back tonight."
"We're good?" he said.
"Yeah," she whispered.
He whispered back, "Good deal."
"My dad would be happy you stayed around, but I want you to know, I'm doing okay. I will be okay. I know the job probably isn't something you're going to want to do for the rest of your life, and you're used to moving from place to place. I just want you to know that it's okay if you want to leave and go somewhere else."
"But, the gas station..." He studied her, not liking the vibes she was giving off. "You'll be by yourself."
"I can hire another pump attendant. It's slower in the winter, and a lot of guys are looking to bring in some extra money with the holidays coming up." She smiled sadly. "You can't live in a van your whole life."
He dipped his chin. It was time.
He'd stayed around longer than he'd planned while she'd needed him, and she was telling him to go. Meeting her had come at the wrong time in her life. She still mourned her father. The last thing she needed was him trying to start something with her, and eventually leaving.
&
nbsp; "I'll stick around until you find someone else. When you're ready." He leaned closer, unable to stop himself, and kissed her on the forehead. "Night, honey."
She leaned toward him and then caught herself. "Night."
He opened the door, and the snow blew into his face. His van was already covered with at least six inches.
"Wow, it's really coming down fast." She peeked her head out the door. "Are you going to make it back to Curley's okay in the van?"
"I guess tonight will be a good time to find out." He grinned. "See you in the morning."
He walked down the steps and headed toward the van. The snow almost came to the top of his boots.
"Kent?"
He turned and held up a hand, blocking the glare of the light over the door from blinding him. Callie stood in the house, hugging her middle.
"You can stay here and sleep in your van. That way, you don't have to worry about the roads." She paused. "There's an electrical cord in the shed hanging on the wall that you can use for your heater and a plug-in under the step."
"Appreciate it." He walked toward the shed. "Good night."
She closed the door. He ducked his head against the falling snow and got busy setting up his van for the night.
He wasn't going to get any sleep. Not after she laid that bombshell about him leaving on him.
Chapter 20
Kent
A YOUNG MAN WALKED by the pump, his stocking cap pulled down, and his shoulders lifted to his ears to protect his face against the blowing snow. Kent hitched his chin in greeting, but the kid walked straight to the front door of the store without seeing him. There was something off about him.
Nobody went walking in a snowstorm unless they had to. Curious to know if the guy's car broke down and he sought help, Kent followed him inside.
Staying on the mat, he stomped off the snow, clinging to his boots, and rubbed his hands together to take advantage of the heat inside.
The kid walked down an aisle, then around the end. Barely tall enough to see over the rack, the boy kept glancing at Callie near the register. Kent stayed ready in case the young man planned to steal something.
"Can I help you?" asked Callie.
The young man walked up to the counter. "I'm, um, wondering if, uh, you are hiring."
Callie smiled. "You can always leave your name and phone number with me for when we do."
"I can't." The kid looked over at Kent before looking at Callie and lowering his voice. "Our phone got shut off when my dad left us. I'll just keep coming back and checking with you."
He walked away, head down. Callie frowned and hurried around the counter. "Wait."
The young man turned around. Kent looked at Callie, trying to get her attention. She needed to be careful who she hired. Hell, it was only a week ago, she flat out told him he was free to leave. What if she wasn't ready to run the place by herself?
"What's your name?" asked Callie.
"Reggie Adams."
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
Callie's head tilted. "You're not in school?"
"I quit to get a job and help my mom pay the bills. Without my dad around, she can't make the house payment—I have two younger brothers, but they're not old enough to work yet. I was washing dishes over at The Sunshine Inn, and they let me go because of the winter season. I was hoping to find another job today." Reggie inhaled swiftly as if he ran out of air.
"I'll tell you what." Callie's gaze softened. "I'll pay you half wages for a week if you work alongside our pump attendant. If at the end of the week, you've proven to me that you can do the job, I'll hire you full-time."
"Yes, ma'am." Reggie nodded eagerly. "What time do I start?"
"We open at seven o'clock, and you'll be working until six o'clock in the evening. You'll get breaks and an hour lunch. Sound good?" Callie smiled when Reggie stuck out his hand. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Kent moved out of the way of the door as Reggie made a beeline to leave. He stared at Callie, waiting for her to tell him what her hiring someone else meant to him.
Her cheeks flushed, and she inhaled deeply, pressing her lips together. Locked on her, he knew what this meant without her saying a word.
"I..." Callie walked toward Kent. "I knew his mom." She tightly shook her head as if changing her mind. "At one time, Tracy and I were friends. She married right out of high school and..." She shrugged, wrinkling her nose. "She needs help, and her son is willing to work."
"You don't have to explain." He put his gloves back on and walked out.
In a week, he'd be gone. Tied up, helping around the gas station and half the time sleeping on the ground and then in his van, he hadn't chosen his next step.
He looked back at the store and found Callie standing behind the glass door. It figured she'd hire a kid to replace him because an old friend who hadn't stood by her while her ex-husband ruined her reputation needed help.
Why couldn't people see that side of Callie, the side he could see, and put the rumors to rest?
A car slid off the road and into the entrance of the gas station, the driver oversteering on the light layer of snow. He motioned the driver to the pump. An older woman sat behind the wheel. When the car stopped, he walked around the front bumper.
The woman rolled down her window. "I didn't think it would be that slick out."
"That it is." He leaned down. "Do you need gas?"
"Yes." She rummaged through her purse. "I also need a loaf of bread. I made stew that's been simmering on the stove all day and Ralph—that's my husband, always wants buttered bread and when I looked, he must've eaten the last couple of pieces, because we're out. That man sure likes his buttered bread, especially with stew."
Knowing it would take the woman longer to get out of her car and navigate over the slick ground, he offered to grab the bread inside while he preset the pump for five dollars. She gratefully handed him another dollar.
He put the nozzle in the gas tank and jogged into the store. Grabbing a loaf of Wonder bread off the shelf, he went to the counter. "This is for five dollars of gas and the bread."
Callie handed him back a quarter. He wrapped his fingers around the coin in the palm of his hand and stepped away.
"Kent?"
He stopped and turned around. "Yeah?"
"Are you mad?" She paused. "About me trying to hire Reggie?"
His heart pounded. He wasn't sure how he felt. Normally, he itched to move on, and he had spent too long in Missoula. He was at a dead-end job that wasn't going anywhere except the same thing day after day for minimum wage. Luckily, he had enough stashed away, he wasn't hurting for cash.
And he wasn't ready to leave her.
Being with her felt better than anything he'd done in his life. He wanted more of her. Frustrated over meeting her at the wrong time with her dad dying and her in mourning, he needed to walk away and let her heal.
"No, honey." He clicked his tongue. "Missoula was always a pit stop for me."
Her smile melted away, and she nodded in acceptance. He walked out, leaving her confident that she was making the right choice.
As soon as he stepped outside and had his back to her, he gritted his teeth. He damned the timing.
It was better to leave before he ended up hurting her.
Maybe if he'd met her at a different time, he could've gone after what he wanted. But he couldn't take advantage of her the way all the others had through the years.
Chapter 21
Callie
THE CLOCK ON THE WALL ticked louder. Faster.
Keyed up, Callie stared at the ledger in front of her. After tallying the final hours for Kent and writing out his final check, she couldn't make herself put an end date on his employment at Moore's Gas Station.
The thought of him not being in her life hurt her heart in ways she'd never expected. All week, she'd tried to convince herself that her reluctance to see him leave had to do with him being the only person who treated her with respect. After th
ree years of being the town slut, ostracized by the community, she finally had someone in her life. Knowing that friendship would end, and she'd once again be alone and the butt of everyone's talk, depressed her.
But the pain of him leaving was about more than losing a friend.
She would miss the feelings that Kent gave her. What he brought out in her was stronger than the numbness left from her dad's death. Around him, she could feel the butterflies, the excitement, the happiness.
He gave her hope and made her remember that she was alive.
She slammed the ledger closed. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him to stay in Missoula or come back and see her.
She wouldn't do that, though.
She wouldn't steal the part of his life that made him happy. He loved traveling and the open road. That's all he knew and the way he preferred to live.
He was a biker, and though he claimed to enjoy working with her, he deserved to be free.
Kent had fulfilled her dad's wish that he stay and look after her. She was going to be okay.
She no longer believed her life was over because she'd lost her dad. Tomorrow would come, and the next day, the next week, the next year.
The bell over the door rang. She put the ledger under the counter and looked up.
Harvey Cramer strutted toward her, eyeing her from head to waist. "Looking good, Callie."
She bristled. "Do you need gas?"
"I need..." He leaned over the counter, gazing at her breasts. "More than gas."
She stared at him, waiting. He'd always been a leech, sucking any kind of positivity out of a room.
"It's getting cold at night." He lowered his voice. "Do you think you could fit me into your schedule."
She pressed her lips together. Nothing ever changed.
"Hell, I could even swing by your place early in the morning for a quickie." Harvey wiggled his bushy eyebrows. "What do you say, Callie?"
"She says...get the fuck out of here." Kent appeared behind Harvey.
Harvey straightened and turned. Kent's fist went back and shot forward in a blink of an eye. Callie gasped before Harvey hit the floor.