by Jill Sanders
The space was fairly empty and had obviously recently been cleaned out. The back wall was made of old bricks, and the opposite wall was filled with large windows that overlooked the town. Still, earlier in the daylight, the view of the mountains surrounding had taken her breath away.
Exposed wood rafters crossed the large space overhead and worn oak hardwood covered the floors. There were a few rugs strewn around, as if they were tossed down in no particular place.
A queen-sized bed sat against the brick wall. The soft cream-colored comforter and red pillowcases looked very new and inviting. Two older oak nightstands sat on either side of the bed, matching a dresser that sat off to one side of the bed.
There was a dark blue chair directly in front of the windows, along with another cream-colored chair and ottoman and a large oak coffee table.
The furnishings didn’t seem to belong together, as if it was all from different sets, yet they all went well together.
There was a small, unplugged fridge sitting on a wall by itself, as if it was just being stored there. There was also a desk that had stacks of boxes on it.
Her bags sat at the base of the bed. Earlier, she’d showered out of necessity and desire before changing into her last clean clothes.
What she wanted was a few hours of downtime. What she needed was to wash everything she owned, which wouldn’t take too long.
She’d seen the stacked washer and dryer in the hallway closet along with the laundry soap. It had been over a week since she’d washed any of her clothes.
Walking over, she dumped everything in the bag out onto the bed. She fumbled through her clothing and found the gun she slept with every night. She tucked it under the pillow before turning back to separate her clothes for washing.
After starting the first load of laundry, she shut herself back up in her room and looked out the windows. Since it was dark, she figured anyone looking up could see her clearly, so she made a point to keep the lights in the room off so that she could look down on the street without being seen.
She stood there until she heard the buzzer on the washing machine signal that her first load was finished. She switched those clothes to the dryer and had just started a load of whites when she heard Brent climbing the stairs. She wanted to hurry up and scamper back to the room before he came into the hallway, but she wasn’t quick enough.
His eyes locked with hers as she poured some laundry soap into the machine.
“All done down there for tonight?” she asked, trying not to act like her heart was racing.
“Yeah.” He sighed and ran his hands over his face. “Going to hit the shower and then bed.” The fact that he half mumbled it told her that he was tired. He looked dirty and exhausted, and sexy as hell. The last part had her turning her eyes away from him. She couldn’t afford to fall for anyone. Not again.
“If you need the washing machine…” she started.
“I won’t tonight.” He opened the bathroom door before nodding into the bathroom. “If you need in here…”
“I’m good.” She shut the lid of the machine. “Thanks.”
He nodded and then shut the bathroom door, leaving her to return to her own room.
She crawled into bed and closed her eyes. How long had it been since she’d been somewhere that she felt safe?
Pulling her body into a tight ball, she watched the lights of passing cars flash on the ceiling and counted her breaths until she drifted off.
She woke with a start when the machine buzzed outside her door. Instantly, she remembered where she was. She took a moment to glance around the dark room. She’d left a small lamp on since she never liked to be completely in the dark. She relaxed when she confirmed that she was alone. She climbed out of the bed and stepped out into the hallway to gather her dry clothes.
She had just pulled the warm clean clothes from the dryer when the bathroom door flew open. She jumped and let out a low scream as she dropped her clothes.
“Sorry,” Brent said as he stepped out of the bathroom, a white towel tied low around his hips. He had a pile of his soiled clothes in his hands, and she sat on the floor, surrounded by her clean clothes.
“Need any help?” he asked.
“N-no.” She took a deep breath and started gathering her things. “I thought you’d gone to bed,” she said nervously.
“I fell asleep in the bath.” He leaned against the doorframe. “Guess I was more tired than I thought.”
Her first thought was to ask him if he even fit in the small bathtub that she’d seen in the bathroom earlier. But then images of him naked surfaced and muddled up her mind.
He set his dirty clothes on top of the dryer and then bent down and placed his hands under her arm pits to help lift her off the ground, clean clothes and all.
She found it very difficult to keep her eyes off his bare chest. He was full of muscles. Every inch of him. Strong, hard. Toned. He had several large tattoos that ran over his left pec and went all the way up his arm. A trail of dark hair ran down the middle of his chest to just below his belly button and disappeared under the white towel. Her mouth watered at the sight.
When she was back on her feet, she dumped her clean clothes in the basket he’d set on top of the washing machine for her.
“Thanks,” she said again and then proceeded to unload her wet clothes and put them in the dryer while he picked up his soiled clothes. He paused outside his bedroom door and looked back at her.
“Whoever you’re running from, you’re safe here. If you ever want to talk about it, to me or someone else…” He stopped for a moment and then shrugged. “Just let me know. Goodnight.”
With a lump in her throat, she quickly started the dryer on her last load and took the basket of clean clothes back into her room.
She wondered for a moment if she should pack them back up in her bags but then surprised herself when she started hanging them up in the closet instead.
Did this mean she was planning on sticking around? Could she trust Brent and anyone else in this town? So far, he hadn’t done anything to cause her concern. There were even two locks on her door, a deadbolt and a chain lock. He’d given her the keys for her door and the outer door earlier.
It wasn’t as if she was worried he was going to sneak into her room in the middle of the night. Something deep down told her that she could trust him. Then again, at one point she’d trusted Ethan as well.
After all of her things were hung up in the closet, she pulled off her clothes and crawled into bed.
She woke to the faint sounds of the saw starting up downstairs. Sunlight was streaming in the large windows, making the entire room bright and cheerful.
She’d slept like she always did, curled up in a tight ball with one hand resting on the loaded gun.
She’d taken three classes at the strip mall after she’d moved that last time: Brazilian jiujitsu, Krav Maga, and a defensive shooting class. She’d spent a total of seven months at the shooting range, learning all about safety and self-defense.
All in all, she felt confident that she could protect herself, one way or another. At least for a while. She remembered how strong Ethan could be and how many friends he had and how long his reach was.
She stretched her arms over her head and took her time getting up. She pulled the rest of her clothes from the dryer and put them away in the closet.
She stood there for a few moments, looking at all her worldly possessions hanging in a strange closet. It seemed to make the entire situation more real.
Finally, after dressing in the only thing resembling business attire that she had, she stepped into the bathroom, combed her hair, and applied what little makeup she had before heading down the stairs to find Brent.
She found him standing over the bar top, frowning down at the new section he’d just put in.
“Morning,” she said, trying to add cheer to her tone. He glanced over at her, and his dark eyebrows rose slightly.
“Morning.” He turned back to the counter
top.
“Problems?” she asked.
“It’s boring.” He motioned to the wood. “I thought it would be… more.”
“It looks absolutely beautiful,” she said, taking it all in. The three separate pieces of wood covered the entire bar area, surrounded completely by plywood and pieces that she assumed would hold in the resin once he poured it.
“Yeah, I suppose.” He tilted his head and ran his eyes over the area.
She glanced at it from a different angle, thought about how it would look once the bar opened, how it would feel sitting there, sipping a beer.
He was right. The more she thought about it, the more she expected something to look at other than the pretty wood.
“What about adding some bling?” she asked.
He laughed. “I didn’t think you were the kind of woman who liked bling.”
“Oh, I don’t,” she assured him. “But people like looking at shiny things.” She walked behind the bar and found the bottle caps of the beers they’d had last night and then set them in the cracks of the wood. “I’m not suggesting these, but you could get little trinkets, maybe ask locals to come and donate items?”
His eyebrows shot up again. “That… is a great idea.” He nodded and moved around the bar to grab his phone.
She stood there while he sent a few text messages. “Done,” he said, looking up from his phone. He laughed after reading a reply text message. “You’ve earned your breakfast. It should be here shortly. How do you like your coffee?”
“I don’t,” she answered. “I won’t say no to an orange juice.”
He nodded and then typed something quickly before looking up at her. “No coffee?” He shook his head. “And yet you are still up at seven o’clock with a smile.” He shook his head. “Unnatural.”
She smiled. “Some people become dependent on the caffeine and never break free. I was one of the lucky few who never got addicted.”
“It’s a vice, alright.” He picked up a mug and took a sip, then frowned. “It’s cold.” He set the mug down just as a knock sounded at the back hallway door. “That will be Dylan.” He disappeared into the hallway.
Dylan? His sister. She was curious what his family was like. He’d mentioned her a few times and each time she got the hint that Dylan was something amazing.
Whatever Mel had been expecting, it hadn’t been the very pregnant woman who stepped into the room, holding a box of donuts. Brent held another box and a container holding a mug of coffee and a large orange juice.
Dylan was taller than Mel’s own five six but only by a little. She had short jet-black hair cut in sharp angles. She wore a bright red maternity shirt with black leggings and flats. Mel could see several brightly colored tattoos on the woman’s upper arms and a few on her ankles and feet.
“Salvation has arrived,” Brent said cheerfully. “How’s my nephew?” he asked, setting the items down on the bar.
“Your niece is angry with me this morning,” Dylan answered with her eyes on Mel. “You must be Mel?” She held out her hand after setting the box of sweets down.
“And you must be Dylan,” Mel said with a smile.
“Dylan, Mel, Mel, Dylan,” Brent said through a mouth full of donut. “Dig in.” He motioned to the box. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I had Dylan get you one of everything.”
Dylan turned to her and smiled. “That’s a ruse. My brother eats like a pig. He ordered one of everything for himself. You’ll be lucky to get two of these.” She motioned to the box. “Brent tells me he hired you to run and do the marketing for this place?”
“Yes.” She took an offered donut, one with chocolate sprinkles and frosting. Then she took the orange juice and sat down next to Dylan, who had plopped down on a barstool.
“Where are you from?” Dylan asked her.
Panic filled her when she completely forgot what she’d told Brent the night before. Her heart started racing, her palms started sweating, and her mind went completely blank.
Chapter 5
Brent could see the sheer panic in Mel’s eyes and knew she was having a difficult time keeping up with the lie she’d told him the night before. Since he figured it was best left between him and Mel, he jumped in.
“L.A.,” he answered for her after a sip of his coffee. “Mel mentioned she’s from L.A.” He turned to get another donut from the box and shoved it in his mouth.
He’d been thankful Dylan had answered his text and had even been more thrilled when she’d mentioned she was at the bakery. Convincing his sister to get them breakfast hadn’t been hard. Not after he’d mentioned he’d hired a woman and she was living there with him.
Dylan had been so curious to come over and meet Mel that she’d offered to get him breakfast. He knew how to manipulate his sister. Then again, she’d manipulated him with the promise of food.
“We were originally from the Seattle area,” Dylan said, leaning back and rubbing her back slightly.
“Seattle’s… nice,” Mel responded. He heard the shake of her voice and knew that his sister heard it as well.
“It used to be, when I was a kid. Some parts of it still are, but…” Dylan sighed as her eyes ran over Mel’s face. “It’s not the same.”
“No.” Mel shook her head. “The world has changed,” she added quietly.
“Why Haven?” Dylan asked Mel. Brent wanted to know the answer as well. He understood she was just passing through, but why? Why move on to Helena? What was there waiting for her? When Mel didn’t answer right away, his sister added, “I was asked the same question when I first moved here. My response was it wasn’t really my decision.” Dylan’s eyes narrowed slightly at Mel. “My brother tells me your truck broke down?” Dylan glanced at him.
“It did,” Mel answered quickly.
“You either learn to love it here or you don’t.” Dylan turned to look over at Brent, then back at Mel. “Brent originally didn’t take to Haven.” She smiled. He wanted to deny it but knew that it was fact. Haven hadn’t been right for him back then. “I think he just needed some time.”
“Time and a purpose,” he added, taking another donut.
“So, do you have a lot of experience?” Dylan asked.
“Experience?” Mel responded with a frown.
“Marketing a business such as this?” Dylan asked.
Mel shook her head. “No, not for a bar and grill.”
“Lay off the questions, sister,” Brent broke in. He didn’t want Dylan to scare Mel away. He was enjoying having her around. “I’ve hired her, and she’s proven her worth with some of the ideas she’s come up with so far.”
“Ideas?” Dylan turned back to Mel. “I’d love to hear them. I have a few of my own that my brother’s too stubborn or stupid to hear.”
“Hey,” Brent said from behind the bar as he shoved an entire glazed donut in his mouth. He knew his sister could be pushy.
“Oh, go on, do something sweaty with power tools.” Dylan waved Brent away. “We brainiacs are working here.”
His sister gave him that look, the one that he knew better than to argue with. Shrugging, he took the box of donuts and his coffee back into the kitchen while Dylan turned towards Mel and asked, “So, what are some of these great ideas?”
For the next hour, he busied himself setting up the equipment in the kitchen. For most of it he just had to unpackage it and plug it in, but with the stove, he had to put the gas fittings on and hook it up to the gas pipes that were already in place.
It wasn’t as if the kitchen was in desperate shape. Hell, most of the building was in better shape than he’d expected. The plumbing was good, the electric had just needed a little work, and the bones of the place were strong enough. The flooring had needed some sanding, the walls some patching and painting.
The hardest work he’d done thus far was building the bar all by himself. He’d never done anything this big before, but he’d really enjoyed it. He was just moving the fryer into place when he heard his sister squeal and Mel
call out.
Dropping everything, he ran out to the front room to see his sister doubled over.
“What happened?” he asked, taking his sister’s hand in his.
“She just… doubled over,” Mel said, sounding concerned.
“It’s nothing, I just…” His sister cried out again. “The baby’s just kicking,” Dylan said, looking a little pale. “It can’t be anything else. I’m not due for four more weeks.”
“My phone.” He motioned to where his cell phone was sitting, by the new unboxed cash register. “Call Trey.”
“No!” Dylan sat up straight. “It’s nothing,” she said before doubling over again. This time, a gush of water rushed down from between her legs.
“Screw this,” he said, hoisting Dylan up in his arms and marching towards the back, intending on driving her to the hospital himself. He yelled over his shoulder. “Call Trey. Tell him we’ll meet him at the hospital. He’s having a kid today.”
“No,” Dylan called out. “I can’t give birth today. It’s a Friday.”
He laughed as he set her gently in the front seat of his truck.
“I’m going to ruin your seats,” Dylan said, holding her hands between her legs.
“They’re leather.” He rushed around to climb in the driver’s side, only to realize he’d forgotten his keys inside.
He turned to go back and get them, but Mel rushed out, his keys and his cell phone in her hands.
“Trey says he’ll meet you there.” She shoved both items into his hands. “Good luck,” she said to Dylan.
“Thanks,” his sister said back.
While he drove, Dylan started breathing strange and groaning as she gripped her belly.
“Don’t you dare have that baby in my truck,” he said, almost begging. “Trey will kill me if he’s not here with you.”
“I…I’m trying not to,” she said. “It’s too early.” He heard the worry in her voice and reached over to take her hand as he hit the main roadway and gassed it. They were ten minutes from the nearest hospital, and he was determined to make it there in half that time. Safely. “I’m scared,” Dylan said with a wince as another pain hit her.