by Jennie Marts
A notion sparked in his mind. “I have an idea. You free later this afternoon? Can you come into town with me say around three o’clock or so? I might have just the place for you to work. It might only be part-time hours, though.”
“That would be okay. I’d take anything right now.” Her look of fear turned to one of barely disguised hope, then changed to an expression of wariness. “Why would you want to help me? You barely know me.”
His chin dropped, and he raised an eyebrow, ready to lay on the charm and the slow grin that came so naturally to him when it came to pleasing women. But something in him held back, kept his flirty smile in check.
He knew his charm worked on women, young and old, gorgeous and plain. Hell, he’d been using it since he was a teenager and realized a well-placed compliment and a seductive smile could open doors for him and literally charm the pants off some women.
But Emma wasn’t some woman. He’d only been in her presence less than an hour, but he recognized something in her. Not just the fact that they’d gone to school together—he barely remembered her from then—but the fear in her eyes was something he knew. The way she tried to be brave, but shied away from trouble, smoothing things over and not causing waves.
Those were things he recognized—things he remembered from a past long ago—from a time that he’d put behind him, sealed up in tight boxes and shut behind a locked door.
No, this woman didn’t need the charming role he usually played—didn’t need to be flirted with and teased, complimented or seduced. She’d touched him, stirred something in his heart, something that made him want to help her.
What Emma Frank needed right now was a friend.
Chapter Two
Emma dug through the pitiful choices in her closet—half a dozen shirts, a few good dresses for church or a funeral, and one semi-nice pair of black pants—and wanted to cry with frustration.
But she wouldn’t cry. She was done crying. In fact, she’d cried so much that she didn’t believe there could be a tear left in her body.
No, the time for crying was done. She’d made her choices—finally broken free of the beast that had tormented, shamed, and beat her for the last eight years of her life. Now was the time for action—for taking back the life that Leroy Purvis had stolen.
He may have beaten her body, stripped her bare of dignity, isolated her from her family and friends, but he hadn’t taken her soul. And she had a kernel of courage left.
And as long as she had that ounce of courage, she could make it.
She didn’t know why Cash Walker had offered to help her—didn’t even know what the job interview was that he was taking her to—but something inside her wanted to trust him. Something in her gut told her she could trust him.
And right now, trusting her gut and that tiny bit of bravado was about all she had to go on.
With that in mind, she pulled out her newest top and the black slacks and pulled them on. The slacks hung loose on her hips. She’d been losing weight—not on purpose—she just wasn’t hungry. Losing two jobs in the last two months and moving out of the studio apartment she could no longer afford just hadn’t done much for her appetite.
Checking her reflection in the mirror, she noted the way her cheeks looked sunken and her hip bones jutted out. The outfit looked okay, presentable at least, and the long sleeves of the shirt covered the evidence of Leroy’s abuse. Her body was riddled with scars, white lines that traced a map of violence across her skin.
The red welts and the bruises healed, and those were Leroy’s favorites. She cringed as she remembered the first tight painful pinch he’d given the back of her arm when she’d told him a story about a male coworker—the first sign that something wasn’t right with this man. The first warning of his jealous temper, his spiteful nature, and the violent rage that simmered just below the surface.
She should have gotten out then. Should have packed her suitcase and left.
But they were newly married—hadn’t even unwrapped all of the wedding gifts—and he was so sorry, so apologetic, promising it would never happen again.
But it did.
Little things at first, and not all the time. Sometimes he’d go months without laying a hand on her—just long enough for her to settle in and think maybe they still had a chance. Then there’d be a little incident one week, then something else the next.
Weeks turned into months, then months into years and before she knew it, seven years had gone by. Seven lonely years of abuse. But she survived. And she finally got out.
She traced the line on her abdomen, shivering as she remembered the night he’d come home drunk and caught her watching a romantic comedy and eating a bowl of popcorn.
He’d thrown the popcorn across the room, knocked her off the sofa, and accused her of all sorts of terrible things. He’d screamed that she must have been watching those movies because she was dissatisfied with their life and with him, that she must dream of running off with a guy like that, handsome and rich. His accusations had turned filthy and foul, and she’d cowered in the corner of the room, praying that he’d tire of his rampage and stumble off to pass out in bed.
But he hadn’t. Instead he’d torn the room apart, breaking furniture and tossing the lamp across the room. She’d tried to run, but he’d grabbed her hair, pulled her back, then kicked her in the back, sending her sprawling forward, and she’d landed on the broken glass of the lamp, tearing a sharp gash across her stomach.
The amount of blood must have scared him—probably more scared he’d get in trouble than concern for her health—but he’d taken her to the emergency room, allowed her to get stitches, stayed with her and acted like the doting husband as he spun an elaborate story about how clumsy she was and how she’d fallen and cut herself.
That was the night.
The first night that she knew—knew that she had to escape, had to find a way to leave him. It had taken her another year and two more trips to the emergency room, but she’d finally done it.
She dropped her shirt back in place, covering the scars. It wasn’t like anyone was going to be seeing her skin again for a long time.
Even the thought of being with another man—trusting another man—turned her stomach.
Except she’d been with a man today.
Cash Walker.
And he hadn’t turned her stomach.
Instead, he’d caused flickers of desire to sputter to life inside her. At least she’d thought it was desire. It had been so long since she’d felt any sort of attraction to a man that she wasn’t sure she really recognized the signs. It could have been hunger pains or gas.
But she had felt attracted to him. How could she not?
She’d have to be dead or comatose not to be affected by the handsome cowboy’s dark good looks. His strong jawline, muscled body, and that thick black hair that looked just a little too long—like he was overdue for a haircut and needed a woman to take care of him.
And she knew plenty who would be willing to take on the job. Cash had a reputation for being a ladies’ man, a charmer. She hadn’t heard of that many women who he’d actually slept with, but she knew his masculine appeal and flirty nature was fodder for plenty of women’s fantasies in Broken Falls.
And today wasn’t the first time she’d fallen prey to his rugged good looks. He’d been drop-dead gorgeous for as long as she’d known him. She cringed as she remembered the terrible crush she’d had on him back in high school. Not that he’d noticed someone like her—a shy, mousy, wallflower.
She’d seen him a few times since she’d been back—once at the diner in town and once at the engagement party where Leroy had shown up and made fools of them both. She could have died of embarrassment that day.
But today was the first time she’d actually talked to him—spent time with him. And he wasn’t at all what she’d expected. She’d been waiting for the easy charm, the flirty seductive grins she knew he was famous for. But he hadn’t been like that at all.
Well, h
is grin had still been enough to have her mouth go dry and her palms begin to sweat. But he hadn’t been lecherous or vulgar. In fact, he’d been just the opposite.
He’d been nice. And kind.
And now he was helping her to get a job.
Why? Why was he helping her? What was in it for him?
She had no idea. But she didn’t want to miss the chance to find out.
The sound of a truck coming down the gravel driveway startled her out of her musings, and she slipped her feet into a pair of plain black flats and grabbed her purse.
Stepping out the front door, she stopped as she took in the sight of him climbing out of his truck.
He’d changed clothes to go to town and no longer wore the faded blue T-shirt and straw cowboy hat he’d had on earlier. His snug-fitting jeans and square-toed brown leather cowboy boots were the same, but he’d put on a clean button-up shirt and traded the straw hat for a black felt one.
Catching sight of her, he smiled, and everything inside of her melted into a puddle on the worn wooden slats of the porch. She swallowed, trying to find something to say; any words that served as a greeting that she could make come out of her mouth right now would be good.
Instead of speaking, she raised her hand in acknowledgment and concentrated on willing her legs to move, to walk toward him.
“Hey there,” he said, approaching the porch and holding out a hand to help her down the stairs.
The man was a gentleman. She’d give him that.
Ignoring his hand—there was no way she was sticking her sweaty palm into his outstretched one—she nodded and walked down the steps and toward his truck.
He followed, pulling open the passenger door for her. “You look real nice.”
“Thank you,” was all she could manage to say before he slammed the door, circled the truck, and slid into the seat next to her.
He must have just showered, because the masculine scent of soap and aftershave filled the cab of the truck, and the ends of his dark hair curled along his starched collar. She tore her eyes away from those black curls, focusing on getting her seat belt on, then clasped her hands tightly together in her lap.
She stared out the window as he turned the truck toward town, realizing that she hadn’t yet asked him where they were headed. She must have trusted him a little bit, otherwise she might have just gotten into a truck with a serial murderer who was driving her to her death in a Dodge Ram pickup.
“So, where are we going?”
“Into town. You remember Cherry Hill—well, Cherry Johnson now? She’s the feisty redhead who went to school with us. You know, the one who had the engagement party that—” he let the last words linger in the air, obviously embarrassed about bringing up the subject.
“Yes, I know Cherry. Sort of. I mean I know who she is and all. But it’s not like we’re friends or anything.”
No, not like that. Because she didn’t have any actual friends. Leroy had made sure of that.
“Well she runs Cherry’s Diner there in the middle of town, and she’s been talking about taking on a part-time waitress. She’s a mom now and wants to scale back a little at work and spend more time with Sam. Apparently becoming an instant mom of an energetic eight-year-old boy takes up a lot of time.”
“I can imagine it would. Sam is so cute—and Cherry and Taylor seem like a great couple. I was only at their engagement party because my dad is friends with Taylor’s dad, and he dragged me along. Probably just to get me out of the house. I’d just filed for divorce and been holed up in my old bedroom for several days.”
A few weeks before, Leroy had put her head through their glass shower door, and that had been the last straw. She fingered the scar hidden just below her hairline as she’d remembered that the party had been the first time she’d ventured out in public.
But he’d found her. Just like he said he would. He claimed he would always find her. That it didn’t matter what a piece of paper said, she’d always belong to him.
A shiver ran through her, even though the cab of the truck was warm. Pushing thoughts of Leroy from her mind, she tried to focus on the conversation at hand. “I knew that Cherry and Taylor had married and had heard they were really Sam’s biological parents. Is that true?”
Cash grinned as he turned down Main Street and pulled up in front of the diner. “Yeah, it’s true. Isn’t that the craziest thing? You’ll have to get Cherry to tell you the whole story sometime.” He slid out of the truck, circled around to open her door for her, then flashed her an encouraging smile. “You ready?”
She nodded, her heart pounding against her chest.
“You’ll do fine. Don’t worry.” He glanced down at her lap, and she realized her fingers had turned white and purple from twisting the strap of her purse around them so tightly.
She pulled her hands free and shook the circulation back into them. “I guess I’m a little nervous.”
Cash slammed the truck door, causing her to jump. She took a deep breath, aware that his hand barely grazed the small of her back as he guided her up the sidewalk toward the diner. The heat of his fingers on her back seemed to burn through the flimsy fabric of her shirt as she could feel the lightest pressure of each pad of his fingertips.
“Don’t be nervous. Cherry’s a smart-ass, but she’s a real sweetheart. You’re gonna love her.”
Yeah, but what will she think of me?
Emma swallowed back the nerves building in her throat and pasted on a smile as she and Cash walked into the diner.
Cherry caught sight of them and flashed Cash a gorgeous grin. The redhead was beautiful, with her curvy figure filling out the pink waitress dress and her strawberry-colored hair pulled up in a messy ponytail.
She gestured to the row of booths along one side of the restaurant. “Have a seat. I’ll be over in a sec. Can I get you all some iced tea? Or coffee?”
“Iced tea for me.” Cash looked down at Emma.
“Water’s fine.” She thought about the few crumpled bills she had in her wallet. Water and air were about all she could afford right now.
“And water for Emma,” he called, then led her to an empty booth.
She looked around the quaint diner as they crossed the room, the red vinyl and the pink and white checked tablecloths giving it a cheery retro look. A long counter ran along the back of the restaurant, an old-fashioned soda fountain on one end, bringing up childhood memories.
The diner had been around as long as Emma could remember; she’d been here many times when it had been run by Cherry’s grandparents. But she hadn’t been back since she’d married Leroy and moved to Great Falls and hadn’t seen the diner since Cherry had taken it over.
She liked that Cherry kept the nostalgic feel. It was homey and laid-back and offered all the comfort foods like macaroni and cheese and pot roast with mashed potatoes.
At three in the afternoon, the diner was mostly empty, except for one middle-aged guy in a suit sitting at the counter reading the paper and having a cup of coffee and an elderly couple sitting at a table sharing a piece of pie.
Emma scooted into the booth, and Cash slid in next to her. She caught her breath as his muscled thigh pressed against the side of her leg for a moment, then moved away as he adjusted in the seat.
He leaned down, his breath warm against her neck. “Don’t worry. You’ll do great. Cherry seems tough, but she’s a real softie.”
Cherry slid into the seat across from them, setting down two glasses of tea and a water. She offered Emma an encouraging smile as she took a long swig of tea. “Lord a mercy, what a day. My feet are killing me. I’m Cherry. Cash tells me that you’re looking for a job.”
Okay. This one didn’t mince words. She got right to the point.
Emma nodded, picking up the red plastic tumbler and taking a small sip of water. “Yes. I don’t know if you remember me, but we went to school together.” She thought it best not to remind Cherry that she’d also been the one responsible for wrecking her engagement party.
<
br /> “I do remember you. You were a few years younger than we were,” she said, indicating herself and Cash. “I wasn’t super social in high school. I feel like I was either helping out my grandparents here at the diner or hanging out with my boyfriend.”
“Who is now your husband,” Cash said, shaking his head. “Who would’ve thought you two would end up gettin’ married?”
“Me,” Cherry said with a mischievous grin.
“Congratulations,” Emma told her.
“Thank you. Now let’s talk about you. Do you have any waitressing experience?”
Slipping her hands under the table, Emma wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and tried to focus on making a good impression.
And breathing.
Which was kind of hard at the moment, because her breath was currently caught in her throat as she felt Cash’s warm hand ease across her leg and squeeze her hand in silent support.
She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t acknowledge that he might know that her hands were shaking and her underarms were filled with sweat. Instead, she took a deep breath and squeezed his hand. Hard. As if his rough callused palm were a lifeline and she were drowning.
“I’ve always been good at customer service and treating people well,” she explained. “I’ve worked retail and fast food, and spent nine months waitressing at a chain restaurant in Great Falls.” It had taken her months to convince Leroy to let her start working again. It was the perfect job for her plan to escape, allowing her to bring home a steady paycheck and squirrel away a small amount of her own money. Just enough to be able to afford a security deposit and a first month’s rent.
“That should be enough experience to work here. But I’m only looking for a part-time waitress. Someone to help out with the breakfast crowd and give me time to get my son, Sam, ready and off to school in the morning. Would that work for you?”
“Y-yes, that would be great. And I would be willing to cover other shifts if you had something come up at the school that you needed to do.”
Cherry smiled at her. “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful, and I’ll keep that in mind.” She spent a few minutes explaining the schedule and salary and looked at Emma for confirmation. “Does that sound good?”