by Marie Force
The night she’d spent with Nolan, the heated kisses they’d shared, the desire he could barely hide made her want to reach for the brass ring that’d been out of her reach for so long now.
“Why are your cheeks suddenly bright red?”
Damn her mother’s never-ending intuition. “No reason.”
“That doesn’t look like no reason to me. You know you want to tell someone . . . Why not me?”
Hannah laughed at her mother’s shameless campaign for info. “Fine! I kissed him. A lot. There! Are you happy?”
“Are you? That’s the more important question.”
“I’m . . . intrigued.”
“That’s not happy—yet. But it’s an excellent start.”
• • •
After a quick stop at home to shower and change, Nolan arrived at the garage where six cars had already been delivered by their owners. His eyes were gritty from the lack of sleep, and he was chugging his second coffee of the morning as he started with the easiest job—an oil change and filter on a Dodge SUV.
An hour into what should’ve been a half-hour job, Nolan snapped out of a daze to discover he was staring at the engine as he relived the amazing night with Hannah. Thinking about how it had felt to hold her and kiss her and sleep with her in his arms ran through his mind like a movie he never wanted to stop watching.
For so long, he’d thought about what it might be like to spend that kind of time with her, but the reality was much better than the fantasy. And if he continued to think about her, he’d still be here at ten o’clock tonight when he certainly had better things to do.
He buckled down and finished the oil change, rotated tires and dug into a complex transmission issue, all before noon when his so-called assistant, Skeeter, came rambling in looking like something the cat had dragged home. That thought made Nolan chuckle under his breath as the always eclectic Skeeter was known throughout Butler for putting his dead cat in his mother’s freezer and forgetting about it for ten years.
“Mornin’,” Skeeter grumbled. His fine white hair stood straight up, giving him the appearance of having grappled with electricity and come out on the bad end of the encounter. At just barely five foot, eight inches, he had a wiry, compact frame and a face full of broken blood vessels thanks to his love of moonshine.
“Afternoon.” Nolan knew it was pointless to remind Skeeter that he’d promised to show up early in the day to deal with two cars in need of body work. No one did bodies the way Skeeter did, which was one of many reasons Nolan tolerated his flakiness. When he decided to show up, that is.
“Had to help Dude with the puppies.”
The best part of Skeeter’s flakiness was the wide variety of excuses he always arrived with. “What puppies?”
“Her bitch Maisy had a litter couple weeks ago. Them pups are driving poor Dude crazy with their nonstop yippin’ and crappin’.”
“What breed is Maisy again?”
Skeeter snorted out a laugh. “Who the fuck knows?”
“Take me to see the puppies.” The words were out of his mouth before he took the time to think about what he was saying.
“Right now?”
“Yeah. Now.”
“As long as you ain’t gonna blame me if the work don’t get done.”
“Now, Skeeter, when have I ever blamed you for not getting your work done?”
“Shit,” Skeeter said with a low chuckle as he spat out a stream of chewing tobacco into the parking lot. “When doncha blame me?”
Chuckling, Nolan wiped the grease off his hands, closed the main garage doors, switched the office phone over to the answering service and locked up. When he emerged into the parking lot, he wasn’t at all surprised to see Skeeter sitting in the passenger seat of his truck. He was miserly when it came to gas, hoarding the free gas Nolan gave him once in a while.
Nolan drove through town, over the one-lane covered bridge and past the huge red barn on Hells Peak Road where Hannah and her siblings had grown up. The sight of the barn spurred the memory of her parents catching them sleeping together on the sofa that morning. So embarrassing. Nolan hoped Mr. and Mrs. Abbott didn’t think less of him, because that would truly suck. He’d always loved them and their family had given him a respite in the storm of his childhood. He would hate to lose their respect.
“Whatcha want with puppies anyhow?” Skeeter asked as Nolan navigated the twists and turns on the way to the home of Gertrude “Dude” Danforth, Skeeter’s so-called girlfriend.
“A friend of mine recently lost an older dog, and she might be in the market for a puppy at some point.”
“A friend, huh? Would this so-called friend be related in any way to Hannah Guthrie?”
Damn if the question didn’t make Nolan want to fidget. He resisted the urge and shrugged in reply to the question. “Maybe.”
“Heard she lost old Homer yesterday.”
“Yeah.”
“He was Caleb’s dog, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s gonna be tough on Hannah.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re sweet on that girl, ain’tcha?”
Nolan released a gruff laugh. Sweet on her. That was putting it mildly. “Something like that.”
Skeeter grunted in reply, but didn’t pursue the matter any further. For that, Nolan was grateful as he pulled into the long dirt driveway that led to Dude’s place. The rusty wagon wheel that held up her mailbox was the only indication that anyone lived in this remote corner of Butler, and Nolan drove slowly as one never knew what creatures they’d find patrolling Dude’s property.
People in town called her Snow White because of her eclectic collection of “pets,” which ranged from a bombastic rooster to a domesticated raccoon to coyotes that used to run wild until Dude took them in and made them part of the family. Some believed Dude was responsible for converting Fred the Moose from a wild animal to the somewhat civilized fellow he was now. The Snow White nickname was particularly amusing once you got a load of Dude, who stood well over six feet tall and at least two feet wide. Nolan had never seen her in anything other than denim overalls, flannel shirts, shitkicker boots and a huge straw hat. Since she was never without the hat, people speculated as to whether or not she slept in it.
Nolan would’ve asked Skeeter if that was true, except for the idea of Skeeter sleeping with Dude wasn’t something he wanted to think about, so he kept his curiosity to himself. He brought the truck to a stop next to the chicken coop where Dude was spreading feed, oblivious to her visitors.
Skeeter got out of the truck and barked out a greeting to her.
She spun around and met him at the waist-high chicken-wire fence with a warm, suggestive smile. “Back so soon, lover?”
Oh my God. Nolan’s stomach turned, and his eyes darted around the cluttered yard, searching for anything to look at besides the kiss Dude was planting on Skeeter’s willing lips. Christ, have mercy. She had to duck her head to even get to his lips. Stop looking!
“Nolan wants to see the pups,” Skeeter explained when they came up for air.
She looked over Skeeter’s shoulder at Nolan. “That right?”
Nolan nodded.
“For you?”
“For a friend.”
“I need to know who before I’ll consider giving one up.”
“Hannah Guthrie.”
“Oh,” Dude said, her face softening again. “Of course. Come have a look.” She stepped out of the chicken coop and led them across the yard to a barn that had a sagging roof and rusty old farm implements discarded outside. To the far left was a tractor that had seen much better days.
Maisy and her pups were inside a stall lined with wool blankets. The new mother was lying on her side as her babies climbed all over her, some of them attached to her extended teats to feed while others wrestled with their siblings. Maisy raised her head to check out the visitors, caught sight of Dude, and relaxed again.
Nolan smiled with delight at the tiny, energe
tic puppies. They had patches of brown, black and white, their breed impossible to determine on sight. “Any thoughts on their lineage?” Nolan asked.
“Nope,” Dude replied. “Maisy is very private about her love life, so I have no idea who the daddy is. And God only knows what she is. My guess is part beagle, part shepherd, part Doberman, but I honestly haven’t the first clue. She’s a sweet girl though. Wonderful disposition. She’s a lover, too. Very snuggly.”
Mesmerized by the frenetic activity in the stall, Nolan noticed one of the puppies stood off to the side of the fray, taking it all in as his or her siblings carried on. “What’s up with that guy?”
“He’s a bit aloof, that one. Likes to watch the others act like asshats while he remains above it all.”
The description reminded Nolan of the way Hannah was with her siblings. She was quieter than the other nine Abbotts, reserved, more likely to observe rather than seek the center of attention. “Is he spoken for?”
“Not yet.”
Nolan watched the puppy as one of the others approached him, wanting to play. He nuzzled the intruder and sent him on his way with a gentle nudge that made Nolan smile. “I think Hannah would adore him.” He hoped he was right about that. In truth, he had no way to know whether or not she’d welcome the puppy so soon after losing Homer.
“I’ll keep him for her,” Dude said. “They need another week or so with mom before I start finding homes for them.”
“You’ll let me know when I can come pick him up?”
“I will.” She rested her hand on Nolan’s arm. “It’s a sweet thing you’re doing for her. Every time I’ve lost one of my precious fur babies, I always get another one right away. I like to think I’m honoring the memory of the one I lost by giving a good home to a new friend. Your Hannah will think so, too.”
At hearing Hannah called “his” Hannah, Nolan’s heart skipped a happy beat even as he wondered what she’d have to say about being called “his” anything. He’d wanted her for such a long time, and after last night, he wanted her more than ever. It wasn’t even the physical part, which was amazing. It was her. Just her. Being around her calmed him and completed him in a way that nothing or no one else ever could. He’d accepted that fact of his life quite some time ago, when he began to understand it would be her or no one.
“We oughta get back to work,” Skeeter said, jarring Nolan from his contemplation.
The idea of Skeeter being the one to suggest they get to work was as comical as the antics of the puppies flipping over each other in a scrum of paws and tails and sharp little teeth. “Thanks for this, Dude,” Nolan said with one last glance at the little fellow in the corner.
“My pleasure. I think the world of Hannah, and I hope he brings her some much-deserved happiness.”
Nolan hoped so, too, because her happiness was suddenly his top priority.
CHAPTER 6
Something unbelievable happened tonight . . . A bunch of us were at the quarry. We had a fire going and some of the boys were drinking and getting obnoxious. I took a walk down to the water, and Caleb followed me. He kissed me. I mean really kissed me. He said he’s been in love with me since we were twelve and that’s why he pulled my hair. I’m so confused! It was a good kiss. A really good kiss . . . Not that I have anything to compare it to.
—From the diary of Hannah Abbott, age sixteen
The ride back to town was quiet, and Nolan appreciated the silence as he pondered whether Hannah would welcome his company again tonight. He’d never been so torn about how best to proceed, but nothing had ever been more important or more fraught with peril. She was hesitant about moving forward with someone else after what she’d been through in the last seven years. As Caleb’s close friend, he understood that hesitance better than most men would.
But after the night they’d spent together, Nolan didn’t know how he’d cope if she pulled back from him. A taste of her sweetness had him completely addicted and impatient for more. He had to curb that impatience until she was ready for more. That much he knew for sure.
“Looks like the father-in-law is waiting for you,” Skeeter said.
“Huh?”
“Look.”
Sure enough, Lincoln Abbott’s Range Rover was parked outside the garage. “Shit.”
“What’d you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Yet?”
“Shut up, Skeeter, and get busy fixing Mrs. Morrison’s dents, will you?”
Snickering to himself—because he was the only one who found this situation funny—Skeeter got out of the truck. “Sure thing, boss man. Good luck. Let me know if you need a wingman. I gotcha back.”
“Shut up, and go away. Far away.”
“I’m going, I’m going.”
As Nolan crossed the parking lot, he began to understand the way someone marching out to face a firing squad might feel. Even though he’d been close friends with Lincoln Abbott’s three oldest kids as well as his late son-in-law for decades, Nolan had never approached the man as someone who was romantically interested in his beloved eldest daughter.
“Mr. Abbott,” Nolan said, attempting to keep the panic out of his voice.
“Mr. Roberts.”
Oh Jesus. What was that about?
“Everything okay with the Rover?”
“Everything’s just fine. That’s not why I’m here, and you damned well know it. Get in.”
“Sir?”
Lincoln rolled his eyes. “Get in the car.”
“You’re not planning to take me out somewhere and shoot me, are you?”
“Do I have reason to do that?”
Nolan swallowed hard. “No. Sir.” Not yet anyway . . . Nolan wisely kept that thought to himself.
“Get in then. I won’t kill you or anything. Not this time.”
“Good to know.” Nolan climbed into the SUV, which smelled of leather and expensive cologne. Hannah’s dad was a fan of the finer things in life, an Anglophile of the highest order, and a die-hard Beatles fan. Nolan wasn’t at all surprised to hear “Let It Be” playing on the stereo. He wished he had the nerve to encourage Mr. Abbott to take the song’s advice to let it be, but he’d never say such a thing to Hannah’s father, especially not in his current mood.
Lincoln hit the gas, sending gravel flying on the way out of the garage parking lot.
Nolan caught Skeeter’s surprised gape as they passed the open door to the bay where he was working. Hopefully, Skeeter would hold down the fort at the garage, where it seemed like nothing productive was going to happen today—or send ransom if need be. “What do I smell?” Nolan asked of a scent making his mouth water, reminding him he’d skipped breakfast in his haste to get to work—for all the good that had done him.
“Lunch.”
“Oh.” He had other questions, but decided it was in his best interest to keep his mouth shut. He’d begun to actively sweat by the time Lincoln pulled up to the home of his father-in-law, Elmer Stillman.
“Elmer’s still on crutches, so I’ve got lunch duty today. Come on in.”
Hannah’s grandfather had sprained his ankle on a recent camping trip with Lincoln and Hannah’s brothers, and Nolan had been meaning to stop by to see how Elmer was getting along. But he hadn’t planned the visit to unfold quite this way. Did her grandfather know that Nolan had slept with her on the sofa last night? He hoped not, but he’d been around the Abbotts long enough to know there were few secrets in that family.
The firing squad feeling returned as he followed Lincoln into Elmer’s cluttered house.
Sans crutches, Elmer hobbled into the kitchen to meet them and didn’t seem one bit surprised to see Nolan. Great . . .
“I see you were able to convince Nolan to join us for lunch,” Elmer said to his son-in-law.
“Convince isn’t quite the word,” Nolan said. “I believe premeditated abduction might be a better way to describe it.”
Elmer’s delighted guffaw made his blue eyes sparkle with mirth. He was absol
utely full of the devil, and Nolan had always loved him. That is until he’d teamed up with Lincoln on this abduction—and Nolan had no doubt the two of them were in on this together. Exhibit A: Elmer had clearly been expecting both of them.
“Abduction is such a strong word,” Elmer said. “It conjures images of criminals rather than a concerned father and grandfather.”
“Fair enough,” Nolan conceded as he took a seat at Elmer’s round kitchen table. His mouth watered at the sight of hot pastrami as Lincoln doled out three sandwiches, which Nolan recorded as Exhibit B of their premeditation. He eyed Hannah’s grandfather warily. “What do you know?”
“I was informed of where you slept last night,” Elmer said, pointing his crooked index finger at Nolan.
“Of course you were.”
“You, of all people, know how this family works,” Lincoln said, gesturing with a handful of pastrami.
“Yes, I do, which is why I shouldn’t be surprised that you two kidnapped me in the middle of a workday to put me under the hot lightbulb.”
The other two men exchanged slightly guilty glances.
“We’re sorry about interrupting your workday,” Elmer said.
“No, you’re not,” Nolan said, laughing as he reached for the soda Lincoln had put in front of him.
“He’s a tough one,” Elmer said.
“I take it you two have pulled this crap before?”
“We may have had a conversation or two about how we might . . . assist one of the kids in a romantic sense,” Lincoln said haltingly.
“You’re a couple of buttinskies,” Nolan concluded as another thought occurred to him. “You wouldn’t have had anything to do with Hannah’s nearly brand-new battery crapping out on a day when most of the family was conveniently out of town, would you?”
They took an immediate and intense interest in their sandwiches.
“You look like a couple of guilty little boys,” Nolan said, charmed by their machinations on his and Hannah’s behalf.
“We had to do something to help you out,” Lincoln said. “She danced with you at the Grange and then . . . nada.”
“How do you know that?”