It's About Time (Hunt Family #5)

by Brooke St. James

  His parents had already flown in from Carolina and had been at his bedside for two days before he woke up. He had broken both bones of his lower leg and suffered a concussion, but by God's grace, there had been no internal damage.

  Evan didn't see the scars on his leg or face right away. He knew something was wrong because he could see the bandages on his leg and the stitches on his cheek without even looking in a mirror. His mom had explained its appearance to him, but a full day had passed by the time he worked up the nerve to look at it. There was a 4 or 5 inch gash on his face that went over his eyebrow and down onto his cheek. The surgeon said Evan was lucky to have his eye and that the wound should heal nicely.

  "By nicely do you mean it will completely go away where I can't see it anymore?" Evan had asked when the surgeon first told him that.

  The surgeon laughed as if Evan had surely been joking. "You'll always be able to see it," he said. "I just wanted to assure you that it will be significantly lighter and more flexible than what you see here now."

  Then it was Evan's turn to laugh. "I hope so," he said. "Because right now, I look like something from a horror movie."

  "Evan Michael, you do not," Christy said protectively. She reached up and touched the other side of her son's head tenderly just to demonstrate how unfrightening he was.

  His doctors kept talking about how lucky, and fortunate, and blessed he was, but Evan had a hard time seeing it that way. They told him he could have easily died, and in those first few days, it almost seemed to Evan like that might have been easier. He was in a lot of pain. His lower left leg was broken in a few places, and the top part of it had trauma to the soft tissue. The hardest pill to swallow was that he had been making money with his face, which was now permanently scarred. Waking up in the hospital and the days that followed were some of the lowest of Evan's life. He left there feeling like he had drawn closer to God in his soul-searching, and that he had more soul-searching to do.

  Mia and Nico split their time between California and Carolina, and Evan had been renting their guesthouse in Los Angeles. Evan's mom stayed there with him for a while when he first got discharged, but she needed to get back to her responsibilities back east.

  Two weeks after the accident, Evan traveled back home to Carolina with his parents so that his mom could help him through the rest of his recovery. He wasn't supposed to bear any weight on his leg for the first month, so he had to travel with crutches, which was a hassle.

  Aside from a visit to the orthopedist and physical therapist, Evan stayed locked up in his parents' house for the next month. The scar on his face had healed significantly, but Evan was still getting used to seeing it there every time he looked in the mirror. His means of earning a living for the past two years had been making sure he looked perfect, and there he was with a big, imperfect scar running across his brow bone and upper cheek—not to mention several scars that ran down his left leg.

  Evan hadn't been ready for anyone besides family to see it (especially his agent). It had been six weeks since the accident when it finally hit him that he needed to get out of the house and back to his life. He wasn't quite sure what that life was, but he knew he couldn't stay locked up in his parents' house forever.

  He had been in touch with his agent but had refused to send any photos of his scars until "they healed". Several times, in moments of frustration, he almost called the agency to tell them he was done, but he did his best to stay positive, hoping that the ever-fading line would disappear completely. As of six weeks later, it hadn't. So Evan decided to accept it for what it was and show his face in public. He hadn't quite worked up the nerve to send photos to his agent, but he set up a breakfast date with his grandma to get his feet wet facing the world. Okay, so she had to beg him, but at least he had agreed to go. It was a step in the right direction.

  "Hey Dee-dee," Evan said, reaching out to hug his grandma as he came to stand beside her.

  "You look so handsome," she said. Her voice came out like she was squeezing him hard, but she was extremely gentle when she hugged him.

  Evan smiled to himself, knowing she was afraid she'd hurt him if she hugged him tightly.

  She patted the barstool next to her, but then regarded him like she changed her mind about asking him to sit there. "Actually, I was just sitting at the counter while I waited for you," she said. "We can grab a table if that'd be more comfortable."

  It was a small, local breakfast place named Amy's Express. They specialized in biscuits, and were only open each day until noon. There weren't many tables, and it was usually packed, but being that it was ten o'clock on a Monday, a few places were open.

  "I'm okay, sitting up here," Evan said, settling onto the barstool next to his grandmother.

  "How's it feel to get out of the house?" she asked.

  "Fine, I guess," Evan said, smiling at her. He glanced at his leg. "Feels good to have that cast off."

  "I'll bet it does," Dee-dee said sweetly. "Well, you look wonderful."

  "Thanks."

  She put her hand on his.

  "I'm serious, Evan. You look like a million bucks. Your scar looks tough on you."

  He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That's what Mom says."

  "Because it's true."

  "Hey, Evan," a girl said, coming to stand in front of them.

  He turned to face her, feeling a bit surprised that she knew his name. She was roughly his age, and she was smiling straight at him like they were old friends, but he could not place her. He smiled back, but felt slightly confused.

  "Y'all want a few minutes to decide what you're having?" she asked, mostly focusing on Evan. She smiled at the way he was looking at her. She had dimples. "I already know what Dee-dee's having," she said, "so, you just holler at me when you decide."

  "I will, thanks," Evan said.

  The girl continued to smile as she turned and crossed the front of the kitchen to get back to her busywork. Evan was just about to face Dee-dee with a confused expression when she turned back and looked over her shoulder. "Your scar looks good on you," she said in the same tone his sister would use when she complimented his shirt or shoes.

  "I'm sorry?" Evan asked, still feeling confused about who she was.

  "Your scar," she said, gesturing to her own eyebrow. "It looks good right there—makes you look tough." She smiled at him as she turned to walk away.

  Evan instantly looked at his grandma with a perplexed expression.

  "Annabel Riley," she said, knowing what he was wondering.

  He shrugged, looking as confused as ever.

  "She's been working here for years." Dee-dee whispered. "Her grandma's Amy. Annabel went to beauty school and has been working with your sister and Paige for a while now—at least a year. She does real well with Paige. She just helps out around here on her off days." Dee-dee tilted her head to the side and stared at her grandson with the same confused expression he was wearing. "I thought you knew Annabel. She's been around the family for years. You two probably even went to high school together."

  "We did," Annabel said with a smile from over her shoulder as she dried and stacked glasses.

  This caused Evan to cut Dee-dee a glare for talking too loud before running his hand through his hair.

  "You're a few years older than me, so I'm not surprised you don't remember." She threw her towel over her shoulder, and walked slowly toward Evan and Dee-dee with an easy smile.

  "Yeah, but you've been working at the salon for…" Dee-dee trailed off and cocked her head at Annabel. "…How long, now?"

  "Almost two years."

  "Almost two years," Dee-dee repeated as she shifted to look at Evan.

  "You've been a busy man," Annabel said, standing in front of him with a smile.

  She had on a plaid shirt that had been tied in the front. Her hair was piled on the top of her head in one of those big buns girls liked, and she had flour all over herself. It was on her pants, her shirt, and there was even some on her face. She was adorable,
and Evan stared at her, wondering how in the world he didn't remember those dimples from high school.

  "He went off and moved to the big city and got famous like his cousin."

  "I'm not famous like my cousin," Evan said glancing downward.

  "You're pretty famous," Annabel teased. He glanced at her to find that she was smiling right at him. "There's a female at the table in the corner who might run over here any second," Annabel said, leaning over the bar to speak quietly to him. She tried to keep her mouth still when she said it, and Evan smiled at her poor ventriloquist skills. "Don't look over there now," she continued in that same out of the corner of her mouth way. "She's looking riiiight at you."

  She smiled stiffly at Evan, and he couldn’t help but reach out and pinch her adorable cheek. She was just too cute with the way she was talking all funny like that.

  "You pinched my cheek just now," Annabel said, pulling back to stare at him like he might have lost his mind.

  "I know," he said, smiling. "I couldn’t help it. Your mouth was all twisted up when you were whispering, and it was just cute."

  "You're not gonna think it's cute when Jemma Richardson comes over here and attacks you like she's about to do right now."

  The last part of Annabel's sentence was delivered so quickly that Evan was expecting Jemma Richardson's embrace when it came. This was someone he did recognize. Jemma was his same age, and they grew up together. She was popular and had run in Evan's circles.

  "Oh my goodness," she cooed in her smooth, southern accent as she squeezed Evan from behind. "I heard you almost died in a motorcycle crash. That is just sooo sad."

  Evan shifted on his stool so he could look at her.

  Jemma, without permission or warning, reached out and ran a finger over Evan's eyebrow when she saw his scar. "This must be from the accident," she said in that same cooing, southern drawl.

  Evan thought it was a statement and not question, but Jemma just stood there like she was waiting for Evan to respond.

  "Yep," he said.

  "I'm so sorry that happened," she said.

  "Thanks," he said simply, hoping the conversation would soon be over.

  "Hey, are you in town for a while?" she asked.

  "I'm not really sure," he said. "I've been here for a while, but I'm not sure how much longer I'll stay."

  At that point, Jemma asked Annabel for a pen and a scrap piece of paper so she could write down her phone number. She also added that she was newly divorced and would be into "partying" anytime.

  Chapter 3

  Hello, I'm Annabel

  —the one Evan didn't remember

  "Like shooting fish in a barrel," I said, doing my best to stifle a smile as Jemma Richardson walked back to her table after talking to Evan Hunt. He was gracious, but I could tell he was less than thrilled to see his old friend. "There are at least two other women who want to come over here," I said, after glancing around the dining room, "but they're not quite as brave as Jemma."

  Evan sighed and turned to stare at his grandma with a smile. "I can do this," he said.

  She patted his hand, and I instinctually began wiping the adjacent counter top so that I wouldn't interrupt a private moment.

  "I can do it," he repeated.

  I was looking down, but I could tell his voice was directed toward me. I glanced up to find that he was regarding me with a smile.

  "You can do what?" I asked.

  "I can interact with other human beings after six weeks of Netflix at my parents' house."

  "Your mama said you've been doing your physical therapy and lifting weights every day," Dee-dee said, thinking he was saying he'd been a lazy bum the whole time.

  "I'm talking about interacting with other humans," Evan said.

  "I think you're doing just fine," I said, studying his face with great interest. His whole appearance was perfect—just the way I'd design a guy—slightly dangerous, male handsomeness at it's finest. His long hair was pulled into a manbun on the back of his head, and he had some stubble growing on his jawline. I hadn't been kidding when I said his scar added to his appeal. It was unmistakably there, but it was perfectly placed in such a way that flattered the structure of his face.

  "Can you believe she reached out and touched it just now?" he asked, still looking at me.

  To my own horror, I realized I'd been staring at his scar and he was now referring to it as if he knew that's what I was looking at.

  "It's, I'm…" I stammered… "I told you it looks good on you," I said. I took the towel off of my shoulder and used it to pretend whip Evan with the end of it. "And you pinched my cheek a minute ago, so don't try to act like you're not into random face touching," I said, playfully trying to say anything to distract from my stuttering.

  That made Evan let out a laugh. "I was just trying to help you get that flour off of your face," he said.

  I glanced at Dee-dee with an is there really flour look on my face, and she nodded reluctantly. I shifted my gaze toward Evan again with narrowed eyes. "You were not getting flour off my face," I said. "That's a gentle, dusting motion. You flat out pinched me like my Uncle Mark does when he sees me at Christmas."

  "Maybe I did pinch you," Evan said, laughing a little. "I couldn't help it."

  I could hear his grandma add, "She's a cutie-pie, isn't she?" but I had already turned to help someone who had just come through the door and walked to the register to order.

  Evan and his grandma carried on a conversation while I helped the other customer, and I walked over to them once I was done. "I never did put in an order for you guys," I said, looking at Evan since I knew what his grandma wanted.

  "I never told you what I wanted," he said with an easy grin

  My stomach flipped at the sight of it, and I glanced downward by instinct. Sheer nerves prompted me to wipe the already clean counter. Evan reached out to stop my hand in mid swipe, and I looked up to meet his eyes when he did.

  He was smiling.

  His big hand was covering mine, and I felt a surge of electricity that made an uncontrollable smile spread across my face.

  "What'll it be?" I asked. Was I breathless? I slid my hand out from under his as I stood up straight and looked over my shoulder. "Let me grab the phone," I said, even though it wasn't ringing. "Do you know what you want?" I asked, making eye contact with Evan before I walked away.

  "You choose," he said smiling.

  "Salty or sweet?" I asked.

  "Salty."

  I nodded and smiled before walking away. I stopped in the kitchen and put in an order for a chicken fried steak biscuit with egg and cheese and a side of home fries. For Dee-dee, I asked for her favorite blueberry biscuit. The order was placed within a matter of seconds as I passed through the kitchen and continued down the short hallway that led to the office.

  Our cordless phone had two headsets. One of them was out front next to the register, but I grabbed the other one so that I could walk out there with it in my hand and not seem like I just came to the back for nothing. I knew I couldn't stay gone for long, but I had to catch my breath.

  I had always sort of looked up to Evan for being brave enough to leave town and go pursue his dreams like he did. I had always been too scared to be an adventurer like that, and I sort of idolized him because of it. And don't even get me started on the way he looked.

  I was close enough friends with his sister and Paige that I knew he had a new scar on his face, but I hadn't expected to love the looks of it. I hadn't expected him to come in this morning at all. I certainly hadn't expected him to put his hand on mine and for it to have electrical repercussions.

  I let out a long sigh since there was nobody in the office to hear me. The only other person who could work the register was on break, so I knew I had to get back out front. I had only given myself about thirty seconds to take a deep breath and gather my wits, but it would have to be enough.

  There was a small mirror by the door and I glanced at it just to make sure the flour wasn't in som
e place really embarrassing like coming out of my nose. There was just a little and it was on my cheek, so I decided to give it a quick swipe with the back of my hand and not really care if I didn't get it all.

  There was an order ready when I went through the kitchen, and I picked it up to bring it to one of the tables.

  "I'll be right back with your drinks," I said, mostly to Dee-dee as I walked by balancing plates on my hands and arms. She smiled and winked at me, and I didn't glance at Evan at all.

  I served the customers their order before returning to the counter where another customer was now waiting to place his order. The next five minutes passed in one of those busy restaurant blurs. It seemed like everybody wanted to order or check out at the same time, so I had my head in the register for a few minutes. When I looked up, I could see that another group had approached Evan and his grandma. They were all wearing smiles and being friendly, but I felt bad for Evan for having to talk to so many people on his first day out of the house.

  He glanced at me while I was looking over there, and for a fraction of a second, I could have sworn I saw something in his expression—something that said he needed me to help him.

  "Evan can you help me with something?" I asked, trying not to doubt what I had just seen.

  "Whatcha need?" he asked nudging his chin at me with a curious smile.

  For a second, I thought I had misunderstood his unspoken plea. I came really close to aborting the mission and acting like I didn't need him after all. I made the on-the-spot decision to go ahead with the plan. I pointed toward the back office with my thumb.

  "Shane's on break, and I need someone to help me with a box in the back. Do you mind?"

  "Not at all," he said. He smiled at the group of women who were standing around him. "It was nice meeting you guys," he said as a farewell.

  "Do you have time for a pic?" one of the girls said, digging in her purse.

  Evan glanced at me with a casual shrug, as he got to his feet. "Do we?" he asked.