by Lori Foster
“No.” Not his hand. Other parts were starting to strain a little. “You a nurse or something?”
She hesitated, frozen, then shook her head. “No.” She wrapped some gauze around the bandages.
With his uninjured hand, Nathan lifted her hair away, then held the thick tresses in a loose fist. Their eyes met. “You don’t sound real convinced.”
She straightened abruptly. He didn’t let go of her hair fast enough and she winced at the tug, but said nothing about it. “All done. I hope you’re right-handed.”
“I am.” This time he brushed her hair back over her shoulder. Her hair was thick and warm and it turned him on. Hell, everything about her turned him on, even her obstinate and secretive attitude.
“Good. Might have been more inconvenient if...” Remembering that she didn’t want to engage in casual conversation, she shook her head. “I should get going.” But she looked around his kitchen.
Watching her, Nathan stood. “I don’t suppose I could impose further and ask you to make some coffee for me while I go change?” He still had blood on his shirt and pants.
Again, she looked around his kitchen. “I suppose I could...”
Not giving her a chance to change her mind, he said, “Thanks,” and headed out of the room, already unbuttoning his uniform shirt.
He wouldn’t put it past her to make the coffee and then skip out, so he rushed through changing into a T-shirt and jeans. Barefoot, he stopped in the bathroom and saw that, luckily, he’d left it tidy. He shoved his now-dirty uniform into the hamper and went after her.
Brooklin was in the kitchen, standing at the sink and looking out into the yard, when he came back in.
She didn’t hear him enter.
The loose pajama pants rode low on her curvy hips. The T-shirt hugged her narrow waist and proud shoulders.
And even with her back to him, he remembered how the soft cotton material had molded to her breasts, even showing the outline of her currently soft nipples.
Drawn to her, he stepped closer. “So you used to be a nurse, but you aren’t now?”
Turning, she braced her elbows on the counter and studied him.
This pose was even more enticing, and he couldn’t help but look her over.
She quickly straightened and folded her arms over herself. “You’ve held back all week and now can’t take the curiosity anymore, is that it?”
Nathan had to admit, he loved the way she cut right to the core of things. “Did you appreciate my patience? I jogged with you three times this week, silently, and didn’t ask a single question.”
“No, you didn’t. Your polite understanding of my privacy was a good plan. A solid plan. You impressed me. You should stick with it.”
Hiding his satisfaction, he poured the coffee, one for him and one for her. He’d confused her, probably a good thing. “There’s milk in the fridge. No creamer, sorry.”
“I drink it black.” She took the cup, careful not to touch him, and sipped.
“So did you work in a hospital?” He watched her stiffen, her face tightening as if gathering steam. He pressed her anyway. “For a private practice?”
Her eyes narrowed. “No.”
“Maybe the military? Though you don’t look like any soldier I’ve ever—”
“I worked in a school, all right?”
Huh. Testy about it, too. “A school nurse. Yeah, that fits.” Even firmed in annoyance, her mouth was nice, her lips full and soft. “Was it grade school? High school?”
She shook her head, refusing to answer.
“I take it you’ve left it behind?”
“Yes.” She took a big drink of coffee, burned her tongue, cursed low and set the cup in the sink. “I have to go.”
“Because I’m asking too many questions?” He could have told her that the more defensive she got, the more curious it made him. He lowered his voice, almost suspicious now. “Because I’m too interested?”
“Because you’re too damned pushy!” She headed toward the door.
Nathan followed. “Thank you, Brooklin, for fixing up my hand.” He pretended she wasn’t furious. “I really appreciate it.”
Uncertain, she glanced at him. “You’re welcome. The butterfly bandages should hold, but try not to soak it.”
He looked into her unusual golden eyes. “Okay to take a hot shower?”
She swallowed. “Yes.” Her eyes went to his chest, then away. “But make it fast.”
He resisted the urge to tell her that he preferred things slow. Very slow. “Yes, ma’am. Fast it is.” Following her out on the porch, he watched her trot quickly down the steps and all but run away.
Again.
But he was wearing her down and he knew it. She knew it, too, and that’s probably what scared her so much.
What the hell was she hiding?
* * *
Brooklin was thoughtful as she went across the lawns, ignoring Nathan’s attention as it followed her.
Without looking his way, she went back into her own home, closing and locking the door behind her. Struck with inspiration—all kinds of inspiration—she went straight to her computer and sat down.
Closing her eyes, she pictured Sheriff Nathan Hawley. Over six feet tall, muscular, light brown hair and piercing green eyes. She didn’t feel a smidge of guilt; surely every single lady in Clearbrook had, at one time or another, fantasized about him.
Probably the married ladies, too.
Was there anyone, male or female, in Clearbrook who didn’t know him? Or at least of him?
Being the most imposing man she’d ever met, he would make an impression wherever he went, she was pretty sure.
She’d done her research on him. During the rehab of the neighborhood, he’d been brought in as a result of a special election. His past, working with a SWAT team in Columbus, made him a certifiable badass.
And he knew it.
He knew how damned handsome he was, how he affected people.
How he stirred all the ladies.
Yes, everyone in Clearbrook knew him. There’d be no misunderstandings.
Sometimes, Sheriff, when you push, people push back.
* * *
Violet had expected Hogan to give as good as he got, and she’d looked forward to it. Their verbal sparring always left her feeling alive and energized. Unfortunately, the weekend was so crazy they didn’t have time for teasing. They’d barely had time to breathe.
Even the preceding week was nuts, the usual lulls Monday through Thursday almost nonexistent as families flocked in for the rare treat of ribs on a weeknight.
She couldn’t wait to see how busy tomorrow, Friday, would be.
She loved the business; she really did, but clearly she needed to hire more help now. She also needed more picnic tables for outdoor seating. Some of the more regular customers had started bringing their own lawn chairs. Things were awesomely, wonderfully out of control.
All because of Hogan.
Her independent soul rebelled at the idea that he’d been so good for business.
So good for her.
But she wasn’t a woman who hid from the truth. Before Hogan, the business had steadily grown under her management.
With Hogan, it all but exploded.
If she hoped to maintain the current momentum—and she most definitely did—she needed him.
Blast the man—he’d even done a miraculous job with her bookkeeping.
Did he still want her? Was he as sexually frustrated as she was? Had he given up on her, or was he just biding his time?
God, she didn’t even know what she wanted, not where it pertained to an intimate relationship. When it came to business, she wasn’t nearly so indecisive.
Taking advantage of a fifteen-minute b
reak, maybe the only one she’d get, Violet strolled around back to see Hogan. She paused just inside the prep area, making note of his organizational skills even here. He’d set up the area himself, taking it over without a qualm. An interior door kept the hot summer air from competing with the air-conditioning inside and allowed him to leave the exterior door open so that he could easily move inside and still keep an eye on the grills.
A man of many talents.
Something sweet but uncomfortable crowded Violet’s chest, making her heart ache in an odd way. The emotion was unfamiliar and, damn it, unwanted.
Giving herself a moment, she quietly stood there and watched Hogan, wondering what it was about him, specifically, that affected her in such a startling way.
Gorgeous, yes. No one could deny that. The Guthrie brothers had some amazing genes coasting through their bodies. But there were others in the area who were also very attractive, and Violet knew she’d never been even remotely tempted by any of them. Well, the idea of sex had tempted her, certainly. But not all the other stuff, not the confusing emotions that tried to take priority over her restaurant.
And sex, just for the sake of sex, had never really been her thing. Not in a small town like Clearbrook. Not with men she’d later have to regard as customers in her diner. The idea of sex had been nice but, in the end, just not worth it.
Now with Hogan, the complications would be tenfold, and still she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Standing in front of one of three grills, an apron tied low on his hips, he turned a rack of ribs. The man had an organizational skill that blew her mind. He never looked frenzied or overwhelmed. Even now, under a broiling sun while tending multiple hot grills, he moved with efficiency.
At the table closest to him, his brother, Jason, and sister-in-law, Honor, sat with neighbors Sullivan and Lexie. Hogan laughed at something Lexie said, then shook his head.
Violet could remember a time when she’d thought something might’ve been going on between Lexie and Hogan. After all, Lexie was an extremely pretty woman with her short, pale blond curls and her very up-front sexuality.
Then Lexie had moved in with Sullivan, and Violet quit worrying about it. Talk about gorgeous—Sullivan, with his inky-dark hair and midnight eyes, killer instincts and ripped body, would keep any woman happy. He was very intense, mysterious and almost intimidating.
He was fantasy material, but not once had Violet been tempted to seek an involvement.
“So admit I was right,” Lexie said to Hogan while turning to Sullivan for backup. “He looks blissfully happy, doesn’t he?”
Sunlight glinted off Sullivan’s black hair as he pretended to survey Hogan. “You know, honey, I think you’re right. Hogan looks peaceful.”
“She’s absolutely right,” Honor chimed in, aligning herself with her best friend. “Seriously, Hogan, you do look somewhat blissful.”
“Peaceful? Blissful?” Jason hugged his wife and said, “I don’t want to be left out, so can I admit that it does seem to suit you, Hogan?”
“It’s a gift,” Lexie claimed. “A real talent. A man should never ignore the calling of a talent.”
Hogan laughed again. “You’re all nuts. Yeah, I enjoy it, okay? But it’s hardly a calling.”
“You’re wrong,” Lexie insisted. “You were meant to do this.”
“This?” Hogan waved his long metal tongs at the grills. “Come off it, Lexie. I can’t see myself working in a restaurant for the rest of my life.”
That smacked of an insult and Violet decided to announce herself. “Something wrong with working in a restaurant?” All eyes turned to her as she stepped out of the preparation area and into the side yard. “It’s not good enough for you?” Am I not good enough?
Hogan took in her frown. “I never said that.”
“Maybe it’s working for a woman that you find objectionable?”
“I work for a woman at the accounting firm, too.”
She hadn’t known that and it threw her, but only for a second. She squared her shoulders, ignored all the others and stared up into Hogan’s eyes. “I think it’s out of your hands. The demand now is too high. You’ve spoiled all the customers—”
Their own little audience cheered at that, sounding very spoiled.
“—and now no one is going to want to give up having your ribs whenever they want them.”
The grill hissed and spit, flames licking upward. Turning away, Hogan rearranged the meat and adjusted the heat.
When Violet glanced at the others, she saw they wore varying expressions of encouragement, amusement, agreement—and worry. The last was from Jason.
Did he expect his brother to bully her? Ha. Not likely.
In front of all those rapt faces, she demanded, “Well?”
Occupied with the grill, Hogan asked, “Well what?”
“Sign on. Agree to work here for a full forty-hour week.” She gave that quick thought then amended, “Maybe a little more than forty given how crazy the weekend gets.”
He didn’t look at her when he said, “What makes you think you can afford me?”
He wasn’t saying an outright no? Hope blossomed. Hope and something else. “Let’s discuss it.” Thanks to Hogan, she not only had a better grasp of her own finances, but she was making more per week. She could give him a bump in pay, no problem.
Finally, he set aside those long sturdy tongs and faced her. “You want to negotiate right now? In front of them?” He nodded toward their friends.
His mood seemed off. The idea of trying to discuss this, alone, made her tingle. Could he keep to business?
Could she?
They hadn’t had any alone time in far too long now. And damn it, she missed him. She saw him every day, but not like she had while being sick.
Dumb as it seemed, she missed having him touch her.
She missed him holding her while she slept.
At her long internal debate, he gave her a mocking grin. “Having second thoughts?”
“Tonight.” Risky. Once she had him alone, or he had her alone—but this was too important. “After we close up.”
“Ohhh,” Lexie whispered, sotto voce, “to be a fly on the wall during that meeting.” Then she squeaked, thanks to Sullivan’s squeeze.
“All right,” Hogan said. He turned back to his grill. “If you see Colt, have him come out on his break, okay? I haven’t seen him yet today.”
Relief flooded through Violet until she almost felt light-headed. Hogan hadn’t flat out refused. “If I can pry him away from the girls, sure.” While Hogan might be great for her adult customers, Colt was equally great for the younger crowd. And that got her thinking. She needed to do something special for the school, something that would draw in even more young people during the less insane time between dinner and the cocktail hour.
Conversation did not resume.
Hogan busied himself filling a massive platter.
Since he wasn’t being totally disagreeable, Violet decided to push her luck. “I was also thinking, maybe you need an apprentice, a trainee of sorts who could learn what you do and how you do it so that if you ever—”
“No.”
The abrupt refusal irked her. She put her hands on her hips. “What do you mean no? You won’t even think about it?”
“Not right now, no.”
“Then when? After you get sick or hurt and I’m left in the lurch?” Only half teasing, she said, “Don’t be selfish, Hogan. If you don’t want to share your sauce with anyone else, maybe you could just share it with me.”
Jason choked and Sullivan snorted.
“Hey,” Violet protested. “I’m capable.”
Honor and Lexie, both grinning, rushed to agree.
With their backup, she decided to take another turn at Hogan. “You
can trust me, you know. I wouldn’t share your secrets. But if you teach me, then at least—”
As if much put upon, Hogan sighed, straightened away from the grill and turned to her. They stared at each other, him impatient, her defiant.
Before she could guess his intent, he bent and put his mouth over hers in a firm, no-nonsense kiss that lingered a few seconds too long.
Violet heard the collective breath of the audience, but she couldn’t seem to pull away. In fact, she leaned into him. The cat’s out of the bag now.
Against her now-tingling lips, Hogan whispered, “You may be the boss, but no is still no.” And just like that, he gave his attention back to his grills.
Feeling all eyes on her, Violet fought off a blush, turned on her heel and headed back inside.
She heard Hogan say firmly, “Tonight, Violet.”
And suddenly laughter broke out. Wow.
So maybe she shouldn’t have pushed him after all.
* * *
After Sullivan and Lexie left, and Honor went inside to find Colt, Hogan decided it was now or never.
He could feel Jason watching him, though, and as soon as they were alone, he asked, “So you and Violet, huh?”
Since that was what Hogan wanted to talk about, he should have had a better answer, but all he said was “I don’t know.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means it’s complicated.” Hogan checked each grill, was satisfied and took a seat next to Jason. “I’ve been interested since the day I met her. No secret there.”
“Definitely not a secret,” Jason agreed.
“She’s always rejected me.”
“You’re not one to give up easily.”
“No.” Hogan looked out over the seating area. Neighbors, friends, people he’d met, people he liked, were all enjoying the day. And his food. He felt a sense of satisfaction over that. “Violet couldn’t be more different from Meg.”
“True.” Jason shooed away a bee. “That’s a problem?”
“I don’t know. I used to understand what I wanted, but that’s all gone now, and this—living in Clearbrook, being close to you, hell, even the sunrises and sunsets—they’re all nice.” Far nicer than he’d expected.