by Lori Foster
Hogan stared down at her, his gaze speculative, as if he knew she reacted for reasons other than the obvious.
Damn him, how did he read her so easily.
“So,” Jason said, “I’m done here. I’ll get together some options and prices and be in touch.”
Hogan said, “You’re talking to the boss, right? Not to me? Just because this is where I work, I wouldn’t have any say in it.”
No, she would not let him make her feel guilty. “It’s for you, damn it.”
With a nasty smile, Hogan said, “But I love my very colorful table so much, why would I want anything else?”
Violet threw up her hands and walked away.
From behind her, she heard Jason say, “Good going. Real smooth. Way to show appreciation for her consideration.”
Exactly, she wanted to shout, but she didn’t.
Then she heard Hogan add with a note of surprise, “The table really is nice, right? Did you see my sign? Barbecue Master.”
The men laughed.
Violet was ready for a distraction, and she found it with a surly trucker who’d been in before, but wasn’t a regular. The man grouched fiercely about his burger, claiming it was overdone. She had the cook prepare another for him, but after eating most of it, he claimed the bun was stale.
He wasn’t quiet about his displeasure, either.
“Consider it on the house,” Violet said and made a mental note to wait on him herself from now on—if he ever returned.
But the surly brute wasn’t done. “It took too damn long for me to get it, too.”
“Which one?” she asked politely. “The first burger or the second?”
“Both of them! And there’s too much ice in my Coke. I shouldn’t have to pay for that, either.”
Odd, but now that she was close to him, Violet smelled alcohol. She glanced out the front window and saw his truck.
“If you wanted less ice in your drink, you should have said so. Now that you’ve drunk it all—”
“All of two slurps!” He slapped the drink away, knocking it over, the mess going off the side of the table and onto his pant leg. He roared as if someone had set him on fire, causing an enormous scene.
As she quickly cleaned up the mess, Violet saw Colt out of the corner of her eye. He was striding toward her, his dark expression identical to his dad’s. With a stern frown, she waved him away. The last thing she wanted was for the man to insult Colt. She’d put up with plenty from awful customers in her lifetime, but that’d be crossing the line for her.
Luckily, Colt halted several feet away.
Most everyone in the diner watched as Violet knelt down to clean the mess from the floor, too.
“My pants are ruined!”
Never mind that it was his own fault. Violet said, “Why don’t I make it up to you with a cup of coffee and some pie?”
“You think I’d pay for more shitty service?”
She straightened back to her feet. “I’ll get it for you myself, and it’ll be on the house.”
He scowled, blustered and finally said, “Make it quick. I need to get going.”
“Of course.” After gathering up all the soppy napkins, she darted around to the kitchen area, washed her hands, then cut a large slice of apple pie and placed it on a plate.
Kristy was there, mostly hiding from the conflict, and Violet said, “Call Nathan. Tell him we have a very drunk truck driver who will be driving out of my lot in five minutes. Tell him I said for you to call him specifically. He’ll know what to do.”
Kristy nodded and pulled a cell phone from her pocket. She realized what she’d done and blanched. After all, cell phones weren’t permitted on the floor—that was one of Violet’s strictest rules.
She said only, “We’ll discuss that later. Make the call.” Next she hurriedly filled a cup with steaming coffee.
As she headed back toward the man, she saw that Hogan now stood in Colt’s place. Had Colt gotten him? Probably. And that meant Colt now watched the grills.
She bent the same stern look on Hogan that she’d given to Colt, but he looked unimpressed with it. To reinforce her decision for him to stay out of it, she gave a small shake of her head.
And Hogan, the ass, winked at her.
Oh, if she didn’t have a situation to deal with, she’d... What? He stood close by, but so far, he didn’t appear inclined to interfere. As long as he minded his own business and let her deal with hers, they wouldn’t have a problem.
At least, not a new problem.
Hoping that Colt understood her responsibility as the owner and boss, she went back to the man. “Here you go. The coffee is hot and strong, and the pie is fresh. Hope you like apple.”
Cross, the man glared up at her. “I do.”
“Excellent.” Violet stayed beside him, even when he made it clear he’d rather be left alone. She didn’t trust him not to start another problem, and if he did, she wanted to handle it herself. “You pass through here often?”
“None of your goddamned business.”
She tsked. “You’ve been drinking.”
Red eyes pinned her. “That’s none of your business, either.”
“Ah, but I see your truck out front. That is your truck, isn’t it?”
“So?”
His words didn’t overly slur, but she saw the vagueness in his bloodshot eyes, how he weaved in his seat, how his hand shook. “I assume you expect to leave the way you arrived? Driving?”
“Go bother someone else.”
By the minute he looked less aggressive and more lethargic. Pie and coffee—coffee he didn’t drink—couldn’t make him more inebriated. Then she saw the flask half sticking out of his pants pocket. “Is the pie good? You seem to be enjoying it.”
“It’s all right.”
“My name is Violet.”
“Good for you.”
“And you are?”
He gave her an uncertain look, rubbed his head and muttered, “Wilbur.”
“Do you drink often, Wilbur?”
He shook his head, then caught himself and shouted, “Go away, damn you!”
Instead, Violet sat down across from him. “The problem, Wilbur, is that you’re drunk. It’s not safe for you to drive.”
“Bullshit.” He almost fell over. “I’m fine.”
“I know people who will be in their cars. Family men and women, some of them with kids.”
He pushed aside the empty pie plate and, with her watching, lifted out the flask for another drink. Belligerent, he stared at her as he stuck it back in his pocket.
Or tried to.
“I’m leaving.”
“You haven’t touched your coffee.”
Looking ready to explode, he made a fist—and Violet quickly left her seat. “Wilbur, I called the sheriff. He’ll be here any minute. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you drive.”
“You bitch!”
“I have a feeling,” she said low, “you’ll thank me tomorrow.”
He heaved, impotent fury on his face. Then he shoved out of his seat, holding on to the tabletop to keep from falling, shouting rank curses that caused quite a stir in the seating area.
Hogan never moved, but Violet knew he was there, primed and ready.
She appreciated his restraint.
Then finally Nathan came in. Casual as you please, a man in control, he strode directly toward her. “Sorry, Violet, I was in a meeting. I’ll take care of it now.” When the man almost toppled over, Nathan caught his arm and eased him into his seat.
Fifteen minutes and a lot of shouts later, the man was arrested for disorderly conduct. The second he was out of the diner, Violet escaped to her office. Good Lord, the day was going downhill fast.
She wasn’t sur
prised when Hogan immediately joined her.
He knocked once, opened the door and stepped in. “Hey, you okay?”
She felt just contrary enough to say, “Of course. You?”
Rather than take the bait, he gave her a crooked smile. “I’m a little shook-up.”
Violet stared at him.
Holding out a hand, Hogan said, “Still shaking, mostly because I’m so pissed. I really wanted to level that guy.”
“You’re shaking?”
“Yeah. Adrenaline, you know?”
Amazing. “You didn’t interfere.”
He shrugged. “You had it under control.” Then his brows leveled. “But honest to God, honey, if he’d tried to touch you, I’d have—”
“Interfered,” she finished for him, not really wanting to know what dire thing he might have done, while also appreciating the endearment. Since he’d admitted his own reaction, she blew out a breath. “I’m a little shaken, too, but thank you for not getting involved.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I have to say, though, I’m surprised at your control.”
No longer content with the distance between them, Hogan moved closer and drew her against him. “You made your feelings on it loud and clear with that death glare you sent me. And I get it. It’s your place—your employees and customers watching. Optics matter.”
Well, there was that. But mostly she hadn’t wanted things to escalate, not if she could keep the situation calm. “Thank you again.”
“You want to thank me?” He tipped up her chin...
And another knock sounded on the door. Colt, not so very different from his father, stepped in without waiting for her to answer.
She and Hogan didn’t have time to step apart, and Colt grinned. “Just seeing if you’re okay.”
Pressing out of Hogan’s arms, Violet asked, “Are you talking to me or your dad?”
Laughing, Colt said judiciously, “Both?”
“I’m fine,” she assured him, then waved a hand toward Hogan. “But he’s shook-up.”
Colt came on in. “Yeah, me, too.”
Surprised, Violet stared at him. “You’re...?”
Colt growled, “Man, that guy needed a beat-down!”
Hogan agreed.
The two of them stood there, side by side, both twitching for violence, and she had to laugh. “Like father, like son?”
“He was rude as hell and raising his voice at you,” Hogan said.
“Being drunk isn’t an excuse, either,” Colt added.
Suddenly it occurred to her and her eyes widened. “Who’s watching the grills?”
“Uncle Jason showed up. He’s spelling me.”
Hogan put an arm around his son’s shoulders. “And you were spelling me, so I guess we both better get to work.”
“Wait a minute,” Violet demanded. “Are you saying your whole damn family knows your secret recipe?”
“Nah,” Colt said. “Jason is just making sure nothing burns.”
When the door closed behind them, Violet dropped into her seat. She’d wanted to ask Hogan about that piece in the Trickle, but not in front of Colt. And now his brother was out there, too.
She’d have to wait until the evening, when she could finally get him alone. Which meant she had a lot more hours to stew.
Or so she thought.
* * *
Hogan stared at the paper Jason held, denying what he said. “No.”
“Yup.”
“But she’s my boss, not a woman I’d date, and she was only in my house for half an hour!”
Jason shrugged. “Advice Anonymous knows all about it.”
“Damn it, it was bad enough when...”
Honor perked up. “When what?”
Lexie laughed. “You didn’t see?” She bobbed her eyebrows. “The ladies want your brother-in-law to do his magic, sans shirt.”
“Can’t you shut her up, Sullivan?”
Sullivan grinned. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Will you do it?” Honor asked.
Jason snorted. “You know he’s not.”
“At least that whole thing was a joke. But this...” Furious, Hogan turned to adjust the ribs on the grills, added more sauce to one slab, then snatched the paper away from his brother and dropped onto the very padded cushion Violet had put in his wrought iron chair.
At his table. With the sign.
Under the massive rainbow umbrella.
As he read, he could feel the stares of Sullivan and Lexie, Jason and Honor. Had Violet seen the stupid column with the very inaccurate account of his supposed “date”? Who the hell dated at nine o’clock in the morning?
If she’d seen it, Violet hadn’t said anything. Did that mean she trusted him?
Hogan shook his head at his own thinking. Their relationship was so open-ended as to be nonexistent. They didn’t have an understanding, so trust wasn’t involved. He’d stupidly offered her two weeks to think about things, and while he’d expected to suffer celibacy for that entire time, would she know that?
His reputation hadn’t been the best, not since coming to Clearbrook. How many times had Violet teased him about chasing from one woman to the next? One-night stands, a string of them, didn’t exactly make him trustworthy material.
Honor said softly, “Your ribs are on fire.”
“Damn it.” Tossing the paper aside, Hogan jumped up and used his water bottle to douse the flames. A quick check and he announced, “Nothing burned. Thanks, Honor, for letting me know.”
She came closer. “You okay?”
“What? Oh, yeah. Fine.” Annoyed, definitely. He didn’t like being the topic of gossip in a local paper. But he’d explain to Violet. She wasn’t unreasonable. Hell, in most cases she was amazing.
The way she’d handled that drunk earlier made him ridiculously proud. He started to smile, remembering it.
Suddenly Jason cleared his throat and said low, “Incoming.”
Hogan looked up—and there was Joni bearing down on him, a fat smile on her face as if he were a long-lost friend. He stared at her, surprised at seeing her in skintight jeans and a top so low-cut it looked like she might spill out. Wondering if he could still escape, knowing he couldn’t, he almost groaned.
It needed only this.
“Hogan!” She rushed right up to him, grabbing him in a hug that squashed her boobs to his chest. Taken off guard, he didn’t block her or move away quickly enough.
Quickly Hogan set aside his tongs, and then eased her back a few steps. “Joni. You’re here.”
“As are you.” She laughed. “I didn’t realize you ate here. I saw the place the other day when I visited you and it looked...interesting.”
At her mention of the visit, his small audience went more alert. He could almost hear them piecing things together, deciding that she was the one in the Trickle.
Joni’s gaze went over his face, his chest, then more slowly, his apron and the grills behind him. Her expression stilled. “What are you doing?”
Damn, damn, damn. He turned, saying, “Joni, this is my brother, Jason, and his wife, Honor. Our friends Sullivan and Lexie.”
Everyone stood, taking a minute to say hello, chatting to her, making quick conversation—mostly giving him a chance to get his thoughts together.
It wasn’t happening. His brain was blank.
Dismissing the others in her usual pushy, single-minded way, Joni faced off with Hogan. “Tell me you’re not working here.”
He racked his brain, still came up blank and shook his head. “Can’t.”
“Can’t what?” she demanded.
“Can’t tell you I’m not working here, because obviously I am.” Almost laughing at the absurd sit
uation, he gestured at the sign Violet had affixed to his table. “I’m the Barbecue Master.”
The others immediately jumped in, praising him, bouncing back and forth from his skills with accounting to his skills with the grills.
The entire situation felt bizarre and ridiculous, and he knew it couldn’t get much worse.
When Violet showed up, Colt in tow, Hogan threw up his hands.
“What’s going on?” Violet demanded, looking all kinds of suspicious as she took in how close Joni stood to him.
Joni gave her a single glance and dismissed her as unimportant. “You work for me,” she said to Hogan. “You can’t moonlight.”
“I don’t recall you mentioning that in the interview.”
“Because I never would have guessed...” She put her hands on her full hips. “But it’s a fact,” she snapped. “An accountant does not take a second job, not in a diner, for God’s sake.”
Very deliberately, Hogan avoided Violet’s gaze. “Why don’t we discuss any conflicts tomorrow in the office? I can even come in an hour early.”
“I think we should talk right now.” She took hold of his arm, ready to lead him away.
Hogan held his ground. “Tonight I am working here, and I can’t just leave.”
“You could quit,” Joni pointed out. “Who would care? You don’t need this job.”
“Now, wait just a minute,” Violet said. “I would care.”
“This isn’t the place to talk.” Hogan tried giving Violet the same look she’d sent to him earlier, a look that said “butt out,” but she completely disregarded it.
“Hogan can’t walk off right now.” She flapped a stack of small papers in the air. “We have orders to fill.”
Joni didn’t even acknowledge her, and she didn’t release Hogan. “If it’s for the extra pay, I can take care of that.” Leaning closer, she whispered, “Come with me now. I’ll give you a raise.”
Hogan caught her hands and set her away from him. “Joni—”
“A raise,” she stated, “plus more benefits.”
Violet gasped.
Damn. He wanted to know the details of the benefits, but as he’d said, this wasn’t the place to talk, so instead, he asked, “Why now?”