by Anna Argent
"Your drenched damsel in distress has been here for hours," said Flora.
"Has she eaten?" he asked. If she didn't have money for a room, she might not have enough for food, either.
"Only if you count about six cups of coffee."
He nodded. "Fix both of us up with the works."
Flora nodded and started to walk away. Nate stopped her. "I know how you feel about people taking up your seats without ordering food. Were you nice?"
"Very. Mom would have been proud."
"Thank you."
His little sister stood there as if she had something else to say.
"What?" he asked.
Flora leaned in close and lowered her voice. There were a lot of busybodies in Whisper Lake, and many of them started their day here, soaking in the gossip—or, in some cases, creating it—especially the group of old men Flora referred to as the Coffee Council, who hung out at the diner every morning. What one of them knew, all of them knew. And then they shared with the rest of the town. The process was both swift and efficient, and impressive enough that it nearly rivaled the Tattletale Telegraph.
When he and his siblings had been kids, none of them had been able to get away with anything because someone would always rat them out. No matter how far away from home they were, if they got out of line, they knew there'd be hell to pay as soon as they got home. There was no hiding. The Tattletale Telegraph was faster than any tennis shoe or bike tire ever made.
"There's something going on with her," Flora said.
"What?" asked Nate.
"I don't really want to tell you because I know how you are."
"How am I?" he asked, his tone a dare.
Flora sighed. "You always pick the fixer-uppers. If there's a girl with a problem within five miles, you'll find her and come to her rescue."
"What's wrong with helping people?"
"Nothing. Only you tend to get romantically involved. You like to fix women, but they never stay fixed, and they always end up making you pay in the end. And this one positively reeks of drama."
Ouch. That stung a bit. Sure, Nate seemed to have an uncanny ability to find only broken women, but he hadn't been involved with anyone for a long time. He'd been busy working on getting his own life together—his career, his home, his new project….
He hadn't really had time for a fixer-upper, as Flora had called it.
"Drama? You don't even know her," he said.
"I don't have to. My gut tells me that whatever's freaking her out, it's not good. She's anxious. Jumpy. Not six-cups-of-coffee jumpy, but… I think she's scared."
He patted her on the shoulder. "Don't worry, sis. I got this."
She shook her head. "That's just it. I don't want you to get anything. Just leave her be. Let her go on her merry way and take her trouble with her."
"All I'm doing is buying her breakfast."
"That's where it will start. But I know you, Nate. You have a big heart. She'll give you some sob story and the next thing you know, you'll be bending over backward to fix her problems." She let out a heavy sigh. "Please. Just don't."
"I'm not doing anything. If a poor girl down on her luck doesn't make you care, nothing will."
Flora stiffened her spine. "Most people who are down on their luck are that way because they earned it. Poor life choices. Addiction. Laziness. General assholery. Being realistic doesn't make me cold. It makes me practical. You'd be smart if you followed my example, rather than needing to rescue every damsel in distress you find." She swept away to put in their breakfast order.
Maybe Flora was right. He'd always had a soft spot for a hard luck story. It had cost him more than his share of suffering, mostly in the form of bad employees and lost business. A couple of times he'd lost more than business and had to heal up from heartbreak. But that had been when he was younger and a lot more stupid.
At least he hoped so.
Still, he couldn't stand by and see someone in need without doing something. Sucker or not.
Nate went and claimed the seat next to Hanna. "Good morning."
She jumped with a start, but settled quickly. "Sorry. Too much coffee."
"What's wrong? Didn't sleep well? Lumpy mattress?"
She stared at him for a long second, scrutinizing him. "The mechanic told you I slept in my truck, didn't he?"
Nate shrugged. "He's my cousin. We talked."
"Is there anyone in this town not related to you?"
He gave her his most charming grin. "Sure, but none of them are very interesting."
She cradled her coffee in both hands. "Before I forget to say this—again—I want to thank you for stopping last night. It would have taken me forever to make it into town without a lift—you all should really consider moving that town sign. And having your sister drive me so I wouldn't be freaked out…that was very kind."
"You're welcome."
Mindi, one of Flora's waitresses who'd had a crush on him since high school, came by with a coffee pot in hand. She flipped over the clean mug in front of him and filled it up. Her dark hair was swept back in a shiny ponytail, showing off a row of piercings in both ears. Her nametag was encrusted with rhinestones, and there was a crystal heart over the letters I in her name. She was one of those bubbly people who never really understood just how lacking they were in the brains department. While she was sweet and pretty, there wasn't much else there to intrigue a man like Nate for more than a few nights.
Because he knew it was true, he'd kept his distance, rather than hurt her feelings.
She grinned at him and winked. "You're looking handsome this morning, Nate. Nice of you to drop by and share that with the world."
No matter how many subtle clues Nate gave that he wasn't interested in her, Mindi seemed impervious. "Morning, Mindi. How's your little dog?"
She beamed in delight, nearly quivering with joy. "Bitsie is faaabulous! Gave me two teeny tiny babies that look just like her. I'm having their astrological charts done before I name them so I know what fits their personalities, you know?"
No. He really didn't, but the best way to deal with Mindi was to let her go on until she found something else sparkly to attract her attention.
"I got the puppies coordinating collars, but not too matchy. I don't want them to be embarrassed when the other dogs see them, you know?"
"Very thoughtful of you," said Nate.
While Mindi yammered on about the minute differences between the two dog collars, he was acutely aware of Hanna sitting next to him, studying the exchange, silent and intent.
Nate decided that there was no reason he should have to suffer through astrological charts for puppies alone. "This is my friend Hanna. Hanna, this is Mindi, one of Flora's friends."
"And a waitress," said Mindi, pointing to her very shiny, very obvious name tag.
"Nice to meet you," said Hanna.
"You the one with the wrecked truck?"
Hanna flinched. "He's not wrecked. He's just a bit under the weather. The mechanic is working on it."
"Declan?" Mindi sighed in delight. "He's not as handsome as Nate here, but that bad boy vibe of his…all those Grace menfolk are just yummy, aren't they?" She stroked his cheek, nearly blinding him with her blingtastic fingernails. "I could just eat you all up and sop up what's left with a biscuit. Mmmm."
She blew him a kiss, then bustled off to do whatever it was she did here, besides flirting with the customers.
"Did you call your truck he?" asked Nate.
"His name is Rex." Hanna turned a delightful shade of pink that made him think of the pretty flush a woman got after an orgasm or two.
His cock twitched again, and this time he couldn't convince the thing to let go of the idea it had latched on to. His jeans constricted his erection before it got out of hand, but the damn thing was going to be bruised if it didn't calm the fuck down.
"Rex? Like a dog?" he asked in an effort to distract himself.
"More like a faithful companion. He's seen me through a lot of
years." She sounded wistful, like she was talking about an old friend.
This was his opening—the thing he'd come here to tell her. "You can't sleep it your truck again, Hanna. It's not safe."
She stiffened beside him, and he swore he could feel a wall of ice slam in place between them.
And she'd just started to warm toward him, too.
"Am I breaking some law?" she asked, her voice cold.
"The town's law? Not that I know of. But you're definitely breaking mine."
"I didn't realize you could just make up laws whenever you pleased." She turned to him, fury brightening her pretty gray eyes. Her pink flush deepened to an angry red.
"We help people in need around here, and you're clearly in need."
"Says who?"
"You slept in your truck. That implies you have no other options."
"Maybe I like it there."
Just as he was about to open his mouth, Flora came out wielding a huge tray filled with food. "Here's your breakfast."
She started setting plates in front of Hanna.
"I didn't order any of this."
"I did," said Nate. "Eat up."
By the time Flora was done unloading her tray, there wasn't an empty bit of counter space in front of them to be had. There were eggs, bacon, grits, biscuits and gravy, and a stack of buttered pancakes. "Thanks, sis. This all looks great."
"Please take it back," said Hanna quietly. "I'm really not hungry."
Flora shook her head. "Sorry, honey. Once the food is out, it can't go back. You might as well eat it. Otherwise I'll have to throw it away." She gave Nate a hard stare. "Besides, you don't want to hurt our helpful Nate's feelings, do you?"
Hanna sighed, but shook her head slightly.
Nate picked up his fork and dug in. He had a long day ahead of him, and didn't know when he might get a chance to eat again.
He felt Hanna beside him, her smaller body so still and uncertain. Her fork lay in its napkin cocoon, untouched.
"I can't eat all of this by myself," he said. "Eat."
Her tone was quiet and ashamed as she admitted, "I can't afford it."
His heart squeezed a little at the thought of her doing without. If she couldn't pay for breakfast, how in the world was she going to make it until supper?
"It's my treat," he said, being careful not to let any of his sympathy work its way into his tone. "Consider it my way of making up for scaring you last night."
"I'm the one who should be sorry for being such a baby."
"You were being cautious. That's a good thing for a beautiful young woman on the road alone to be. Now eat."
That pink shade painted her skin again, but she picked up her fork and unwrapped it. The paper napkin went on her lap, and she hesitated with her fork poised over her plate as if searching for where to begin.
Nate focused on his own food, hoping she'd just start eating. Something. Anything.
"I talked to Declan about your truck. He said the repairs are going to take a while."
Her shoulders fell in utter despair. The bite of biscuits and gravy she'd forked up dropped back to the plate. "Oh. He hadn't told me that yet. I was headed over there in a little while to see what the damage was going to be."
"I don't think he knows yet. He made it sound like the project would take days." He glanced at her and saw her fork trembling in her hand. He wanted to believe that it was too much coffee, but he was pretty sure that it had more to do with nerves.
I think she's scared. Flora's words haunted him, reminding him that there were dark places outside of the comforts of Whisper Lake—dark places where bad things happened to good people.
Nate had always been a sucker for a woman in need. It had landed him in trouble more than once, but he still hadn't learned his lesson after twenty-eight years of trying.
If Hanna was in trouble, he knew he'd end up with his nose shoved right into it. Might as well just dive in and accept his fate. Even if it meant putting up with his little sister's I-told-you-sos.
"I don't have days," she said. "I'm starting a new job soon and needed those days to find a place to live."
"Declan won't drag his heels, but he won't let anything out of his garage that isn't safe, either. If there's even a slight risk of you breaking down again, he'll keep working."
She went still beside Nate. The only part of her that moved was her eyelids, which closed in defeat.
As much as he hated embarrassing her, it was best if they just got this out in the open. "Am I right in assuming that if you can't afford breakfast, you're going to have a hard time paying for repairs?"
She nodded slightly. "I'll think of something. I always do."
The words were out of his mouth before he could think about Flora's warning against getting involved. "Would you like a job?"
Hanna laughed, but the sound held no humor, no music. Just bleak acceptance. "Sure, I'll take two, because those are in such great supply these days."
She thought he was joking? "I'm serious. I own a couple of business around town. My family owns a few more. One of us is always looking for good help during summer tourist season." He forked up a bite of biscuits and gravy. "Are you good help?"
Her hand went still in the act of picking up a slice of bacon. "I have a job."
"Here?"
"No. In Oklahoma City."
"I hate to be a downer, but how are you going to get there if you can't even afford food? What about gas?"
"I'm working on it."
"Ah. Waiting on your folks to wire you some money?"
She jerked as if he'd slapped her. "What? No. Of course not."
"It's not a ridiculous guess, you know. Parents do help their grown children on occasion."
"Not mine."
He thought about prying. Hell, he wanted to pry. But that wasn't the way to win the war. All that would do was appease his curiosity, which, if he played his cards right would be satisfied soon enough.
He didn't understand why he cared, but there was something about her that made him want to know everything.
I think she's scared.
Yeah. He was definitely going to learn everything he could about her. Like it or not.
Sucker or not.
"Okay. Then what is the plan you're working on?" he asked.
She sat there silent for a while, toying with her bacon.
"Nothing yet?" he asked, his tone one of feigned innocence.
She turned and looked him right in the eyes. "Were you serious about that job offer?"
"I was. Flora could probably use some more help here, seeing as how we're in the middle of the tourist season at the lake. Normally I'd offer you a job as a maid at the motel—lots of turnover there—but I just hired someone last week." Another hard luck story that had come through town—only she was in her forties with two kids to feed. He couldn't turn her away. "I have a job site that needs to be cleared of trash. And if you can do laundry, my friend was hoping to take a vacation for a couple of weeks. She runs a laundry service."
Hanna perked up a little. "I'd be happy with any of those jobs if they can pay for repairs and get me back on the road. But I'll be leaving the second Rex is well, so I don't want anyone to count on me to stay long—like to take a vacation."
"So, what is the job waiting for you in Oklahoma City?"
She shrugged. "It's a materials management position for a manufacturing firm. While it's nothing glamorous, the job is stable and the pay is good."
"Is that what you did wherever it is you come from?"
"Cincinnati. And no. I ran a business there."
"What kind?"
His innocent question must have caught her as intrusive, because she bristled beside him. "Does it matter? I can clean toilets, pick up trash and fold towels with the best of them."
She had a point.
"Finish your breakfast. I've got something you can do and walk away from whenever your truck is done—no harm, no foul. Unless, of course, you think I'm going to lock you in
the basement with my other captives."
She rolled her eyes at his joke, but offered him a grin to ease the sting.
As she ate, Nate mentally rearranged his day again. This unplanned outing was going to complicate things, but he was looking forward to spending time with the curvy little Hanna far too much to let the opportunity slip by.
In fact, it had been a long time since he'd looked forward to anything quite so much.
In the back of his mind he wondered if his sister was right. He was once again bending over backward to help some damsel in distress. Chances were, it was going to end the way it always did.
Badly.
Chapter Four
Hanna was in love.
She stared up at the aging painted lady and sighed. "So beautiful."
Nate chuckled. "It's not exactly the response I get from most people when I assign them to trash duty."
"That's because they don't see what I do."
He moved close enough that she could feel his cool shadow shield her from the morning sun. "And what is that?"
She looked at the peeling paint on the old Victorian home, the sagging roof and rotted porch. The fish scales were in rough shape, as was the dentil molding. Some of the gingerbread trim was simply missing, and what was there might disintegrate at the lightest touch. The yard was an explosion of weeds and trash, and there were cracks in the mortar between the foundation bricks.
In general, it was a wreck. And she absolutely loved it.
"I see hope," she said. "The potential for something beautiful. Something whole that will stand the test of time if someone gives it enough love and attention."
He was staring at Hanna now, and she couldn't help but force her gaze from the three-story home to the equally impressive man standing beside her.
His green eyes moved over her face as if absorbing every little detail. "That's what I see, too. None of my friends or family seem to understand. They think I should tear this place down and build something new."
His family was dead wrong, but saying so seemed like an insult to the people he loved, so she kept her mouth shut. "What can I do to help?"
He waved one muscular arm toward the lawn. "A bunch of kids threw a party here last weekend, and the trash is blowing all over town. I need you to clean it up. Think you can handle that?"