by Liz Talley
Tyson climbed into his old pickup, noting that the Texas dust made his truck’s silver paint look dirty gray. A few empty coffee cups from a gas station still sat in the cupholders and he needed to sweep out the gum wrappers that had fallen to the dusty floormats. Thank God, Nellie hadn’t had her baby in here.
He parked near a group of medical offices and headed toward the hospital. Just as he crossed the landscaped path two things happened.
First, Dawn emerged from the open E.R., her smile radiant, her eyes dancing. She opened her mouth and yelled, “It’s a girl!”
Second, a huge F250 roared into the parking lot with a Longview police cruiser following. Blue lights flashed, tires squealed and a disheveled dark-haired man sprang from the truck and flew toward the E.R.
Jack Darby had finally reached Longview.
In record time, no doubt.
CHAPTER THREE
DAWN WATCHED AS NELLIE stroked the face of her newborn daughter and remembered the first time she’d held her own son. Only a little fuzzy hair was visible above the tightly bound blanket.
“Can you believe it’s a girl?” Nellie said, smiling serenely, not taking her eyes from the bundle in her arms. She softened her voice and murmured to the baby.
“And all this time we were calling you a boy. So sorry, sweet girl.”
Dawn smiled at her sister-in-law, feeling both incredibly happy and exhausted. Amazingly, her headache had disappeared. “I can’t believe a lot of things that happened today.”
Jack rubbed a hand over his face as he peered at Nellie and the baby. “You think she’s going to cause this sort of a ruckus all the time?”
Jack seemed to have permanent shock etched on his face, and she wondered if he might have acquired a few gray hairs over the past hour. It would serve her too-handsome brother right. With Nellie having been so close to her due date, the man should have had his cell phone plastered to his hand. Instead he’d left it in his truck. Luckily, he’d been at a farm just outside Longview when he’d found out Nellie was en route to the hospital.
“No,” Dawn said, walking over to the stretcher. She looked down at the red-faced baby sleeping peacefully after her traumatic entry into the world. “She’s going to be the sun rising and setting for you, little brother.”
Jack’s face emoted into pure love. “For once, I won’t argue with you.”
Dawn gave her brother a good-natured punch on his arm and looked over to where Tyson stood by the emergency-room curtain. The man didn’t look comfortable, but he didn’t seem particularly uncomfortable, either. She wondered why she had wanted him to stay. She could have handled everything by herself. But something about Tyson seemed rock-steady and for a few moments, she’d needed his strength.
“Hey, Tyson, let me buy you a cup of coffee.” She at least owed him that. The man had gone above and beyond. Besides, the hospital staff was about to move Nellie to a private room and Dawn could really use a break.
Tyson glanced at Nellie. “Sure. I could use a good cup of coffee. Jack?”
But neither Jack nor Nellie paid the least attention to anything other than their baby, lost in the little world they had created.
Dawn’s heart pinged.
She glanced back at Tyson and his eyes met hers. He felt the poignancy of the moment, too. She jerked her head toward the exit.
They slipped from the emergency room and headed toward the cafeteria. Her sandals clacked on the polished hospital floor, echoing down the corridor. The sound seemed to heighten the silence between them.
She searched for something to say, but words wouldn’t come. The adrenaline that had surged through her body during the past few hours had deserted her, leaving her limbs feeling shaky. She needed to sit down, have something to drink and force her body to relax.
They reached the cafeteria and Tyson frowned at the door.
“What?” Dawn said.
“Closed five minutes ago.”
Dawn sighed. “Well, maybe there’s a soda machine. I could use a shot of something.”
“If I remember correctly, we passed a Starbucks when we got off 259. Let’s grab a cup there.”
Dawn wavered. She didn’t want to leave the hospital. Nellie and Jack might need her help as they got settled in a room. She hadn’t been able to complete any paperwork and wasn’t sure where she’d put Jack’s insurance card.
“Listen, they’re not going to even notice you’re gone. She’s got to be moved to a room, and in my experience that always takes a while. We’ll get coffee and pick up a few things for Nellie, like a toothbrush and something to change into.” Tyson took her elbow and guided her toward the entrance. Obviously, the man wasn’t going to wait for her to argue.
And she had no real reason to fight against his suggestion, so she allowed herself to be pulled toward the double glass doors. His hand on her bare arm felt nice—warm on skin that had grown cold in the hospital’s overzealous air-conditioning. But what was even nicer was the thoughtfulness he displayed. Most men wouldn’t have bothered to think about Nellie’s needs. Still, that didn’t mean Tyson was even on her “guy” radar.
He so wasn’t.
They stepped into the glow of the evening as an ambulance came screeching around the corner, lights flashing and siren wailing. Tyson stiffened and dropped her arm. His eyes met hers and something dark flashed within.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, fine,” he said, stepping onto the flagstone path leading to the parking lot. “I served a tour in Iraq with the National Guard. The sound of an ambulance always does that to me. Police sirens, too.”
“Oh,” Dawn said, tracing his footsteps. She didn’t know whether his statement invited further questions or not. Many veterans of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were tight-lipped about what they experienced in the deserts and mountains overseas. She wasn’t sure it was good they didn’t talk about their experiences, but she understood not wanting to relive an awful time. It was human nature, plain and simple.
“Not that the sirens sound like the ones I heard. Just reminds me of things I’d rather forget,” he said, digging into his pocket for his keys. She watched his broad shoulders ripple with the motion. He was tall, slightly taller than her brother, but his breadth made him seem much larger.
She couldn’t stop herself from asking the question. “Were you injured?”
Silence swelled between them before he said, “Only slightly. I took a bit of shrapnel in my shoulder. I was one of the lucky ones.”
Which Dawn took to imply that there were others in his unit who were not so fortunate. Damn. This man had been injured in places no one could see. That much was evident to her. She decided not to pursue the conversation any further until they knew each other better. If they got to know each other better.
“I’m glad you weren’t hurt too badly,” she said as they reached the truck. “Now, which way to Starbucks? I seriously need a shot of espresso.”
He unlocked his door and climbed inside, popping the lock on her side of the truck. “Sorry, I should’ve opened the door for you.”
Dawn shrugged. “It’s not a date.”
“Right,” he said, shoving the key into the ignition.
Dawn slid into the sun-warmed interior, aware for the first time how much the cab smelled of him. There were no greasy bags of food on the floor or flyers peppering the dash like in so many guys’ trucks. It was virtually clean except for two disposable coffee cups sitting in the cup holders and a few gum wrappers. She inhaled the scent of sandalwood, so manly and so unlike the ocean-breeze scent she had in her own car.
They rode in silence, and seeing the familiar sign, Tyson pulled into a parking spot outside the door. When Dawn entered the café, she felt calm for the first time that day. Something about the familiarity, the jazz flooding the speakers and the half-burned smell of espresso soothed away the anxiety of the past few hours.
She sighed and allowed her shoulders to relax.
“Right choice, I can see
,” Tyson said in her ear.
She started at his voice so close behind her. His baritone sounded as warm as he seemed. In fact, everything about him radiated warmth. Honey hair, honey smile, honeyed words. For a moment, she longed to lean against him and to feel his solid body against her. She knew how he’d feel—hard and good. She took a teensy step back before she caught herself and moved toward the Order Here sign.
“Absolutely,” she murmured, perusing the menu board above the barista who was busy steaming milk. Dawn ordered a café americano with an extra shot and a low-fat blueberry muffin then gestured for Tyson to order. “Go ahead. I’m buying.”
He shook his head.
“I insist,” she said, before realizing she couldn’t pay. She’d left Oak Stand without her purse. “Uh, wait. In all the hubbub, I left my purse.” She felt stupid. How could it have slipped her mind she didn’t have money? She hated that feeling. Being so out of control. At someone else’s mercy.
“Don’t worry,” he said, sliding a credit card from his wallet and ordering a black coffee. “And don’t think I won’t take you up on owing me. I’m pretty partial to a good caffeine fix.”
Dawn gave him a sheepish smile and found a small table near the window. She sank into the straight-backed chair and sighed. Sitting there felt like heaven. A minute later, Tyson set her drink and muffin in front of her. She took a sip and closed her eyes.
“So that’s what it takes to make a woman sigh like that. I’ve been doing it all wrong,” Tyson said, as he sat.
Dawn opened one eye. Was he flirting? He struck her as more the easygoing than flirty type. But every guy had a little flirt in him, though Tyson didn’t seem to need it. His smiles were so delectable, they made her toes curl.
Stop, she told herself. “Yep, just give a girl a delicious cup of coffee. Now that you know the secret, you can’t tell.”
“I feel privileged.”
A comfortable silence fell between them. The café wasn’t particularly busy at the moment. No doubt business would pick up as couples stopped by for after-movie lattes and teens gathered for legal stimulants. Dawn missed this aspect of city living.
“So about the job, I think it’s pretty much yours.” In all the chaos, they hadn’t had the opportunity to talk about the center. “When Nellie heard you were moving back and starting a contracting business, she’d already signed you up in her head. It’s a safe bet she’ll hire the dude who rushed her to the hospital and spared her delivering her firstborn on the front steps.”
Tyson smiled. “I won’t hold you to that.”
“But you do want the job?”
He took a swallow of coffee and the muscles in his neck rippled, drawing her attention to the opening of the polo shirt he wore. It was mossy green with a red crawfish on the left breast, and the rich color heightened his amber eyes. “I want the job.”
“Good,” she said, tearing her eyes from assessing the breadth of his shoulders. “I have a few things I’d like to suggest in remodeling the space.”
“Shoot,” he said, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the table. At that moment, she didn’t think she’d ever seen a man look so intense and yummy at the same time. The attraction hit her like a triple-shot espresso.
She ignored the sudden spike in her internal temperature. “Currently there are five bedrooms and two bathrooms. I think we can make a general gathering place from three of the bedrooms and one of the baths. I only want to take up half of the floor space. I like the idea of other rooms being available for clients who need rest or aren’t feeling too well. We don’t really have those capabilities on the first floor.”
“Well, it’s hard for me to judge without looking, but I’ll keep your wishes in mind. It’s been a while since I’ve taken on a remodel. I’ve been designing and building entire subdivisions for the past few years. But, I got my start doing remodeling jobs in college, so it’ll come back. Let me look at the space and the blueprints.”
She frowned. “I didn’t think about blueprints. Nellie would have those. No doubt they’re locked in a safe-deposit box at Oak Stand National.”
“You want to commit to a time for meeting and reviewing the structure?”
Dawn tried to picture the calendar in her planner, but her brain felt fuzzy. The planner was her secret crutch, a concrete guideline to keep herself straight and from feeling as though she’d fall apart. Without it, she couldn’t remember. A bazaar was coming up one Saturday in October, but she couldn’t recall which day they’d picked. “I don’t have my calendar with me, and I’m sure Nellie will need a little help. But I think it’s safe to meet next Saturday afternoon.”
“Saturday it is,” he said, draining the last of his drink.
“I have a few things to finish at Sammy Bennett’s place anyway. If you can send the plans to me before then, I’ll get something rudimentary drawn up for a starting point.”
Dawn nodded and mentally highlighted next Saturday, praying she’d remember it. She popped the last of her blueberry muffin into her mouth, took one more swig of her coffee, then pushed back her chair. “I’d like to pick up a few things for Nellie but I’m afraid I’d need to borrow the money. I’ll make sure you get reimbursed.”
“No problem,” he said, rising and stretching. Again, she watched each movement. Damn. Why did the contractor have to be so hunky? She didn’t entirely trust herself to resist this kind of temptation.
“Are you sure?” she stammered, trying to direct her thoughts to her sister-in-law, who was stranded without even a toothbrush.
“Absolutely,” he said, tossing his cup in the trash can beside the door. “I saw a Wal-Mart across the highway. No problem to swing by there.”
And Dawn believed him. Tyson seemed the kind who handled everything in an unruffled manner, as though nothing got under his skin. As though he was as steady as the rain starting to fall outside. The man was like jazz, black coffee and faithful dogs. Totally mellow. Likeable. And likely to bring you back for more.
And that was the consolation in the whole attraction thing she had going for him. She didn’t like the slow, steady guys, no matter how great they looked in piqué polo shirts. She liked the flashy types, the ones who pressed their advantage, who sent overblown roses and bought her girly drinks designed to make her drop her panties. She liked guys who played it fast and loose. Guys who were totally unreliable at everything except breaking her heart.
Falling for those unreliable ones had been her modus operandi from the moment she first noticed boys.
So she wouldn’t have a problem with Tyson. He had safe and dependable stamped all over his delicious body. He probably had a first-aid kit in his truck and a condom in his wallet.
No, Tyson Hart wasn’t her type at all.
There would be no problem with having him working above her every day, lifting boards with his big, strong arms and taking off his shirt when it got too hot.
She swallowed hard at the thought of Tyson’s bared chest.
Stop it, Dawn. Stop picturing the man as a man. He’s a contractor. Period.
The contractor in question swung open the door of the coffeehouse and allowed her to pass. She ignored the loose grace of his walk. She ignored the way the truck smelled like him. She ignored the way his arm brushed her shoulder when he threw it over the seat to look behind him as he reversed out of the parking lot.
She sighed in self-congratulation and crossed her legs. Her sandal kicked something underneath the bench seat. She leaned down and saw a first-aid kit lying at her feet.
Bingo.
CHAPTER FOUR
TWO THINGS STRUCK TYSON as he walked up the drive toward Tucker House the following Saturday. Elderly people had more energy than he thought. And Dawn Taggart looked extremely hot.
The front lawn was covered with several tables sporting old-fashioned checked tablecloths. He wasn’t certain what was going on, but he spotted several plants clustered on tables and assorted blue-haired ladies in aprons scurrying around. Of cou
rse, the highlight was the peek of Dawn he’d caught before she disappeared around the corner. Dawn, wearing cutoff jean shorts, a white T-shirt and soap bubbles in her dark hair.
She was barefoot and laughing.
It jolted him unlike any sight in a long time.
“Hey, come on over here and buy some shortbread cookies. I made ’em myself,” a frail bird-like woman called to him. Her blue-veined hand beckoned and the smile on her face had him changing directions and veering toward a table showcasing cakes and cookies.
“I ain’t seen you around here before,” she said, patting her silver bouffant and tossing a look over one shoulder to her friend, who tittered like a wren. Both sets of eyes sparkled beneath the bifocals they wore.
The friend, who wore a striped apron that read “I’m not aging, I’m increasing in value” nodded her head. “I haven’t seen you, either.”
“Well, now, ladies, I don’t mind being the stranger who sweeps into Oak Stand and buys up all these cookies,” he said, giving them his best charming grin.
“Why, Grace, he’s a sweet-talker, just right for me and you, honey,” the silver-headed lady said, setting out several jars of jam.
Grace agreed. “In that case, may I suggest the poppy-seed muffins and the sour cream pound cake? And don’t forget Florence Roberts’s mayhaw jelly. You just can’t buy that off the grocery shelf.”
He stuck out his hand. “Sold. And I’m Tyson Hart. My grandfather—”
“Grady Hart’s grandson. Well, I’ll be darned, Grace. You remember this boy from Sunday school? He’s the one who ate the paste and Dr. Grabel had to give him that ipecac.”
Grace clapped her hands together. “Of course, Ester. He chased girls all over Oak Stand when he came to town each summer. My granddaughter, Becca, was one of ’em.”
Ester peered up at him. “You still a rascal, Tyson?”
He cleared his throat, but was saved from answering by a kid shouting behind him. Which was good because he didn’t want to recall a past that involved consuming paste. Or chasing Becca. Obviously, the impression he’d left on the small town hadn’t been the one he’d hoped.