by Angel Smits
He could tell her about the money. And what? Buy her interest in Mac? No, that wasn’t why he’d come here. If that were the case, he could have sent her the safety deposit box key with a note, or maybe simply a check, and been done with it.
No, he’d come here to finish Mac’s dream. Jace wanted her to know the Mac he’d known.
He’d been tempted to follow her through the open door, but he’d hesitated long enough for a bit of common sense and self-preservation to take hold. He’d go back later. Give her time to digest the knowledge that her father hadn’t forgotten her.
Jace looked down the street at the store again. When was later?
Rick appeared in the doorway just then, thankfully distracting him.
“Hey. You hear anything from Gilcrest?” Jace asked.
“Yeah. Clyde’s coming over here to see Gavin. He’s the sheriff over there, and Lonnie, who owns the parts store, stuck ’em in the squad car. Clyde’ll drop ’em off in the next half hour or so.”
Only in a small town. Some things never changed. “Great. Thanks.” He headed to the bike and knelt down beside it. Time to remove the busted parts to make room for the new.
“You need any help?” Rick stepped closer.
“Not yet, but I can probably use another pair of hands later.”
“Sure, just holler.”
Rick moved away, but Jace could tell he wanted to ask questions. Since it was his garage, Jace couldn’t exactly ask him to leave, so he kept working and waited. He crouched beside the bike, trying to get to the spark plugs, which wasn’t an easy task. Finally, Rick went back into the office.
“Whatcha doin’?”
The little girl’s voice behind him startled Jace. He smacked a knuckle and bit back a curse before glancing over his shoulder. Katie stood in the doorway.
“Fixing the motor.” He didn’t think she was really looking for details. He didn’t know too many six-year-old girls who were interested in fixing an engine, but you never knew.
“Did you break it?”
“Uh, not intentionally.” He fought back a smile. Life with this kid must be a real treat. “I should have fixed it sooner, though.”
“Is Mr. Rick helping you?”
“Yeah. Hey, hand me that wrench over there.”
“This one?”
“No, the next one over.”
The girl scooted over the grease-coated floor on her knees to the pile of wrenches. Jace cringed, hoping her mother wouldn’t kill him for the state of her pink jeans. Maybe he’d better not ask her to get anything else.
He took the wrench and wedged it into the narrow space.
“You like riding a motorcycle?”
“Yeah. It’s fun.”
“I don’t think Mama would let me ride it.”
Jace grinned at the engine. “My mom didn’t like me riding them, either.”
“Really? How come she lets you now?”
Jace sucked in a breath. What was that saying about “out of the mouths of babes”? “I’m grown-up now. I don’t have to do what my mom says.” That sounded rather defiant, he realized. Probably not the best influence.
“I’ll be glad when I’m grown-up.” There was a glum note to Katie’s voice and Jace finally looked away from the engine. She sat only a few feet from him, her legs crossed and her elbows on her knees. She rested her chin in her palms, letting her golden curls dangle forward along her face.
Not good. Not good at all. He was not getting involved in this. But after a while, he realized she wasn’t leaving.
Setting aside the wrench, he grabbed the rag on the floor by the front wheel and started wiping the grease off his hands. “Something on your mind, kiddo?”
He saw her glance up without lifting her head. “Nope.”
“Okay.” He looked at her for a long time before pushing himself to his feet, then went over to the tool chest and rummaged through it. Rick was a pretty neat mechanic, so finding things wasn’t hard. Jace would make sure to put them back the best he could.
“Does your dad like you riding a motorcycle?”
He hadn’t heard her move, but there she stood, right beside him. Startled again, he slammed his thumb in the drawer. “You’re hazardous, kid. What?”
“Does your daddy like your motorcycle?” Katie looked up at him, at once expectant and exasperated that he hadn’t heard her.
“My dad died a long time ago.” His father had been gone so long the answer was practically rote. He wondered why he hadn’t told her that his mother was gone, too.
“Oh, no.” Katie looked sad and stepped closer to him. “I guess that makes you like me.”
“How so?”
“You don’t have a daddy, either.”
Jace wasn’t sure where this conversation was leading, and he really wasn’t sure he should be following it. He hunkered down beside the little girl, meeting her eye to eye. “Look, kiddo. Your mom really cares about you.” He wondered where the next land mine was.
“I know that.” Katie frowned at him.
“So, I think maybe having a dad isn’t as important as having a great mom.” He swallowed hard. He wished someone had told him that once upon a time.
Katie gazed at him, tilting her head just a little to the side. “How do you know?”
“Well, because I wasn’t so smart when I was a kid. I ran away from home thinking I’d be better off on my own. I was wrong.”
Katie seemed to think about what he said. “But how will I know, if I don’t have a daddy to compare with?”
Jace sighed. This was getting him nowhere. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to talk to her about. He’d never been around many kids and he certainly wasn’t good with them. Maybe if he distracted her...
“Okay, how about you help me fix my bike and we’ll discuss this later.”
Katie frowned at him, then spun away. “You sound just like Mom.”
“Really? I didn’t know my voice was that high.”
Katie giggled, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad he wasn’t going to be around when she got older. Amy was definitely going to have her hands full.
* * *
AMY FROZE. IN the far bay of Rick’s garage, Jace knelt beside his broken monster motorcycle. He leaned down, making his shoulders look impossibly broad. The muscles in his back bunched as he struggled with some part or bolt, trying to get it loose. His torso narrowed to where his jeans stretched taut—
A flash of pink broke the spell and Amy’s stomach dropped. Katie was there with him, a broad smile on her face as she jabbered a mile a minute, as usual.
Amy’s anger flared. Not only had Katie not come directly home from the bus, as she’d been repeatedly told to do, but Amy wanted to kick herself for noticing the man before she’d noticed her daughter.
Her step quickened and she reached them just as Katie was handing Jace a wrench. “Mama! Jace is letting me help.”
Her excitement was too sweet to banish, but Amy needed to be the good mom now and take control. “That’s nice, sweetie, but you know you’re supposed to come straight home from the bus.”
“But I always stop and see Rick on the way home.”
It was on the way, Amy had to admit, though she didn’t say it out loud.
Slowly, Jace rose to his feet, and Amy’s heart quickened. He was so tall she had to tip her head back to look at him. The shoulders she’d been admiring earlier blocked the entire world from her view.
She moved closer to Katie. “Let’s head home.” She tried to guide her by the shoulders.
“But, Mama, can’t I stay? You can take my backpack home. You know where I am.”
“You need to change into your play clothes.”
“Can I come back?”
“I don’t th
ink—”
“You go on with your mom. I’ve got to go get some, uh, more stuff,” Jace interrupted, blatantly lying to Katie.
What was he trying to do? Amy was doing just fine taking care of her daughter. She didn’t need his help.
“Okay.” Katie’s voice dipped with disappointment and she seemed to wilt. Amy could swear she actually saw the gears work in her daughter’s head. She watched Katie’s head snap up and her smile return. “Will you be here tomorrow?”
“Katie.”
“Sure.”
Amy and Jace both spoke at once. Katie looked back and forth between the two of them expectantly.
Amy scrambled for any reason to give her daughter that made sense. All she got was a whole lot of blank. Only the fact that he was a stranger. A very disturbing stranger. A stranger she had questions for.
“Please, Mama? I really like the motorcycle.”
Oh, Katie was in high gear today. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” Amy said before thinking. In one statement she’d made her daughter frown and obviously insulted the man.
“Mama. Can’t I? Please?”
Jace stood there, silent, regarding them with a guarded expression.
“Katie, little girls don’t usually work on motorcycles.” Amy tried again.
“She’s no problem, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” she snapped. Katie and Jace both stared at her.
He leaned back, wiping his hands on the already greasy rag. “Ah,” he finally said, with a chagrined look on his face. “It’s not Katie, it’s me.” He turned slowly and tossed the rag into the bucket beside the workbench. He didn’t look at her, instead lowering his gaze to Katie. “Go on with your mom, kiddo,” he urged softly.
“But, Mr. Jace...”
“Katie, it’s okay.” His voice sounded sad and soothing all at the same time.
Amy found her voice. “Go on, Katie. I’m right behind you.”
“Okay.” Katie dragged out the word with a sigh. “Thanks, Mr. Jace.” She headed to the door as if her tennis shoes were suddenly weighted down.
Amy waited until Katie had cleared the doorway. Then she turned on him. How dare he interfere in her life so easily?
“Don’t even say what you’re thinking.” Jace bit out the words and stalked over to the bike. He turned his back on her and knelt beside it, dismissing her.
“She’s too young for this. I don’t want her to know anything about my father.”
Jace spun around all too violently. He didn’t stand, but he somehow managed to intimidate her. “Do you really think I’d do something like that?” He finally uncoiled, rising to his full height again, towering over her. “She’s a great kid. I’d never, ever hurt her, and if you choose not to believe that, you can go to hell. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“I don’t even know you. But you come here, butting into my life, without being asked, telling me about a father I never knew.” Amy took a deep breath, waiting for him to say something. He remained silent. “You have no right.”
“He was a good man,” Jace whispered.
“Men who abandon their families and end up dying homeless on the streets are not good men, Mr. Holmes.”
Jace didn’t return to the big motorcycle, but stalked out into the desert sunlight. She watched him go, hearing his boot heels echoing on the cement long after he’d left.
She spun around, intent on going home, but found Rick standing in the doorway.
Her heart sank. Great. Now everyone in town would know.
CHAPTER FIVE
THERE WOULDN’T BE ANY sleep tonight. Amy tried and failed to calm the thoughts rioting in her mind. Her father. Her mother. Attorneys and estates. Tall handsome men and motorcycles.
Katie, on the other hand, was sound asleep after another busy day. Amy stood in the doorway of her daughter’s darkened bedroom, watching her. Katie was her world, and leaving her alone for even a moment was hard.
She was the reason for everything Amy did. Slowly, she closed the door and headed for the stairs.
She clipped the baby monitor to her hip, then quietly closed the back door and locked it. She was only going next door, and Katie knew how to call her if she woke up. It was less than a few yards, but every time Amy did this, she battled guilt.
With each step she took, each weed she tromped, the voice in her head screamed, No! Go back. Be a good mom. Stay with your baby.
And with every other step, Amy reminded herself that she needed to do this. That by doing so, she was being a good mom. She needed to make money to support herself and Katie. While the store did well, and the meager child support checks each month kept them afloat, Hank’s visit with the tax papers only increased the urgency.
She opened the back door of the café. Caryn had given her a key and her blessing to use the big, industrial kitchen after hours. The diner itself closed at nine. Though Caryn opened the bar in back from nine to two every night, she didn’t use the kitchen.
It was Amy’s to do with as she pleased, and she set to work with a sigh of resignation.
The single light over the sink lit nearly half the kitchen with a blue-tinged fluorescent glow. One small cabinet in the back was where Amy kept her things. Her mom’s old cookbooks and worn recipe cards were safe here.
As always, she pulled out one of the books and ran a loving hand over the spine. Of all the things from the ranch, these were all she wanted to keep. These half-dozen well-worn, ratty cookbooks were her mother’s true legacy. Cooking and catering was how Madeline had supported them when Amy was small. Amy had been trying ever since to do the same for her own daughter.
She kept praying these old books would reveal her mother’s secret to being such a good cook. So, two or three nights a week, after Katie went to bed, Amy came over here and practiced, trying different recipes, experimenting.
And failing.
Nothing tasted the way it had when her mom made it. Some of what Amy produced was downright horrible. So far, she’d managed to perfect two types of cookies she could sell in the store.
Winding through Caryn’s spotless kitchen with the book in her arms, she thought of her own minuscule kitchen, and some of the joy went out of her. She glanced at the back door, wishing she could do this at home. She wouldn’t worry so much about Katie that way, but she didn’t have a real space to work in. The apartment’s kitchen was definitely an afterthought, a couple of appliances and a table thrown in the corner of the living room.
It was so unlike the big hacienda kitchen out at the ranch that had been Amy’s favorite place as a kid. She missed the smell of fresh baked bread, fried food and the warm chili that always sat on the back of the stove.
Amy sighed. She wasn’t the cook her mother had been, not even close. Maybe if she used the ranch kitchen... No. That wasn’t an option. Just thinking about it made her shiver.
Madeline had been diagnosed with cancer when Amy was thirteen, old enough to learn to cook. By then, Madeline didn’t have the energy to teach her, and she’d never regained it.
Panic over the bills made Amy keep trying, and she set to work now. She didn’t have time for emotions. Morning would come all too soon.
* * *
JACE DESCENDED THE narrow stairs quickly. The shower had cleaned off the dust and grime of the day, but did little to ease the intense heat. The house’s air-conditioning almost tempted him to consider sleeping inside tonight. Almost.
But before then he had things to accomplish. He’d been in town two days, and while he’d met quite a few people, he’d yet to learn much about Amy. He hoped to chat up Hank a little more and figure out how to approach her again.
Ever since her visit to the garage yesterday he’d been telling himself that he’
d go back later and see if she was more receptive to talking to him.
Stepping into the kitchen, he was surprised to find Rick sitting at the table with Hank. Both men looked up at him, and he wondered what they’d been talking about. “What’d I do now?” he asked, half joking. Hank glared at him. On second thought, maybe he didn’t want to know.
“It’s not so much what you did...” Rick turned around, and while his glare wasn’t nearly as dark, it was still there. “It’s what you didn’t do.”
“And that would be?”
Instead of speaking, Hank tossed a packet of papers onto the countertop. “You came here with a purpose. That’s you on that will, ain’t it?” He jabbed the defenseless papers with a grubby finger.
Jace recognized the documents, though he knew they weren’t the copies he’d stashed in his saddlebags. These were smooth and clean. “Where’d you get those?”
He deliberately strolled over to the coffeemaker and poured himself a cup. He had to admit the old man could make great coffee. Jace waited, and let them stew, let them think about their answer.
“Amy brought them over,” Hank said. “I’ve always taken care of her mother’s business. This was addressed to Maddie.”
Jace refused to get caught up in the small-town nonsense, but alienating these men wouldn’t get him anywhere, either.
He took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. He didn’t feel any obligation to them—until he turned around and faced both men.
What he saw there surprised and pleased him. Concern. Honest to goodness concern for Amy and Katie. He had to respect that.
“Yeah, that’s me. But that’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why the hell did you come here?” Hank didn’t move, but Jace felt his presence from across the room.
“To most men, I’d say that was none of their damned business.” Jace met them both glare for glare. Hank’s big hands shifted into thick fists. Jace had lost enough fights to know the pain that would follow. He also knew that, despite his tough exterior, Hank was an old man who walked with a cane. There was no question who’d win if they went at it.