by Zoe Chant
"I've got this," Dan said, as much to himself as Derek.
For all his reassurances to Derek, he actually hadn't driven much since losing his arm, let alone in the winter. But the pavement was clear and dry, and he parked in one of the mostly empty parking slots downtown, outside a sign that said DeWitt's Diner with a pair of crossed utensils. His bear took notice of that too.
You're always hungry, aren't you? Dan thought at it.
But it had been a while since breakfast.
"Can we get cheeseburgers?" Sandy asked.
"Sure," Dan said, struggling with the buckles on Mina's car seat. "If you give me a hand unstrapping your sister here."
Soon he had Mina out of her seat, and the handles of Lulu's car seat looped over his prosthesis. The day was continuing to warm up, and some of the snow was melting along the sidewalk. He was glad now that he hadn't let himself stay inside all day. It was a gorgeous day for being outside and looking around the pretty little downtown. The sky was vividly blue overhead. During the entire time he had been getting the kids out of the car, only one other vehicle had passed.
"Cheeseburgers, cheeseburgers," Sandy chanted. He raced ahead to hold the door of the diner for Dan, who had both hands full with the little girls.
A bell on the door tinkled when they walked in. There were bright-colored plastic tables and chairs, and an old-fashioned counter with stools and a board behind it where the day's specials were written, next to a wide-open window showing a glimpse of gleaming silver appliances in the kitchen.
"Be right with you!" a woman's voice called from somewhere in the back, and deep inside Dan, his bear stood up and paid attention.
Sandy had plunked himself down at a booth by the window. Dan found plastic menus in a rack by the counter and scooped up a couple of them before shepherding Mina over to join her brother. He set the baby carrier beside himself on the seat, checked to make sure Lulu seemed to be happy (she was fast asleep with the pacifier in her mouth) and slid a menu across to Sandy.
"I already know what I want," Sandy said impatiently, pushing it aside. "We've been going here since forever. Can I play my game?"
"Yeah, well, it's my first time, kid, so just give me a minute. What game?"
Sandy showed him a handheld plastic device.
"Sure, but you have to stop playing it when the waitress comes to take your order, okay?"
"Mmmmmkay," Sandy said, bending over the device.
Mina squirmed in her seat and then reached for a handful of sugar packets. Dan started to reach across to stop her, forgot he was using the prosthesis, and knocked over the little table-mounted rack holding ketchup and napkins. The ketchup bottle rolled across the table. Dan lunged and caught it with his good hand just as it slipped over the edge of the table. Mina, shocked, started to cry, which woke up Lulu, who also started to cry.
At that moment, the swinging doors to the kitchen opened, and an angel came out, wearing an apron and carrying a coffeepot.
She was perhaps in her mid to late thirties, about Dan's age. Her hair was a spill of brown curls with blonde streaks, pulled back in a messy bun while straggling curls escaped around her face. A spray of freckles spattered her perfect round nose.
And Dan's bear, with impeccable timing, lurched up from deep inside him. Mate! it cried joyfully, the reverberations ringing around his head.
Dan's hand opened. The ketchup bottle slipped from his fingers and smashed on the floor.
Mina stopped crying for a shocked instant and then wailed louder, almost drowning out Lulu.
This was off to a perfect start.
Paula
"Shit," said the unbelievably handsome stranger who had just dropped a full bottle of Heinz 57 on the linoleum floor that Paula had thoroughly mopped last night.
Then the hot stranger, in visible panic, whirled around to the two kids across the table from him. "I need both of you to forget that you just heard me say that."
Wait a minute, those were the Ruger kids. Sandy was in Lissy's fourth-grade class. Paula couldn't remember his little sisters' names off the top of her head, but she definitely recognized the family. Except for the guy. She would definitely remember if she'd seen him before.
Meanwhile, she was just standing here staring at him. From his perspective, it must look like horror at the ketchup mess, not the impressed kind of staring at his shoulders and cheekbones and—ahem. Paula got herself together and marched across the floor with quick taps of her sensible waitress shoes, stepping around the shattered bottle. At least she had a well-established procedure for this sort of situation. Order of priorities: calm down customers, take order, clean up mess.
"Don't worry about dropping things," she said with a bright, professional smile. "Happens to me all the time. Hi, Sandy."
"Hi, Mrs. DeWitt," Sandy said without looking up from his game.
The little girl—Mina, right, that was her name—was still sniffling. "Awww, don't cry there, sweetheart." Paula had loads of experience at calming down restless, upset children. She reached into her apron pocket and scooped out a rolled-up placemat, a mini box of crayons, and a cheap plastic toy dinosaur. "Do you want this, honey? Here you go."
She put these in front of the little girl, who subsided to faint whimpering and reached for the colorful toy. Meanwhile Hot Stranger had taken the baby out of her carrier and was jiggling her against his broad chest, which made him about a thousand times hotter.
"Look, ma'am—miss—" His eyes flicked down to her name tag. "—Paula, I'm really sorry about the mess. Just point me to a mop and I'll clean it up."
"You don't have to," she said, turning over his cup. "I'll get it in a minute. Coffee?"
"Yes, please. Look, let me clean it up for you. I'll feel terrible if I don't."
There was a fierce intensity to the way he said it, making her take a second look at him.
She was still having to work on trying not to stare. Guys who looked like that didn't walk into small-town diners every day, or any day. He had a firm square face, dark hair growing out of a short cut, and the most intense brown eyes she'd ever seen. There was a dusting of stubble across his chin, like he hadn't shaved that morning; it might have looked scruffy on someone else, but on him, it only emphasized the sharp, clear planes of his face.
She ought to say no. There was no way that letting the customer clean up a mess was going to get her a decent tip. Or any tip. But all of a sudden she didn't give a damn about the tip. She just wanted to see more of him.
"If you insist, I'd sure appreciate the help," she said.
He put the baby back in her carrier and stood up, turning out to be taller than she'd realized. A slight flush touched his to-die-for cheekbones when he saw the extent of the mess. Up close, she realized that there were amazing dark lashes framing those incredible eyes.
"Kids, stay where you are, there's broken glass all over the floor."
"Here." Paula whipped a dish towel out of her apron pocket. "I'll get the kids' orders while you get that."
He was actually lifting it out of her hand before she quite registered that he hadn't taken it with a regular hand, but rather, a metal clamp half-covered by the sleeve of his coat. By that time, he was already crouched on the floor, collecting the glass.
"So are you a friend of Derek and Gaby Ruger?" she asked, taking a step to the side to get out of his way of his way.
"He's our manny," Sandy said, and Hot Guy looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. His shoulders practically went up around his ears. Very nice shoulders, Paula couldn't help noticing, even in the old military-surplus coat he was wearing. "And I want a cheeseburger and a Coke, please."
"Gotcha, and Mina is probably going to want the chicken fingers like usual?" Mina was paying no attention, focused on scribbling on the placemat and part of the table. "Do you know what she wants, Mr.—I'm sorry, I didn't ask your name."
"Chicken fingers sounds good to me." He looked up from collecting broken glass in the rag. "I mean, for her. Not me.
And it's Dan. My name, that is."
What a nice name. What a strong, manly, comforting name. A woman could wrap up in that name, and oh no it had been a really long time since she had even thought about men after Disaster Ex-Husband Terry; what was she even thinking?
She took a few more steps back to get a little psychological distance as well, which unfortunately meant she was now taking their order from behind the next table over. She felt ridiculous. It was a good thing there was no one else in the diner at the moment.
"Well, Dan, I'm Paula—" Which he already knew. Right. "—and welcome to Autumn Grove." She took a deep breath and tried to claw her way back to some dignity. "Would you like to try our specialty, the Double DeWitt Burger? It's our specialty. Two patties of fresh local beef, cooked your way, all the trimmings." She tried not to stare at his shoulders flexing under the coat.
"That sounds great, ma'am," he said, and smiled at her as he straightened up. It was a dazzling smile that made her stomach swoop and her knees go weak. "So I, uh_—" He had a handful of ketchup-sodden rag wrapped around the remains of the bottle. "Point me to the trash, and I'll grab a mop."
Not exactly how her ideal conversation with her dream guy was supposed to go. Paula dropped the order pad into the pocket of her apron and held out her hands.
"No, you're going to get all—"
"I've been covered with worse," she said, taking it from him carefully. His hands brushed hers: warm fingers, cool metal clamp. The sexual charge at his touch was unmistakable. Oh God. He just got sexier the closer she got. "Mop and bucket and other cleaning supplies are behind the counter. I'm just going to—kitchen—" And with that, unceremoniously, she fled.
"So what happened out there?" Mitch asked as she dropped rag, glass, and all into the trash and then ran her hands under the sink.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Mitch grinned. "Your face is red, Miz DeWitt."
Paula wiped her wet hands on her apron and slapped the order up on the board. "I'm taking a short break. I'll be back in just one minute."
She fled for the loading door that led to the alley. The door opened on a blast of cold wind and dazzling brilliance, the sun glinting off the snow on the back of the Petersons' auto-yard shed. Paula stepped out into the alley, ignoring the wind cutting through the light sleeves of her blouse and raising goosebumps on her legs under her waitress skirt. She closed the door behind her and took a few deep breaths.
She was a middle-aged, divorced mother of two. She was too old and too jaded and most of all, too sensible to be mooning over a sexy stranger.
But what a stranger to moon over. She could still hear the deep, growly vibration in his voice, shivering all the way down to her toes.
Stop it. There has got to be a reason why a guy like that is taking care of the Rugers' kids instead of married with kids of his own.
She'd already had to deal with one fixer-upper. She didn't need another.
Even if he was absolutely gorgeous.
Dan
He had found his mate and chased her away by dropping a full bottle of ketchup on her floor and then dumping most of it into her hands. She had vanished into the kitchen and hadn't come out, not even to bring Sandy his Coke.
Inflicting three screaming kids on her probably hadn't helped either.
Well ... two screaming kids, neither of which was screaming now. Mina was coloring happily and Lulu had fallen back asleep. Sandy was engrossed in his game. Still bundled in his coat, he looked like a hunched-over little monk at the table.
"You sure you wouldn't be more comfortable with your coat off?" Dan asked, mopping industriously.
"Nope," Sandy said. Only the tip of his nose was showing and the game was three inches from his eyes.
"Watch your sisters while I put this back, okay?"
"Mmm-hmm."
Dan kept an eye on them anyway while he returned the bucket, mop, and paper towels where he'd gotten them from. He washed his hand in the bathroom with the door open—it was a small unisex bathroom that opened off the main dining area—and then went back to the table.
Still no mate. If he hadn't had the kids to keep an eye on, he would be tempted to go into the back and see if he had upset her.
Don't be ridiculous. She didn't act upset. She's just busy. Also, having a total stranger chase her into the kitchen is probably not going to make the best impression.
Then the swinging doors opened and his angel in a waitress apron breezed out again, and all rational thought flew out of his head.
She was carrying a large plastic cup in one hand and a small plate in the other. "I'm sorry this took so long, honey," she told Sandy, putting the cup in front of him. She set the plate of chicken fingers in front of Mina, which involved leaning over the table. A wave of her perfume came with it, something light and fresh and sweet. "The burgers will be up in a couple of minutes. Anything else I can get for you folks?"
"You could sit down and talk for a minute," Dan suggested. His bear was nearly paralyzed at her nearness, and he couldn't believe his own boldness. "Not if it'll get you in trouble at work or anything. But I'm new in town, and ..."
He floundered, running out of things to say, but she was smiling, really smiling, crinkling up her eyes and turning his chest inside out. "No boss to worry about. I own the place."
"That's amazing," Dan said honestly.
Her cheeks turned pink. "Amazing is a bit strong for it. I grew up working at the diner and inherited it from my parents when they retired and moved to Florida."
"So you've been running or helping run a successful business for decades. That's even more amazing."
Now she was even pinker. It contrasted beautifully with her blue eyes and curls. "I thought I was the one who was supposed to flatter you, if I'm angling for a good tip. Not to give away trade secrets or anything."
"I wasn't angling. Just telling the truth."
"Well, one thing I can tell you for sure, Dan the Manny, is that we're happy to have you here in Autumn Grove."
The bell at the door tinkled. Paula turned toward it, a bright, welcoming smile settling onto her face. It didn't seem any less genuine than her usual smiles, and Dan thought that she seemed like a natural to run a small-town diner like this. She clearly liked her customers, and liked people in general.
Then the welcome smile dropped off her face, replaced by shock and anger—and fear.
A bolt of shock went through Dan, too. He had to clutch at the edge of the table. He had heard that part of the mate bond was knowing when your mate was in distress, but he hadn't expected it to kick in this early or this hard.
"Excuse me," Paula said in a low, distracted voice. Clutching her waitress notepad to her chest like a shield, she marched toward the door, back straight, to confront whoever had just come in.
Dan hastily twisted around in his chair.
The guy in the doorway was trouble. Dan knew that at a glance. He knew the type. The guy was nondescript-looking, almost professionally so, dark-haired and greasy-looking with a bit of a slouch. Sunglasses hid his eyes.
"I told you to leave," Paula snapped in a low, tense voice. "And Mitch told you to leave too. How dare you come here while I have customers!"
"And I told you we'd talk again, Mrs. Raines," the stranger replied. His voice was pitched low, but Dan's shifter hearing easily caught it.
"Leave or I'm calling the police," Paula demanded, still trying to keep her voice down.
"Really? You want to get the police involved, and explain all of this to them and your neighbors?"
With his mate's distress vibrating down his every nerve ending, Dan had only one option.
"Sandy, stay with your sisters," he told Sandy quietly, and got up just as Sunglasses gave Paula a little push. She staggered backward.
Dan saw red. Literally.
It was all he could do to keep his bear from erupting into a wall of protective teeth and claws right there in the diner. As it was, he barely remembered crossin
g the diner floor, until his one good fist closed on the front of Sunglasses' jacket.
"Hey!" the man barked, jerking backward.
He was strong enough to pull free of Dan's grip, which should have held him like a steel clamp. The jacket tore slightly from the pressure.
This guy's a shifter, Dan thought, startled.
The shifter looked shocked too. Then his gaze went to Dan's right arm and the metal clamps. His eyes narrowed.
"Who's going to make me? You and what army? I'm supposed to be afraid of a one-armed—ack!"
Dan seized him by the collar, in a tighter grip this time, and jerked him closer.
"I used to work as a bouncer. I know how to take out the trash. Do you want this man to leave, ma'am?" Dan asked Paula.
Paula swallowed and nodded.
"I ... uh, yes," she said. "Yes, please."
"Could you watch the kids for me for just a minute?"
Paula gave a jerky little nod. "Yes," she said, her voice growing stronger. "Yes, I can do that."
"Thanks. Come on, friend."
Shifting his grip expertly, Dan frog-marched Sunglasses out onto the sidewalk. The other man writhed furiously, but he was unable to use his full shifter strength to tear out of Dan's grip without shredding his own jacket, and apparently he was unwilling to do that.
Rather than stopping on the sidewalk, Dan marched him down the row of businesses. Passing pedestrians and shoppers behind plate-glass windows stopped to stare at them. Cars slowed down too. This was clearly the most interesting thing anyone in Autumn Grove had seen all day.
"This is humiliating," Sunglasses said between his teeth. "Let me go."
"Not until they get a good look at you."
"What they're going to see is you manhandling me—ow!"
Dan pushed him around the corner and into the relative privacy of the alley behind the block of businesses. The businesses along Main Street backed onto the alley, and a wooden privacy fence shielded the backyards of the adjoining row of houses from the alley's trash cans and loading doors.