Audacious

by Beth Williamson

  Audacious

  Circle Eight Millennium

  Beth Williamson

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  About the Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  About the Author

  Circle Eight Millennium

  Copyright Page

  Audacious

  Circle Eight: Millennium

  Veronica “Ronnie” Graham had always been called Audacious. She spent her teenage years out of control and at the age of twenty-six, is a single mother and struggles to find a better life for her son. She lives day to day and dreams of a future where she can stop being afraid of failing.

  Jack Reilly shed his former life, and the responsibilities of his parents’ fortune, to hide out in small town Texas. He’s not expecting to tangle with a fiery redhead but once he does, he can’t stay away.

  Two lost souls find an unlikely connection and the promise of more than a life alone. Together they have to let go of who they were, and embrace who they could be.

  Chapter One

  “Bless her heart, that girl is audacious. She’s nothing but trouble.”

  Veronica Graham resisted the urge to turn around. The two older women were regular customers at Beans, the coffee shop Ronnie worked at, and she didn’t want to cause trouble for her boss, Patty. The older woman was too nice to everyone, unlike the “audacious” Ronnie.

  Instead, she gritted her teeth and carried the empty cups from the other table to the kitchen. Sometimes if the young boy who worked afternoons didn’t show up for work, Ronnie washed the dishes after her shift for extra pay.

  She glanced at the clock as she stepped behind the counter. It was eleven, still another forty-five minutes before the lunch crowd shuffled in. It was Tuesday, so they’d be full up with folks wanting the special. Ronnie’s coffee concoctions had sometimes succeeded and other times hadn’t. The Tuesday Witch’s Brew had been her biggest win.

  She didn’t take pride in much these days, but there were three things she could stand tall about. Her son, Ace, her pastries, and her coffee. There was something magical about finding the right concoction of coffee beans and mojo to make a spectacular cup of brew.

  On the other hand, pastries were an addiction. Her sweet tooth was bigger than the state of Texas, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do to bake the perfect treat. She baked and sold them to Patty, then made coffee for the customers to enjoy the sweets with.

  From the outside looking in, it might sound like an ideal life, but it paid shit. Supporting a ten-year-old on eight bucks an hour plus tips was barely enough to subsist. Patty was sweet enough to pay her that much per hour since most waitresses made less. The pastries helped make ends meet, but every week Ronnie counted the change in her wallet.

  She needed this job. Her reputation preceded her in and around town, and there was precious little she was good at.

  “Your Witch’s Brew is your best yet,” Patty proclaimed from the kitchen. A loud slurp echoed her words. “If I wasn’t an old woman, I might want to have sex with this coffee.”

  Ronnie let out a small bark of laughter. “That’s the best compliment I ever got.” She pushed her fists into her lower back and stretched as best she could. “What’s the special for lunch today?”

  Patty came around the corner and frowned, her silver curls bouncing as she shook her head. In her late fifties, she was half a head shorter than Ronnie and twice as round, and she was a dear person with a heart of gold. “Jesus Christmas. I’ve told you four times already. Write it down, Veronica.” She insisted on calling Ronnie by her full name and liked to be a mother hen as much as she could. “There’s pads of paper in the desk drawer in the back.”

  Ronnie waved her hand. “I don’t want to waste your paper. Just tell me. Was it egg salad?” There wasn’t a person alive in Texas who was more frugal than Ronnie. She pinched every penny until it bled copper.

  “Egg salad on homemade sourdough with fresh dill pickles and onion with my homemade potato chips.” Patty pointed at the front of the restaurant. “Now, some flashy red car just pulled up. That’s a good paying customer right there. Get to work.”

  Her words were softened with affection and made Ronnie smile. Patty was a good boss who set the restaurant hours so she could nap in the afternoon. Ronnie had had too many jobs to count in the last ten years, and this one was her favorite.

  The bell above the door chimed and Ronnie picked up a menu to greet the good paying customer in the flashy red car. He just about exuded money regardless of the jeans and western shirt he wore. There was no wear on them. A poser cowboy. She tried to hide her judgment, but sometimes it took over her tongue. Patty had warned her enough times to be nice to people with money because word of mouth was the best way to promote a restaurant.

  He was tall with an athletic build and short black hair. His gaze scanned the restaurant and stopped on Ronnie. He raised one brow, and her gut tightened with annoyance at the gesture. She pasted on her best phony smile and gestured to a table by the window as she walked toward him.

  As he sat down, she was disconcerted to notice the man had a nice ass. She didn’t want to notice him, but her libido didn’t care. He had a gym body—nothing about him said he worked with his hands. She didn’t respect people who didn’t work for a living. Real work, not paper cowboys.

  Ronnie wore a chip on her shoulder like a trophy. She had struggled with it for years and knew it put people off. It had become her armor, and she wasn’t about to let it vanish. Survival was too important.

  She set the menu down with her face still stretched into a semblance of a smile. “Good morning. What can I get you to drink?”

  “Do you have any bottled water, like Voss?” His voice was deeper than she expected. Almost like that country singer who sang about the long black train.

  “I’m gonna say no because I don’t know what that is.” She waited while he pursed his lips and glanced down at the menu.

  He almost looked embarrassed. “Coffee’s fine.”

  Confused by her reaction to him, which might have actually been attraction, she nodded and walked away. The man was probably passing through and she needn’t dig too deep into who he was. She didn’t care. She didn’t have time to care about anything except her son.

  It was a half-day at school, so Ace would be there soon for lunch, and she felt better just thinking about hugging him. He was a bit of a wild thing, like his mother, but he knew he was loved and they made a good team fighting their way through life.

  She brought a cup of Witch’s Brew to the stranger. Might as well impress him with the best coffee in central Texas. She set the mug down and found her phony smile again.

  “Did you decide what you’d like? We’re serving breakfast and lunch.” She waited while he glanced through the menu. It was one page and shouldn’t take that long to read. Hell, he could’ve memorized it by now.

  “Do you have any specials?” He looked up at her and she almost fell into his blue eyes. They were the color of the twilight sky framed by thick dark lashes. Damn, he was prettier than she was.

  “Uh, yeah, we do. It’s, um…” She wracked her brain for the sandwich again.

  “Jesus Christmas, Veronica! Egg salad!” Patty shouted from the kitchen.

  He laughed and the dark chuckle sent goose bumps across her skin. She willed her nipples not to get involved.

  “Egg salad on sourdough with fresh dill pickles and onion. Oh, and homemade potato chips.” Ronnie let out a breath. What was it about this dude that set her off balance? He was
nobody to her, and she couldn’t let him have any power over her.

  “I’ll have that. Do you have cream and sugar for the coffee?”

  Her brows came down. “Don’t you want to taste it before you pollute it with cream and sugar?” came rolling out of her mouth.

  Shit on a shingle.

  His brows went up. “Um, no? I like my coffee sweet and creamy.”

  She wanted to rail at him that real coffee didn’t need anything added to it, but she reminded herself he was a paying customer. He had money, and she sure as hell hoped he tipped well. Her sharp tongue was going to slice that tip in half if she wasn’t careful.

  “Be right back.” She whirled around and went back to get the cream and sugar. The sooner the stranger got his food and ate, the sooner he would leave. She didn’t need to like the man.

  He didn’t matter to her. Not even for a tip.

  *

  Jack Reilly tried not to stare at the waitress. She was an unusual beauty with a freckled complexion and dark red hair. Her eyes, however, were an incredible shade of bluish-green that reminded him of the ocean. They snapped with strong opinions she didn’t seem shy about expressing.

  He was used to servers either kowtowing or acting too sweet. Hell, in Texas, waitresses seemed to be required to call patrons “sugar” or “honey.” This one hadn’t got that memo.

  He’d been in his house only a week and this was the first time he’d ventured out to a restaurant. He couldn’t stay behind the walls forever and lunch out seemed like a good way to explore his new hometown. It was more like a one stoplight speck outside Tanger, but it seemed a good place to be. Nowhere for a man wanting to be no one.

  While he waited for the waitress to return—her name tag read VERONICA—he took a sip of the coffee. She’d been insulted that he wanted cream and sugar. The hot brew coated his tongue and slid down his throat. Flavor exploded across his taste buds and he was surprised to find it was delicious. He’d always had coffee the way his mom had made it. Drinking it black had never occurred to him.

  He took another sip and closed his eyes to savor the flavor.

  “Good choice.” She set down the cream and sugar on the table with a thump. With that, she spun around and returned to the kitchen.

  He studied her retreating form and noticed she had natural curves beneath the black trousers and T-shirt that read “Best coffee in Texas” with a big red heart. The front had some cartoonish beans hanging out at a table sipping cups of coffee. A stained white apron hid a good portion of her front end, but the back end was nicely formed. She had wide hips and a narrow waist, the perfect hourglass figure. If she put on some weight, she would be absolutely perfect. The woman was too thin. Hell, her collarbones were visible beneath her shirt.

  Jack’s musings were cut short at the sound of a child’s scream and a metallic screech followed by a thump. He glanced out the window to see a boy writhing on the ground beside his car and an obvious dent in the passenger door.

  “Fuck.” He jumped to his feet only to run into Veronica as she ran to the door. Her face was pasty white and her eyes wide as saucers.

  “Get the hell out of my way.” She slammed the door open and ran outside with Jack right behind her. “Ace!”

  She dropped to her knees beside the car and reached for the boy on the pavement. Jack surveyed the damage to his Bentley. The one indulgence he let himself keep. It was a luxury car he didn’t need but loved more than bacon, which was saying a lot. He’d been desperate for some good food after enduring his own ridiculous efforts for a week. Damn. He hadn’t planned on taking the car much of anywhere other than the house he’d bought.

  The passenger door was pushed in where it met the pillar. There were a series of scratches in the cherry red paint. The door handle was also bent.

  The culprit lay on the ground with a well-used skateboard and scrapes up and down the right side of his legs. The shorts he wore were threadbare and, surprisingly, he wore the same T-shirt as the woman. He pulled off his helmet and threw it against the concrete post nearby. The boy’s freckles and red hair told Jack he was related to his sharp-tongued waitress.

  “Ace, baby, are you all right?” She yanked off her apron and pressed it to a nasty looking scrape on his knee that was bleeding pretty good.

  “I’m okay. My ollie went sideways is all.” He looked at Jack with reddened cheeks. “Is this your car, mister?”

  “Yep.” There was damage, but it was Jack’s fault for bringing it to the coffee shop in the first place. He should’ve sold it and bought a truck.

  “Sorry.” His gaze skirted away and focused on his skateboard. “Damn, I think I broke one of my trucks.”

  “Stop cussing.” Her voice held no heat. “Is anything broken?” She started feeling his legs and arms and he leaned again.

  “Stop, Mom, I’m fine.”

  Mom?

  By Jack’s estimate she couldn’t be more than twenty-two, maybe twenty-three. How did she have a kid that had to be at least ten?

  “What were you thinking? I told you to skateboard in the park, not in Patty’s parking lot. You could’ve hurt yourself.” Her hands shook as she cupped his cheek. “You promised me.”

  The kid had the grace to blush. “I was trying to get the trick right. I didn’t hurt nobody.”

  “I beg to differ. You hurt my car.” Jack interrupted the conversation.

  Veronica seemed to remember what had happened. The way she hyper-focused on the boy was amazing to see. If only all mothers loved their children as much. She glanced at the car and her expression fell.

  “Ace, you really did it this time. You’re audacious just like your mama.” She frowned.

  Jack crossed his arms. “I appreciate his apology, but he did at least a grand worth of damage to my car.”

  “Don’t you have insurance to cover this? This car costs more than everything I own.” She waved her hand toward the Bentley.

  “I’m not filing an insurance claim against a skateboard.” He didn’t want to admit he was keeping a low profile and didn’t want any more contact with the real world than absolutely necessary. He leaned against the brick exterior of the building. “I’d rather you just pay for it. Or I could call the cops.”

  What was he thinking? Idiot. Her brows slammed together. He realized too late he’d riled the mama bear. Oh shit.

  “I was hoping you weren’t an asshole.” She helped her son to his feet. “I guess I was wrong.”

  Jack didn’t want to be that guy, but he was in unfamiliar water. He’d moved to the middle of nowhere to be alone and figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Getting tangled with a waitress and her son was the last thing he wanted, but forcing them to pay money they didn’t have was an asshole move.

  He followed them into the restaurant to find his sandwich waiting at the table. While an older woman with kinky silver curls and Veronica rendered first aid to the boy, Jack sat down and started eating.

  To his surprise, he kept drinking the coffee without adding cream and sugar. The egg salad was delicious, as were the chips. If his car hadn’t been damaged, he might have enjoyed his first meal in town.

  By the time he was nearly finished, Veronica returned to his table and sat down with a thump. She eyed him with her brows slammed together while her lips were tight enough to turn white.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I live only a few miles away.” Jack wiped his mouth on the napkin.

  “What do you want from us?” Her voice was low and rough.

  “I need to fix my car, and your son is responsible for the damage.” He didn’t know exactly what he would do. Hell, he might just sell the car as is and then he wouldn’t have to worry about it.

  “I don’t have a thousand dollars, mister fancy pants. Hell, I’ve barely got one dollar.” She banged her fists on the table, making his silverware jump with a tinkle of metal. “What do you want from us?”

  He drank the rest of the coffee, wondering what he did want from these peo
ple. Wondering why he didn’t just forget the damage and walk away. “I’m willing to let him work it off.”

  “It’ll take ten years.”

  “Then both of you work it off.”

  She opened her mouth to growl, he was sure of it. Jack held up his hand.

  “I just moved in and my house hasn’t been lived in by human beings in ten years. I could use someone to help me clean it up, maybe fix a few things.” He could see the wheels turning in her head.

  “Fine, but I’m not sucking your dick under any circumstances.”

  Jack choked on a laugh. She was brassy and he liked it. “I’ll make a note of that.” He smiled and her eyes narrowed even further. “I’ve no designs on you for sexual favors. And I know your kid didn’t mean to crash, but he’s responsible.”

  She relaxed about a millimeter. “I know. I’m sorry for what he did. He’s a good boy.”

  “Then he should have no trouble working off his debt.” Jack laid twenty dollars on the table. “I’m Jack Reilly and I live at forty-seven Elm Street. Can he come by at three?”

  She pursed her lips and nodded once. “Fine, but I’m coming with him.”

  As Jack walked out of the diner, he foolishly realized he was looking forward to later. And wondered why a smart-mouthed waitress was the first person to make him feel alive in years.

  Chapter Two

  Ronnie folded up her apron and tucked it under the counter. The restaurant was quiet and the lights were off for the day. Patty had left half an hour earlier, leaving Ronnie to lock up. She sat down on a stool and put her head her hands.

  A thousand dollars.

  Jesus, she had no idea how Ace would pay that much money to the man. She had no doubt he was telling the truth about the cost of the damage. It was an expensive car and Ace had dented in the passenger door and left a mess of scratches in the paint.

  She refused to feel helpless. The man could have easily called the cops, but he didn’t. And he’d left her a ten-dollar tip on a ten-dollar lunch. She didn’t trust men, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to let her son into that man’s house alone. Too many weirdos out there. Ace wasn’t even five feet tall yet. There was no way he could hold his own against the stranger. Not that Ronnie was big and bad, but she carried her gun everywhere.