Seeking Shelter (3 page)

It wasn’t kitschy or frilly, as so many small-town shops were. Only the roadrunner wallpaper up near the high ceiling gave an indication anyone had tried to decorate in anything but stock and boxes.

Three aisles lined with well-filled shelves ran the length of the building. Canned and boxed goods sat like little soldiers in neat rows.

The counter stretched across the front, including a glass case filled with pastries and other baked goods. Next to that, a glass meat counter glistened under the fluorescent lights. A giant meat slicer and state-of-the-art steamer sat behind it.

A young woman stood behind the displays. He wondered if she was the owner or just a clerk. She didn’t seem old enough to own a business, but looks could be deceiving. A hunk of meat lay on a wooden chopping block, and she held a cleaver in her hand. She brought the blade down with a loud whack. At first she didn’t look up. Good thing, too. It could have been disastrous.

“Can I help you?” she asked as she turned around. Her voice was warm, but there was a wariness in her eyes. She took a step forward, keeping the counter between them.

She wasn’t tall, but her stance was straight and proud. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a haphazard ponytail with enough pieces left loose to fall down around her face in a golden cloud. She stared at him with wide green eyes.

She wiped her hands on a rag, and he saw that the once-white apron she wore over her jeans and T-shirt was stained with red, like the butcher he remembered Mom going to back home. A hundred years ago.

He couldn’t help but smile. It made him think of the millions of campy horror movies he’d seen. He loved those movies. It’d been a while since he’d seen one.

He shook his head to focus on the now. He’d spent way too much time in the sun.

Jace squinted at her, trying to read her expression. She wasn’t old enough to be Madeline’s contemporary but maybe she knew the daughter. “Yeah. Thought I’d get some supplies.” He indicated the aisles with a tilt of his head.

“Canned goods are on the far wall. You’ll find the snacks front middle, and beverages over there.” She waved the blade in the general direction. “If you need personal stuff, you’ll have to go see Sam down the street at the drugstore.”

“Thanks,” Jace mumbled, and headed down the center aisle. There must be a basement under part of the wood floor, as he heard a hollow tone beneath his steps toward the rear.

A wall-length, glass-fronted freezer stood at the very back, and he couldn’t resist opening the door. The cool air blasted him and he drank it in, letting it cool him as well as clear some of the dust from his lungs.

A box of Häagen-Dazs ice cream bars sat open on the bottom shelf. He grinned. They weren’t tagged, and he bet he’d just found her private stash. He grabbed one and tore open the wrapper. The rich chocolate ice cream tasted sweet and cool as he sauntered through the aisles. He grabbed a couple of sodas, some canned meat and a bag of chips along the way.

Traveling on the bike meant frequent stops, and he didn’t have much more than his clothes in the saddlebags.

He hadn’t planned this trip. Not that he planned much of anything, anyway, but definitely not this one. He’d just taken off, needing to complete this self-appointed mission. He suddenly realized that the past year—going all the way to Pennsylvania to see his brother and back—had done a number not only on the bike, but on him. As well as the emotional upheaval of losing Mac.

All of a sudden, Jace felt tired. He sighed loudly and headed toward the checkout. Dropping the pile on the counter with a loud clatter, he tossed the still damp stick on top so she’d know to charge him for the ice cream.

Their eyes met, and hers widened as she looked up at him. For the first time in a long time, something inside Jace stirred to life.

* * *

A
LL
HER
LIFE
,
Amy had been warned against letting strange men in the front door. That was much easier in the context of her home. Owning a grocery store in a small town, well, she couldn’t afford to be too picky.

That was one of the reasons she’d agreed to let Katie adopt Butcher. She glanced down at the dog, who was flopped at her feet, watching the man. Fat lot of good the mutt was right now. He’d found his favorite spot in the store—on the vent beside the big old butcher block where she worked. He was currently a puddle of contented fur.

She’d been watching the man since he’d come into town, pushing the big motorcycle over to Rick’s station. The bike was a monster and must weigh a ton. He’d pushed it easily, any strain hidden by his black leathers.

He had to be baking in that jacket. The only breeze was what he created as he moved. It barely stirred his dark, shoulder-length hair.

Her gaze had been drawn to the form-fitting leather pants he wore like a second skin.

When he moved down the aisle, the dog perked up one ear. Nothing more. But it was enough to reassure her that she was safe. Or as safe as a woman alone in the middle of nowhere could be.

She returned to the butcher block and the package of steaks she was preparing for Hank. The old man would be here at four to pick them up, so she had plenty of time. As the stranger wandered down the aisle, she wondered what would be Butcher’s greater motivation—the need to protect her, or to protect his perceived dinner—if the man proved to be a threat.

She put the meat cleaver on the butcher block, but within easy reach. She’d hoped to keep track of him, but too late, he was in her space, standing on the other side of the narrow counter.

And Butcher was simply thumping his tail against the floor.

She swallowed hard before turning to face her customer. “Did you, uh, need anything else?” She cringed when her voice quavered, and inched her hand toward the cleaver.

“Not a knife, if that’s what you’re offering.”

She pulled her hand back, and the smile that was too good-looking for such a rough guy sent heat to her cheeks. People who rode motorcycles like the one she’d seen him with shouldn’t have pearly white teeth. But he did.

“It’s not.”

“Can you ring me up?” He tilted his head toward the stack on the counter.

“Oh. Sure.” A paying customer. What a novelty.

“Nice dog.” Butcher’s tail moved faster.

“He’s my watchdog.”

“Uh-huh.” The man didn’t sound convinced. His smile widened.

She chose to ignore it. But if Butcher decided to take a hunk out of his leg...well, she might let him, though it’d be a shame to ruin that nice backside with teeth marks. Her cheeks warmed and she looked away.

Amy wiped her hands on the apron and stepped behind the register. She punched in the amounts, and after each, the ratcheting of the paper feed filled the silence.

“The ice cream is a buck twenty-five.” She didn’t have a clue what they should cost. They weren’t really for sale. Too late now.

The purchases fit in one bag. He pulled a worn wallet out and peeled off a crisp new bill. She smiled. Much easier to deal with than a credit card, or God forbid, a check. The fact that it was a fifty-dollar bill surprised her.

She counted out his change, then extended her hand to give it to him.

He smiled back and reached out to take it. Her heart did a funny little flip as she looked at his wide palm.

Back in junior high, she and her best friend, Caryn, had bought a book on palm reading. They’d pored over all the meanings of the lines in a person’s hand. Looking at this man’s hand, with its calluses and lines, she wished she remembered some of that information. He intrigued her. She didn’t usually care about strangers, especially not men. But this man had been places outside this town. And he was heading someplace else once he left here. She wondered where.

She shook her head to dispel her thoughts, and nearly dropped the coins.

To keep the money from falling, he curled his hand around hers.

Heat that had nothing to do with their location in the middle of the Arizona desert shot up her arm. Surprised, she looked up, then tried to hide her uncertainty. “Your change.” She pulled back her hand, and he let her go, though the feel of him lingered. She moved to the butcher block as he headed to the door.

He stopped, holding the screen door open, and faced her. “So, is there somewhere I can get a room for the night?”

Startled, she actually dropped the meat cleaver, but thankfully, managed to miss her foot. The unmistakable clatter echoed through the store.
Why in the world would he want to do that?

“You want to stay here?” She turned and looked at him. There was something about him that rubbed her the wrong way, a way that made her itch all over. She hadn’t felt that way since...since... She shut that thought down nearly as fast as it appeared. It must be that conversation with Katie yesterday that had stirred up all this...awareness.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He frowned at her.

“No one stays here.”

“I’m going to. You friends with the sheriff?”

“What?” She’d seen Gavin talking with him and Rick. What had that idiot said now?

“Oh, nothing.” The man shook his head and smiled as he popped one of the sodas he’d bought and took a deep drink.

Amy could only stare at the muscles of his throat as they worked. “Damn,” she mumbled. Without another word, she walked past him, pushed the screen door open wider and tilted her head toward the old Victorian house across the square. “Hank runs the B and B. Over there. He can always use the business.”

The house had seen better days, but Hank was slowly fixing it up. The stranger moved close—close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body. He stared past her toward the house, then stepped outside. An eyebrow lifted, but that was his only reaction.

“Thanks. I’m Jace.”

His hands were full, but she thought he’d have offered his hand to her if they hadn’t been. He waited expectantly, apparently for her to offer her own name. She swallowed hard. “I’m...Amy.”

“Amy?”

He said her name softly, and despite the heat, she shivered. His eyes moved, as if his gaze were drinking in every detail of her face.

“Amy,” he repeated. “Uh, nice to meet you.” He took a deep breath, and it seemed as if he shook his head slightly. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear something had just startled him.

“Mama!” A high-pitched voice cut through the thick air between them, and Amy backed a step away. Then two.

Katie came barreling down the sidewalk toward them and Jace turned to look at her.

There are few things that set a mother off more than a threat to her child. Though the man now standing on the sidewalk was smiling down at Katie, Amy couldn’t let go of the fear that rippled through her. She was the one person Katie always turned to, the one who was there whenever she needed something. The one whose job it was to protect her.

Right now, that little girl was looking up at a tall stranger with great interest. Amy barely held herself back.

“Hi.” Katie walked right up to Jace, craning her neck to look at him.

“Well, hello,” he said, hunching down next to her.

“I’m Katie. I’m six.”

Amy barely resisted the urge to warn her daughter about sharing personal information. She needed to ingrain that into her before she got old enough for Facebook and Twitter, or whatever would follow.

“I’m Jace. I’m older than six.”

Katie grinned widely and Amy nearly leaped toward her daughter. But not to protect her this time. She knew that look and what was coming next.

She wasn’t quick enough.

“Do you have a wife?”

Amy wanted to sink into the sidewalk. When Jace turned to her, her heart dropped to her knees as he glanced from mother to daughter and back again.

“No, I’m not married. Why do you want to know? Are you proposing?”

“Katie,” Amy warned, knowing there was no chance her daughter was going to heed her. She stepped forward, placing her hands protectively on Katie’s shoulders, since, tempting as it was, putting her hand over her daughter’s mouth would probably be frowned upon.

Katie giggled. “No, silly. I’m too little. But Mama can. She’s not married, either.”

CHAPTER THREE

T
HE
MAN
LOOKED
AS
IF
HE
’
D
seen a ghost. He’d paled under his tan and his eyes widened as he looked at the two of them.

Amy swallowed hard. She was used to judgmental stares, but there was no way she would let anyone judge Katie. Being a single mother wasn’t that unusual these days. Besides, Katie had already told him Amy wasn’t married. It couldn’t be that big of a shock. “Why don’t you go put your things away, sweetie. Butcher’s waiting for you. I’ll be in shortly.” She nudged Katie toward the doorway.

“’Kay. Bye, Mr. Jace.” Katie quickly disappeared inside with a final smile and wave from the doorway. The sound of Butcher’s nails was loud and frenzied against the wooden floor. Katie’s sweet giggle followed close behind.

“Hank should be able to put you up for the night,” Amy said again, hoping Jace would move on.

She didn’t wait for him to answer. Instead, she walked to the screen door.

“Amy?”

She didn’t want to turn around, really she didn’t. Good manners and curiosity made her look over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“Thanks.” His gaze met hers and she saw something lurking in those blue eyes, something she couldn’t read. She didn’t even try, but went inside.

“Oh, my.” A soft feminine voice came in the door right behind her. Amy shook her head. She didn’t have to look to know who was speaking. Caryn Davis had been her best friend since second grade, but right now Amy wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.

Obviously, Caryn had arrived to reopen the diner next door, just in time to see Jace leaving. Amy agreed—he was definitely worth an “oh, my” or two, but she wasn’t sharing that with anyone. Especially not Caryn.

“Climb on up.” Amy helped Katie onto the stool and focused on getting her usual afternoon snack ready.

Caryn was bound to say something. Amy prepared herself, and her friend didn’t disappoint. She sat down beside Katie. “Hey, pumpkin.” She gave the little girl a brief hug, then turned her gaze on Amy. “Please, please tell me you saw him. Really
saw
him.”

Amy almost laughed. “Saw what?” She knew exactly what—or rather who—Caryn was talking about. There wasn’t a man in a fifty-mile radius who hadn’t caught Caryn’s eye at some time or other.

“Amy!”

This time she did laugh. “He’s just passing through.” Amy put a small plate of apple slices in front of Katie and handed her a fruit juice. “So don’t go getting any ideas.” She didn’t want to elaborate in front of her daughter. Besides, she and Caryn had already rehashed all this...multiple times over the years.

“Maybe Mr. Jace could be my new daddy,” Katie blurted out around a bite of her snack.

Caryn burst into laughter that filled the entire store. Amy couldn’t resist joining in, even though she knew it was a bad idea to encourage Katie’s hopes.

“Oh, are we back to that again?” Caryn finally asked.

“Yes.” Amy sighed. “Lynne and Beau are a great couple, but I sometimes wish they’d never gotten married,” she grumbled.

Oblivious to her mother’s reaction, and confident that everything was solved, Katie gulped down her juice, then jumped down from the chair. “Can I go over to Lisa’s to play?”

“May I,” Amy automatically corrected. “Put your things away in your room and then, yes, you may go. Be back by when I close at six.”

Lisa was well on her way to becoming the Caryn of Katie’s life. The two girls were inseparable, and with Lisa living just across the back street, it made life easier for both Amy and Lisa’s mom, Lynne.

Caryn barely waited for Katie to leave before she pounced. The pretty brunette leaned over the counter, forcing Amy to look at her. “I’m serious, Amy. Think about it. Maybe the best way to get your feet wet again, so to speak, is to hook up with someone just passing through.”

“I’m not interested in ‘hooking up’ with anyone.” Amy tried to scoot away, but Caryn knew her too well.

“You drive me crazy.” She gently grabbed Amy’s shoulders and forced her to look at her. “Ever since we were kids, you’ve dreamed about getting out of this town, going out in the world and living. Your first opportunity in ages comes along and you completely dismiss him.”

“A man isn’t the only way to get out, you know. Besides, I had my chance, remember? That year at Arizona State went so well.” Amy’s sarcasm masked the pain. She’d met Matt that year. “And you’re assuming this guy would be interested.” She pulled away from Caryn and gathered up the dishes left on a table. “I have responsibilities.”

“Oh, that’s great. Hide behind your daughter.”

Amy stopped moving, then slowly pivoted to stare disbelievingly at the woman she’d called her friend for nearly twenty years. “That’s low, even for you.”

“It’s the truth, and you know it.”

It wasn’t that simple, but she knew Caryn didn’t understand. Yeah, Amy remembered being that girl, dreaming of running off to Hollywood to become an actress, or New York to be a model. She’d dreamed, and she and Caryn had spent hours during sleepovers planning that future. Caryn had been the one who’d wanted to stay here, settle down and have the happy family.

All of Amy’s dreams had ended seven years ago.

“I don’t know it,” she said, focusing on answering Caryn’s comment. “I grew up.”

“No, you grew old.” Caryn followed her. “Remember back in high school when we swore we weren’t going to live life from the cheap seats? You’re in the cheap seats, my friend.”

Amy ignored her. She didn’t want to feel the anger that was bubbling inside her.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Amy.” Caryn’s voice softened and she walked over to help finish the dishes. “You know you’re my best friend. I don’t like seeing you so alone. It was just a thought.”

There was silence as they stared at each other. Amy couldn’t remember a time when the two of them hadn’t gotten along. When they hadn’t shared every secret and dream.

“I’ll see you later.” Caryn headed to the door. “At least think about it.”

“Yeah, later.”

Amy half expected her friend to stop, turn back and add one more comment. Thankfully, she didn’t, and simply headed out into the afternoon. The town was quiet, and Amy listened to Caryn’s high heels on the pavement until she disappeared into the diner. It wasn’t until the sound faded that Amy put down her cleaning rag and slumped into the chair where Katie had been sitting.

Caryn was right. Amy
had
grown old. All she’d ever seen was this Podunk town, and the briefest year of college. Shopping trips into Phoenix or Tucson did not count.

She’d dreamed of doing so much more. Her eyes burned and she closed them, taking a deep breath.

Life hadn’t turned out anything like she’d hoped or planned.

* * *

I
T
ALL
CAME
BACK
TO
J
ACE
why he hated small towns. As he walked across the town square toward the big Victorian house, he felt the eyes staring at his back. He saw people turn their heads to look. A couple of curtains twitched. He was someone new, someone that tweaked their small-town curiosity.

He longed for the anonymity of the L.A. streets.

The wooden house, with its gingerbread trim and tall gables, contrasted with the surrounding adobe structures. A green lawn mocked the pale sand at the edge of the lot, and the tall cottonwoods actually had broad leaves on them. The old house was as out-of-place in the dry desert as Jace felt.

Any other time he’d have enjoyed the view. Right now, his thoughts were too jumbled. Amy? It wasn’t an uncommon name, but what were the odds? And if she was the right Amy, did that mean Mac had a grandkid? Jace’s heart sank at the probability. The old man wouldn’t ever know about her. Six. She’d said she was six. If Mac had been able to find Amy, would he have gotten to meet Katie?

Jace knew how old Amy was. Hell, he knew more about her than he probably should, thanks to Mac. He did some quick math. Her birthday was May 8, so she’d have been nineteen when Katie was born.

Too young. And who was the father? Mac would have been an interesting dad as his daughter dated. Hell, she was pretty enough, Jace would’ve probably dated her...in another life, another time. He shook his head to dispel the thoughts, reminding himself this was Mac’s daughter he was thinking about.

He couldn’t deny she was attractive, and the strength he saw in her eyes appealed to him. But they were worlds apart. And the old man’s ghost would probably kick his butt for thinking about her that way.

The man who greeted him when he walked into the bed-and-breakfast surprised Jace.

Hank Benton introduced himself as the owner and proprietor. Looking around at the wallpaper, doilies and wingback chairs, Jace would have expected a little white-haired old lady to run the place. Maybe he’d inherited it from his mother or some maiden aunt. Jace didn’t ask.

“How long you plan to stay?” Hank filled out an old-fashioned register page by hand; there wasn’t a computer in sight, Jace realized.

“A couple of days. Maybe longer. My ride’s over at the garage. I have to wait for parts.”

“Rick working on it?”

“Yeah.”

“He’ll do a good job. Good kid.”

Jace almost laughed. Rick was well into his twenties.

“What brings you to these parts? Just passing through?”

As the old man rummaged around in a drawer, Jace remained silent. He didn’t often share information about himself and didn’t see why he should now.

Hank must have read something in his silence, for the stare he turned on him was direct and piercing. Jace stared back from across the counter. There was a hardness in the faded blue eyes and the stiff set of the man’s bowed shoulders. Jace was good at reading people, and this guy was sending out very specific messages.
I’ll take your money, but don’t stick around too long.
Made Jace wonder where this man had been. He hadn’t always lived in this Podunk town.

“Well, welcome to Rattlesnake Bend. You need anything, just let me know. Your room is up the stairs, third door on the left.” He handed over an old-fashioned metal key. Jace took it and hefted his backpack farther up on his shoulder. The first few steps were wide, but led to a landing and a narrow flight of stairs.

Jace took a deep breath and held it, willing his shoulders to shrink and not bump any of the pictures or bric-a-brac hanging on the walls. The upstairs hallway was no better and he hurried to the third door, hoping and praying it opened to a huge room with a wide door that led to a balcony of some kind.

It didn’t. Just like every other room he’d seen in the old Victorian, the ceilings were high, but the rest of the space was closed in and cramped. The furniture was period, taking up most of the room. He could move around. Almost. The dormer window straight ahead was small, and fastened shut.

Jace’s chest grew tight, and he took only an instant to toss his backpack onto the bed and shrug out of the leather jacket that was slowly roasting him to death. He made a mental note: no leather in the desert.

Hastily, he backed out the door and hurried down the stairs. The wooden steps groaned under his weight. Finally, he cleared the front parlor and stepped out onto the long, wide veranda. Fresh air engulfed him, easing the constriction in his chest and nourishing his starved lungs. He cursed at his past, the memories of his father’s death in that damned coal mine, of Linc’s recent near miss, of Jace’s own inability to control his nightmares.

“You okay?” Hank stood in the doorway, the screen door open.

“Yeah,” he admitted, moving toward the railing. “Just...needed some fresh air.”

“Well, we got plenty of that around here,” the man said before he disappeared back inside.

Jace watched twilight slip over the countryside, silhouetting the town against the darkening sky. The small rise on which the bed-and-breakfast sat gave him a view of everything in the community.

Jace settled in the wooden rocker that took up at least four square feet of the porch. It wasn’t often a piece of furniture comfortably accommodated his large frame. This felt good. Leaning back, he tried to clear his mind. The quiet helped, almost.

He shoved his fingers through his hair and leaned forward, elbows on knees. What the hell was he going to do?

From here, he could see the lone light in the small store. The diner and the gas station were still open, but everything else was closing up. Why he’d thought it’d all be open now, he didn’t know. Hell, L.A. hummed with life ’round the clock, and he was used to that.

But this wasn’t L.A. Not by a long shot. Around here they probably rolled up the sidewalks at sundown. Jace needed to finish his business and get back to his life, such as it was. And let these people get back to theirs.

Silently, he fingered the safe deposit key in his pocket. What did you say to someone who hadn’t known her father? And how was he supposed to explain the money? The echo of a cheesy game show announcer spun through his head. “You’ve just won a brand-new car!”

Jace cursed and rubbed his throbbing forehead. He needed some sleep. Maybe in the morning his mind would be clearer, but he’d have to wait until everyone was asleep before he could settle in.

An hour later, Hank was still puttering around in the kitchen, getting everything ready for breakfast tomorrow morning. The old guy was rough, but he seemed committed to making this house a successful business.

“You gonna be out here much longer?” His voice came from the darkness, in the general direction of the front door.

“I was thinking about it.” Jace wasn’t going to tell him he didn’t plan to go back inside tonight.

“I need to lock up.”

Times like these, Jace really missed Mac. He’d have understood. There would have been no need to explain. Jace hadn’t slept indoors more than a handful of times in the past ten years.

The small apartment they’d shared hadn’t been much to brag about, but the balcony had been uncovered and Jace had bunked out there most nights. If it rained, he’d slept inside with the sliding door wide open.