Seeking Shelter (8 page)

“Katie’s dad?”

“Think so.” Hank rubbed his chin and got that distant look in his eye again. “Not sure. Guess it could be a combination of everything. Amy’s own dad taking off. Her mom dying. She’s always been a good girl, but she’s never really been happy.”

The silence was almost painful. Jace let it go on as long as he could. “But?”

“But nothing.” Hank took a deep drink of his coffee. “She does just fine supporting and raising that girl. She’s tough. It’s a shame she has to have such a hard life.”

“You got a point to all this?” Jace leaned back in the chair, figuring he looked a whole lot more relaxed than he felt.

“Guess I do. Always wondered if anyone’d come along who’s willing to take on the challenge. Ain’t nobody around here who can. You hungry?”

Jace frowned at Hank’s change of topic. “Why would I be? I just had dinner at Amy’s.”

Hank laughed. “That’s exactly why I’m asking. Amy is a good businesswoman. That store’s never been run better, but we’ve all been subjected to her cooking before.”

“It isn’t
that
bad.” Though Jace barely suppressed a shudder as he remembered the burgers from hell.

“You’re a better man than I. You must like ketchup.” Hank laughed again. “It could be worse, I guess.” He took another sip of his coffee, looking over the cup’s rim. He wasn’t smiling now and Jace knew he probably wasn’t kidding.

“How?”

“She could actually need to support herself with her cooking the way Maddie did. At least this way, we only have to buy the homemade stuff occasionally.”

Jace stared at him.
Ah, hell.
“You’re kidding, right?” He pushed himself out of his chair.

“Nope. That girl can’t cook her way out of a paper bag. She’s a fair baker, but when it comes to whipping up dishes like her mama used to? Nope. She didn’t get that gene.”

Jace hadn’t ever met Madeline Grey and he was pretty sure that was a good thing. The damage she’d done to Mac had gone a long way to making him the wandering, homeless man Jace had first met. Were these people helping Amy because they’d protected her from Maddie, or had the woman convinced them to help her daughter after she was gone?

Jace could hear Mac swearing all the way from heaven. He wouldn’t be happy with either of these possibilities. He’d always hated liars.

“I can warm you up some leftovers,” Hank offered from where he stood at the refrigerator.

Jace grabbed his pack. “No, I’m good. I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow. Think I’ll turn in.”

He pocketed the key and headed out the back door to the hammock in the yard. Standing under the stars, he pictured Mac’s face. That familiar determined look was the same one he’d seen on Amy’s face last night, and again tonight preparing dinner.

He had an idea how to help her. He just wasn’t sure she’d actually let him.

Out of habit, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the worn silver dollar he carried. It had belonged to his dad. With a practiced ease, he flipped it into the air. Heads he’d stay, tails he’d fix the bike and ride away.

Heads. He laughed.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A
MY
SMELLED
COFFEE
.
Strong, rich coffee. Heavenly... Her eyes flew open. What the...? She flung back the covers, rushed out the bedroom door, then skidded to a halt. There stood Jace, smack in the middle of her kitchen, casually leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee in hand.

As his gaze raked over her, she was reminded that all she wore was her blue T-shirt-and-shorts pajamas. She should have grabbed her robe, but looks were the last thing she was considering when she’d realized something odd was happening in her kitchen.

Now, though, she felt her cheeks warm. She definitely felt underdressed next to him in his jeans and black T-shirt. She resisted the urge to tug the hem of her shirt down.

How had he gotten in? Katie stood beside him, gazing up adoringly. Great. Amy needed to talk to her daughter about letting strangers in the house.

“What are you doing here, Jace?” she asked.

“Mama!” Katie frowned at her. “Jace said he’s going to fix our kitchen.”

“You what?” She stared at the man lounging against her counter. The grin on his face was far too self-satisfied. “Are you kidding?”

“No. Not kidding.” He took a long swallow of his coffee.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Katie mimic his actions, lifting her matching cup just as Jace did. Amy nearly wrenched it from Katie’s hands. At the last second, she realized he hadn’t given her daughter coffee, but milk. Amy felt a little sheepish, but refused to look at him in case he could read her expression.

“Go get ready for school, sweetie,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Aw, Mama.”

“I mean it. Now.” She didn’t like being stern with her daughter, but Jace was moving in too close, too quickly. Katie liked him way too much, and Amy despaired at the hope she saw in her little girl’s eyes. She had to put a halt to this.

“Okay.” Katie dragged her feet as she left the room.

As soon as she was out of hearing, Amy turned on Jace. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded in a low voice.

“We’re remodeling this sorry excuse for a kitchen.”

“And why are
we
doing that?”

“Because you need it. You cook to supplement your income, right? Doing it here doesn’t seem possible.”

“It works just fine. Besides, I use Caryn’s kitchen when I need to, like the other night.”

He leaned in, an indulgent smile on his face. “And you think that’s a good idea?”

The clean scent of him teased her and her mind went straight to last night...and that kiss.

“That’s just crazy.” Jace handed her a mug of coffee and Amy was too distracted to refuse. She took a sip. He did know how to make it. Drinking also gave her time to think. “I never said anything about needing a new kitchen.”

“You don’t have to. Sorry if I hurt your feelings, but look at this place.”

She had. Plenty of times. It was clean, but useful? Not so much. “It’s like a studio apartment setup.” As if that made it any better. Looking around the lame kitchen, she saw it for all it wasn’t.

She’d had everything checked before she’d moved in, and Hank had insisted on an inspection, top to bottom. But she used it only when she had to. Otherwise, she cooked at the diner or, like last night, she grilled.

Right now, Jace was the best-looking thing in it. She quickly reined in that thought.

“Two people need more than a studio. Besides, I can do this. It’s a perfectly good solution,” he said.

He didn’t look or sound like he was giving in. She frowned. This was her home. She’d decide what was best for her and Katie.

Amy grasped the nearest straw. “You can’t afford that.” The idea of a new, usable kitchen was tempting. But not realistic.

Jace set down his coffee cup in a deliberate movement. The lack of sparkle in his eye told her she might have grabbed the wrong straw.

“You don’t know what I can or can’t afford. Don’t judge me, lady.” She saw the anger in his eyes. “Besides, I’m not doing this just for you,” he whispered. “I’m doing this because it’s what Mac would expect of me. And because that little girl deserves better.” He pointed toward Katie’s closed bedroom door.

“What the heck does that mean?” Amy didn’t think she was going to like what he planned to say next.

“It means you leaving her here alone at night, even if it’s just to go next door, is unacceptable. Putting Mac’s granddaughter at risk is
not
an option.”

Amy felt the sting of his accusation. She didn’t put her daughter at risk. She had no choice....

Her heart sank. He was right, but dang it, it was her responsibility to take care of her daughter. Katie was happy, healthy and as safe as Amy could keep her.

But that wasn’t enough, was it? Not nearly enough, and she knew it. She trembled and turned away, once again feeling like a terrible mother. When she next glanced over at Jace, he’d hidden the accusation in his eyes.

“No. I don’t think it’s a good idea. I think it’s time you left.”

“What? Why?” He leaned back against the counter, entirely too comfortable in her place.

“Just get out.” She pointed at the stairs. “I’m not talking about this anymore.”

“Hank’s right. You are good at pushing people away.” Jace took his time moving to the stairs. At the bottom he stopped. “Offer’s good as long as I’m in town. When you change your mind, come find me.” His boots clomped on each step, slow and deliberate.

* * *

“D
ON
’
T
YOU
JUST
HATE
to admit when a man’s right?” Caryn said from her perch at the coffee bar.

Amy looked up from where she knelt beside the low shelves, and watched her friend nonchalantly sip her latte. Caryn didn’t bother to meet her eye, which was a good thing, as Amy glared at her.

They’d been discussing Jace’s insane offer to remodel her kitchen. As she unpacked stock, she’d filled Caryn in. Even after two days, Amy felt her blood pressure rise just thinking about it, about him. She wasn’t sure what response she’d expected, but that wasn’t it.

“What are you talking about?” She slammed a can of soup down on a shelf.

“Oh, come on.” Her friend laughed. “He’s right. Admit it. You have the worst kitchen in the known universe.”

Even when they were kids Caryn had been prone to exaggeration. This time, though, it wasn’t far from the truth. Amy didn’t even reply. Having it pointed out to her—repeatedly—didn’t help her mood.

Another can slammed onto the shelf. Amy didn’t say anything until a bright blue high heel came into her peripheral vision. “What?” she snapped.

“Don’t get grumpy. Come on, take a break.”

Amy looked up at Caryn. Her arms were crossed, a sure sign she wasn’t backing down. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Fine.” Caryn plopped down on the floor beside her, leaning back against the full shelves. “We need to talk, Aim....”

The use of the childhood nickname surprised Amy. She couldn’t remember when she’d last heard it. It made her long for the days when they’d hung out and just been kids together, none of this grown-up confusion to get in their way.

“He’s not a horrible guy,” Caryn continued. “And what a deal. Your kitchen fixed and a very lovely show.” She winked suggestively and waggled her finely plucked eyebrows.

Amy fought the laugh, but with Caryn it was hopeless.

“Ha! Gotcha.”

“Stop that.” Amy put up the rest of the soup, less loudly this time. “It’s just...” She didn’t even know how to explain what she was feeling when she didn’t understand it herself.

“Just what?” Caryn prodded.

“I don’t know. The apartment is my world. My space. I don’t mind the setup we have now.” Then a thought occurred to her. “It’s not a problem for you, is it? If you need me to find somewhere else—”

“No. No. It’s not like that. You’re always welcome there. Now, stop it.” Caryn twisted to face her. “What are you afraid of?” she whispered.

Amy’s head snapped up. “I’m not.”

“Really? After all these years you’re going to try to lie to me? Your best friend? I’m shocked.”

Caryn hid behind the humor, but Amy could see the disappointment in her eyes. They’d been friends too long. She tried again. “I don’t know him. I—”

“You’re attracted to him.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.” Caryn leaned her head back and closed her eyes for a brief second, then pinned Amy with a stare. “Even before you had Katie, you let guys intimidate you. Remember the crush you had on Marcus Finch? You could barely speak to him without stammering.”

Amy frowned. “Reminding me of my screw ups won’t help.”

“That wasn’t a screw up! You were just shy. Aim, you have a lot to offer a man, both as a friend and a lover. Give yourself a break.”

“I don’t know.” Amy didn’t agree. She didn’t have anything to offer, as far as she could see. She grabbed the empty box and stood. Caryn stood as well, disgustingly easily in those shoes. When she started to speak again, Amy cut her off. “If I agree to think about it, will you let it drop?”

“Only if you’re serious.”

Amy sighed. “I’m serious.” She resisted the urge to cross her fingers behind her back the way they had as kids, to negate the promise.

* * *

T
HE
DINER
WAS
PACKED
,
with the lunch rush in full swing. Jace tried to ignore the glances and stares, but knew he was still the new guy in town.

Caryn walked up to the table nearly as soon as he sat down. “Hey, handsome.” She’d taken to greeting him that way since he’d first come in, as if she were an actress in a really bad movie. “How come you didn’t volunteer to work on
my
kitchen?” She winked as she pulled out her notepad.

“I’m thinking that big industrial kitchen of yours works just fine.” He opened the menu and looked at the same selection he’d looked at over the past few days. There were several things he hadn’t tried, but he’d already found some favorites. “Biscuits and gravy from your fancy kitchen, please.” He smiled up at her. So, Amy had told her friend. Did that mean she was considering his offer?

Caryn nodded, turned away, then turned back. “For the record, I told her she should let you do it.”

“But?”

“But Amy doesn’t do anything I say. Not since high school, when I convinced her to drive to Phoenix with me.”

“How’d that work out?”

“Hank grounded her for a month. I haven’t been able to get her to shake loose and have any fun since.”

“Remodeling a kitchen isn’t fun.”

“Yeah, but watching you do it might be.” Caryn laughed when Jace tried to hide his shocked reaction.

“Uh-oh,” a man said behind him. Jace turned to find two older gentlemen sitting there enjoying their coffee. “Don’t let that one get her hooks in you,” the heavier of the two said with a laugh.

“I heard that, Earl,” Caryn called from behind the counter. “You might have to wait for that next refill.”

“Just remember I didn’t say anything,” the man across the table from Earl interjected.

“You probably encouraged him.” Caryn smiled as she came over and topped up both their cups. Jace turned back to his own table with a shake of his head.

There was a camaraderie here that he’d forgotten existed in small towns. It brought back memories of his mother, going to the grocery or the drugstore and doing more than just shopping. She’d talked to people. Asked about their kids, their holidays, their lives.

After his father had died in the mine, she’d stopped going out. Jace had gone instead and they’d all asked about her. At fifteen, he hadn’t known what to say. How did you explain that your mother wasn’t the same person she used to be? He didn’t know then, and he still didn’t know now.

He’d found some of that friendship with Mac, and even with some of the other people he’d met in L.A. The shelters where he’d ended up had had their regulars.

He didn’t miss those people, though. Except Mac. Yeah, he missed Mac. And his mom.

* * *

G
AVIN
SELDOM
DARKENED
Amy’s doorstep, so when he walked into her store, she paused and looked up. What did he want? she wondered. “Good afternoon, Gavin,” she said, and stepped out from behind the counter, wiping her hands on the edge of her apron.

“Amy.” He strode inside, lifting his Stetson and letting it drop back down to his shaved head. She figured he considered that to be a tip of his hat.

“How can I help you?”

“Well.” He stopped at the counter and leaned against it. “I’ve started making rounds in town. With so many strangers about, I’m thinking I need to keep a closer eye on things.”

“Strangers?” As far as she knew the only new person in town in the last month was Jace. She wondered what kind of threat Gavin thought he was.

“Yeah. Can’t be too careful. You had any trouble?”

He tried, really tried, to sound intense and tough. It might have worked if she hadn’t known him since second grade, when she remembered him eating paste. She tried to shake that image, but it was burned pretty deeply into her brain. He might be two years older than her, but a small-town school, where every grade from preschool through high school was in the same building, meant everyone knew everyone.

“No, Gavin. No trouble. You do realize we
want
new people to come to town, right?” She wasn’t sure how far to push him, but realized by the redness that crept up his neck that she’d hit a nerve.

“I know everyone’s all fired up to increase business, Amy. But we need to be careful. Too much growth can hurt a town. We aren’t very big. I’ve only got one deputy to protect everyone.”

“Protect us?” The image of Gavin and Maurice—who was over seventy-five—arresting anyone almost made her laugh. “What exactly are you protecting us from, Gavin? The tumbleweeds? I suppose we should worry about the rattlesnakes, right?” Amy, and everyone at school, knew about ten-year-old Gavin going out to hunt rattlesnakes...and getting nothing more than a nonvenomous bite and an expensive trip to the E.R. much to the displeasure of his grandmother Mazie and uncle Eustace.