Trust in Me (4 page)

Kevin climbed off the thirty-year-old Harley Davidson motorcycle he kept running through constant tinkering and daily prayer and finger-combed his windblown hair. He'd thought of nothing but Claire for the entire ride home. Since she'd left the hardware two hours earlier, in fact. She was hard to forget. The rose scent that clung to her lingered in his memory, and the sound of her laughter replayed in his head like a tune he couldn't erase from his mind. Both her delicate perfume and the lilting melody of her laugh stirred a yearning deep inside him. He couldn't put his finger on the source of his longing but knew he hadn't felt it for a long time.

Kevin walked his motorcycle to the spot where he parked it at night. A scraggly stray dog that had adopted him crawled out from the shade under Kevin's trailer and stretched, his tail wagging.

"Hey, Mutt. You still here? Thought you'd have taken off for greener pastures by now." Kevin scratched the dog on the head as he headed inside. He intended to take the dog to Lydia to add to her collection of strays, but having someone greet him when he came in at night, even the scruffy mutt, made his empty trailer a little less lonely. Tonight, however, the quiet would be welcome. He needed time to stew over how to fix the mess he'd created at the hardware store.

If anything happened to Claire, or to the store, because of his decision to hire her, how would he live with himself? Bringing someone with her class and grace into an environment so obviously foreign to her was crazy. He didn't doubt that she had the intelligence and the skill to master the job and adapt. But her capacity to handle the job didn't change the fact that she'd be ... well, a princess among peasants. Totally out of place.

And Ray.
Cripes
.

Ray would eat her for lunch. He'd take one look at the gorgeous blonde and be all over her with his suggestive comments and unwelcome advances.

The thought of Ray so much as touching Claire pricked Kevin in a way that had nothing to do with the store's liability. The truth was he'd taken one look in her gold eyes and been lost. Her gorgeous eyes and mesmerizing smile had cast a spell over him, made him forget for a magic moment that in real life princesses and frogs didn't mix.

Maybe, years before, he'd have questioned that truth. But Robin had cured him of his idealism where love and women were concerned. She'd taken one look at his life, what her future held if she married him, and she'd run. Far and fast.

Ribbit.

Puffing out his cheeks, Kevin blew a resigned breath through pursed lips. For better or worse, Claire started at the store tomorrow. He had his work cut out for him. Not only did he need to shield her from Ray, he should make her transition from the country club to the countryside as smooth as possible. After all, he'd hired her. She was his responsibility.

Kevin poked his key in the doorknob of his run-down trailer and crooked a wry grin at the irony. He locked his door even though he, and everyone else in Grayson, knew he had nothing worth stealing. He stepped inside, where the day's accumulated heat smothered him. Casting a glance around at his ragtag collection of duct tape-mended furniture and second-hand appliances, he shook his head. Not much to look at but it was home. He took a certain pride in knowing he'd earned every stick of his shabby furnishings through hard work and perseverance. One small step at a time, he'd work his way out of debt and have the life he'd always dreamed of, where the month ran out before his paycheck did.

Financially challenged
was how he preferred to think of his dire straits. He could conquer a challenge. A challenge left room for hope, the possibility of rising from his circumstances to go on to bigger and better things.

So why did his trailer and empty pantry seem so much more frustrating tonight?

His answer came when Claire's face and aristocratic posture filtered through his mind.

Ribbit.

Kevin quelled the voice of the damn frog that had moved into his brain and tossed his keys on the scarred kitchen table. Yanking his shirt off, he turned his box fan on high. For a moment, he merely stood in the artificial breeze and let it cool his sweaty skin. He sighed in bliss as the stream of air caressed his overheated body. Air conditioning would be the first thing he bought when he finally earned his college degree and moved on to a better paying job. Just imagining a temperature-controlled home brought a smile to his face. Kevin snorted. Wasn't he easy to please?

A loud clatter outside drew his attention away from dreams of cool, dry air. "Get out of my trash can, Mutt!"

He turned and let the fan blow on his back.

Another rattle and crash.

"Dumb dog. If you knock over my trash again, I'll—" Through his window, Kevin caught a glimpse of a man in his yard, and the rest of his grumble died on his lips. Sam.

Kevin opened his front door and leaned outside. "Hey, Sam, why don't you come inside and get a real meal? Leave the trash for Mutt to ransack."

The town vagrant looked up, tossed a banana peel back in the can and ambled over to the door. Sam sported several days' worth of beard, body odor and grime, along with an appreciative smile that twisted inside Kevin. He was glad his mother couldn't see Sam now. His bleak condition would break her heart.

"You're a good man, Kevin. A good man." Sam shuffled past him and into the trailer. "Your daddy'd be proud of what ya become, he would. Real proud."

Kevin gave Sam a weary grin and held his breath as the worst of the vagrant's sour stench passed him.

"I promised your daddy I'd look after you and your mama  'fore he died in Iraq, you know. He was a good man, too, Kev. A real good man. Died for his country. Saved my life. Watchin' out for his woman and kid was the least I could do."

Kevin nodded, only half listening. He heard the same discussion of his father every time Sam happened by.

The disheveled man heaved a deep sigh. "'Cept lately, seems you're the one takin' care of me. Lookin' out for ole Sam, just like your daddy did in Desert Storm."

That admission caught Kevin's attention. This was a change from the usual litany. "I'm glad I can help. Just returning the favor. There were plenty of times you got us out of a tight spot when I was a kid."

Sam sighed again. His gray eyes looked sad, though surprisingly more lucid than they had in months. The man's grip on reality waxed and waned like the lunar cycle.

"Why don't you head in to the bathroom and take a cold shower while I get something fixed for dinner?" Kevin nudged the man in that direction. "Toss your clothes out the door, and I'll get them washed for you."

It would take several runs through the machine at the Wash-a-teria to kill the stink on Sam's clothes, but Kevin wouldn't begrudge the man the extra effort or quarters cleaning his clothes demanded. He owed Sam a lot.

"All I was planning for supper was a bowl of Raisin Bran. That okay with you?"

"Sounds fine, Kev. Thank you, son."

"All right. Go on and get cleaned up."

As soon as Sam meandered into the bathroom, Kevin pulled out his can of Mountain Spring air freshener and liberally treated the interior of his trailer. Sam's version of a Frank Sinatra classic boomed from the shower when Kevin went in to retrieve his clothes from the bathroom floor. Holding the shirt and pants away from him, he hurried the smelly things outside where they'd stay until the trip to the laundry later in the week. After washing his hands, he found the last set of clothes he'd washed for Sam and set them out on the back of the toilet.

For the rest of the night, Sam provided a distraction for Kevin. Rather than dwell on the explosive situation waiting tomorrow morning at Lowery's, Kevin played Sam's favorite game of "Remember when..."

Still, he thought about Claire often, especially when Sam reminisced about his not-so-secret crush on Kevin's mother.

Claire was a vision straight out of Kevin's dreams, but dreams were fairytales. Kevin was grounded in real life.

Real life was a dear family friend who'd lost touch with reality when Kevin's mother died of cancer. Real life was scraping up the cash to pay Harrison University for the upcoming semester. Real life was a broken TV, no phone or air conditioning, and a semi-reliable 1972 Harley.

Somehow he figured Claire had no need for any of his real life cluttering hers.

***

The next morning, Claire stuck her purse amongst the clutter on the shelf in the manager's office at the hardware store. After finding a carpenter's apron in the closet where Kevin said they'd be, she put the store uniform on over her Donna Karan skirt and silk blouse. She hadn't questioned her outfit choice until she arrived at the store and Kevin had surveyed her clothes with a stricken expression. Her only thought when dressing that morning had been to appear professional for her first day at work, yet still be fashionable and ladylike, the look her mother had mastered. Kevin's obvious dismay told her she'd already messed up.

While she fumbled behind her neck, trying not to pull her hair as she adjusted the apron strings, a tall, wide-shouldered teenager with black hair sauntered into the office.

She gave him a friendly smile. "Good morning."

He responded with an expletive she'd never heard used as a greeting before and with a gaping mouth that made him look like the stuffed fish mounted over Kevin's desk.

"Pardon?" She tugged the hairs at her nape free of the apron ties and winced when they pulled at her scalp. She'd make a point of wearing her hair up in the future.

"Who are you?" the raven-haired teen asked, still gawking.

She held out her hand. "Claire Albritton. I start work here today as a cashier."

The teen gave a raucous laugh and scratched his chest. "Well, hot damn! Where the hell did Kevin find you? D'you lose your job at Hooters and decide to go slumming?"

Claire wrinkled her nose. "Hooters?"

Just as the guy finally reached for the hand Claire offered, Kevin came skidding through the office door huffing for a breath. He wedged himself between Claire and the teen and said breathlessly, "Claire, this is Ray Lowery. Ray, Claire. There. Intros all done. Ray, out. Get to work."

Kevin planted his hands on Ray's chest and pushed the burly teen toward the door. The manager's rude behavior baffled Claire. He'd been so polite to her earlier when she arrived.

"Lowery?" she said, looking around Kevin to speak to Ray. "The same Lowery as the—"

"Yeah, I'm the owner." A smug grin split the teen's face.

"Your father's the owner, Ray. You're the stock clerk, and the truck from Georgia just arrived. Have at it."

"I'm talking to Claire."

Kevin shoved Ray a few steps closer to the door. "No, you're not."

The stock clerk scowled and knocked Kevin's hands away from his chest with an angry sweep of his arm. "Back off, man. I'm going." But he didn't go. He stood in the office door and stared at Claire. "Trying to keep her to yourself, are you?" Ray scoffed. "Like she'd ever want a toad like you, Fuller."

Kevin stiffened. "Get to work, Ray."

Claire watched the tense exchange with an uneasy quiver in her stomach. Had she done something wrong that caused this altercation?

Ray slid his gaze over Claire slowly, lingering on her chest, then arched a thick eyebrow. "See you later, dollface."

Ray's perusal left her skin feeling somehow dirtied, and she shivered. She'd never had a man ogle her quite so blatantly or with such a lascivious gleam in his eyes.

"Sorry about that. I forgot to warn you last night about Ray, our resident throwback to the cavemen." Kevin glanced at her with a sheepish grin. "I'll do my best to keep him away from you."

She shook her head. "Why would you do that? If we're going to be working together, it seems like we'd be around each other all day."

"I just mean I'll try to buffer you from the worst of his...well..."

While Kevin fumbled for a word, Claire let another one sink in.
Buffer
.

Kevin intended to shield her from Ray. Did he think she was incapable to taking care of herself around the stock clerk? That she couldn't manage without him there to pave the way? Certainly that's how her father had felt. And the point of her being here, working in this hardware store and striking out on her own, was to prove how wrong her father was. To prove to herself she didn't need to be coddled. To rebuild the self-confidence her father had stolen through years of treating her as an incompetent.

"Don't." The word came out more sharply than she intended, and she took a deep breath to calm herself. "Thank you, but I don't need you to buffer me from Ray. I'll be fine."

Kevin eyed her worriedly. "You don't know Ray the way I do."

"Then I'll learn. That's why I'm here. I want experience with real life. No holds barred."

Kevin rubbed his chin, his chocolate eyes still concerned and skeptical, but he nodded. "In that case, let me show you how the register works. We open in ten minutes."

Excitement ballooned inside her. She could do this. And it would be fun. She'd meet interesting new people, sample a side of American life she'd only heard about, and learn new things in the process. She was ready to get her hands dirty and experience the real world.

"How'd it go with Mrs. Proctor last night?" Kevin asked as he punched a few keys on the register, setting it up for business. "Did she agree to let you rent a room?"

Pop
.

Kevin's question, the reminder of her failed first attempt to manage her own life, burst her bubble of confidence. Claire frowned, remembering how she'd bobbled such a simple task.

"Claire, what's wrong?"

She lifted her gaze to find Kevin studying her, frowning. Quickly she replaced her pout with the polite smile she'd been raised to wear in public. "I'm sorry. I got a little lost in thought there. I'm fine."

"Then everything's squared away with Mrs. Proctor?"

With chagrin, she shook her head. "Not really. She said to tell you she didn't need a babysitter." Claire winced. "I'm afraid I handled things badly, and she said 'no' before I really had a chance to explain myself."