Hometown Heartbreaker

by Maisey Yates

  “Decided to help yourself to my old man’s ride?”

  She froze, her posture going board straight before she turned slowly to face him. Her expression was inscrutable, unreadable, but he could see something in those blue eyes he didn’t like. Fear. She covered it quickly, planting one hand on her hip and popping it out to the side. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I inconvenience you terribly by not having it sit here all night?”

  “I felt a little inconvenienced when I pulled in a few minutes ago and thought it had been stolen.”

  “Dear God. Minutes of inconvenience. We should start a GoFundMe to help you deal with your trauma.” She turned away from him, facing the bar, her blond hair shimmering over her shoulder as she tightened her hold in her purse. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be late to work.”

  “My keys?”

  “Right.” She turned back, fishing in her bag and taking them out, jingling them slightly. A very broad, very fake smile stretched across her face. “See? Not keeping it.” She tossed the keys toward him and he reacted quickly, catching them at the last moment. “Nice.”

  His patience was wearing thin, and along with it, his control. “Why did you take the car?”

  “Because I don’t have one,” she said, speaking slowly in a monotone voice, as though she were talking to someone very young or very stupid. “And since I didn’t get off until well past midnight and there was a car available, I thought that I would cut an hour or so off my commute in the dark, damp weather. Problem?”

  He didn’t know how she’d managed it. All he knew was that a second ago he’d been angry because she’d taken off with his car, and now he was the one who felt like an ass.

  “You could have asked,” he said.

  “Yeah, well, you seemed like you were in a little bit of a hurry, so I thought maybe not. Actually, I thought you probably wouldn’t know, since I didn’t figure you would be back for it this early.” She shrugged. “Calculated risk. It failed. That happens. But no harm, no foul. You got your car back, and I didn’t get ax murdered on my way home from work. Everyone wins.”

  “Wait,” he said as she started to turn away again.

  She paused. “I have a bunch of extra tips to earn, seeing as you walked out with last night’s tips when you took your dad. And I’m on the early shift, which means less money anyway. So, I better go.”

  “Don’t I need to pay my tab?” He didn’t know why in hell he was still talking to her. She was pushing against things best left un-pushed against, and he should get on with his day.

  But he was still talking to her.

  And anyway, he did have to pay.

  “I suppose,” she said. “But I figure you can take that up with Ace.”

  “I thought you were worried about your tips.”

  “I am. Was. At this point, I figure I’m not going to get them.”

  That was his cue to take off. But he didn’t. “If I’m anything, it’s a man of my word.” Even when it came to making good on promises given to carjacking waitresses. He wasn’t like his father. Not now, not ever. He didn’t promise one thing and deliver another just because it was convenient.

  “Cute. You and George Washington.”

  “What?” he asked, as he started to follow her into the bar. And, though he tried, he wasn’t successful in keeping himself from letting his eyes drift down so that he could admire the curve of her butt. It was a very nice curve.

  “You cannot tell a lie. Neither could he.”

  “Actually, that didn’t really happen,” he said.

  “It totally did. They reenacted it on Sesame Street. Muppets don’t lie.”

  She walked quickly through the mostly empty dining room, making her way to the bar, fishing around until she found a black apron beneath it and tying it on before she put her long blond hair up into a bun. He watched as he moved closer, completely drawn in by her movements.

  He was seriously hard up, and in no position to do anything about it. He had to hope the damp weather wasn’t making his hay a bigger mess than the chicken feed he was dealing with today. Had to get through baling. Had to get all the accounts in order, and hoped his dad hadn’t alienated anyone else with his recent bout of drunkenness.

  Yeah, he didn’t have any time to deal with women or relationships.

  That was why the arrangement with Caroline had been so perfect for so long. They had acted as official itch scratchers for each other for years. Both of them in too deep with family issues to ever want a relationship. Then he’d gotten it into his head that maybe he did want one. That he could change things. Could have a life that was separate from his parents and save the farm all at the same time.

  Until he’d found out his dad was in serious debt and had fucked some important business relationships six different ways. Then all the money he’d been saving, his hope for a future, had been poured back into the barn.

  He’d tried to explain things to Caroline. To say that things would just go on as they always had. But she hadn’t wanted that anymore. So she’d gotten herself a real relationship, and now he was back to spending his romantic Friday nights with his right hand.

  As soon as that thought filtered through his mind, she looked up, her blue eyes meeting his, her brow arched as though she had read his thoughts. He felt compelled to keep the conversation going. To keep the connection, because it had been a damn long time since he’d felt one with another person.

  “Sometimes, Muppets lie,” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Well, shit.” She slapped her hands down on the bar top. “Now I’m going to have to rethink every bit of advice I ever internalized as a kid. You know, I didn’t have the most attentive of parents, so I kinda depended on the wisdom dispensed by Fraggles. Did you want to give me a tip along with the existential crisis?”

  “I said I would,” he said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

  “So,” she said, “Muppets are liars. What about anthropomorphic bears?”

  “What?”

  “The very foundation of my childhood depends on your answer.”

  He looked at her, not quite able to figure out whether or not she was serious. “I’m pretty sure they’re trustworthy. Not real bears, though. Don’t trust a real bear.” He took a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and handed it to her. “This is the tip. I’ll pay the tab with my card.” Knowing his dad, he’d run up more in drink costs than the eighty in cash he was currently carrying.

  “Good.” She took the money and her eyes widened slightly when she looked at it closely. “Generous,” she said.

  “My dad has a tendency to be obnoxious.”

  “Honestly? Not any more than any of the other guys who sit around on these stools. I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks, but I already have some favorites. And by favorites, I mean guys I want to punch with a broken bottle.”

  He handed her his credit card and she took it, swiping it on the machine that was sitting on the lower counter. “How much damage did he do?”

  “A bit. You might actually be trading me that car.” She looked up, smiling for a second, so quickly he thought he might have imagined it, before handing him back the card and the receipt. “Sorry. Addicts, right?”

  He gritted his teeth, uncomfortable with her referring to his dad that way. Even if it was true. “You speaking from experience?” He signed the total slowly, trying not to do the mental math on how many drinks it broke down to.

  “Um, hi. I work in a bar. I pretty much invariably work in bars. There’s at least one of your dad in every town I’ve ever been through. Not too many of you, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” she said, looking down at his receipt and reading the name printed on the bottom, “Aiden, most people just leave them to drown in it.”

  He didn’t like taking the compliment, even such as it was. He didn’t feel like he was doing anything especially good. He was just doing what had to be done. Life wasn’t
about comfort or happiness. It was about control. Doing the right thing, not the easy thing.

  Following your heart was bullshit. His dad’s heart said drink up and screw the waitress. No. Deciding on the right path and sticking to it was all there was.

  “I have a farm to run,” he said. “And my dad’s name is on the title. So I can’t very well let him drown in a whiskey bath.”

  “Sure. That’s as good a reason as any. But at least you have a reason. Whatever, I’m trying to say nice things, and my lips aren’t used to making friendly sounds, so clearly I’m not doing a very good job.”

  “No, you did a good job. Thank you.” Now he felt extra-guilty for earlier. For scaring her, when she’d been driving the car because she didn’t have another way to get back to wherever it was she lived. After midnight. In the rain. This was his problem in a nutshell. He didn’t leave his dad to drown in his drink, and he felt bad for this woman who had essentially stolen his car. “Hey, what time do you get off?”

  She puckered her lips together, raising both brows. “Well, about eight. But, I have to say, I don’t think you’re that nice.”

  “I’m not hitting on you. When you get off, why don’t you follow me back to my parents’ place with the car, and then I’ll drive you over to wherever it is you’re staying. You don’t have to walk, and I don’t have to tow the thing. How does that work?”

  She squinted. “Why?”

  “It helps everybody.”

  “I guess it does.” She frowned. “In a surprisingly no-strings-attached way.”

  “It helps you, it helps me. It’s hardly charity.” He didn’t want to stand here and make conversation with her. He wanted to get away, get his head on straight.

  She laughed. “Just waiting for the part where you tell me I can offer you further help by sucking your dick.”

  Her words hit him with all the force of a slap. Heat barreled through his veins like a bullet speeding out of a gun. He was angry. Angry, and turned on. Turned on, because what guy wouldn’t be when the topic of blow jobs was introduced? Angry because it affected him so much.

  Angry because she had felt like it needed to be said. Clearly people had taken advantage of her in the past, otherwise there would be no reason for her to bring it up.

  Yeah, he was angry for a host of reasons.

  “I’m not going to ask you to do that,” he said, the words coming out harder than he’d intended. “And if that’s your first assumption about what a guy is after, then I think maybe you’ve been associating with the wrong kind of guy.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Well, that depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “Depends on what you want from the guy. I was warned a lot about guys who only want one thing, but here’s the deal. Guys who only want one thing are pretty easy to handle. They’re honest, at least. It’s the Dudley Do-Rights that concern me. You,” she said, jabbing her index finger in his direction, “you concern me.”

  “I just said I want to help you out, no conditions.”

  She crossed her arms and treated him to a skeptical expression. “Everybody has conditions, hayseed. Even you.”

  He gritted teeth. He was still angry, but now he was pretty much just angry at her. “Do you want to use the car later or not? I can hitch it up to my truck and tow it home now. I’d rather not, because it’s a pain in my ass. But so are you. Which means I’m kind of doing compare and contrast right now.”

  “Yes. The Good Deed Venn diagram. I’m familiar. FYI, in my life, the good deeds I’ve attempted never really balance out right. So I usually just forget them. I prefer to look out for me.”

  “Do you,” he said again, slower, his tone more intense as he fought to keep his control, “want to use the car or not?”

  She blinked a couple of times, clearly surprised that he hadn’t withdrawn the offer. That he hadn’t backed down. “Yeah. I can drive it home for you.”

  “Good. I’ll be back here at eight. If you keep me waiting, I’m going to hitch it to my truck and tow it back. I will leave you standing out in the drizzle on your own, and I won’t lose any sleep over it.” Except he had a feeling he would lose sleep over her either way, for all the wrong reasons.

  “You know, they say it’s more blessed to give than receive. You don’t seem very blessed.”

  “I don’t feel it, either. Eight o’clock.”

  He turned away from her then, heading out of the bar and back into the damp outdoors. He stopped and looked at the rolling gray sea off in the distance, hoping the horizon line would help steady some of the recklessness currently rioting through him.

  It didn’t.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE SHIFT PASSED quickly and by eight o’clock her feet ached, even though it seemed like she hadn’t been on them for all that long. As these jobs went, Ace’s wasn’t the worst.

  He was nice. The customers were—by and large—nice. She had definitely been in worse situations. The floor wasn’t sticky, the bar itself clean, with wood-paneled walls and a mix of lodge and nautical details paying decent service to the little town that sat at the base of the mountains and on the edge of the open sea.

  That was another bonus. A step out to the parking lot, and she had an ocean view. That was tough to beat. She loved the ocean. She hadn’t seen one until she was nineteen years old, and ever since then she’d felt like she wanted one in sight at all times. That made this place nice for more than one reason. But she still couldn’t imagine staying.

  She wanted to get to a city. Somewhere a little bit more anonymous. Where she could blend in and not end up left with cars in her care by overly trusting country boys. Sure, the hospitality could be nice, but it was also very personal. She wasn’t a huge fan of personal.

  She took her apron off and stuffed it beneath the counter, rounding the bar and walking into the main dining room just as Aiden walked through the door. Right on time. Right like he said.

  It figured. This guy probably wouldn’t even drive across the street without his driver’s license, much less renege on a scheduled time to meet someone. He was...good.

  She was pretty confident about that. And there weren’t a lot of people who she would label good. This guy was.

  It almost made her feel guilty about what she’d said to him earlier regarding sucking certain appendages. In the spare few minutes they’d spoken, he’d never acted like he was only talking to her to curry sexual favor.

  But sometimes she just liked to cut to the chase and accuse people of the things she was most afraid they would do. It minimized the pain when they inevitably disappointed her.

  Still, so far it didn’t seem like he was hiding a secret inner pervert waiting to take advantage. She could only hope that stayed true.

  Even if he is? Does it matter?

  Her stomach tightened as she looked at him, his handsome face and truly noteworthy physique.

  Getting physical with him wouldn’t be a hardship, that was for sure. But there was something about him that made her hope—deeply, stupidly—that he turned out to be what he seemed, and not something else. Some part of her was actually hopeful that this guy was good. That he wasn’t like the rest.

  Hell, someone had to be. If a strong, upstanding farm boy who dragged his father out of dens of sin and forgave down-and-out waitresses who borrowed cars—without asking—to get home wasn’t salt of the earth, then who would be?

  “You’re here,” she said.

  “Just like I said.”

  She smiled. “Yes. Just like you said. So, how far out of town is your place?”

  “About fifteen minutes. Going to have to drive back there, then down to...where you live?”

  “I don’t live there,” she said. “I’m kind of passing through town. My car broke down and I needed to earn some extra money so that I can get it fixed.”

  She wasn’t sure why she was explaining all of this to him. Not only had she confessed that she was basically homeless, but for some reason she also felt
the need to justify it. Which was stupid. She’d gotten past feeling the need to justify her existence a long time ago. It was what it was. Sure, a lot of people thought that someone like her should be living in a different situation. That a girl who was young, reasonably attractive, clearly in possession of all her mental faculties, should have gone to college. That she should be starting her career. Basically that she should be anything other than a transient bar wench.

  But those people didn’t know her. So they didn’t deserve her story. Yet here she was telling it for his benefit. And she couldn’t stop herself. “I’m staying at a campground. Kind of over by the beach.”

  “Which one?” he asked.

  “Copper Campground. Since this is Copper Ridge, it seemed like it was probably the main campground. The hub, so to speak. I like to be where the action is. I thought maybe the real up-and-coming squirrels hung out there.”

  “And?” he asked.

  “They are pretty metropolitan for squirrels.”

  “I meant, and what’s your situation? How is it you’re camping out for... How long did you say you’ve been here?”

  “Two weeks. And the situation is that I don’t have a car. Ace was willing to give me a job on the temporary basis that I needed.”

  “Are you headed home?”

  “No. I’m headed to some places I’ve never been.”

  They walked through the parking lot and he opened the driver-side door to the car. “You don’t have anyone waiting for you?”

  She stared at the open door for a moment, torn between feeling something that was almost...good over the gesture and wanting to run the opposite direction. He was too good to be real.

  “No.” She sat down in the driver’s seat and jammed the keys in the ignition. “Which is great, really. I’m kind of off grid.”

  He arched a dark brow. “So you’re a drifter?”

  “Yes, but in the romantically applied sense of the word, rather than the vaguely skeezy one. I’m kind of like a feather. I waft in the breeze,” she said, offering him a smile that was pretty damn fake if she said so herself.