by Dylann Crush
Dustin
I slid my wallet out of my back pocket and set it on the table, ready for the check. I knew things would have changed since the last time I’d set foot in Swallow Springs, but at least the steak and eggs at the café had remained the same. We used to come here at least a couple times a week. Mom made such a big deal out of dragging us to town on Sundays. If my sister, Scarlett, and I made it through church without complaining, then Dad would treat us to breakfast at the diner.
Those were the good old days. The days before my life went to shit. I let out a sigh. I’d stuffed my belly, had my fill of caffeine, and given myself a while to acclimate to being back in town. It was time to stop putting off the inevitable. It was time to go home.
I lifted my hand, catching the server’s attention.
She nodded. “Be right there.”
There was something about that waitress. Sure she was polite and pleasant, but something behind those blue-gray eyes tugged at me. Made me wonder how she ended up waiting tables in a place so far off the beaten path like Swallow Springs. She had to be one of the worst servers I’d ever had. Having dined in dives around the world that was saying something. At least she hadn’t figured out who I was. Though someone would eventually, and then I’d have to deal with how to live down my recent television appearance and explain my absence and return.
Glancing at the red patch of skin on my hand, I flexed my fingers, waiting for pinpricks of pain as the burned skin stretched. Not bad. Maybe her woo-woo oil had worked a little magic. Hell, a tiny coffee scald was the least of my injuries over the years. I winced as I scooted across the bench seat to stand. The rotator cuff I’d pulled when I biffed it on late night TV had me more concerned.
“Here’s your check. Was everything okay?” The waitress set it on the table then grabbed my plate.
“Yeah, it was great.”
“Except for...” She glanced at my hand.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m sorry. You can probably tell I’m kind of new at this.” She squinted, glancing down at her feet.
I pulled a few bills out of my wallet and put them on top of the check, making sure I left a reasonable tip. “No offense, but you might want to find another occupation.”
Her head whipped up, those blue-gray eyes blazing. “Hey, that’s not very nice.”
My hands went up, palms out in defense. “Sorry. I guess I call it like I see it. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
She sighed. “No, you’re right. I’m not waitress material. I was much better at my real job. But hey, a gal’s got to do what a gal’s got to do, right?” She reached out, snagging the check and cash, then tucking them in her apron. “If you hear of anyone looking for a licensed massage therapist, be sure to let me know.”
I glanced at her hands. They looked soft, the kind I could picture doing all sorts of other things to me, but not giving me a torturous deep tissue workout. But now she had me curious. “What kind of massage do you do?”
She whirled around, giving me a wary once over, letting her gaze skip over me from head to toe. “Not the kind you’ve probably got in mind.”
I chuckled. “No, really. I’ve got a rotator cuff that’s bothering me, and I’m going to need to find someone to work on it while I’m in town.”
“Really?” Her eyes narrowed. She appeared to be trying to figure out if she believed me or not.
“Yep. But if you’re not up for it—”
She set the tray down on the table next to her and scrawled something on the notebook she’d pulled out of her apron. “Here.”
I took the piece of paper she handed me. “Harmony?”
“That’s me. I have my massage table, but I don’t have a studio space yet. If you’re serious about needing some work done on your shoulder, I could come to you.”
“All right then, I’ll give you a call.”
She nodded, picked up the tray, and headed back to the kitchen. Maybe I would give her a call. Although, based on her size and build, I doubted she’d be able to do much. I had so much scar tissue built up that it took a lot of effort to dig in and loosen up my shoulder area. There probably weren’t very many options in town—another reason to head back to LA sooner rather than later.
I’d almost made my way to the front door when one of the older men at the counter called out. “You the Jarrett boy?”
Wouldn’t do any good to argue that I wasn’t a boy any more, but a damn grown man.
“Yes, sir.” I turned to face the two men. Half the dining room separated us, but since they were the only customers in the café, that didn’t stop the guy in the Swallow Springs VFW hat from yelling to me from across the room. I cringed, waiting for them to make some snide remark about my televised wipeout.
The man I recognized as Mr. Blevins, my high school math teacher, nodded. “We thought that was you. What are you doing back in town, son?”
I hooked my thumbs through my belt loops, my gaze catching on Harmony through the opening from the dining area into the kitchen. She wrestled with the huge coffee machine as I moved closer to the men at the counter. “I came back for the baseball field dedication.”
“We never thought we’d see the day when that pipe dream would come together,” Mr. Blevins said.
I sighed. “Sounds like Rob wouldn’t give up on it.” I had nothing but massive respect for Rob Jordan, although we hadn’t talked in years. Somehow, carrying the responsibility for the death of Rob’s older brother, Jeffy, had put a damper on the childhood friendship we’d shared once upon a time.
“Some folks called him crazy.” Mr. Blevins shook his head. “But we’re glad he stuck with it. It’ll be good for the kids to have a place to practice and finally get some of those night games in.”
“Well, I’ve got to head out. I need to stop by home before I go anywhere else or my mom will never forgive me.” I stuck out my hand.
Mr. Blevins took it first, giving it a firm shake. “We’ll see you at the ceremony tomorrow.”
I shook the other man’s hand as well. “Y’all have a good day.”
“You too, son,” Mr. Blevins said. “It’s nice to have you back.”
I nodded and shot a glance toward the kitchen. Had Harmony heard the exchange? She wasn’t at the coffee machine. Odds were she’d gone to clean up. With a final nod toward the men, I pushed through the door and out onto the sidewalk.
I’d almost made it to my truck when I saw her. She’d managed to pop the hood and stood hunched over the engine of a beat up pick-up truck in the back corner of the empty parking lot. Tempted to pass by and get on with the difficult day ahead, I detoured toward her instead.
“Everything okay?”
Her head jerked up, making contact with the hood of the truck. “Ouch!”
“You all right?” I didn’t mean to startle her.
“Yeah, it’s nothing.” Didn’t seem like nothing based on the way her eyes crinkled as she rubbed at her hairline.
I ambled toward the ancient truck. “Are you sure you don’t need a hand?”
“I don’t know. Something crawled up under the hood this morning. I came out to check on it, and I hear some chirping.”
I moved closer. “It would be pretty odd for a bird to nest in there.”
“Well, I don’t know what it is, but there’s something alive and I have to leave in a bit. Should I try to get a mechanic over here to take a look?”
“Probably charge you an arm and a leg.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t think I have a choice.”
“Let me take a look.” I peered into the engine. Nothing. I should leave it to someone else. Mom was probably waiting on me, and I didn’t want to start this visit off on the wrong foot. But a quick glance at Harmony made me bite my tongue. Instead of telling her to call the auto shop, I knocked on the side of the front panel. A chorus of chirps and squeals came from the engine.
“Is it a flock of birds?” She raised to her toes to peer
under the hood.
“Nah. But there’s definitely something in there. Let me go get my tools.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Brow furrowed, she put a hand on my arm. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your help, but I can’t afford to be without transportation.”
“Shouldn’t take but a few minutes. I promise I won’t leave you high and dry. If I can’t get it put back together, I’ll make sure you get where you need to go. Okay?”
She nodded, although her lack of confidence came through in the way she bit her lower lip. Hell, I’d been taking engines apart and putting them back together since I was a kid. Although, most of the equipment I worked on was a fraction of the size of the ancient truck.
A few minutes later I returned, my toolbox in hand.
“Do you need help?” The words sounded sincere, but the way she wrapped her arms around her waist told me she’d probably rather do battle with the coffee machine than crawl under the hood.
“No, I’ve got it. I’ll come get you if I need you. How does that sound?”
“That sounds good. You know, you never did tell me your name.” Her hand stretched toward me. “Maybe we need an official introduction. You already know I’m Harmony.”
With the heavy tool chest in one hand and a greasy rag I’d grabbed from the trunk in the other, I hesitated.
“Oh, sorry.” Before I had a chance to shove the rag in my pocket, she pulled back. “You’ve obviously got your hands full.”
The way her eyes rolled upward made me smile. I’d mastered the art of awkward interactions years ago and could recognize a kindred spirit. She might be one of the worst servers I’d ever had, but she was trying to be polite. “It’s okay. I’m Dustin.”
“Nice to meet you, Dustin.”
Damn if my ears didn’t perk up a bit at the way my name slid off her tongue. “You’re not from around here, are you?” Her voice lacked the lazy drawl that was a dead giveaway to being a product of southwestern Missouri.
“No.” Her light brown hair caught the glint of sun as she shook her head. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll just be inside if you need anything.”
“All right.” I waited for her to go. She hesitated, like she wanted to say something else. But she didn’t. The moment stretched. “Shouldn’t take but a little while.”
“Thanks.” With a final nod, she spun around and headed for the front of the building. I watched her go, appreciating the way her hips swayed from side to side in the short denim skirt she had on under the coffee-stained apron.
As she disappeared around the corner I clucked my tongue, chiding myself for getting distracted by a pair of blue-gray eyes. I didn’t come back to town for a fling. I was here to hide out until the publicity storm blew over at home, that was all. And I’d get started just as soon as I figured out what had taken up residence inside the old truck.
4
Harmony
I muttered to myself as I went about busing tables from the lunch rush. It was taking too long. I hadn’t seen a trace of Dustin since I’d left him leaning over the engine. As soon as I got the dishwasher started I was going to head out back and tell him to leave it to the professionals. Robbie or Cassie would know someone who could come take a look at whatever had crawled up under the hood.
“Way to make a first impression. First I dump coffee on the man’s crotch, then I practically knock myself into next week on the hood of the truck. Next I’ll be falling into his lap or fainting at his feet,” I muttered to myself.
“What’s that?” His voice vibrated through my core.
I turned around so fast I couldn’t see straight. A hand wrapped around my arm, setting me upright. Him. Again.
“You okay?”
“Of course. You just caught me off guard.” I backed away. His hand fell from my arm, making me all too aware of the loss of his touch on my skin. What in heaven was wrong with me today?
“You can’t be from around here—you spook too easy.” The smile he gave me made me forget about my intention. Almost made me forget my own name.
“Sorry. I guess I’m a little sensitive.” I smoothed my hands over my apron. “Did you give up? I can just call a mechanic. I’m sure Robbie knows someone.”
“Robbie? You mean Rob Jordan?” The smile disappeared. His brow knit together, making him look a lot more serious than he had just moments before.
“Robbie’s my cousin. You must have been away for a while.”
“What makes you think that?” He cocked a hip, like his jean-clad hips had the ability to issue a challenge.
“Well, if you’d been here recently, you’d know that Robbie and Cassie own this place.” I went about my business, scooping dirty plates and mugs into the plastic tub I held at my waist.
“Huh. I knew he built the ball field but I didn’t know he had a hand in the café. I have been away a long time.”
“That’s what Frank said.”
“Who’s Frank?”
“Mr. Blevins. Said you grew up here but went away to Hollywood to be in the movies. Is it true?” I’d lived a stone’s throw from the epicenter of Hollywood, California, most of my life. Why anyone would make the choice to move there went beyond my reasoning abilities. I’d seen my share of hopefuls come for the fame and glory. Then end up waiting tables or holding down two or three jobs just to pay the bills. The irony wasn’t lost on me. That someone from Swallow Springs would head to my old stomping grounds seeking fame and fortune while I ended up stuck in rural Missouri waiting tables.
“It’s not exactly true.” He leaned across the booth to gather the last few dirty dishes. “I didn’t go to Hollywood to be a movie star.”
The tub clunked onto the table. “Then why in the world would you want to live there?”
“I’m a stuntman.” He slid the dirty plates into the tub before taking the tub from my grip. “Or at least I was. Now, can you show me where to put this so we can get your truck put back together?”
“You don’t have to carry that.” I made a move to take the tub back but he turned, moving out of reach.
“I got it.”
I kept my groan to myself. I didn’t need some Hollywood hero thinking he could swoop in and rescue me, even if it only involved a tub of dirty dishes. I’d had enough of that over the years.
“Thanks. You can put it back here.” I led him through the swinging doors to the kitchen where Ryder stood scraping the grill clean. “Dirty dishes go by the dishwasher over there.”
I waited for him to move, but his feet remained rooted in place.
“Dustin Jarrett.” The words slipped from Ryder’s mouth. “I thought that was you. You come back home to hide?”
My gaze bounced between the two men. Dustin bristled and the energy in the room shifted. Patsy Cline continued to wail about being crazy, but the dynamic between the two men was the only thing capturing my attention.
“I take it you two know each other?” I tried to defuse the tension.
“That’s one way of putting it.” Ryder wiped his hands on his apron. “How many times have I seen you do that burnout routine? And you biffed it on TV? Classic.”
Dustin shifted his attention to me. “You said this goes back by the dishwasher?”
I nodded. He covered the distance to the far wall in a few long strides.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to Ryder. “Do you know him?”
Ryder wiped the spatula on a kitchen towel. “You could say that. Check out the replay of the Bobby Bordell show. It’s all over the internet.”
Before I had a chance to find out what he meant by that statement, Dustin was back.
“Do you have a box or something? I figured out what’s under your hood, and I need something to put them in.” He tilted his head toward the door. “Better get back out there.”
Relieved to have a purpose, I sprang into action. “I’m sure I can find something. Cassie had some produce delivered earlier. I bet there’s a box left from that.”
“Something with a lid would be best. I’ll wait for you outside.” Dustin slunk away, reminding me of my son’s all-too-familiar moves.
“See you later, Evel Knievel.” Ryder waited until Dustin disappeared through the door, then tossed the rag and spatula down on the counter. “Damn. I figured that guy didn’t have balls big enough to show his face around here again.”
“Who is he?” I didn’t want to think about how big Dustin’s balls might be. But now, thanks to Ryder, I couldn’t get the image out of my head.
“Dustin Jarrett.” Ryder lifted his cap to tunnel a hand through his hair. Obviously he was thrown. And he was usually the one full of jokes who kept me laughing during my shifts. Seeing him rattled made me wonder exactly what Dustin’s connection to Swallow Springs had to do with anything.
“He’s a cycle stunt guy, right?”
Ryder nodded. “Yeah. He and Jeff used to be best buds. Until…”
His words trailed off but I knew what went unsaid. The accident. I’d only been about nine or ten when it happened. My cousin Jeff had taken his dad’s truck out and got sideswiped by a semi. I’d never forget mom breaking the news. The whole family had driven back to Missouri for the funeral. Robbie blamed himself, but I knew there was more to it than what the adults let on at the time.
“So why’s he back?” I located a box on top of a set of steel cabinets. While I jumped, trying to catch the edge of the box to pull it down, Ryder came closer.
“Who knows? Probably came back to hide out. Go check out the video on YouTube. He really botched what should have been an easy stunt, especially for a guy like him.” He reached up, easily grabbing the box I’d been trying to reach. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
“His mom still lives on the outer edge of town. And his sister and nephew are here too. Hell, I hope he didn’t come back for the field dedication.”
The baseball field dedication had been just about all anyone in town had talked about for the past couple of weeks. “Are he and Robbie on good terms?”
“I don’t know. I’d steer clear. The only thing I really know about Dustin Jarrett is that he brings trouble with him wherever he goes.”
