Seeking Shelter

by Angel Smits

  “For you two, I’ll make an exception.” Jace settled at the kitchen table before he spoke again. “Yeah, that’s me in that damned will, but I didn’t make it, so don’t blame me.”

  “Says here you got money and a key. What for?”

  “Yeah. I got that.” Jace knew what the will said, knew what was in that safe deposit box, and that part he wasn’t telling anyone. Except Amy when the time was right.

  The room grew too quiet. Rick gave in first. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Just tell us what you’re up to and put us out of our misery, why don’t you?”

  Jace smiled, though it was forced. “And I owe you an explanation why?” He glared at Rick. He liked the mechanic, but was still reserving judgment about Hank.

  “Don’t get smart,” the older man growled, and he took a step forward. Rick’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

  “Because Amy’s my friend. She’s had enough trouble in her life. She doesn’t need any more.”

  Jace waited to see if they said anything else. They didn’t, but they didn’t back down from his stare, either. They both sized up as honorable men, though.

  “Look, I was a seventeen-year-old runaway when Mackenzie Grey befriended me,” he finally admitted. “He saved my life. Now he’s gone, and the only thing he wanted was to find his daughter. I found her for him. All I’m here to do is get to know her and maybe tell her a little about her dad. That’s it.”

  “That’s bull,” Hank said too strongly.

  “Watch it, old man.”

  “No, you watch it, young man.” Hank leaned closer, and the look in his eyes gave Jace pause. It was more than anger and threat. It was cold and hard, an expression Jace had seen many times before. In the eyes of desperate men.

  “Mackenzie Grey abandoned his wife and daughter, left them with nothing,” Hank continued. “He was nobody’s friend.”

  “And how would you know that? Amy’s mom tell you? Were you there?” This man had no clue about Mac, and what he insinuated was not the Mac Jace remembered. Unfortunately, the attorney’s equally condemning words wouldn’t let Jace entirely deny the possibilities.

  “No, I wasn’t there.” Hank was once again too adamant, and Jace frowned.

  “Madeline came back here a broken woman.” The old man turned away and focused on the view outside the window. Jace knew he could see Amy’s store from here. “When she died, she left her daughter all alone.” He turned back around to face Jace. “I won’t believe she would have left Amy alone if she’d known her dad was out there willing to take her. It tore her apart that Amy would have no one.”

  Jace could tell he was prodding a still-open wound, but he needed to know everything. “How did she die?” he whispered.

  Hank didn’t answer. Rick did. “Cancer. Amy was fifteen. She came and lived here with Hank through the rest of high school.” Rick’s own voice held unasked questions, and he looked at the old man with confusion.

  “Madeline wouldn’t have left her alone,” Hank repeated, his gaze distant and sad. Too sad for a ten-year-old loss.

  “She didn’t, it seems. She left her with you,” Jace said.

  “That wasn’t her plan,” Hank admitted. “She didn’t make any arrangements.”

  “Sounds more like denial to me.” Jace watched the man’s cheeks redden and his glare sharpen.

  Rick shook his head at Jace and inclined his head toward the door. “Hey,” he said, his voice way too cheery as he put a hand on Hank’s shoulder. “Let’s not argue. Obviously, we don’t have all the facts.” To Jace he said, “Want to head over to the bar? I’m buying.”

  What bar? Jace wondered, but figured Rick would explain once they left. Jace knew there was no better place to learn about Amy and this town than at the local watering hole. He nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

  Hank didn’t move as the two younger men headed out into the night. Jace glanced back when they reached the edge of the yard, and saw Hank still standing there, the kitchen light illuminating the yearning look on his weathered face.

  Rick didn’t speak until they were halfway across the darkened park. “Hank still carries a torch for Madeline. He was in love with her, but she didn’t love him back. Saying anything against her is just...useless.”

  As if that explained anything. “So, he raised Amy?”

  “Pretty much. Madeline had cancer for as long as I knew her. I was a teenager when she died.” Rick’s voice softened. “What the hell do you think happened between all of them?”

  “I don’t know. Apparently the Mac I knew and the Madeline he knew were different when they were younger and married.” Jace shrugged.

  “Too bad. Seems Amy and Hank were collateral damage.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Neither of them have normal lives. I don’t think they trust anyone completely. Not even each other.” Rick sounded sad.

  Jace knew a thing or two about trust, knew it could be an expensive and painful commodity. He also knew Mac was one of the few people who’d had his. Amy should have had Mac in her life. That realization only strengthened his resolve to share his memories with her.

  “Hell, I need that drink,” Rick said.

  They reached the diner and Rick yanked the door open, nearly pulling it off the hinges. Jace followed and looked around. The diner? An empty diner? The front room was empty, and just a few lights had been left on. The only indication of life was the thumping beat under his boots.

  Behind all the laminate tables with the farmhouse kitchen chairs, beyond the old-fashioned lunch counter, there was a wide doorway. Rick went through and Jace followed him.

  He nearly laughed when he stepped into a scene he recognized. The back room was alive with lights and blaring music, and filled with what seemed to be half the town.

  Here the decor was decidedly darker and oddly, more masculine. He looked around. Was that a moose head on the far wall? What the hell did a moose head have to do with the middle of Arizona?

  A tall bar lined with metal stools ran all the way along the back, the shelf behind it stocked with an impressive amount of liquor. A huge wall mirror provided a view of nearly the entire room. An antique jukebox lit up one corner, and if he used his imagination, Jace could almost see the wooden square of planking as a dance floor.

  “Let’s grab a seat at the bar,” Rick yelled, or at least that’s what Jace thought he said. His lip-reading was rusty at best. He followed and they climbed up on two bar stools at the end. Behind the bar, a young woman stalked back and forth, mixing drinks and smiling at her patrons. Jace looked over at Rick and fought back a laugh. So that’s why the mechanic was here. Not for the drinks. For her.

  Caryn, wasn’t that her name? He remembered her from the diner out front. Except this Caryn was totally different from the tame waitress. This woman wore a form-fitting tank top, tight jeans and the highest heels Jace had ever seen. And from the look of Rick, she apparently walked on water.

  Oh, this was going to be entertaining.

  It only got better when the woman swept down the bar, slammed a beer in front of Rick and glared. He didn’t seem to care. He simply grinned at her and tossed a five onto the bar. “Jace, what you drinkin’?” he yelled.

  “You said you weren’t ever coming back,” Caryn practically screamed at him, not bothering to look at Jace.

  “I changed my mind.” Rick’s cat-that-ate-the-canary grin couldn’t possibly get any wider.

  Jace hadn’t had a drink in nearly two years. He was tempted, but knew that slippery slope was way too steep. Mac wasn’t here to save him this time. Jace didn’t even tempt himself by ordering a near-beer or a club soda to make it look like he had a mixed drink. “Coke,” he ordered.

  Rick, on the other hand, had no such compulsion. He was a straight beer man, and Caryn kept them coming, watching him out of the co
rner of her eye. Jace fought back a grin. Her glances weren’t just the usual bartender-watching-over-a-customer looks. No, these held a hint of history and a whole lot of hidden agenda. She was as aware of Rick as he was of her. They both had it bad, but were they going to do anything about it? Jace was curious and sat back to watch.

  “Didn’t even know this was here,” he said. He’d been to the diner to eat, but had been focused on his meal rather than looking around at the scenery.

  “Yeah. It’s the nearest bar.” Rick still grinned, his gaze glued to the bartender. “Caryn could never survive on just the diner. This place is good business for her, and it keeps all of us from driving over to Freeman.”

  There was a pride in his voice that surprised and touched Jace. He liked Rick.

  Over the next hour, more people came in, filling nearly every table and stool. Familiar greetings rang out and the jukebox played incessantly. Caryn ran back and forth, filling orders and cleaning up, while Rick watched her every move.

  Jace could see the mechanic’s mouth moving in between swallows of beer. The guy was talking about something, but given the thumping beat of the jukebox and the loud voices, Jace missed most of it.

  To save himself some embarrassment, he looked around the small bar. It was well hidden from the street. The old-fashioned glass windows looked like they belonged in a 1970s TV Western, the only difference being that these were blacked out.

  The table nearest the door had half a dozen young cowboys gathered around it. The top was littered with empty beer bottles and the men were the main contributing factor to the decibel level. Next was a table of three young women and their beers. Their preening, glancing and teasing were largely lost on the drunken cowboys.

  Two tables were filled by older couples, with mixed drinks, laughing and talking. A few other couples had left their gear and drinks on the remaining four tables and were attempting to dance, or at least move in some semblance of a rhythm to the music blaring from the jukebox.

  Jace took it all in. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t been in any bars. L.A. was rampant with nightlife, but this was different. Small town. Homey. Not the world he’d lived in.

  He inhaled and immediately regretted it. Alcohol. Whiskey, specifically. Its scent reached out to tempt him. Jace looked at the man next to him. The low glass held no more than a finger of the drink, but it was enough. Jace swallowed hard, forcing himself to take a swig of his soda.

  He should have known coming here would test him, should have realized it was a bad idea. But a part of him wanted to understand the town, its people, and where Amy fit in. He took another swallow of Coke.

  Jace caught another whiff of the whiskey. He needed to get out of here. Needed to escape before he gave in and ordered a different kind of drink.

  “I’m taking off,” he yelled to Rick, and stood. He tossed a couple bucks on the bar for Caryn, then wound his way through the tables. He shoved open the door to the diner, relieved at the drop in temperature in the darkened space. Jace sucked in several deep breaths, struggling to kill the craving for the taste, the scent...the oblivion of drink.

  A light in the kitchen surprised him, and he stopped outside the swinging doors and peered through the tiny round window.

  Amy.

  Well, what do you know?

  She shoved a cookie sheet into the monstrous oven, then straightened and stirred something in a big metal bowl. Was this where the homemade cookies she sold in the store came from? Had to be.

  He looked back at the bar, where it seemed half the town had ended their day and were partying. Then back at the room where Amy was diligently working. Did she ever stop?

  The concentration lines on her face told him she was as much of an addict as he was. Not for some substance...no, she was the kind of addict who found oblivion in her work rather than from chemicals.

  Earlier, he’d wondered when “later” was. It just might be now. He stepped through the doors before he changed his mind, or she saw him and disappeared.

  * * *

  MAKING COOKIES HAD ALWAYS been a messy business when Amy was a child. Looking back now, she realized her mother had given her distractions and let her make a mess while creating her masterpieces in another area of the kitchen.

  As a kid, though, Amy had felt a part of it all. Now, alone in the empty kitchen, it didn’t feel quite like the sweet adventure she remembered. More like a chore. Measuring, stirring, cutting and shaping the cookies felt so much like work. She was tired. Having put in a whole day at the store, and then taking care of Katie, she’d used up her strength.

  And she still had two more batches to bake.

  The door opened. “Time for a break?” she asked, not looking up.

  “Are you offering a snack for my break?”

  Caryn’s voice had never been that deep. Amy spun around and nearly knocked over the flour. Her heart pounded as she grabbed the big bag and shoved it more securely back onto the counter.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I...I thought you were someone else.”

  Jace didn’t say anything more, but simply stepped into the room, letting the door swing closed behind him. He smiled. She saw the hint of faint dimples in his cheeks.

  “Nice place.” He walked around the room, picking up a utensil here, a bowl there. “I assume Caryn knows you’re in here.”

  “Of course she does.” Amy struggled to keep the indignation out of her voice. “Do I look like I’d break in just to bake cookies?”

  She’d meant it to be a reprimand, but he laughed, a warm sound that resonated deep inside her.

  She should have been able to look away. She should have been able to speak. She simply stared.

  And watched the smile grow on his face....

  “What are you making?”

  He moved in close, peering over her shoulder into the giant metal bowl where the lump of dough patiently waited to become cookies.

  He’d recently taken a shower. She recognized the scent of the soap she ordered for Hank for the B and B. She knew what both bathrooms in the old house looked like, and for an instant, she saw him in that tall shower stall up on the third floor. Beige tiles, tanned skin...

  “Cookies.” She forced her mind back to the here and now, reminding herself she was still angry with him. “Did you need something?”

  “No. Just curious. Where’s Katie?”

  Amy swallowed. Would he think she was a terrible mom? She patted the baby monitor on her hip. “Asleep.”

  “Ah.”

  As if that meant anything. She put the wooden spoon down and turned to face him. She hadn’t counted on the fact that he hadn’t stepped back. Her elbow brushed across his hard belly and he flinched.

  Everything she’d thought to say flew out of her mind. Everything. She could breathe. Barely. Her heart still beat, though way too hard in her chest. She swallowed. Good, her throat worked, though her mouth seemed suddenly too dry. And her lips... She slowly licked them, too late realizing what she was doing.

  What must he think?

  She saw his eyes widen, then narrow. Warm, hard fingers curled gently around her upper arm, urging her to lean forward....

  Whoa! Amy backed away. This was not a good idea, though tempting.

  A noise in the diner surprised them both. “What’s that?” Jace said, moving away from her as reluctantly as she returned to her cookies.

  But it was several seconds longer before their gazes broke. What had she been thinking?

  Amy leaned against the metal counter, her entire body trembling. She closed her eyes, hoping to gain control—of what? Her heart? Her sanity? Her libido?

  She looked up and he was gone, the silver doors swinging in his wake. She stood a moment, staring. What had just happened?

  Mortified and a bit disappointed, she turned back to her dough
. With trembling fingers, she put the last batch of cookies into the oven. She needed to get done, get out of here and back home to Katie.

  Before she did something really stupid...like go after him.

  * * *

  RICK HADN’T MOVED from his spot at the bar, and Jace rejoined him, having followed Gavin in from the diner. The sheriff was slowly walking around the room, greeting everyone.

  “What’s he doing here?” Caryn moved closer to Rick.

  “Good question,” the mechanic replied.

  “Evenin’, folks.” Gavin greeted everyone as he made his way through the crowd. People nodded, but didn’t often make eye contact. The noise level had dropped to nearly normal.

  Jace wasn’t surprised when he heard the man’s footsteps halt nearby. He knew Gavin was standing right behind him. This was going to get old real fast.

  “Leave us alone, Gavin,” Rick spoke first.

  “This is my job, Rick. Don’t interfere.”

  “You’re the one interfering.” Rick stood, and Caryn rushed around the bar to try to stand between the two men.

  Jace stood as well, keeping his body relaxed. He knew this was about him. He didn’t need or want to cause trouble.

  “Is there something you need, Officer?” He gave the man as much respect and distance as he could.

  “Matter of fact there is. Seems you’ve got quite the record, Mr. Holmes.”

  “Gavin, are you crazy?” Caryn bit out the words.

  “Well, then maybe Mr. Holmes would like to come with me to the office and we’ll discuss it there.”

  Jace knew leaving with this man would be a mistake. At least now he knew what kind of lawman he was. Not the good kind.

  “Don’t worry about me, ma’am.” Jace put on his best smile. He’d learned years ago how to minimize, not eliminate, the damage of a cop encounter. “What do you want to know, Officer?”

  The room had grown quieter, and while Jace didn’t relish airing his dirty laundry, he was hopeful that Amy would stay in the kitchen and not hear any of this. He knew she’d find out about it soon enough, but that was better than witnessing it.