by Angel Smits
“I checked up on you, Holmes.” Gavin stepped into Jace’s personal space. “You been in quite a bit of trouble. Trespassing. A stint in rehab that apparently didn’t take.” He nodded pointedly at the beer on the bar.
“That’s my drink.” Rick’s tone was nasty and belligerent.
“Really? That so, Caryn?”
“You know what Rick drinks,” she answered. “Jace’s been drinking cola all night.”
“You lying, Caryn? Not cooperating with an investigation? Maybe the county commissioners need to look more closely at your liquor license.”
The threat stripped the color from her face. She probably couldn’t survive without this place.
“What the hell are you investigatin’?” Rick’s words were slurred. “You harrassin’ people again?” Caryn tried to shush him, while Jace leaned forward.
“There’s no law against me buying alcohol, Sheriff.” Jace couldn’t resist pointing that out. There was a lot of grumbling in the room, and he knew this could easily turn nasty. Gavin might be in the wrong, but Jace was still the outsider here.
“I’ve been sober for two years. I haven’t done anything wrong, so until I do, why don’t you let these people enjoy their evening. They’ve earned it.” It wasn’t a threat, but Jace wasn’t backing down, either.
They eyed each other for a moment and the crowd seemed to hold its breath. Gavin gave in first. “You be sure and keep it that way.” The lawman stepped even closer to Jace, who didn’t move. “And I suggest you stay away from Amy Grey.”
“If I know what’s good for me?” He finished the campy movie line.
“She’s got enough trouble without you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rick finally spoke up, and Caryn glared at Gavin with her own perplexed gaze.
“You know exactly what I mean. That little girl of hers didn’t come home with the stork. We don’t need any more incidents like that around here.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Caryn yelled.
“Oh, come on, Caryn. You know there are women who just gotta have a man.”
Jace almost expected the sheriff to wink at her.
“Gotta have a man?” Her voice had gone up an octave and probably a decibel. “Amy’s not like that.”
Gavin laughed. “Uh-huh.”
Rick’s hands curled into fists and Jace realized his had, too. One more remark and he wasn’t sure who’d go for the guy’s throat first. And then Jace blinked. He must have, because he didn’t see Rick move until the mechanic’s fist had connected solidly with Gavin’s jaw.
The lawman stumbled, totally taken by surprise. He came back swinging, getting to Rick before Jace could step between them.
The crowd moved in close and Jace knew he had to do something or Caryn would be rebuilding the place. Gavin turned on him and connected a solid blow that shot pain through Jace’s jaw. It didn’t slow him down, and an instant later he let loose the punch that had saved him many times before.
Gavin stumbled backward again, this time landing on his backside, then slumped to the ground. No one helped the fallen sheriff.
Some idiot plugged the jukebox, and “I Love This Bar” blared over the hush.
“Oh, shit.” Caryn stood there staring at Gavin. Seconds later, she rounded on Rick. “Are you crazy?”
“Probably.” He sent her a wide and lovesick grin.
She turned on Jace, too. “Come on.” She grabbed Rick’s arm and pulled him toward the door. They were halfway to the kitchen before Jace realized where they were going.
CHAPTER SIX
“YOU CAN’T HIT the sheriff, even if you did play with him in the sandbox when you were four.” Amy slapped the ice pack on Rick’s eye none too gently. She turned to Jace and plopped an equally cold pack on his forehead, where he had apparently smacked into a fist or two.
“Idiots. You’re both idiots.” She stomped back to the freezer for more ice.
“Hey, at least Gavin’s out cold.” Rick adjusted the bag, sounding slightly more sober than he had a few minutes ago. “Or we’d be sitting over in the jail.”
“Is it too much to hope he’ll lose his memory?” Jace’s voice was muffled, as he had moved the ice pack to his lip.
“Nah, his head’s too thick.” Rick laughed, then groaned. “Aw, we’ll talk to him in the morning. He’ll be fine.”
“Gavin? Fine? Neither of you should talk to Gavin.” Amy grabbed the first aid kit from under the kitchen counter.
Jace pulled the ice pack away. “Now wait a minute.”
“You especially.” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “He won’t think twice about locking you up. He’s been itching to arrest you since you got here. With Rick he’d have to deal with Rick’s mom. He ain’t going anywhere near Elizabeth.”
“I’ll handle it,” Jace informed her through clenched teeth.
“Okay, be stupid.” She leaned in closer and glared at him.
He glared right back. Neither gave, neither spoke. She looked away first, but for some reason she refused to identify, she didn’t want to. She opened the first aid kit and pulled out a wicked tube of antiseptic and a couple of butterfly bandages. Jace raised a brow as if he didn’t trust her. Great, just what she needed. An obstinate, macho man.
He tried to stand, but she pushed him back down and held him there. “Don’t be an idiot...again.” She glared at him, ignoring the heat shooting up her arm from where her palm touched his chest.
Amy put the ice pack back on his forehead and leaned closer to examine the cut on his lip. It was deep, and while the blood had slowed to an ooze, it stained Jace’s chin and T-shirt. She swallowed hard, forcing her stomach to calm. She’d patched up Katie plenty of times, ignoring her own emotional pain. This time Amy’s anger helped her keep the shell safely in place.
She would not think about how close she was to him, despite the heat coming off his body and enveloping hers. She refused to think about the lips she’d nearly tasted a short while ago.
Rick cleared his throat. Twice, before Amy was able to shake herself out of the spell Jace had cast over her. This was crazy. She tried to focus on the injuries instead of the man.
“Uh, I think I’ll just head over to my mom’s,” Rick offered, trying to stand.
“Sit,” Amy said, at the same time Jace said, “No.”
“Oookay,” he mumbled, and pulled the ice pack over so that it covered both eyes. “You two just let me know when it’s safe to look.”
“Shut up, Rick,” Amy grumbled, as she took a step back from Jace and focused on putting a wet cloth on his lip, trying to clean it. “This is gonna hurt,” she warned him after the fact. He winced. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“I’ve got plenty of scars. Another won’t matter,” he said, barely moving his lips. “I’ll live.”
“Not if Gavin gets hold of you, you won’t.” She eased up on her ministrations. “Why, may I ask, were you two fighting with him?” She directed her question to them both, but it was really aimed at Rick. She knew this wasn’t Jace’s fight.
“Gavin was being a jerk,” was the only defense Rick offered, sounding just as he had when they were in middle school.
“So what else is new?” Amy said. “You can do better than that.”
Neither man spoke. She continued working in silence as time ticked away. Then, as her anger faded and her mind cleared, it dawned on her what they weren’t saying. She cursed, and both men looked at her in surprise, Rick lifting the ice pack to do so.
“He did it again, didn’t he? He said something about me.” She spoke softly, and when both men hastily looked away, she knew she was right. She finished and packed up the first aid kit. Their silence was what damned them both. “Rick, I appreciate your friendship. I always have, but you can’t keep doing
this. I don’t need you—either of you—to protect my honor.”
“He can’t go around saying things like that,” Rick protested.
“He can and will.” Amy went over to the sink, turning her back on them as she washed her hands. She couldn’t face them wondering what vile thing Gavin had said. “He’s never made a secret of what he thinks of me, not since I came home pregnant with Katie. You two getting thrown in jail isn’t going to change his mind or make things any different for me.”
On one level, she appreciated their caring, but all it did was draw more attention to her. To Katie. And Amy would never ever let anything hurt her daughter, including the nasty childish comments of a grown man who should know better.
She knew the men were looking at each other as if wondering what to do next. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t want to watch all that masculine posturing, all that silent communication that she’d never understand.
She took a deep breath, then slowly pivoted on her heel. They’d finished all the silent communication, but she knew they were still trying to figure out a way to fix this. It was such a guy thing to do.
“I’ve put up with a lot from this town since I came back here. I appreciate your support, but I don’t need your help.” She did appreciate them both, but she had to take care of herself and Katie. She had to be the one to handle her life. They couldn’t always be there.
She looked over at Jace. He’d be gone sooner rather than later. She saw the anger in his eyes, saw him clench his jaw, then wince. She turned away.
The last batch of cookies was done. She hastily gathered her things and put them away. She would go home, get a good night’s sleep and forget this ever happened.
She’d just reached the back door of her store, and was pushing the key into the lock, when Jace’s voice startled her.
“Like hell.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin when he covered her hand with his much larger, stronger one and kept her from opening the door. His grip was tight but gentle, and while she knew she should be afraid of him, she wasn’t. Just annoyed.
No, what scared her about Jace wasn’t his size, or his proximity, but what he made her feel. She hadn’t been attracted to a man since... She hadn’t let herself be attracted to anyone, so why couldn’t she stop the curiosity and interest this time?
“Leave me alone, Jace.” She didn’t look up at him. He didn’t move away. They were at a stalemate, just as they’d been earlier, only worse. This time it wasn’t attraction holding them together, it was anger and fear keeping them apart. The silence grew thick around them, filling the tiny porch. Then she heard the sound, soft and slow, of his breath. It seemed so personal, so intimate. As if she could hear his very existence. The hard calluses of his hand covering hers provided a connection between them. She closed her eyes, hoping to shut him out, but only succeeded in making his presence stronger.
“There was a time a few years ago....” Jace’s voice was soft. Too soft, as if he was as afraid of what he was about to say as she was. “I was on the L.A. streets. I’d run away from home about six months earlier.”
She looked up at him, surprised. That had to be where he’d met her father. She ached to hear what he had to say, but didn’t want him to tell her. She couldn’t move.
“It was late, quiet,” he continued. “We were sitting in a doorway waiting for the rain to stop. It was cold as hell. I sat there shivering and Mac was wearing three coats. He was dry, and actually too warm.
“This woman and a kid walked by. She was soaked nearly all the way to the bone, and the kid looked like a drowned rat.” Jace’s laughter was bittersweet.
Amy opened her eyes then, wanting, needing, to see the expression on his face. The night shadows muted his features, but she could see his pain. The tone of his voice was too deep and soft. She told herself she was listening because of Jace, not her father.
“Mac took off two of those coats. I hadn’t seen him ever give up something that was his. It was too hard to come by. But instead of putting the coats in the damned grocery cart like I expected, he hurried out into that rain and tried to give them to the woman. He actually wrapped that huge coat all the way around the kid.” Jace swallowed hard and his fingers tightened around hers, though she didn’t think he knew it.
“What happened?” she whispered, seeing the frown between his eyes. Their gazes locked.
“She hit him. She actually hauled off and decked him. Told him to leave her and her kid alone. When he came back to our little cubby I asked him why he’d done that.” Jace stepped closer. “That was the first night he told me about his wife and daughter, about you. He said they’d left him when he became a drunk. He said he wanted to help the woman and her child, hoping that maybe somewhere, someone else was taking care of his wife and daughter.” Jace’s voice had gone so soft that though they were close, she had to strain to hear him. “He died not ever seeing you again.”
Amy couldn’t speak. She just stood there looking up at him, seeing something like anguish in his eyes. She reached up to touch his face. “Jace?”
“No. Don’t.” He closed his eyes as if to calm himself and leaned away from her touch. When he looked at her again, his expression was clear and emotionless. As if he faced something too painful to let himself feel. “I can’t—I won’t—let this chance pass by.” His voice cracked despite his tight control. “Your father was my friend. A good friend.
“You were the little girl he kept trying to find. That he wanted to take care of. I don’t know why everyone thinks he ran out. He didn’t. He couldn’t.
“I owe him. You can tell me a million times to go away. You can rant and rave about how you don’t need me or anyone else taking care of you. But I know you’re lying. Just like that woman, you need it. You deserve it. Your damned pride isn’t going to stop me. And Mac would expect it from me. Him, I’ll honor.”
And then Jace was gone. The sound of his boots crunched all too loudly on the gravel of the back alley as she watched him leave. The streetlight rimmed his body like a halo.
She’d known he’d come here for her father, but was that the only reason he stayed?
She wasn’t sure what hurt more. That he wasn’t here because of some great attraction to her, or the grief of knowing her father was dead and she’d never have anything like what Jace had obviously had with him.
* * *
JACE HADN’T SEEN RICK all morning. Some kid had opened up the garage and was selling gas. There was a subdued feel to the whole town, so business had been slow.
The Harley was nearly done. Jace hoped to take it out for a run this afternoon. Hunkered down beside the bike, he felt a sense of accomplishment that sent a rush through him. Maybe he should just go on back to L.A.
And do what?
Mac wasn’t there. Jace had given up the apartment before coming here. The safe deposit box full of money was the only thing waiting for him. He’d done a lot of things in his life that he wasn’t proud of, but taking money that he didn’t feel he deserved wasn’t going to be one of them.
The last mechanic job he’d had was gone now. Oh, Mike would gladly take him back if he could; Jace knew he was good at fixing bikes. He ran a loving hand over the one in front of him. It had been little more than a badly mangled frame when he’d found it and started to fix it up six years ago.
Rebuilding it had taken him two years of scrounging for parts, bartering with Mike and a couple of other shop owners for training, and working backbreaking construction jobs for minimal cash. He’d learned to rebuild and fix the bikes mainly on his own, and had worked for Mike ever since.
He liked Mike. Liked the work. Of all the odd jobs he’d had over the years to support himself, he’d liked working for Mike the best. But his friend owned a small shop and couldn’t afford to be a man short. When Jace had heard his brother was trapped in a mining dis
aster, he had known Mike would have to replace him if he left. There were no regrets, just reality.
“You know my grandpa?” Katie’s voice came from just outside the open garage door and startled him. Jace froze and then silently cursed as her words registered. This was bad. He turned around, but stayed down on her level.
“Uh.” He frowned. “Yeah. How’d you know about that?” He was pretty certain Amy hadn’t told her.
“I heard you and Mama talking last night.” The little girl lowered her voice to a whisper. “She thinks I sleep when she goes to cook. But...it’s too hard. I worry ’bout her.”
Those last words sounded way too grown-up for a six-year-old. But he didn’t think she was just parroting some adult. His gut tightened. He was in way over his head. “Hey, didn’t your mom tell you to go straight home? She won’t be happy you’re here.” He hadn’t been around kids enough to know what the heck to do or say. He hoped he was doing this right.
“I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do.” He walked over to where Katie hugged the corner of the building. Her backpack dangled from her hand into the dusty desert dirt, and Jace hunkered down beside her. “You’re a good kid, Katie, and you’ve got a great mom here. Don’t ever forget that.” How could he get across to a six-year-old the value of home, of a mom who worked as hard as Amy did for her?
“She’s mean,” Katie mumbled.
“No, she’s not. She cares about you.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
Stunned, he let his tone sound harsher this time. “Now, you know better than that.”
“Is your mom nice?”
Pain knifed through Jace’s chest. He didn’t dare analyze that too deeply. What should he tell her? The truth, he knew, but how? “I...my mom died a while back. I haven’t seen her in a long time.”
“Oh.”
The silence was long. Katie stood there, staring down at the toes of her shoes.
