The Comfort of Favorite Things (A Hope Springs Novel Book 5)

by Alison Kent

  “We’re not open yet,” she said to the man with the cheap not-a-cop clothes. The man who’d liked her cake.

  The man who had told her he was interested in her.

  “Does that mean I can’t get a cup?” Manny Balleza asked. “Nothing fancy. Just coffee. Maybe some sugar. Some cream.”

  Nothing fancy, but still with the extras. Though that was just her being bitchy. “You need a specific temperature? A certain grind? A mug with a smiley face on it? Or are your only demands sugar and cream?”

  Holding her gaze, he rubbed at his jaw, then set both hands at his hips. “They weren’t demands, Becca. I can drink it black.”

  Manny. She rolled his name around in her head. She didn’t want to say it. Hearing him use hers was making her itch in a way she liked but didn’t want to. It was easier to give him a hard time. Doing so made for a great first line of defense. Most guys tucked tail and retreated.

  “Black it is,” she said, heading for the table with the espresso machine and the stainless steel carafe. Which, of course, was empty. Damn construction hammerheads, drinking her dry and giving her a headache with all their power tools and pounding. “I’ll need to make a new pot. Or I can pull you a shot.”

  His mouth grew tight, his frown menacing, or maybe just concerned. “A shot.”

  He said it as if he was expecting her to offer him José Cuervo or something. “Espresso. It’s coffee. But only if you’ve got an iron gut.”

  He came closer, but not too close, as if he were actually one of the smart ones who could read the signs. Then he punched a hand against his stomach the way some guys did to show off the steel of their abs. “I guzzle industrial-grade garbage at the office all day, and half the cups I get on the road taste like they’ve been sitting for a week. Plus, I’ve never met a jalapeño I didn’t like. Bring it on.”

  Thing of it was, he wasn’t showing off anything. He was just making a point. She could make one, too. Show him what real coffee tasted like. She reached for the filter basket and packed it full. “What do you do on the road?” she heard herself asking, thinking she really needed to get a grip. He might be interested, but she, most definitely, was not.

  He shrugged. “See clients. Visit friends. Check in on folks I work with. And those I’m interested in.”

  And there it was. The subject she’d been trying so hard to keep buried. Except she’d known she wouldn’t be able to. Dakota wasn’t here and she was. That didn’t leave much in the way of a reason for Manny to have stopped by, and she wasn’t ready to deal with his interest.

  She shoved the filter handle to secure it and hit the button to start the machine, thoughts of their encounter at the house refusing to go away. But at least it gave them something to talk about, she mused, watching the espresso cup as it filled. “So Frank’s a friend? A client? Are you in construction?”

  “You could say that,” he said as the machine finished and she shut it off.

  Lord save her from men. “If you’re going to be all cryptic,” she said, handing him the clear glass, the espresso topped by a beautiful crema layer, “you can get your coffee in a can at the Dollar General. And if you tell me you’ve drank that swill—”

  “A time or two,” he said with a nod, his eyes blacker than coffee and twinkling. “If I’m with folks who offer. If that’s all they have.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. Did he drink it because he wanted it, or was he actually that nice? She wasn’t even sure Thea would be, and she was the nicest person Becca knew. Hell, she wasn’t sure she’d had that much niceness in her before it had been beaten out.

  “So, Manny,” she said, crossing her arms. “Is that short for something? Manuel?”

  “It is,” he said, and held her gaze as he sipped.

  The small cup’s double wall of glass served as insulation, so he didn’t have to use the handle at all, but he did, sort of mashing it between his thumb and the rest of his fist. And that was when she saw his knuckles and the scars running across them like a railroad track.

  She wanted to ask him what they were, but her head was full of the sound of Dez’s whip, and the tracks he’d left on her shoulders and down her spine like hash marks used for counting. He’d called it a brand, said she should be proud to be marked as his.

  She supposed it was better than having had her skin burned with a branding iron. Or a lit cigarette.

  “Would you like to go to dinner?”

  “With you?” She blurted it out without thinking and wanted to kick herself in the ass. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right.”

  His mouth pulled to the side, and she really hoped it was because he was enjoying the coffee, and not because he was laughing at her. “Yes. With me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s what people who are interested in each other do.”

  “I never said—” Then she stopped because one of his eyebrows went up. He was right and she was a liar. “Look. I can’t be interested in you, and you really shouldn’t be interested in me. I’m flattered—”

  “No you’re not.”

  What was wrong with him? “Excuse me?”

  “You’re scared. You think I’m a jerk, which I can be,” he said with a shrug, downing the rest of his espresso then frowning into the cup. “Most of the time I’m not, but it happens. And you don’t want to make a mistake, or get hurt again, or risk the progress you’ve made getting over your past. You don’t even want to think about your past, and if you decide to date again there’s really no way around it because—”

  “Okay. Okay.” Sheesh. She’d heard all of this in therapy. “I’ll go to dinner with you.”

  “Because you want to?” His head was still tilted downward, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the cup. But he did lift his gaze to meet hers. “Or did you say that to shut me up?”

  “Can it be a little bit of both?” she asked. It was easier than admitting the truth.

  A smile started up at the corner of his eyes. “It can be anything you want it to be.”

  “Does that mean it doesn’t have to be a date?”

  “No. It’s definitely a date.”

  She blew out a long audible breath.

  “You make it sound like the end of the world.”

  “Some dates have turned out to be just that. For the women.”

  “You watch a lot of crime TV?”

  “And there you go. Being a jerk.”

  “I’ll be more careful.” He stepped closer to give her the empty glass, holding on to it just long enough that their hands couldn’t help but touch. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  “Next time I’ll make you a latte,” she said once he’d let go. “And draw you a big fat middle finger in the foam.”

  “Now see? That’s what I like to hear,” he said, as he headed for the door. “Next time. Has a nice ring to it.” Then he pushed it open and walked out, leaving Becca standing there, and staring, and so very hungry for things other than dinner.

  Having arrived at Bread and Bean earlier than usual, Dakota found Ellie in the shop’s kitchen baking bread. He’d known she was there before poking his head in. The smells coming out of the other room had made him regret skipping breakfast, as did the third cup of coffee he’d finished five minutes ago. He needed to eat, and had just decided to break for an early lunch, when Thea walked in through the front door.

  She headed straight for her table and her laptop, a frown on her face as she booted it up. Then she dug in her messenger bag for a legal pad, and jotted some notes, checking the calculator on her phone as she did. She looked more tired than usual, as well as more frazzled, and obviously she had something on her mind as she still hadn’t noticed him. Or maybe she had but was too caught up in whatever was going on in her head to have time for hello.

  He started to go back to work on the shelving unit, not sure why lunch s
eemed less pressing now, but that meant the electric sander, and he was just about to ask if it would bother her when she heaved a huge sigh and collapsed, laying her head against her arms on the table.

  He left the sander where it was and headed for the coffee pot and cup number four, asking the lame, “You okay?”

  It took her a minute to respond, as if she didn’t have the energy to lift her head, but finally she did, shaking it as she used both hands to hold her bangs away from her face. “I had a meeting with an attorney earlier. To go over some numbers. Finances, taxes, stuff like that.”

  “For the business?” he asked and she gave him a pretty vague shrug. “Didn’t it go well?”

  “Why do you ask?” she asked, her mouth twisted sardonically.

  “Because you look like you’re in over your head,” he said, then turned back to the coffee pump.

  “I have a ton of stuff to do today is all,” she said, then added, “Is it that obvious?”

  Probably best not to mention how shredded she appeared, the circles under her eyes, her topknot that had fallen down the back of her head. The streak of dirt on the front of her top. “You want a cup?”

  “Sure. Not that it will help.”

  This time she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. He glanced over once while her cup filled, thinking what she needed was a nap. “You getting any sleep?”

  “Apparently not enough if you’re asking,” she said, adding, “Thanks,” when he handed her the drink.

  “You just look a little rough around the edges is all.” He blew across the top of his cup then sipped, sucking back a sharp breath at the burn. “Like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

  She sipped more slowly, then set the cup down and gestured toward her makeshift desk. “It’s not on my mind as much as it’s in a spreadsheet and financial statement I’m not sure I’ve got it in me to decipher.”

  “Want some help?” he asked, pulling up a milk crate and flipping it over to sit before she answered.

  “Because this is high school, you mean? And you whizzed through Mrs. Agee’s accounting class? Or was that Mr. Meyer’s algebra? Neither one of which I would’ve ever gotten through without you.”

  “Left brains. Right brains. We all have different strengths.”

  “Says you with the engineering degree you’re not using.”

  “Are we going to talk about me now?”

  “I think we should. I mean look at me. What the hell do I know about running a business? I’m Muriel Clark’s unwanted kid. I barely graduated high school. I worked in fast-food joints until I was twenty-one and able to work clubs. Then I met Todd, who looked so much like you that I put on blinders—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Seriously? “Hold on just a minute now. Are we back to that ruining thing again?”

  Her hands weren’t quite steady when she brought her coffee to her mouth, sipping then shaking her head. “It’s not that. It’s just . . .”

  “What? It’s just what?”

  “I missed you,” she said, slamming her cup against the table and sloshing coffee onto her legal pad and one of his arms. “Shit. I’m sorry.” She scrambled to move the paper, using the edge to scrape some of the spill onto the floor, while Dakota pulled up the hem of his shirt to dry his arm.

  “It’s okay,” he said, then caught her staring at the skin he’d revealed, and the scar that had been a part of him for so long, he’d forgotten it was there. He finished with his arm then covered the damage, not sure if he wanted to answer the questions he knew she had, or get back to her missing him. Six or a half dozen . . . “Spit it out.”

  “What happened?”

  “I ran into another guy’s sharpened toothbrush in the shower.”

  He left it at that. He didn’t want to explain the circumstances or the aftermath or how much the stitches had hurt or the wound breaking open and bleeding in the yard and his ignoring it while doing pull-ups adding to his crazy-man rep. And when Thea finally did react, it wasn’t what he’d expected at all, which made him wish he’d asked her about missing him instead.

  She reached over, not to lift his T-shirt and look closer, but to brush his hair away from his face. Her fingernails scraped along his temple and his scalp above his ear, and his hair went right back to covering his forehead so she did it again. Shivers traveled down his spine as if riding on razor blades, the emotion in her eyes too stark for him to avoid.

  He felt her desperate ache to make things better as if the words had come out of her mouth, and so he said those that were trying so hard to get out of his. “I missed you, too.”

  She leaned her elbow on the table then, propping her head in her hand, her eyes damp, her fingers now toying with the ends of his hair. He sat where he was, wanting to touch her, too, but more afraid of what would happen if he did than if he remained unmoving.

  But almost as soon as he had the thought, she straightened and pulled away. “I have to go. I have an appointment for lunch. And my whining about all these numbers is keeping you from work.”

  “Actually, it’s keeping me from grabbing some grub. I’d been on my way out when you came in.”

  “You should’ve gone,” she said, getting to her feet and waving him toward the door.

  He shrugged. “You looked like you needed a friend. Or at least an ear.”

  “I needed both. Thank you. And,” she said, her tone strangely shy, “please don’t cut your hair.”

  “You like it, huh?”

  “I do.”

  “I’ve worn it long since getting out,” he said, standing and flipping the milk crate back into place. “I figure if it worked for Samson . . .”

  Gathering up her legal pad and laptop, she laughed. “Just don’t get sucked in by a Delilah.”

  “Not going to happen.” Besides, he was pretty sure his temptress had a different name.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Her meeting with Ian Payne on her mind, Thea left Bread and Bean and drove across town to Two Owls Café on the corner of Second and Chances. Facts and figures and the idea of taking on another business had her drowning, and flailing while she did. Why in the world did she think she could manage a second shop when her first wasn’t even off the ground and the reputation of the second was more than she’d ever be able to live up to?

  Todd talking again. And here she’d been so successful lately at blocking his disparaging remarks like they were browser pop-ups. She wasn’t sure why doing so seemed easier these days. Possibly because after many months of uncertainty, things were finally looking up. She wasn’t sure if that was because the women in her life were showing obvious signs of healing, or because of how much better she was feeling with the best friend she’d ever had back in her life.

  It had taken her a while to come to terms with the truth, but as wonderful as it had been to see Indiana again, nothing came close to the comfort of Dakota being part of her days. And it made perfect sense when she viewed the past from the now and admitted that hanging with Indiana had been a means to an end. At least at first, until she’d gotten to know her. And, yeah. She’d tried to gloss over it since, not wanting to accept what a jerk she’d been as a teen.

  Selfish, self-centered, self-involved. Those had been her three most noticeable—and obviously intertwined—traits. She’d been the only one interested in how she turned out, so it made a perverse sort of sense. Then she’d met Dakota, and for many months they’d been selfish together. She’d given him what he wanted, and she’d gotten the same in return. Then they’d started spending time together outside of bed, and time in bed talking.

  That was when everything had changed. He’d been a senior. She’d been a freshman. Indiana, in eighth grade, had still been a middle-schooler, so they didn’t see each other as often as they had the previous year. It had been harder to use Indiana as an excuse for showing up at the Keller home. Fortunately, the Keller
parents paid little attention to their kids’ comings and goings, and if they were there, sent Thea upstairs, ostensibly to see their daughter.

  Making the turn onto Second Street, Thea reached over to aim the A/C vent at her face. Her palms were damp, her nape, too. Perspiration bloomed between her breasts. Damn Dakota Keller for making her sweat, and from no more than the memory of those long intimate nights. The dreams and desires. None of which they’d ever believed would come true.

  It would be good to see Indiana today, though she wasn’t as thrilled to be having lunch with Kaylie and Luna. It wasn’t like her to be social. She was, in fact, one of the least social people she knew. At least that’s the way it was now. Before Todd, she’d been the life of the party. He’d liked that about her. Her outgoing nature was a big part of why they’d hooked up.

  It was part of why she’d hooked up with Dakota, too. She hadn’t been the least bit shy about going after what she wanted, even when it had meant using Indiana to get to him. Still, it had been worth it. For all of Dakota’s claims that their last night together had kept him sane in prison, their entire relationship had kept her from being completely stupid and quitting school.

  She didn’t think she’d ever told him that.

  After parking and exiting her car, she headed toward the café’s porch, only to be intercepted by a waving Indiana. “Thea! Back here!” Detouring away from the sidewalk and onto the well-worn footpath through the yard, Thea met Indiana halfway, where they stopped to share a big hug, Indiana’s cloud of dark hair smelling of sunshine.

  “I’m so glad you could get away,” Indiana said, linking their arms. “Between the shop and now the house, I wasn’t sure you’d be able to.”

  Thea laughed, aching so badly to ask her friend if she was her guardian angel, but not wanting to put Indiana on the spot. Who else could it be, really? “You realize I’m not the one doing the work, don’t you? I’m not even supervising. I’ve got one of your brothers seeing to things on the hill and the other taking care of everything in town.”