Runaway

by Susan Sheehey

  His deep walnut eyes peered up at her as he slid onto the stool.

  “Hi.” She stood upright, closed her book, and slipped it under the counter. “What can I get you?” She cleared her scratchy throat.

  “How ‘bout a black coffee and a menu.”

  Menu, right. “Sure.” She quickly slid the plastic folder before him and turned to get his coffee. Her heart rate picked up, and she wasn’t sure if it was from someone new walking into her world, or that new someone was as fine as peach cobbler on a summer afternoon, topped with vanilla bean ice cream. There had to be a story behind this guy. He was definitely not from Cascade Creek.

  Skye was born and raised in this one-horse town. She knew everyone and their business, whether she wanted to or not. That’s the way these small, rural places worked. Everyone knew everyone, and secrets never stayed that way.

  She set the steaming cup in front of him. “Just passing through?”

  “Looking for work. But I haven’t had decent coffee in weeks.” He took a long drink and seemed to relax further into his seat. She glanced at his hands as they wrapped around the mug. Rough, strong, with thick skin able to handle hot ceramic.

  For a brief moment, he glanced to the left, perhaps looking at the empty place or to look out the window, but the sunlight played off his eyes, making them almost amber.

  Wow! How did he get through life without those beauties virally shared on social media?

  She licked her lips. “Can you cook?”

  He shrugged noncommittally.

  “Hey, Ralph,” she turned to her boss through the open window separating the counter from the back kitchen. “I found a new short-order cook for us.”

  She looked back at the tall drink of water sitting at her counter, his smooth chin as strong as his hands. “What’s your name, handsome?” she asked.

  “I’m just your average guy.”

  She called to the kitchen. “Guy here says he can cook.”

  “Be right there,” Ralph called through the back.

  Leaning an elbow on the blue formica countertop, she whispered, “We lost our cook a few weeks ago. Moved out of state to take care of his elderly parents. Ralph’s the owner, been doin’ the cookin’ around here since. You can tell how well that’s goin’.” Her chin pointed toward the empty dining area.

  The corner of his mouth lifted, exposing the most scrumptious dimple she’d ever seen.

  Oh, yes. This day was startin’ to look up. Her mind wandered to the possibilities behind this Guy. With his clean clothes, fresh aftershave, and only-slightly-dirty black truck parked in the lot, he wasn’t a vagrant. Looking for work in a small town like this, maybe he was just discharged from the military and was desperate for the secluded mountain air. Or a former convict out on parole, having paid his debt to society for life insurance fraud or identity theft. She smiled wider with the idea of a world-renowned author finding a new inspiring place to finish his next best-seller. Reality could never live up to her vibrant imagination, but what else could she do in this small, idle town.

  Ralph meandered over to the counter, hiking up the pants on his oversized belly. He stared at Guy for a bit too long. Skye resisted rolling her eyes at his obvious, ancient tactic of trying to size up a man with who spoke first.

  “Can you boil an egg?” he finally asked. “How about clam chowder?”

  “Sure.”

  “Great. Start tomorrow, six a.m.”

  The stranger looked at her, then back at Ralph. “What’s the pay?”

  “Depends on how good the food is.” Her boss went back to cleaning the grill in the kitchen.

  She tapped the counter in mock celebration. “Congrats.”

  “That was my interview? Two menu items?” Guy asked.

  Skye shrugged. “Simple needs for a simple man. You got yourself a job, just like that.” She snapped her fingers and refilled his coffee.

  “Yeah. Looks like.” He glanced at her nametag. “Thanks, Skye.”

  “Anytime.”

  As she moved around the counter, she felt his gaze on her while sipping on his coffee. She pretended not to notice, though inside, she was practically dancing. It had been a long time since a fine man like this one admired her. He was polite enough to be subtle about it as well. She forced herself to keep busy than pester him with all the questions in her mind. Her best friend, Lynée, always told her she talked too much, rarely let others get a word in edgewise. At least when she was excited about something.

  One of her New Year’s resolutions—to hold her tongue more often—lasted less than a week.

  “How’s the latest Security book?” he asked.

  She stopped, soap all over her hands as she rinsed them clean. Then she smiled at him. “You caught me.”

  His lips twitched like he was about to smile, but he kept his deliberate stare. Almost like he was too cautious to let anyone see a lighter side to him. “Did they reveal who framed the butler?”

  There was no holding back her grin. The man was not only familiar with the series but knew the point of the next book. She dried her hands, reached under the counter, and slid the book across the surface. “Find out for yourself.”

  His eyes widened. “You don’t want to know?”

  She shrugged. “Already read it. I won’t spoil it for you.”

  Be still my heart. He’s a book junkie like me.

  “Is that pie any good?” he asked, nodding to the cake stand in the corner case on the counter. “I can’t remember the last time I had apple pie.”

  “Seriously?” Skye slid a slice onto a plate and set it in front of him. “That’s worse than any crime in these books.” She watched his face carefully as he took the first bite. When he sighed and nearly gobbled it up in a few forkfuls, she grabbed a slice for herself and dived in.

  Guy smirked. “Staff are allowed to eat the food in front of customers?”

  Skye cocked her head. “Who do you think made that heavenly pile of sugary goodness?”

  This time he gave her a full-blown smile—wide, straight, and beautiful.

  Shit a brick wall. Her hand gripped the edge of the counter so her knees wouldn’t buckle. It was unfair to have a smile like that while the rest of the world tried to hide resting-bitch-faces.

  Guy stood and finished the last of his coffee. “What do I owe you?”

  She lifted a palm. “Nope. Free coffee and dessert for employees.”

  He tucked the book inside his jacket pocket. “Thanks for this. It’ll give me somethin’ to do at night.” He spun around, giving her a view of his gorgeous backside. His jeans hugged his ass perfectly.

  He has nothing better to do at night? That’s a damn shame. I could give him something to keep him occupied.

  Just before he left, he slipped on his aviator sunglasses and gave her another smile. “See you tomorrow.”

  She exhaled and reached under the counter for her glass of ice water. She needed to cool down with something crisp. It might be time to pull out one of those romance novels she splurged on.

  “Welcome to Cascade Creek, Guy,” she told the empty diner.

  * * *

  Getting excited over a new stranger in town was a tad depressing to Skye, considering all the novels she’d read of far greater adventures. But this stranger made her all giddy inside. She had to share it with Lynée. After clocking out, Skye ran the short distance across the gravel parking lot, down the hill and across the overgrown soccer field to the library. The air was unseasonably warm for early October, so all the trees were still a deep green. But orange, yellow, and red patches scattered across the distant mountains like a Kinkaid painting, signaling the belated oncoming autumn.

  Yet this was no time to admire the amazing view. There was gossip to share. Gossip only she knew, which was the sweetest kind.

  She panted, trying to catch her breath as she pulled on the library’s heavy wood door. She blotted her upper lip and scanned the area for her friend.

  Lynée’s life-long love for
books must have rubbed off on Skye as a child since she was now addicted to mystery novels. Until she could find a way out of this small town, they were her only source of adventure. Except for that brief disaster her first year of college, which she never liked talking about. Her best friend, on the other hand, was completely content with vicarious experiences on the page.

  Inside the small library with the smell of old books permeating the air, she found the reference desk empty. From the squeaky wheels of the return cart, her bestie was restacking books in the children’s section.

  She peered over a short bookshelf, where the strawberry-blonde reorganized the children’s fantasy section. “Lynée,” she stage-whispered, still panting for air.

  “Hi, sweetie. How was your shift?” Her bespectacled friend’s long hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and her signature oversized mauve sweater looked as comfortable as her shoes.

  “Guess what?”

  “What?” Lynée pushed the cart down farther.

  “We got a new cook.”

  Lynée glanced up, readjusting the glasses that kept slipping down her nose. “Hallelujah. Ralph was one bad meal away from poisoning the entire town.”

  She was right. God bless that poor man. Good businessman, terrible chef.

  “His name is Guy, he starts tomorrow, and,” she cupped a hand over Lynée’s wrist, “he is fine.” She drew out the last word. “Kinda serious and doesn’t smile much, but great muscles and nice ass. And girl, he reads the Security series! Can you believe it?”

  “I like him already.”

  “I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

  “What brought him to Cascade Creek?” Her friend asked the question innocently, without any hint of doubt.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Lynée chuckled. “That’s what you’re enamored with.”

  “Seriously, though. Why would he pick this place? There’s nothin’ here.”

  Her mouth gaped. “What are you talking about? Besides this lovely establishment, we have a refurbished movie theater—”

  “Still looks like a church,” Skye cut in.

  “The apple festival is right around the corner, and,” she pulled a book from the cart’s bottom shelf, “we just got the new John Grisham in. Saved it for you.”

  Skye gasped and hugged the beautiful book to her chest. “You’re a saint.”

  “Of course, the main reason anyone stays up here is that we get the most beautiful colors in nature all four seasons. I think that’s something even Mr. Grisham couldn’t capture.”

  “Ugh. Sure, the first time you see it. But after years here, you’re still hypnotized?”

  “Absolutely.” She pushed the cart a little farther down, her signature prim-and-proper smile in place.

  Why Skye still bothered to have this disagreement with her best friend after all these years, she couldn’t explain. Lynée still loved this town and was perfectly content in her perfectly organized library. It was probably the biggest personality difference between them. Adventure was nowhere near the librarian’s hopes, where Skye absolutely drooled over it.

  “For a non-retiree, is nature enough of a reason to move here?”

  “Maybe he’s scouting it out before he brings the family here.”

  “Unlikely. No ring on his finger.”

  “Lucky you.” Lynée winked.

  “It’s a start.”

  Both women chuckled, but her friend grinned and shushed her. “You better get outta here. I have work to do.” She pushed the cart into the next aisle and readjusted her glasses.

  “You stayed up all night reading again,” Skye interjected. “Why else aren’t you wearing your contacts?”

  “Glasses don’t dry out my eyes.”

  “It’s not the contacts, girl. Your eyes wouldn’t be dry if you got a full night’s sleep for once.”

  Lynée huffed. “I’m not here to impress anyone but myself. Glasses or contacts, you love me for me, right?”

  “Are you saying I’m not important enough for you to impress?” Skye joked. “I’m insulted.”

  “You like it.” Lynée winked again.

  “Fair enough. Come over later. I’ll make dinner.” Skye blew her a kiss, spun around, and headed for home. She had a good feeling about this Guy person. This was going to be the beginning of something great. Or at least interesting.

  Reed drove through the low hills outside Snoqualamie pass, his eyes drifting to the detective novel sitting in the passenger seat. A year on the run, and this was the first time he had a friendly chat with anyone that treated him like a human being. The first time he actually had an inkling of a reminder of what a normal life was supposed to be like. All because of a waitress with a smile from heaven.

  He hadn’t intended to give her a false name, but when Skye had started calling him Guy, he ran with it. Probably better to keep his real name a secret for the time being. From his days as a black hat cyber junkie, he wouldn't have thought twice about concealing his identity. That was a necessity. But years working on the right side of justice beside Joe had taught him a new appreciation for honesty and integrity. Using a false name now left a bad taste in his mouth. But once again…necessity. To keep the DEA and the cartel off his ass a little while longer.

  The scent of fresh apples hung in the air through the open window as he passed by the orchards this area of Washington was known for. The trees looked ripe for harvest. Just the way he remembered. The last time he was here, he was only nine, on a fishing trip with his uncle. The smell was just as strong as then.

  There was no way the agency could find him out here—not a single mention of Washington on any file. He’d made sure of it.

  Which would give him the time he needed to find out who the hell killed his partner. Because despite what the DEA claimed, it sure as shit wasn’t him.

  The cabin he rented was far off the beaten path, with only a dirt road leading up behind a big hill. The small place would suit his needs well enough to conduct his research. No one came back here unless they were searching for it, and the tall trees hid the cabin from the main road. After he moved everything inside from his truck, he’d start scoping everything out for access points, hiding places, and a decent sniper’s perch.

  He counted his paces from the end of the dirt path to the front porch. Thirty, with another ten paces from the bottom step to the front entrance. The old-school latch creaked loudly as he opened the solid wooden door. The room smelled stale and moldy, and dust floated freely in the air like it owned the place. The living room furniture circled the only fireplace in the house. The arrangement meant for functionality and comfort. He’d have to move things around to make it more suitable for a quick getaway, if and when he needed to.

  The water was clean and soft, and the kitchen spacious enough. The bedroom at the back of the hallway had a connecting bathroom with a stand-up shower, both tiny. But they were vast improvements from the places he’d laid up in the last year. Hell, he’d spent an entire month outdoors, with three cartel hitmen on his ass, jonesing to finish him off like they did his partner. Hotels were out of the question. Most of them required identification and credit cards, which were too easily tracked. The rest, he was too afraid the locals would give him up. Those cartel bastards had infiltrated everyone.

  He stashed his stuff in the front closet and started hiding a few weapons around the cabin, dusting off a few places as he went. Like the small, wooden table that only seated two people. More than big enough for just him. He duct-taped a Ruger under the table, aimed at the door. Another he stashed in a kitchen drawer next to the sink. A rifle behind the fridge, and a few more places. He’d need to get more ammo from town because what he had wasn’t nearly enough. At least he always had his K-bar knife tucked in a sheath at his ankle.

  As soon as everything was in its place, he started setting up his computer equipment. He doubted this little hunting cabin had Ethernet or other cables to connect to the web, but he came prepared. Satellite hookups
would work well. His former life came in handy at times. His life before DEA undercover work.

  His partner had often mocked him as a computer geek, a slave to his laptop and the Internet. All playful banter meant to lighten the mood in their often stressful line of work. Countless times, Joe had returned to find Reed still in his computer chair after a full day and forced him to stand up, get a shower and eat. Hell, he probably would’ve never seen daylight without his mentor urging him to unchain from the chair.

  Slave was right. An unfortunate, necessary one to bring down these bastards. He refused to give up. Maybe after all this was over, he’d promise to become an outdoorsman. Go hiking, fishing, and all that Mother-Nature-y stuff normal people enjoyed.

  The sun dipped below the treeline, and stars twinkled overhead by the time he finished installing the last security camera outside the back door. The old propane tank for the gas heater was a little closer to the house than he liked. But he didn’t have a choice.

  His energy waned. Either from the lack of food or fatigue from the road life catching up to him, he wasn’t sure.

  Clam chowder. That sounded pretty damn good right now. He chuckled. Between all his gap jobs over the last year, a short-order cook was never one of them. But he’d learn. More importantly, somehow, he knew Skye would make the job at least tolerable. Her eyes reminded him of the dark blue storm clouds that rolled through El Paso. Rare, full of lightning that dazzled as much as it brought hope to a desert. That made everyone stop what they were doing to admire it, and equally fear it. Not that he was afraid of Skye, but she was certainly worth the attention.

  He glanced at the time. An hour to master clam chowder. What’s the chance that spunky waitress even touched the stuff?

  Guy set a bowl of clam chowder down in front of Skye. A proud smile on his face. “What do you think?”

  Steam rose off the creamy goodness, beckoning her to try a bite. She stopped refilling the napkin holders and used the spoon on the adjoining plate to taste, blowing on it first. The spices hit her in just the right way, warming her insides.