Second Chance at the Sugar Shack (10 page)

BOOK: Second Chance at the Sugar Shack
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She’d never gotten that cup of coffee. Matt had suddenly been in a hurry to get back to the station. So she rode the entire way home with the window down, hoping the cold air would drive the leftover Guinness from her system. Yet even now, as Matt put the SUV in park, opened his door and got out, her head spun like she was on a merry-go-round at full speed.

And she wasn’t exactly sure it was from the ale.

Always the gentleman, Matt came around to her side, opened her door and helped her down from her seat. Her cowboy boots landed on the dewy strip of grass bordering the sidewalk. The warmth of his palm encircled her arm until she took a step backward and his hand dropped to his side.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said. “And for not arresting me.”

He nodded that beautiful dark head. “Next time you might not be so lucky. I’m usually only good for one get-out-of-jail-free ticket.”

She smiled. “Well, I appreciate it.” More than ready to be away from his overwhelmingly male presence she stepped toward the sidewalk then turned with a wave. “Thanks again.”

With one foot on the street and one on the curb he stopped, looked back at her, then came toward her with his hands in his jacket pockets. “Let me ask you something.”

Uh-oh.
“Sure.”

“You’re successful, right?”

She gave a half-hearted shrug. “I’d consider myself that, yes.”

“And you go to all these star-studded parties and hang out with celebrities and rock stars?”

“Absolutely.”
Where was he going with this?

“Yet you tell everyone you’re too busy for a relationship.”

“Says who?”

“Your sister. Your brother. Your . . .”

Traitors.
“Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Are you?”

She folded her arms. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re so damn eager to tell everyone about your fabulous lifestyle . . . how’s that really working for you?” He paused, the glint in his icy blue eyes visible even in the dark of night. “What keeps you warm at night?”

“A silk comforter.”

He grinned down at her.

“Are you insinuating that I don’t have a life?” She propped her hands on her hips. “Because I do. I have a life. I can promise you that.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.

He smiled in a non-convinced way that made her want to use those smirking lips for something else. “I do,” she insisted. “
And
I have an original Valentino hanging in my closet that I plan to wear to the People’s Choice Awards next year. How many women can say that?”

He chuckled as he walked away. While he slid into the driver’s seat, he asked through the open window, “Tell me something, Kate. Exactly how many orgasms is that worth?”

She was so not going to let him get the best of her. “I guess that all depends on how you wear the gown. With or without panties.”

He grinned and put the SUV into gear. Before he drove off he said, “Now there’s something worth thinking about.”

Kate gritted her teeth as the taillights grew smaller in the distance. She’d love to be able to shout out “Liar!” but the accusation wouldn’t fly. He was right. She was too busy to even buy herself a vibrating
gift
. Sure, she’d had sex in the past ten years, but she’d also had lovers who were more into their own satisfaction than hers.

Matt Ryan did not fit into that category.

Not even when he’d been barely above drinking age.

Resigned to the sinking reality that orgasms were a small part of her past and there seemed little hope for them in the near future, she walked to the front porch and quietly unlocked the door. Since it was late, she didn’t want to wake anyone. Or, at least, she didn’t want anyone to wake and see what a hot mess she’d become.

When she eased the door open to the living room, she found her father fast asleep in his recliner, a framed photo of her mother clutched to his chest.

Kate stood there, looking at him. Looking at the restless expression on his face. And she could not stop the tears that welled in her eyes.

Poor daddy. Her soul ached for him.

She didn’t know what to do to help this man she loved with all her heart. She wasn’t wise enough to know how to help him find peace. So she did the only thing she could think of at the moment. She gathered up the crocheted afghan her mother had made for one of his birthdays and covered him, tucking the soft knotted yarn beneath his chin. Then she kissed him on top of his balding head.

“Night, Daddy,” she whispered. “I love you.”

He exhaled softly as she tiptoed away. When she reached the bedroom door, he murmured, “Sweetheart, I knew you’d come.”

Kate gripped the doorknob. There was a smile in his voice. In that instant, Kate knew she wasn’t the only one her mother visited. A warm tingle spread through her heart. Maybe there was something to be said about this soul mate thing her mother claimed existed.

She slipped inside the bedroom, careful not to wake her sleeping sister, and let the leather jacket slide down her arms. She sat on the edge of her bed, toed off her cowboy boots, and wondered.

Could there actually be someone out there just for
her
?

And if so, would she ever find him?

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

W
hile the sun dipped below the peaks of the Rockies, Kate sat behind the desk in the small bakery office and interviewed yet another unqualified applicant eager to fill her mother’s baking shoes. A week had passed since her siblings had gone back to their normal lives. Dean’s football team had won their Sunday night game. Kelly had called and implied she was pantyhose deep in good fact-finding on the killer and promised she’d get back as soon as possible. In the meantime Kate was still stuck in Deer Lick.

It had also been a week since Matt had so kindly reminded her of her nonexistent sex life.

That
she wasn’t so happy about.

While Chelsea Winkle, current student body president of the senior class of Deer Lick High and head cheerleader for the Deer Lick Destroyers, explained her method of decorating Halloween spider cupcakes, Kate’s mind wandered. The meeting she’d had that morning via Skype with Josh and Inara had almost imploded.

The pop singer needed to wear something spectacularly casual to the red carpet premiere of Hugh Jackman’s latest action flick. Again, her client complained about Kate’s modest choices. After an hour long power struggle, they set up Josh’s computer so Kate could look through her wardrobe storage for something alluring but not too sexy that might please the difficult diva. They’d finally agreed on a Dior animal print halter dress Kate had been saving for herself. Oh well, anything to keep the styling machine moving in her favor.

Chelsea abruptly ended her monologue. Kate stopped doodling on Chelsea’s application, looked up, and smiled at the teen who fit the perfect example of an all-American girl—blond hair pulled up in a ponytail, blue eyes, naturally straight teeth, and a dusting of freckles across her nose. The teen grinned and nodded at Kate as though she’d just divulged the secrets of the universe.

“So . . . Chelsea . . . have you ever taken a professional cake-decorating class?”

“Oh. No. I just get all my terrific ideas from my mom’s
Better Homes and Garden
magazines. You should see the one I found last Christmas for peppermint pie.”

“Wow. Sounds . . . interesting. Have you ever worked in a bakery before?”

Chelsea’s blue eyes widened. “Gosh, no, Miss Silver. But I help my mom bake chocolate chip cookies for my dad all the time.”

From a package, no doubt.
Kate stood. “Thanks for coming in, Chelsea. I have a few more interviews before we can make our final decision.”

Chelsea stood too. “Oh. Okay. Well, I hope I get the job. I really, really, really need the money for the
cutest
prom dress I saw over in Bozeman. I can’t afford it without a job.”

Kate remembered the days of proms and Valentine’s dances. And she remembered the importance of just the right dress to a young girl who wanted to look like Cinderella. Even if only for a night. “Are there a lot of girls like you?”

Chelsea cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“Girls who can’t afford to buy a prom dress.”

“Yeah. A lot of us try to hit the thrift shops but this area isn’t really known for its ball gown occasions. So the selection is pretty sad.”

An idea burst into Kate’s bored little brain that rocked her from head to toe. An idea that had a little to do with the small shop for rent over on Fourth Street and a whole lot to do with her Hollywood connections. “To be honest, Chelsea, I’m not going to be able to offer you the job here at the bakery.”

The teen’s smile slipped. “Oh.”

“But I’m pretty sure I can offer you a job of another kind. One you just might be perfect for.”

“Really?” The smile returned.

With a hand on the back of Chelsea’s fuzzy blue sweater, Kate led her to the front of the shop. “Why don’t you give me a call in a couple of days and I’ll fill you in.”

“That would be great, Miss Silver. Thank you so much.”

“Call me Kate and we’ve got a deal.” She extended her hand.

The girl eagerly reciprocated. “Thank you . . . Kate.”

Once the door closed behind the teen, Kate’s father looked over at her with questioning eyes. Kate shook her head. Her father nodded, then went back to making the dough for tomorrow’s selection of pies. Kate pulled her cell phone from her apron pocket and punched in number one on her speed dial.

“Josh? Listen, I’ve got an idea and I need your help . . .”

An hour later Kate had put her plan into action. A satisfied smile curled her mouth. The clock edged toward six o’clock and she and her dad could finally lock the door, clean up, and go home.

Her feet were killing her and her hands were raw. She looked down at her chipped nails. She needed a manicure, a massage, and a martini. Unfortunately all she was going to get was a shower, leftovers, and a lumpy bed.

K
ate flipped on the turn signal at Main and Whitetail Rd. She had just enough time to grab a six-pack of Pepsi from the Gas and Grub before she went home to warm a bowl of the beef stew her father had made the night before. She’d never been much of a leftover kind of girl. Not even after she moved to Hollywood and her leftovers often consisted of delicacies her caterer pals snuck into her empty fridge. But her dad’s homemade stew and warm biscuits brought forth wonderful memories from when she’d been a kid. Maybe she needed to admit that parts of her childhood hadn’t been completely hideous.

She pulled into the G & G’s vacant parking lot where the only sign of life came from the window and a life-size cardboard cutout of a busty blond in a Hawaiian bikini. For those who weren’t happy enough with her overflowing triple D’s, her hip-shaking movement had been motorized.

Kate pulled open the glass door and waved to the cashier—a kid barely old enough to sell alcohol, let alone the porn magazines they kept stored behind the counter. She grabbed her Pepsi from the cooler and then cruised the aisles, managing to talk herself into a package of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. She usually preferred a Butterfinger with her soda, but the overpowering sweet smell of the bakery killed her sugar craving. On the way to the register, she plucked a package of teriyaki beef jerky from the shelf and a tube of ChapStick and then tossed everything on the counter.

As the kid rang up her purchases, the glass door opened and a breeze shot through the front of the store. Kate turned to see who else was stocking up on snacks, only to find Edna Price staring at her as though she’d sucked lemons.

Great.

“You still here?” the old woman asked.

“If by
here
you mean in Deer Lick, I guess you’re forgetting you saw me just this morning when I bagged your brownies.”

“I always did think you were a smartass.”

“Join the crowd,” Kate muttered.

“That’ll be $13.45,” the kid said.

Kate pulled a twenty from her wallet and handed it over.

“Didn’t your mama teach you to respect your elders?” Edna asked, cupping both wrinkled hands over the moose’s head.

Kate accepted the bag from the kid and headed toward the door. She’d had a long day and she was still excited about her new venture. The last thing she needed was a wrestling match with the town crone. “Look, Mrs. Price, I’m sorry if my presence here offends you. I’m only trying to help out my father.”

“Help him?” The old woman’s gray brows lowered. “Where were you when he and your mama needed you before? You were selfish then. Appears not much has changed.”

It wasn’t the first time Mrs. Price had reminded her of her choice to leave without telling anyone. It wasn’t the first time the memory of the night she and her mother had argued struck her square in the chest with an iron fist. Nor was it the first time she’d been filled with deep regret.

“You know, I . . .” She looked into Edna’s disapproving gaze and realized nothing she could say would change the woman’s opinion of her. “. . . nevermind.” Kate pushed open the door and fled out into the cool night air. She didn’t need to explain to a judgmental old woman why she had left. She just wanted to go home, eat her father’s stew and her Cheetos, and go to sleep. Maybe tonight she’d be too exhausted to be haunted by the reoccurring nightmare of her mother’s last words that fateful night. The night her mother had called her a worthless dreamer who would never amount to anything.

But she doubted it.

Fatigue crept into her bones as she slid into the Buick and turned the car toward refuge. A near full moon shone down on the quaking aspens lining the road, turning the autumn foliage to glittering gold. An elderly couple strolled hand-in-hand past homes filled with warm light. They paused briefly to kiss. The sweetness of the act made Kate sigh. When she’d been a teen, she’d somehow overlooked the charm of her hometown. She’d looked past the Norman Rockwell appeal of kids playing in their yards without fear of gang wars erupting around them. That one could still go out at night without the worry of being robbed. Kate glanced across the seat at her purse, which held an arsenal of protection devices and laughed. No one needed Mace in Deer Lick.

From the radio Tom Jones began to sing
It’s Not Unusual
.

“Edna means well.”

The abrupt sound of her mother’s voice shoved her heart into her throat and nearly caused her to crash into the Weber’s Mobile Window Repair van parked on the side of the road.

“Geez! Mom! A little warning you’re here next time? Please?”

“Sorry.”

“And what’s with Tom Jones singing every time you decide to pop in?”

“It’s my theme song.”

“Your–”

“Hey, I figure if it’s good enough for the WWE wrestlers, it’s good enough for me.”

“I’m pretty sure
The Rock
never exploded into the area with Tom Jones blaring.”

“Well, I’m not much into that heavy rap stuff.”

“Yeah, I just don’t see you as the Eminem type.”

“What does candy have to do with music?”

“No. Mom. Eminem is . . . nevermind.” Far be it for her to have to explain the intricacies of the rap world. It wasn’t like her mother was going to go out and buy a CD or a concert ticket.

“Well, I’m still sorry about Edna back there. She just doesn’t know how to hold back on what she’s thinking.”

“There’s the understatement of the year.” Kate glanced in the rearview mirror even though she knew it was useless. “I know you two were good friends. Maybe you could pay her a visit and ask her to back off.”

“Yeah. Can’t really do that.”

Kate glanced over her shoulder. Her mother sat in the middle of the bench seat tapping her chin with her forefinger. “Why not?”

“That’s not my mission.”

“Your mission? Oh. That’s right.” Kate shook her head. “The one to find me a love that reaches beyond earthly bounds.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Really? Well, while you’re at it, could you make sure he has a penthouse in Manhattan, a mansion in Malibu, and a fabulous live-in chef?”

“Is that what you think life is all about, Katherine?” The twinge of sadness in her mother’s tone was barely audible, but it was there all the same.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

Her mother actually tsked. “You have so much to learn.”

“You know, Mom, I’m really not doing so bad with my life. I have a successful business. I wear beautiful clothes. I have friends.” At least a few. Though none with benefits.

“I never said you were doing bad, Katherine. I said you needed someone special in your life.”

“I can always buy a dog.”

“You just don’t get it, do you? You can’t keep running.”

Kate could almost hear her mother shaking her head. Though curiosity prodded her to turn to see if she was right, she kept her eyes on the road, dodging a squirrel with a death wish. “What do you mean? I’m not running from anything.”

“Honey, you ran ten years ago and you haven’t stopped since.”

The old anger and desolation she felt that night slammed into her heart. “I didn’t run. You drove me away.” Her jaw tightened. “Do you even remember what you said to me?”

“Of course I remember. I also remember that you took it the wrong way.”

“I don’t think so. Look,” Kate said, gripping the wheel tighter, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Don’t you think it’s about time we did?”

“We’ll only argue. We always do.”

“Arguing isn’t always a bad thing, Katherine.”

“Says who?”

Beneath her fingers the steering wheel wobbled. Then a tire blew with a loud pop.

“Damn it!” Kate guided the crippled car to the side of the road. “I don’t even know how to change a tire.”

“Then it’s time to learn.”

“Are you going to give me a lesson?” Kate turned, only to find the backseat empty. “Mom?”

When there was no response, Kate got out of the car and kicked the flat tire on the way to the trunk. She managed to pull out the spare and the jack. Her hands were filthy before she even got started. With her hands on her hips, she stood back looking at the car for some indication of how she was supposed to do this. But all she saw were parking lot dings and rust. She rummaged through the glove box for the owner’s manual but only came up with a few yellowed napkins, the car registration, and proof of insurance.

Dropping to her knees she tried to look under the Buick for a hook or some hint of where the jack was supposed to go but nothing jumped out and waved a flag at her. She guessed she’d have to crawl under to see what she could find there.

The gravel bit into her back and she was halfway beneath the beast when headlights streaked across the asphalt. A car came to a stop behind her. Her heart squeezed in her chest.

Please God, don’t let it be that Mike guy with the hockey mask and an axe.

A door opened and closed and heavy footsteps walked toward her.

“Trouble?”

From beneath the car Kate glanced at the huge black boots straddling her legs. She closed her eyes. Yes,
he
was definitely trouble.

She skootched out from beneath the Buick and brushed the grime from her hands. “Deputy Ryan. What a pleasant surprise.”

M
att leveled a look at her, mostly to keep from smiling at the streak of dirt she’d smeared across her forehead and the obstinate tone in her voice. “What are you doing under there?”

BOOK: Second Chance at the Sugar Shack
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