Stay

Stay

Dahlia Rose

Sometimes running away sends a man towards something better...

Lieutenant Hart Temple has one rule—keep things simple. He likes his military career, riding his motorcycle and, on occasion, a good bar fight. When his Harley breaks down, stranding him in the small town of Honeywell, Georgia, he soon realizes there’s more to life—Crystal Cantrell and her six-year old daughter.

Crystal isn’t looking for a man. She doesn’t need one. The brown-eyed beauty is too busy running her business and being the best single mom she can be. Then two things happen, a biker gang intent on causing trouble comes to town and Hart Temple checks into her hotel.

Despite her protests, Hart can’t ignore the trouble-makers. Crystal can’t ignore the way her body responds when he kisses her. For the first time in his life, Hart’s thinking about putting down roots. He has a choice to make. Then Crystal whispers the one word that could change both of their lives forever… Stay.

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STAY

Bad Boys Series

Copyright © 2014 DAHLIA ROSE

Cover art by Amanda Kelsey

Edited by Trinity Scott

ISBN: 978-1-936387-74-8

All Romance eBooks, LLC Palm Harbor, Florida 34684 www.allromanceebooks.com

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever with out written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First All Romance eBooks publication: May 2014

The days were hot, the nights were cool, and Lieutenant Hart Temple loved experiencing both from the back of his Harley Softail. His final destination was the Florida Keys, a motel with a bar close to the pool, and endless amounts of white sand. Maybe he’d rent a boat and do some fishing. He had no set plans, nor did he want any. Set plans meant a schedule, and he was on vacation from Uncle Sam’s army. He spent every day following the rules and working by someone else’s schedule. When he got his leave, Hart left his uniform in his townhouse and the car pulled into the garage. He got his bike out and threw a duffel bag over the back before setting off. He didn’t look back and wouldn’t think about his MOS change or duty for his eight weeks extended leave. This was his time for peace and quiet if he could find it.

He wasn’t about parties and women, not like other men with a few weeks’ leave who were horny as hell. He wanted to be alone and if someone decided he looked like an easy mark and had beef with him he’d fix it quickly and efficiently before getting back to his cold beer. He had a few things he wanted to catch up on in his duffel, aka some reading, and that was good enough for him. His sunglasses kept the glare of the sun out of his eyes and the music from his iPod was pumping in his ears. Metallica kept him company as he passed the large sign that said “Welcome to Georgia”. He was exhausted and would probably stop for the night in Savannah and grab some dinner on River Street. He heard the seafood was great in Savannah. His bike had other plans because the smooth ride he was having started to change. He revved the engine, hoping that it was just air in the fuel lines, but no such luck.

“Come on, baby, don’t do this now,” he muttered as he looked around.

He pulled off at the exit and got to a rest stop before it cut out completely. He tried to get it started again but to no avail. His baby was dead and wasn’t about to go anywhere. He’d rebuilt her from the frame up himself and knew every part as he looked the bike over. He soon found the problem. He’d have to get the part from a mechanic or order it online. God knows what the shipping time would be because his girl was a vintage piece. He wouldn’t know exactly until he found some place to stay, got on his laptop and made a few calls. He looked around. He’d have to walk and push his bike to the closest motel. He began his walk, passing the signs that read “Honeywell, Georgia, Population: 700”. He rolled his eyes
. Great I’m stuck in the armpit of a dead-end town.

Hart got a lucky break when he spotted the Honeywell Motel a mile down the road. For a rinky-dink town he expected peeling paint and a neon sign that only partially worked. But this place was nice, painted in a cream beige color and stonework at the bottom. The landscaping was nice. There were plants and trees blooming with blossoms of huge white flowers. The weeping willows were heavy with yellow flowers and the air was sweet. Hart kicked the stand down to balance his bike. He grabbed his duffle off the back and walked into the office. The air was cool inside; he could feel the breeze against the sweat on his neck. Somewhere, someone was vacuuming. He walked up to the desk where a woman behind it was bent over some books.

He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, are you booked solid?”

When she raised her head, her face stunned Hart. He pushed his sunglasses so he could see her clearly without the tint. The woman was gorgeous, with soft brown eyes and long, dark hair that was meticulously curled. Soft bangs lay on her face, parted to one side, and her skin was flawless. She studied him with narrow eyes and a frown that made him immediately wonder what it was about him that she disliked.

“If you’re from the Deuces so-called bike club, let me tell you again that no more of y’all are staying here.”

She stood with her hand on her curvy hips. Hart’s gaze traveled down her body. She was maybe five-three, five-five in her heels, and stacked in all the right places.

“And you can call Sheriff Layton again and he can try to force me to do it because he’s in your pocket,” she snapped, “but I’m putting my foot down. No one wants you in Honeywell.”

“Ma’am, you may have me confused with someone else,” Hart said.

She looked him up and down. “Biker boots, duffle bag, criminal features… Nope, you’re exactly who I think you are.”

“Not all guys who ride bikes are criminals,” he pointed out.

“In Honeywell, yes, you are.” She pointed under the table. “My daddy’s twelve gauge is under this desk and, trust me, I don’t need to be a crack shot to hit your big ass frame.”

Hart smirked. He liked spunky chicks. He took his identification out and slid it across the counter. “Lieutenant Hart Temple, ma’am. United States Army out of Fort Irwin in California. I was passing through to Florida and my bike died. I‘m just trying to get a room until I can figure out what’s wrong with it, get it fixed, and move on.”

She studied his ID and gasped. “Oh, God, I am so sorry! Fudge it all, fudge, fudge, fudge! This is what it comes to—me profiling people because of the cheese and crackers Deuces. My sincerest apologies, Lieutenant. You can of course get a room and I’ll comp you the first night for my rudeness.”

“Fudge, cheese and crackers, huh?” he teased.

She shook her head and sat in front of the computer. “I’m trying to stop cursing. I have a potty mouth. We have a nice room available with a view of the pool. Let me get you in the system and get you a key.”

“Where can I get something to eat around here?” Hart asked.

“Next door is Emma Lee’s Homestyle Restaurant. She’s about seventy-five with a firecracker of a personality but her food is to die for,” she said. “Tell her I sent you and she’ll treat you right.”

“I’d do that if I knew your name,” Hart said.

“Crystal Cantrell.”

She smiled up at him and Hart forgot how to breathe. When they used the term sweet as apple pie, well, they obviously meant her and she was the brown sugar version.

Crystal handed him a card. “This is for you. It’s the second to last room down the driveway. Again, I’m so sorry for being insulting to you.”

“Seems you have a reason to,” Hart replied and watched her face darken. Yeah, there was something wrong in this tiny town but it wasn’t his business. He wanted to fix his bike and hit the road.

“Mommy, Mommy, that big guy kicked over the flower pots outside again and laughed at me!”

He heard a child’s voice and barely looked down in time to see a tiny person streak around the desk and wrap her arms around Crystal’s legs. The little girl looked up at her mother with tears on her face but fire in her eyes. Hart saw a miniature version of the woman who owned the motel.

“I know you said it’s not nice, but can I kick him in the boy bits?” the little girl asked.

Crystal shook her head. “No, because he’s bigger than you and I don’t want you getting hurt. I’ll kick him for you if he does it again. I’m sure Miss Emma would help you replant them and I will too later on, okay?”

“Okay.” The little girl sniffed and turned her attention to Hart who stood watching the exchange. “Is he one of them too?”

“No, this is Lieutenant Hart, but Mr. Temple to you, young lady,” Crystal said firmly. “Lieutenant, this is my daughter, Kaydee.”

“Call me Hart. I’m eight weeks away from someone calling me by my rank,” he answered.

“Can you read?” Little Bit demanded to know. “And don’t call me Kaydee. It’s too girlie. I’m Kay.”

“I can read, and I think Kaydee is a nice name,” Hart replied.

“I don’t like it, but it was my daddy’s mommy’s name so I was named after her. My daddy went to heaven when I was three and now it’s just me and Mommy. Those big guys with the loud motorcycles always come around and try to break our stuff. The policemen don’t help even though we learned in school to go to a police for help. I wouldn’t go to Sheriff Layton for help. He only has two nice people working for him. All the rest are shitheads I want to kick in the boy bits.”

“Kaydee Cantrell, do not use those words!” Crystal chastised her.

“But it’s true. You said so yourself and the word I can’t use with the letter F and—”

Crystal clapped her hand over her daughter’s mouth. “I’m sorry. She has a bit of a mouth on her. This is why we’re using non-curse words now. She’s like a sponge that soaks up everything.”

“It’s okay. I’m going to head to my room and get cleaned up,” Hart said. “Thanks, and I’ll see you around.”

“You’re welcome.” Crystal smiled and he felt that little skip in his chest before he turned away.

Outside in the sun, he dropped his duffle on the back of his bike and put the kickstand up so he could roll the old girl down to his room. In a matter of minutes, just from her daughter, Hart knew Crystal’s problem and the view of the police in Honeywell about said problem. It wasn’t his battle, but he was one of those guys who rooted for the underdog.

Outside his room, as he unlocked the door, he heard the familiar roar of a biker gang and he stood and watched a group of around ten go by. He’d go inside, get a shower, grab some food, and start searching for the parts he needed to fix his bike. As usual another transient so-called bike club had found a place they could cause havoc and decided to stay. He’d seen it before. They didn’t have ties to any community and by the time they left any one place, they had cleaned it out and left when they couldn’t get anything else from the residents. Depending on how long he was stuck in Honeywell, he’d keep an eye out for trouble. Maybe this was just what he needed—an underdog fight.

****

Later that evening, with his laptop in hand, he walked to the office to ask Crystal if he could use her printer. He found the part he needed but since his bike was a rebuild, parts weren’t cheap or easily accessible. After a few hours of searching and cursing, he almost put his baby up on eBay for sale, intent on buying a new one and not giving a damn. But he’d put blood and sweat into rebuilding his bike and even though the trouble of finding what he needed was irritating he was soon rewarded. He found what he needed but it was in freaking Alaska and it would take three weeks to get to him.

The guy had multiple things that he may need in the long run so he purchased them all. He’d use what he needed and ship the rest back to his apartment on base. He wanted to print out the specs so he could have the paper as he took the part off his bike. God knows he didn’t need to kill his Macbook Air as well.

From what he had seen so far, the motel was clean and neat. Crystal obviously kept it up. It definitely wasn’t a dive, which is what he first expected it to be. It consisted of at least thirty rooms in a square format with front door access and a sliding glass door that led to the pool area. As he passed by the sliding glass door he noticed Crystal’s daughter outside in one corner where there was a shaded gazebo area. Flowered vines grew over the wooden structure and it was kind of beautiful and serene in a simple way. Except for the little girl who struggled to turn the large pot off its side and use her tiny shovel to scoop the dirt back into them. He watched as she used her hands when she got tired. She wiped her face and continued her chore
. Determined little bit,
he thought with a smile. Hart found himself detouring from the office to where Kaydee was.

“Thought your mama said to wait for help with that?” Hart put the case containing his Macbook Air on one of the deck chairs.