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Who the hell gets grounded anymore?
None of his other foster parents had ever cared if he got in trouble. Okay, so maybe they cared—but only how it affected them and their check. Oh, once in a while he’d have someone bitch him out, maybe slap him around a bit but nobody lectured him like the holier-than-thou Joe and Karen.
On a straight stretch by the high school, he accelerated and flipped the bird to the empty building. He wasn’t going back there, that’s for sure. The SUV fish-tailed on the slippery, snow-covered road, but he easily kept it under control.
He remembered Karen’s disappointment, Joe’s anger, as they’d sat him down earlier this evening. He’d felt almost sick when Joe tossed the baggie of weed onto the coffee table in front of him. And when they’d both said how disappointed they were in him, he hadn’t been able to breathe.
Karen claimed she found it when she was cleaning up his room. She was always doing stuff like that—cleaning his room, putting away his clothes. Acting all nice and sweet, as if she enjoyed having him around. But he knew the truth would come out eventually. She and Joe were just messing with him. Acting as if they liked him, cared about him.
His hands tightened on the wheel. What bullshit.
He reached into his coat pocket and took out a pack of smokes. He’d just forget how nice Karen pretended to be, how she smiled at him and laughed at his jokes. How she asked him what he wanted at the grocery store and never complained that he ate too much. How she’d made him a cake for his birthday.
No one had ever made him a cake. No one had even remembered his birthday before. But Joe and Karen took him to a restaurant and when they got back home, they had the cake with candles and everything. They’d even sung to him.
It was freaking embarrassing. He was fifteen, not five.
The worst part was, when Joe had hugged him and Karen kissed his cheek, he’d thought maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.
His eyes burned. And it was different. But it was also worse. Because he’d thought they were cool. But the way they flipped out over a little bit of pot was whacked.
He had wheels, a full tank of gas and, thanks to his helping himself to the extra cash around the house and in Karen’s purse, he had money. Almost two hundred dollars. That would last him until he was far enough away to ditch the car. He’d get a job and start fresh. Make his own way.
And to hell with everyone who’d ever held him back. To hell with anyone who tried to stop him.
With his cigarette in his mouth, he lifted his hips and dug in his front pocket for his disposable lighter. Steering with his left hand, he lit the cigarette with his right and blew out smoke. He glanced at the speedometer. He was going fifty down Main Street. He should probably slow down but nobody in this hick town was up anyway.
Not even the cops.
He pushed a button to roll the window down a crack. He took his eyes off the road for a second to flick the ash off his cigarette but when he looked through the windshield again, he was heading straight for the sidewalk. Swearing, he dropped his cigarette and jerked the wheel to the right at the same time he slammed on the brakes. His tires locked up. The SUV spun out of control, jumped the curb and crashed through the front of Sweet Suggestions.
NINA WAS SURE it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. It couldn’t be.
Because it seemed really, really bad.
Two of the three large, glass display cases were smashed. Tables and chairs were in pieces across the room. Donuts, pastries and loaves of bread covered the floor, along with rubble and glass. Both large windows were demolished. The outside wall was gone.
And a banged-up SUV sat in the middle of the room, halfway through the wall separating the kitchen from the front.
The frigid air cut through her sweatpants. She shivered and flipped the hood of her heavy down coat over her snarled hair. When Police Chief Jack Martin had called and woke her, she’d tried to take off in her sweats and the ratty Hello Kitty T-shirt she slept in. Luckily, her mother—whom she’d called to watch the kids—had shoved Nina’s arms into the coat. She just wished she’d had the good sense to pull on wool socks instead of slipping her bare feet into these ancient canvas sneakers. She could no longer feel her toes.
Outside, the lights from two police cars were flashing while bright orange flares burned at the intersection. Her father was talking to one of the policemen while the tow truck driver hooked his winch to the SUV. Nina’s teeth chattered and she blew on her hands in an effort to warm them.
Jack had asked Nina to wait inside. From the look on his face as he spoke to Dora Wilkins—the editor-in-chief of the Serenity Springs Gazette—out on the sidewalk, he wouldn’t get to Nina for a while.
“You all right?”
“I’m fine,” she answered automatically, then realized how foolish a lie it was. She exhaled heavily and glanced at Dillon. His hair was mussed, his green T-shirt wrinkled, his work boots untied. “On second thought, I’m not fine. This is a disaster.”
He turned over an unbroken chair and used the sweatshirt crumpled in his hand to brush it off. “Could’ve been worse.”
“Worse?” she asked as she sank into the chair. She gestured wildly. “There’s an SUV in my bakery. There’s a huge hole in one wall and the other wall’s completely gone. Gone. How can it be much worse?”
“A few feet to the left—” he crossed his arms; she noticed his skin was covered in goose bumps “—and he would’ve taken out your gas meter. That would’ve been worse. As it is, you’ll have to shore up the supporting wall, get new windows and a door, a couple of tables—”
“Tables and chairs and new display cases. Maybe even new flooring. Not to mention priming and painting those new walls.” Her throat tightened painfully with unshed tears. She dropped her head into her hands. “Everything’s ruined. What am I supposed to do now?”
“You’re supposed to handle this,” he said simply. “Does it suck? Yes. But sitting around whining—”
“I am not whining.” She stood and flipped her hood back. When he raised an eyebrow, she sighed. “Okay, maybe I am whining. Just a little bit. I’m entitled.”
“Look,” he said hesitantly, “I realize we don’t…know each other very well, but since I’ve lived here I’ve seen you handle your kids, late deliveries and rude customers. Believe me, you can handle this.”
Her mouth popped open. “That’s…that’s the nicest compliment I’ve had in a long time.” And what did that say about the sad situation of her life that it came from the man she’d recently evicted? She skimmed her fingers over his cold hand, just the briefest of touches, but it left her fingertips tingling. She rubbed her hand down the side of her leg. “Thank you.”
He stepped back, looking so uncomfortable she almost smiled. “It’s no big deal. Just calling it like I see it.”
She cleared her throat. “You know, that sweatshirt might do you more good if you actually put it on.”
“It might,” he agreed as he unwound the cloth to show her the dark blood staining it, “but I’d rather not.”
“What happened?” She swept her gaze over him. “Are you hurt?”
“It’s not his blood,” Jack said as he carefully stepped over glass to join them. “It’s Kyle’s.”
Her knees went weak. “Kyle? Kyle who?”
“Kyle Fowler,” Jack said. “He’s the one who was driving.”
She held her hand out. “Wait a minute. Isn’t that the Roberts’ foster son?”
“He is.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “Seems he got mad at Joe and Karen and took off.”
“Took off?”
“He stole their car,” Dillon said, balling his shirt up again. “Some of their cash, too. The kid’s in deep sh…uh…trouble.”
“He’s lucky he walked away with only a few bruises and a broken wrist,” Jack added.
“If he wasn’t hurt,” Nina said, “where did all the blood come from?”
“He hit his head against the window, got cut up. But it’s not as bad as it sounds.” Dillon held up his shirt. “Or looks. Head wounds always bleed a lot.”
She didn’t even want to think about how or why Dillon would know such a thing. “I’m glad Kyle’s okay.”
“You’re taking this pretty well,” Dillon commented.
“What do you mean?”
“If some kid stole a car and crashed into my building, I don’t know if I’d be quite so understanding.”
“Understanding? Is that what I’m being? Maybe it would be better if I said I wanted to go to the hospital and tear into Kyle for his stupid, reckless actions?”
“I’m not sure about better, but it might be more honest.”
“Yeah, well, honesty’s overrated,” she muttered. The few times she’d allowed her temper to get the better of her, she’d ended up with a lot of bruises. Besides, she couldn’t get mad at some troubled teenager. The town would probably pass out collectively in shock.
And take away the halo they’d branded her with.
“There will be consequences,” Jack told her as one of his officers called his name. “Kyle’s facing some serious charges. And this isn’t his first offense. It could mean time in juvenile hall for him. Excuse me for a minute,” he said before walking away.
While she was glad Kyle wasn’t seriously hurt, she just couldn’t feel bad for him. He’d only been here a few months, and he already had a reputation as a troublemaker. Although truth be told, he’d arrived with the stigma in place. Everyone had been concerned when Joe, a local accountant, and Karen, an elementary school teacher, had become Kyle’s foster parents. Married for close to twenty years and unable to have children of their own, they’d chosen to take in a juvenile delinquent instead of adopting an infant.
“You’re allowed to be pissed,” Dillon said.
She laughed and rubbed her temples. “That’s a new one. Usually people are telling me not to bother getting mad. Especially over things I can’t control.”
“I’m just saying you have the right to be angry. Most people would be.”
She dropped her hands. “I don’t want to be angry. I just want this to not have happened. I want to close my eyes and open them to discover this is all a bad dream.”
“That’s not how life is.”
“No kidding.”
He thumped his fisted hand against his thigh several times. “Since you can’t blink and make this disappear—”
“What if I wiggled my nose?”
He smiled and the effect was so sexy, she caught her breath and lowered her gaze. The last thing she needed was her hormones taking notice of Dillon Ward.
Of course, it’d been so long since she’d been aware of a man, she’d begun to doubt she even still had hormones.
The tow truck driver got into his truck and started hauling the SUV out. Dillon took a hold of her elbow and led her to the far corner.
“Unless your magic powers suddenly materialize,” he said, bending close so she could hear him over the noise, “you’re going to have to decide what your next step is.”
He still hadn’t dropped her elbow. His hand was large and very masculine against the bright pink of her puffy coat. His hold on her was light. Supportive. And steady. She could really use some steadiness now.
She swallowed. “I…I guess the next step is to call the insurance adjuster.”
“Yeah, but right now the exterior wall needs to be boarded up and, since the interior wall is weight-bearing, it’ll have to be jacked up temporarily.” He leaned back, his jaw tight, his eyes steady on hers. “I could take care of the exterior wall. I wouldn’t be able to do anything inside until tomorrow, though. That is, if you want my help.”
Her pulse skittered. Before she could answer, her dad barreled toward them. His weathered cheeks were red from the cold, his knit ski cap pulled down low over his ears.
Dillon dropped her arm and stepped back. Nina forced a smile for her father. “Good news, Dad,” she said, trying to ignore the sudden tension, “Dillon’s offered to board up the wall tonight. Dillon Ward, you know my father, Hank Erickson, don’t—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Her dad’s mouth was turned down at the corners. “I already have a contractor on his way.”
Dillon looked at her as if…what? “Thank you so much for offering, Dillon, but—”
“No problem,” he said. “Good luck with the renovations.” His expression hard, he nodded at Hank and walked away.
Hank squeezed her shoulders and dropped a quick kiss on her head. “We’ll take care of this, honey. I called Jim Arturo to handle the repairs. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
She stiffened and slipped out of his hold. “Don’t worry? This is my livelihood we’re talking about.”
He patted her arm. She wanted to bite his hand. “I know it’s upsetting, but let me handle this. Now,” he said, taking his cell phone out of his pocket, “you have your insurance with Todd Alexis, right? I’ll call him and get things moving along.”
She opened her mouth to tell him she could call her insurance agent herself but he was already dialing a number as he walked into the kitchen. She slumped into a chair. She had a bank loan to repay and Christmas gifts to buy, not to mention her ancient minivan needed new tires. And she’d kicked out her tenant, the only source of income she could count on.
She blinked back tears. But she wasn’t supposed to worry. Or be strong enough to solve her own problems.
The sad part was, even though it grated on her last nerve, she knew she wouldn’t stand up for herself. She was so damn tired. And scared. And since everyone expected her to stay in the background and let them take care of her, that’s what she’d end up doing.
Even if she did want to take charge of her life.
Chapter Three
“YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO come in today,” Allie said from behind the polished, horseshoe-shaped bar.
“Yeah, I did.” Dillon sat on a stool and shrugged out of his jacket. Early morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting The Summit’s barroom in shadows. Despite a jukebox filled with classic rock songs, Allie hummed along to some bubblegum song playing on the radio underneath the bar. He grimaced as the singer hit a high note. “How can you listen to this crap?”
She flipped her heavy, dark hair over her shoulder. “It’s pop music, not crap. And I like it.” She did a little shimmy and shake to the chorus. “Besides, if I have to listen to ‘Hotel California’ one more time, I’ll stick my head in the oven.”
“It’s electric.”
She waved that away. “So it’ll be a symbolic gesture.” She turned the music down. “I drove by the bakery on my way here. The damage is pretty extensive. What’s Nina going to do about it?”
“Her father was there last night, said he’d take care of getting a carpenter to do the repairs.”
Yeah, Mr. Erickson had jumped in real quick. Nina’s father hadn’t wanted the town’s most dangerous citizen anywhere near his precious daughter.
Dillon’s shoulders tensed as he remembered how Nina had brushed off his offer to help. An offer he never should’ve made. She had enough people around to help her. He wasn’t going to lose any sleep over her.
Allie polished a beer glass, her eyes narrowed in concentration. He didn’t bother pointing out that water spots weren’t going to keep her clientele from drinking their booze. “Joe Roberts called me before you got here. Wanted to get my opinion on what was going to happen to Kyle.”
“Are you putting your lawyer shingle back out?”
Regret flickered across her face but was quickly gone. “Hardly. I’m a business owner now.”
Allie had been a successful defense attorney with a high-class law firm in New York City before returning to Serenity Springs last year. The few times he’d asked what had happened to send her back to her hometown, she either changed the subject, evaded his question or went into some long, boring dissertation about the legal system. His least favorite subject.
If her ability to talk for thirty minutes straight and not say a damn thing was anything to go by, she must’ve been a hell of a lawyer.
“So why’d they call you?” he asked.
“My mom is friends with Karen’s mom and she told them to call me.”
