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Her only other alternative was to call her father. If she did, she’d be sleeping in a five-star hotel tonight. But she’d have to pay a price. No. She wasn’t going to give the man any more control over her. It was past time she handled her own life. Starting now.
“Do you think Sam could spare some cleaning supplies?” she asked.
“Sure.” Nate began to roll up his uniform sleeves. “Don’t touch a thing until I get back with some strong disinfectant and we’ll make this place livable.”
“Sheriff, no. There’s no need for you to help me. I’m sure you have more important things to do.”
“I know I don’t have to.” His piercing eyes bored into hers and her throat suddenly went dry. “As for more important things to do…” He checked his watch. “I got off duty twenty minutes ago. And I have capable deputies who’ll call me if they can’t handle things. Now, I’m going to get those cleaning supplies from Sam and help you. Is that all right with you?”
Tori swallowed hard, never so aware of the close quarters—or so aware that Sheriff Nate Hunter was a good-looking man with a killer dimple in his chin. It would be too easy to lean on him, and the last thing she wanted or needed was Prince Charming. No more fairy tales. If anyone was going to rescue her, she would do it herself—but maybe a little help with the cleaning wouldn’t hurt.
She finally nodded. “Just so you know, I’m adding more time to when you drive my car.”
A slow sexy grin appeared and her breathing stopped. “I’m easy,” he said. “I’ll work for Vette time.”
She doubted anything about this man was easy. “Don’t get too excited. First, I have to pay for the repairs. So you better hope I make some tips.”
The sheriff’s intent gaze moved over her and suddenly her cotton shirt and white capris felt as if they’d disappeared. “Oh, I have no doubt you’ll do very well,” he said, then turned and walked out the door.
Tori sank onto the stool and let out a long breath. Waitress. Tips. Car repairs. How fast her life had changed. A sudden sadness washed over her as she recalled that just days ago she was to have been married. Now she was flirting with another man.
The Sheridan-Foster wedding was supposed to be San Francisco’s society event of the year. Deep inside, Tori had never felt right about the marriage. She realized now that she’d never loved Jed, at least not the way a woman should love the man she planned to spend the rest of her life with.
It dawned on her that she’d let her father brainwash her into thinking she and Jed were perfect for each other. J.C. had said they had so much in common and Jed had been just as convincing. In truth, the marriage would have been advantageous for J. C. Sheridan and his business dealings. As usual, his daughter’s feelings were his last concern. Had her father ever loved her, or was her only value her stock shares? That hurt worst of all. Suddenly, tears filled her eyes and she couldn’t seem to stop the sobs that shook her body.
Nate heard Tori’s soft sobbing even before he found his way up the stairs with the bucket and mop. He wasn’t quite sure what he should do. He knew from experience with his sister that Tori probably wouldn’t want anyone to see her cry. But Tori was all alone. Would she go back to the man who had caused the sadness in her big brown eyes? Those sparkling golden-hued eyes had been Nate’s undoing, not to mention her pouty, kissable lips and thick, wheat-colored hair.
Nate quickly shook away the direction of his thoughts. He was the sheriff and should be checking for outstanding warrants, or if she was on a missing persons list rather than fantasizing about her.
It had turned out she had a spotless record; she’d never even had a traffic ticket. She lived in an exclusive area of San Francisco and drove an expensive car. Victoria Sheridan had high society written all over her. So why didn’t she have any money on her? Or anyone to call for help? Another snuffle came from the other side of the door and Nate’s chest tightened. He wasn’t an expert but he’d bet someone had broken her heart. A warning signal went up in his brain.
Stay away from her. You can’t take on another problem, especially not a female with problems!
Nate had given his heart once and it had been shattered. Allison Denton, the girl he’d loved all through college, had walked out on him when he’d needed her the most. She’d suddenly lost interest in him when he was no longer headed toward a pro-football career.
Since then Nate had guarded his heart but good. Yet he knew he couldn’t turn away from someone who needed his help. He made a stomping sound on the porch before he opened the door and walked inside. “Looks like we’re all set.”
Tori had managed to brush away the tears, though her red eyes were proof of her misery. But nothing took away from her beauty.
“Look, Sheriff, you’ve helped me so much already, I can’t expect…”
“As I mentioned before, it’s Nate,” he reminded her as he set down the bucket and went to her. “Tori, I know this place isn’t a perfect solution—”
“No, it isn’t that,” she interrupted. “It’s just there are things that… I can’t talk about…”
He arched an eyebrow and jammed his hands into his pockets, fighting to keep from reaching for her. “And that’s your business. I just figure there’s a guy involved. And if you had a fight, shouldn’t you try and talk to him?”
She stiffened. “Whatever relationship I had in the past is over,” Tori said sternly. “And talking about it isn’t going to change anything.” She stepped back from him. “So thanks for the cleaning supplies. I can handle things now.”
Nate decided not to push it any further. He made his way to the sink to fill the bucket.
She came after him. “What are you doing?”
The hell if he knew. “Around here it’s called being neighborly. Let it go at that.”
Tori looked at him with those huge eyes and he had trouble keeping his mind on what he was doing.
“Do you always get your way?” she asked.
That was a loaded question since he wanted to get his way with her. “One can always hope.”
It seemed impossible, but in less than a few hours they’d made the place livable. The walls still needed paint, but at least the rooms were clean. With the fresh linen Sam had brought up, Tori had made the bed so she had a place to sleep that night.
Nate stood back and surveyed his work. “It’s still not the Ritz, but I think you’ll be comfortable here.”
Proudly, Tori glanced around the clean, orderly room. The bed was neat and tidy and her clothes were arranged in the dresser drawers. The window was covered with a mini-slat blind, now missing the layer of dirt. The kitchen area had a chipped counter with two stools, a cabinet with mismatched dishes and a drawer of assorted flatware.
“This seems like paradise to me. Remember, I slept in my car last night.”
“Which I’m going to advise you not to do again,” Nate warned her. “You were lucky.”
“I’m lucky in a lot of ways. I have a place to live and a job.” She frowned. “But, Nate, I’ve never been a waitress before.”
He shrugged. “Sam’s pretty easygoing. He’s not going to yell at you if that’s what you think. Besides, I have a feeling you’ll catch on fast.” His gaze met hers. “What did you do in San Francisco?”
Tori didn’t want to say too much about her past life. It was nice that no one here knew her father. “I was an executive assistant for a software company.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Well, there aren’t any software companies around here. The closest would be in Tucson.”
“Believe me, I’m happy to have this job. I’m just nervous because…” She had never worked for anyone but her father, she thought. Lord, she’d led a sheltered life. “I’m new in town.”
“Well, I grew up here and everyone is pretty friendly.”
Including the town’s handsome sheriff, Tori thought. “We’ll see tomorrow morning when I mess up the food orders.”
His gaze grew softer. “Believe me, once you smile no one’s going to care what you put in front of them.”
At five forty-five the next morning, Tori checked her red-trimmed white uniform in the mirror. The fifties-style outfit had a fitted bodice and an A-line skirt that hit her just about at her knees. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and brushed her bangs across her forehead. On her feet, she wore the pair of new white tennis shoes she had purchased the day before.
If her father could see her now. No doubt he would feel this job was beneath a Sheridan. She might have thought the same thing a few weeks ago, but now she needed to survive in the real world.
Tori released a long breath to relax, but it didn’t calm her. She left the rest room and went to the counter where Sam, dressed in white uniform pants and T-shirt, was checking the coffee.
“You ready to start?”
“No!” she said. “I can’t remember everything you showed me.”
“I don’t expect you to,” he said. “There’s a lot to know.” He frowned at her. “Just remember to call out each order to me, except for the drinks. You get those. When the customers come in, just keep the coffee flowing. You’ll do fine.”
Tori nodded as Sam walked over and unlocked the café door. Within seconds several men came in and called out in greeting to Sam. She put on a smile to hide her terror. The men removed their cowboy hats and found seats at the counter.
“Hey, everyone, this is Tori. And don’t give her a bad time. I’d like her to stay around awhile.”
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she piped in as her face flamed. “How about some coffee?” She grabbed the glass pot and brought it to the patrons, filling the mugs that already lined the counter, and then took out her pen and notepad. “What would you like for breakfast?”
The orders came fast. Just as Sam had taught her, she called each order back to the kitchen. More customers arrived and squeezed into the booths. That was when Tori realized that she was out of shape. The two days a week she’d spent in the gym hadn’t readied her for this workout. She covered what seemed like miles between taking orders, refilling coffee cups and clearing tables. There were a few mishaps—broken dishes, mixed-up orders—but everyone was patient and friendly. Finally, around nine-thirty, the crowd thinned and Sam told her to take a break.
“But the tables need to be cleared,” she told him.
He waved her off. “They’ll wait.”
He filled two mugs and pointed to the stool at the counter. She sat, took a long sip of the warm liquid and sighed.
“Well, you ready to quit?”
“No. Why? Are you ready to fire me?”
“Not hardly. You did great. You’re bringing in business.”
His praise was a stimulant to her ego. “You mean this morning’s crowd wasn’t the usual?”
He shrugged. “Some were, but more came in to see the pretty new lady in town.” He took a sip of coffee. “Don’t get me wrong, I have a good weekday breakfast crowd, but Saturday isn’t usually this busy.”
Before Tori could comment, the door opened and Nate Hunter walked in. He looked big and sexy dressed in faded jeans and a light blue Western-cut shirt and boots, even more handsome than in his uniform, if that were possible. And it was.
He smiled and she realized she’d missed him since he’d left the apartment yesterday. “Good morning,” she said, starting to stand, until his warm hand touched her on the shoulder.
“No, don’t get up. I’ll get my own coffee.” He smiled at Tori. “Looks like you survived your first morning.”
“Yes, I did,” she said proudly. “Everyone was so nice and patient with me.”
His grin broadened as he leaned against the counter. “I bet that was a real hardship for them.”
Sam chuckled. “Duke Hastings nearly tripped over his tongue when Tori smiled at him.”
“Which one was Duke?” she asked.
“He sat at the end of the counter,” Sam offered. “The skinny guy in the red shirt with the stutter. I should have charged him rent. He hung around for nearly an hour.”
“He was nice,” she said, remembering how shy he’d been. “And I spilled coffee on his eggs.”
Both men laughed. “I bet that made his day.”
“Well, he made mine.” Tori pulled the folded bills from her pocket, drawing Sam’s and Nate’s attention. “He tips very well.”
The following evening Nate sat on his mother’s porch enjoying the cool breeze. It was too hot to stay inside his apartment above the garage. Besides, he liked the view along peaceful Grove Street. He tipped his chair on its back legs, placed his boots on the white-spindled railing, and ran a razor-sharp knife over the small block of wood he held in his hands. His long-practiced strokes peeled away the unwanted layers, just as his grandfather had taught him years ago, making a figure take shape.
He thought back to the first time his grandpa had told him he was old enough to handle a knife, that had been the same summer he’d gotten to ride in the Double H Ranch’s roundup.
Over four generations of Hunters had lived and died on that land until the bank took the last of the Hunter’s Haven homestead away two months after his father, Edward Hunter, died. That tragedy hadn’t mattered to the bank officer. He’d foreclosed and sold the land out from under the family.
Luckily, his father had had life insurance so Betty Hunter and her family had been able to buy a modest home in town. It wasn’t the same. Nate didn’t like thinking about that time in his life and all the mistakes he’d made. And the last angry words he’d spoken to his dad before he’d walked out. Even ten years later, the guilt still haunted him. And next month, he hoped, he was going to get back some of what the Hunter family had lost.
Nate heard his name called and looked up to see old Otis Carl wave as he walked down the street. He called out in greeting, hoping the eighty-year-old didn’t want to stop and talk. Not that he didn’t like to visit with neighbors, but tonight he needed some alone time. He’d been on edge for the last few days. He blamed it on the heat, or maybe it was Haven’s pretty new resident and thoughts of what she was doing tonight. Damn. He pushed aside the intruding image of Tori.
It was the upcoming land auction that he needed to focus on. The Double H was being sold next month and he couldn’t stop worrying about scraping enough money together to make a competitive bid on part of the old homestead. The Double H rightfully belonged to the Hunters, and he planned to make it theirs once again.
He’d sure feel more secure if he had extra cash. If only his brother could pay him back the money Nate had loaned him to start up his construction business. Immediately, Nate felt guilty. He’d given that money to Shane three years ago with no strings attached. Besides, his younger brother didn’t have it to give to him. Everything he had was tied up in the Haven’s Paradise development. Shane probably wouldn’t show a profit until the first phase of homes were about to break ground. If there were no delays that still would be a few months off.
Nate knew his brother would help him if he could, he’d already offered to help remodel the ranch house. With luck that would happen next month, after the auction. Then, finally, Nate would be able to think about his life and his future. His mother was settled now, his sister would graduate from college next spring and Shane’s business was off the ground.
It was his time. It was time for him to start living his dreams. And Nate only wanted ten sections of land from the original homestead, Hunter’s Haven, the Double H Ranch. He smiled, remembering the story: his great-great-grandmother, Rebecca, had named the valley as soon as she’d arrived, as Jacob Hunter’s new bride, in this land surrounded by majestic mountains. Now Nate had a chance to regain some part of his heritage. He’d begin with a small herd of cattle, and maybe he’d train some saddle horses. It wouldn’t be an easy life. The ranch was fifteen miles out of town, but not completely isolated. He didn’t want to be alone, but it would take a special woman to want to live on a ranch. Again he thought about Tori.
Just then a patrol car came down the street, stopped in front of the house and Ryan Clark climbed out. Ryan was one of the newest deputies, not a year out of the sheriff’s academy.
“Well, there goes my night off,” Nate murmured. “Hey, Ryan. Is there a problem?”
“I stopped Kurt Easton about an hour ago.”
Great. “Just tell me you had good cause.”
Ryan nodded. “He was doing eighty on the old county road.”
Nate knew Easton wouldn’t be happy. He’d had run-ins with the lawyer and city councilman before. There was a time when Kurt Easton was a frequent patron of the local bars. A few years back Nate had caught the councilor staggering in the parking lot of just such an establishment toward his car. The councilman had intended to drive home. With his wife safely behind the wheel, Nate had let the man off with a warning and the belligerent Easton’s agreement to get himself some help. Nate hoped he had taken the advice.
“Was he under the influence?”
The deputy shook his head. “At first I thought so. He seemed a little lethargic, but passed the field sobriety test. He wasn’t happy and proceeded to read me the riot act about how he knew his rights.” Ryan straightened. “I followed procedure by the book. I took a step back and I informed the councilman to get in his car, or I’d take him into custody.”
Nate continued to work his knife. “Did you take him into custody?”
“No, he climbed in his car, but before he drove off, he told me to tell you that he’d be in your office the first thing in the morning to file a complaint.”
“Okay. I’ll handle it, Ryan.”
The deputy stepped up onto the porch. “Sheriff, I swear I went by the book.”
Nate had had several run-ins with Easton. His family had been in the valley nearly as long as the Hunters and about half that time they’d been feuding. At every opportunity Kurt Easton reminded Nate that his family had lost everything.
“I know you did, Ryan. I’ll take care of it in the morning when my shift starts.”
The deputy looked relieved. He was happy the sheriff would have the responsibility of dealing with one of the most prominent men in town. “Thanks, Nate.”
Nate kept slicing at the block of wood. “Just because he’s a councilman doesn’t give him any special privileges. He broke the law. Now, get back on patrol. You can start by driving by the construction site just to make sure things are quiet. You were off last week when someone threw a party down there. It was probably kids, but I’d like you to keep a close watch.”
Ryan nodded. “Sure. ’Night, Sheriff,” he called as he headed back to the patrol car.
Nate watched him go, knowing what he had in store in the morning. There was no doubt that the fifty-something lawyer would be waiting for him, hoping he could stir up some trouble for a Hunter.
