5 Golden Flings

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

“I wasn’t planning to move in,” she replied, still in that cool and even tone. His statement vaguely annoyed her. Who was he to tell her where she fit or didn’t fit? She was an adult who could choose the steps in her life. “I needed gas, so I stopped to fill up. I was hungry, so I came in to get something to eat.”

“Where are you intending to go?”

“To the next town,” she said crisply, adding no more detail than that.

“You should have left after eating.”

Okay, her annoyance level was rising. She was normally very even-tempered but she did have her limits. Before she could say something she might later regret, her attention was caught by a sound from outside, a deep rumbling that was rapidly getting closer and louder. She tilted her head to the side to look out the windows behind the man, and saw two sets of headlights flash and glare on the glass as two pickup trucks seemed to be racing each other into the parking lot. One slid to a stop dangerously close to her rental. She winced as the tires slung gravel; she’d probably have to file an insurance claim for some new dings and chips on the SUV. Four doors opened and slammed shut, loud curses and laughter came nearer, and accompanied Lonnie’s four new customers inside.

The man standing in front of her table smoothly slid into the seat across from her and called, “Lonnie, two coffees to go, and our tab.”

“Sure thing,” Lonnie replied, before giving a curt nod to the newcomers.

If she’d been a pissy type of person Nova would’ve gotten indignant at the man for his high-handed actions, but she wasn’t pissy and she had enough situation awareness to know he’d made them look like a couple for the benefit of the four rowdies. She didn’t unbend enough to smile at him, but she might if any of the newcomers began paying attention to her. She was no longer the only woman in the bar, but the other three were seniors which made her still stand out.

The four appeared to have already been in the happy juice, enough to loosen their tongue and kill their sense of propriety, assuming they’d ever had any. Nova made a point not to directly look at any of them, either, but she was aware of an undercurrent of tension in the room. The four older customers weren’t exactly nervous but the women were frowning and the old man kept looking over his shoulder at the newcomers.

The four chose a booth, and she gave a little sigh of relief. They might be just looking for some beer and big talk with their pals, but the fact that they’d chosen a booth meant the two on the inside, against the wall, were less able to maneuver. Perhaps they didn’t think strategically but she did, thanks to her martial arts training, and she’d bet her life the Testosterone Seven did too. The six who were still at the shoved-together tables had subtly shifted their weight and positions, a couple of them sliding their chairs a few inches to better keep an eye on the potential troublemakers.

Her new table partner hadn’t looked at them either, but she sensed his attention was focused on their noise behind him. He was leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed, one arm resting on the table. The cuffs of his gray shirt were worn on the edges, folded back a couple of turns to show his thick bare wrists and the muscled, sinewy forearms. Nova found herself staring at his arm, momentarily forgetting the loudmouths. Thick, muscled arms were the arms of a man who did a physically demanding job. Strong and fit weren’t the same thing, but this man was both. So were all of his companions. Considering the military areas nearby, was he in the military? The length of his hair said he wasn’t, but she didn’t know of any other type of job that would give him and his friends that particular level of fitness and awareness, or the aura of dangerous competence.

She wanted to ask, but she also wanted to keep this situation under control and right now the best action seemed to be doing nothing.

Lonnie set two cups of coffee in go-cups on the table, along with a napkin-wrapped single pod of creamer, a packet of sugar, and a plastic stirrer. He slid a cash register receipt toward the man, who picked it up and glanced at it. “Cheap date,” he noted as he reached into his hip pocket for his wallet and pulled out a few bills.

Lonnie chuckled. “I bet you’ll pay for that remark.” He sighed as he looked at his new customers. “Let me see what these loudmouths want. I haven’t seen them in here before.”

“My friends will make sure they don’t wreck the place.”

The chuckle turned into a snort. “Your friends are more likely to wreck the place while they’re ‘helping.’”

“But they’ll do it with good intentions.”

There was a calm surety to him that Nova appreciated, despite her earlier coolness. She still had to navigate her exit and she had no doubt he’d walk out with her, but beyond that she’d have to play things by ear.

While Lonnie was at the booth taking orders, she used the distraction to position her computer bag on the side of the table to hide her action and reached her hand across the table. “Thank you. I’m Nova Shelley.”

The man leaned back a little, his gaze narrowing and sharpening. Then he gave a little head tilt and slowly reached out to clasp her hand and give it a brief shake. “Dalton Hatcher. Call me Hatch.” He was holding her right hand but looked at the left one, at her ringless fingers.

The touch of his hand was electrifying. Nova caught her breath, tried to disguise the little gasp by clearing her throat but she knew he hadn’t been fooled because the corners of his mouth lifted in the tiniest of smiles that was also an acknowledgment.

She had felt it before, the chemical and electrical current of physical attraction, knew it for what it was. She busied herself with her computer bag to hide the fact that her heart was beating faster, though it would show up in the deeper color of her lips and cheeks and, damn, she knew he’d notice, just as she had also noticed that he wasn’t wearing any rings, either.

She couldn’t do anything about that, but neither did she have to act on that massive surge of attraction. “Thank you for your quick thinking, you probably saved me from a very uncomfortable situation — though Lonnie is on my side. He’s my new best friend.”

“Funny, I thought I’d hold that position.”

“I’ve known Lonnie longer, at least three hours.” She kept her tone grave, though she couldn’t stop a smile. “I just met you.”

Again that tiny smile. He did occasionally show more enjoyment than that because there were smile lines bracketing his mouth. She wondered how often he actually laughed —

Damn. She shouldn’t have shaken his hand. She shouldn’t have touched him. She needed to reel in her imagination and her libido and focus on what she’d planned to do next, which was get to her motel room and get a good night’s sleep.

Despite the masculine overload he and his friends exuded, she judged him to be a good guy. So did Lonnie, and that carried weight with her. During her visit to his bar, Lonnie had exhibited above-average powers of observation and good judgment. When she’d walked in, she hadn’t expected to become so fond of the bartender, but there it was.

“I need to leave. I don’t want to lose my reservation.”

He glanced around at the rowdies in the booth. “I’ll walk you out if you really have to leave, but they’ll notice when I come back in without you. I don’t know these guys, they may be looking for nothing more than some booze and time with their friends. They may be real assholes. If you want to play it safe, we’ll move to one of the other booths so you aren’t sitting in plain sight, and wait until they leave. Your reservation should be good until check-out time tomorrow.”

That was true. Driving late at night hadn’t been her plan, but sometimes flexibility was called for. She could adapt.

“Booth,” she said.

“Fast decision.”

“Cheap dates have to think fast.”

This time he did laugh, a little chuckle as he pushed his chair back and stood. Without asking he picked up her computer bag and coat, took them to the last booth against the wall, which happened to be right beside the table she’d chosen. She took the side of the booth that had her back to the room, letting him sit where he could see everything happening. If she’d taken the other side of the booth, she had no doubt he’d have slid in beside her because he wouldn’t give up his strategic position.

Maybe she wouldn’t have minded feeling that tall, strong body beside her, but she’d be better off keeping a bit of physical distance between them and concentrating instead on his expressions. She’d exercise due caution, but she wanted to know more about him, wanted to talk to him.

Lonnie approached. “You two want to order anything else?”

Hatch looked at her, his brows lifted. A tingle of excitement ran over her skin. Was this now a date? How could it be? She needed to regain her footing, repay him for her previous bill and pay for this one herself. She wasn’t hungry and she still had the go-cup of coffee, but — “Some hot fries would be nice. Separate tickets.”

Lonnie looked amused. She didn’t look at Hatch, who said, “A burger and fries, everything on one ticket.”

Nova said pleasantly, “Lonnie, your choice of how you ring this up may determine whether or not you get a peaceful night’s sleep for the rest of your life.”

Hatch said, “Lonnie, your choice of how you ring this up may determine whether or not you live another night, period.”

As far as threats went, his far out-classed hers but was less likely. She smirked at Lonnie. “He won’t kill you, but I can find ways to mess with your deliveries, your signage, and your customers.”

“I’m bringing two tickets,” Lonnie announced, grinning at her. “What you do with them is up to you.”

Hatch was smiling too, though she had no doubt he fully intended to grab both tickets before she could get hers.

“What would you do to his signage? That’s kind of an off-beat threat.”

“I’d put Military Not Welcome on it.”

“Damn. You’d get the place wrecked.”

She took the top off her go-cup and dumped in the creamer and sugar, stirred it. “Are you military?”

He shrugged, took the top off of his own coffee. “I’m in a type of specialty work.”

Of course. She had halfway expected that answer, though she’d hoped for something more specific.

“Sounds interesting, but I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t.” His tone was final.

“My work isn’t unusual at all. I own a clothing boutique in Huntsville, Alabama.”

“I’ve spent some time in Huntsville.”

“Really? At Redstone, or NASA?”

All the time they were chatting she was aware that he was watching her even though his attention was split between her and the group behind her. He glanced once at his friends as if making sure they were still on alert, then back at her. “Redstone.”

She’d known that. Whatever he was, it was connected to the military, and he wasn’t a space and rocket guy. So many different government agencies were located at Redstone Arsenal that his reply didn’t really tell her anything she hadn’t already surmised. He was the one who’d mentioned Huntsville, anyway.

“How’s your business doing?”

Ah, directing the discussion away from him. She let him do it. “Profitable, and that’s saying something. Sometimes I feel as if I don’t have time to breathe, much less live. The past four years have been hard for everyone, economically, but for now I’m on solid footing. The business is why I’m here; I visited a designer in Running Springs — San Bernardino county — who does some really interesting stuff and we reached an agreement for me to sell their designs online.”

She stopped there. She’d given him a lot more information than he’d given her. She could talk for hours about the shop, her sales strategies, the enjoyment she received from the creative side of it, but she wasn’t going to. Let him ask the questions that interested him, and she’d do the same.

“I’m surprised anyone’s doing business this close to Christmas.”

She made a wry face. “Self-employed people seldom get a day off. What about you? Do you get holidays off?”

“Sometimes. I make an effort to get home for Christmas. I don’t see my family often enough, seldom longer than a few days at a time.”

“That has to be hard.” Deliberately she didn’t ask him if he was married, just as he hadn’t asked her. She wasn’t at that point yet. “You know they miss you.”

“And I miss them. My mom is getting older. She’s still hell on wheels, but the tread on her tires is getting thin.”

“I know what you mean. My mom and stepdad are both okay, health-wise, but I still worry. I think my job is worrying. Look after this, look after that, organize, prepare, try to anticipate the future.”

She sounded whiny. Quickly she added, “I love my family, love being with them, love having my own business. Worrying is my way of getting everything organized and keeping it that way, because I don’t have any spare time.”

He looked around. “But here you are, with spare time.”

“I put it on my schedule,” she replied, drawing a quiet laugh from him. “I came out here for business, but now I’m taking the time to drive around this part of the country, see places I haven’t seen before, with no real itinerary which, I have to admit, really feels weird. I think I’m going to enjoy it, though. I mean, look how interesting just stopping for gas turned out to be.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lonnie approaching and when he was near enough to hear her she said, “Lonnie is my new boyfriend, and I’m having fries for supper for the first time since college. This is turning out to be a great trip.”

Lonnie set the plate of fries in front of her, and pulled a bottle of ketchup out of his apron pocket to thump it down on the table top. “Since I’m your new boyfriend, the fries are on the house.”

“Nope. Hand over that ticket.”

He pulled out his order book and before he had the ticket halfway torn off, Hatch had the whole thing in his hand.

Hatch tore off her ticket, looked at the one beneath it, and removed that one too before returning the order book to Lonnie, who shrugged and said, “Your order is almost ready,” before returning to the bar.

After a moment of silence Nova picked up the ketchup bottle to squirt a mound of ketchup on the plate of fries. “Don’t you think that was a little pushy?”

“No. Pushy would be dragging you outside and kissing you stupid. Paying for an order of fries is way down on the Pushy list.”

She almost laughed, because he was watching her with lazy expectation, trying to get a rise out of her. “I said a little pushy, which means you just agreed with me.” Exhilaration filled her, fizzing like a New Year’s party. He was flirting with her; she was out of practice but not brain dead and she remembered how it went. Flirting with someone so overtly masculine felt equally dangerous and safe. He wanted to kiss her. He probably wanted a hell of a lot more, but that was up to her and she had the power to say no.

She dumped a day’s worth of salt on her fries, selected one and dragged it through the ketchup before popping it in her mouth and smiling at him, then biting the fry in half with a sharp snap of her teeth.

Lonnie returned with Hatch’s order, a thick burger and a big mound of fries. Hatch loaded his down with salt, too. Wryly, Nova noted that they seemed to be bonding over unhealthy eating habits.

“What’s your normal day like?” she asked.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Or you’d have to kill me?”

“Not going to happen. No, what I do is classified and I can’t talk about it. I personally don’t think all the secrecy is needed, but I’m not the one who makes the rules. The only time it bothers me is when someone in my family asks and I can’t tell them. I have to either lie or evade. I’d rather evade. What about you? Tell me about your normal day.”

“Ah, an example of evasion.”

He lifted his coffee cup in salute, telling her she was right on target.

“My normal day is busy. I’m usually awake at five, out the door by seven-fifteen at the latest, because traffic has become horrible. Huntsville is exploding in population. If I’m lucky I have time to scramble an egg and eat it, but mostly I grab a protein shake from the fridge and drink it on the go. I have to be at one place by seven forty-five, then on to another stop around eight, at the store by nine. There’s inventory, orders, shipments, customers, calls, emails, something like a hundred texts a day — and I’m not exaggerating. Usually one of my employees will pick up lunch for us. My route home depends on traffic patterns, whether or not I have to detour around an accident, whether or not I need to fill my gas tank. At home I make something to eat, do laundry, pay bills. During the summer I try to plant a few vegetables. I’ve learned how to do basic plumbing, and at Thanksgiving an outlet in the kitchen went out and I had to replace it but I followed a YouTube video and by golly it worked.”

There. She’d given him an info dump and she hoped a good idea of how capable she was. It was important to her that he see her as competent and not needy or clingy. He might change his mind about taking her outside and kissing her stupid. She wasn’t about to pretend to be sweet and compliant when she wasn’t.

After all, she was a woman who took advice from a dragon, not that she was going to bring up that subject. She didn’t think she’d ever tell anyone about the whimsy that had spurred her to action.

“You’ve done plumbing?” he asked, frowning. She’d noticed before that in general men seemed to be territorial about home repair.

“After the first time I needed a plumber — do you have any idea how much a plumber charges?” she asked indignantly. “Anyway, plumbing issues are never convenient. They happen at night, or on a holiday, or when you’re in a hurry. I decided to buy some basic plumbing supplies to keep on hand, the needed tools, glue, things like that. As for electrical repairs I’d never tackle anything like a short in the wiring, but changing out an outlet is nothing.”

“Anything you’d change about your life in general?” The question was casual but the expression in his eyes wasn’t. His gaze always seemed to be intent anyway, as if he was gauging, on alert, looking for anything that was out of place or could possibly be dangerous. She liked that, and despite her initial cool response to him she felt safe, both with him and because of him. She liked the color of his eyes too, a shade between green and blue with some gold thrown in.

“I’d love to have more of a family life. I’m thirty-one, and I’d kind of like having a husband underfoot, making a mess, rough-housing with kids, washing the dog. Ordinary things. If the word ‘husband’ panics you, don’t worry. My mom says I’m too picky.”

His eyebrows shot up. She kept her glee at his response hidden behind her composed expression. She’d halfway expected that comment to get to him.

“Meaning I don’t meet your expectations?”

“We just met,” she reminded him. “I don’t know anything about you other than you like salt and you have a protective streak.”

“I have some plumbing skills.”

She just bet he did. “That’s always a plus.”

“Electrical, too. I’m good with a drill.”

Not going there, she thought wryly. “I’m sure when you decide to settle down, you’ll be very handy around the house. But I’m not looking for a man to marry. I’m picky enough, and old-fashioned enough, that I want him — this metaphorical man — to be looking for me . I want that couple-hood you see in people who’ve been together for fifty, sixty years and have a football team of great-grandchildren. What about you? Considering your lifestyle and job, what would you change?”

He took a bite of burger before answering, giving himself time to think. “My life now is close to being the direct opposite of yours, but at the core of it I don’t want to forever spend so much time away from home. A wife, kids — God, you’re thinking great-grandchildren and I can barely get my head around the possibility of grandkids. But . . . home. The traditional home. That’s what I had growing up, and what I want as an adult.” He shrugged. “Turns out the things I’m good at aren’t conducive to traditional home life.”

Whatever he did, she had no doubt he was very good at it. His intelligence shown through every sentence, every thought, while his physical condition was proof of how hard he worked to be able to perform the tasks he was given. She’d felt the calluses on his hand, she saw a fairly new scar on his forearm. He put himself on the line, physically and mentally.

“Sometimes life just happens and you meet that special person while you’re doing ordinary things,” she said slowly.

“Like stopping for gas.”

“I didn’t say that.” She frowned at him. “You’re rushing your fences.”

“God, now you’re adding horse metaphors to the football one. I know you don’t have a football team of great-grandchildren. Do you own a horse?”

“Not yet, but I won’t say I’ll never own a horse, because those children might want to ride, and you know how grannies are. Do you ride?” She was absurdly interested, because she realized she’d never asked that question before.

“Some.”

“Did you learn when you were a kid?”

“Yeah, on my grandparents’ farm. I’m not what you’d call a horse person, though. I’ve been on motorcycles, too, but I’m not a bike fanatic.”

“What are you fanatic about? Sports, chess, water polo?”

“ Water polo?”

She shrugged. “Someone has to be, or it wouldn’t exist.”

He blew out a breath. “Not water polo. I like sports, target shooting, martial arts —”

“So do I!” she enthusiastically interrupted. “I just got my brown belt. Don’t tell me what you have, it’ll just make me jealous.”

“A brown belt, huh? Congratulations. You probably wouldn’t need any help fending off those four jackasses, if they’d caused any trouble.” His expression was suddenly closed down but she let it pass.

“I wouldn’t want to go four against one. They’re bigger than I am, and I’m not superhuman.”

She kept the conversation moving, dragging snippets of information from him. This situation certainly hadn’t been in her plans but she liked it, and the more she talked with him the more she wanted to be kissed stupid. The attraction she felt was difficult to quantify or analyze, a strong physical pull mixed with a genuine appreciation for who he was. She even liked when he disagreed with her, because he didn’t get angry, he simply explained his opposing opinion and that was that. She could change her opinion or continue to disagree, the choice was hers. He was so self-confident he didn’t feel the need to argue or convince, and on the flip side was willing to change his mind if given a good reason.

Wow. He was something. Her whole body was energized by his physical presence, her mind by his personality and quick thinking. She wanted to call his mother and say, “Good job!”

The four rowdies finished their beer and burgers, leaving a forest of dead soldiers on the table top as they left, mostly staggering out the door. As soon as the door closed behind them, Lonnie picked up the phone and called the Nevada State Police, leaning over the bar to see in what direction the drunks were going. There were no cabs to call, no way to hold them for the hours it would take them to sober up; the NSP was the best choice.

The departure of the four was a signal, not just to her but also to the men who had come in with Hatch. They began pushing back chairs, stretching, talking to Lonnie.

Nova reached for her coat. “Thank you for the rescue, and for the food. I have to leave now. Please let me pay for my meal.”

The look Hatch gave her said that was a no go. Before he could say anything one of his friends came up and tapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll ride back with Samson.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Any time.” The friend winked at Nova before heading out the door with the others.

She lifted her brows at Hatch. “He thinks you’re going with me.”

“I am. No way am I letting you drive to town at this time of night by yourself. I’ll follow you.”

“I won’t invite you in,” she warned. “I don’t do casual sex, never have.”

He paused, then gave her a burning look. “There’s a first time for everything, but I won’t push. You’re running this show.”

She clenched her legs together, reveling in the rush of pure lust. She was honest with herself; she wanted to invite him into her motel room. She wanted to spend long hours skin to skin with him — but not in her immediate future. Tonight she intended to sleep alone, because she had a lot of think about.