4. Lila
Lila
Owen Hebert. Cole’s older brother.
Huh.
I flipped the switch on the coffee machine and reached for a small stack of napkins to deliver to table six.
I’d tossed and turned for hours last night, replaying our meeting in my head.
The whole thing had been strange and unsettling.
Granted, I hadn’t seen the guy in years, and throughout the majority of my relationship with Cole, he had alternated between ignoring Owen’s existence and talking about what a selfish asshole he was.
In my mind, he was a cruel, money-grubbing city guy. Like Patrick Bateman without the murder, or a younger, hotter Ebenezer Scrooge.
But the man who’d sat with me, asking thoughtful questions and explaining the intricacies of the timber business, wasn’t an asshole. Sure, the Italian shoes and blingy watch made it obvious that he had expensive taste, but he was a lot more humble than I expected.
He was calm and collected, despite the defeat and exhaustion that emanated from him. It was easy to see the situation with his family’s business weighed on him.
His thick, medium-brown hair only made his dark blue eyes more prominent, and the light peppering of gray at his temples made him look distinguished.
He carried himself with quiet confidence, though he wasn’t cocky.
He wasn’t overly chatty, from what I could tell by our interaction, or from what I remembered, but he communicated effectively.
I’d taken five pages of notes during our quick conversation, and the to-do list I’d started for myself was growing by the second.
Though I didn’t agree with Cole’s opinion of his second oldest brother, I could understand why he disliked him.
It was obvious that Owen was the antithesis of Cole.
He was steady, careful, and strategic, whereas Cole was impulsive and brash.
He had a habit of ignoring consequences and plowing headfirst toward whatever he wanted.
Once, I’d adored that side of him. The devil-may-care attitude and his insistence that life should be fun had been exciting.
But the years had worn on me, and I’d grown tired of being the only adult in our relationship.
Owen was the kind of guy who maxed out his annual 401(k) contributions, flossed daily, and took vitamins. He was the type of person I would have run screaming from ten years ago. Now? I found myself drawn to him and his steady, self-assured energy.
“What did you do to your hair? You used to be such a pretty girl.”
I tamped down on my annoyance and forced myself to smile as I topped off Mrs. Dupont’s coffee. She’d always been a shitty tipper, but hey, maybe today would be my lucky day and she’d actually throw me more than a few pennies.
With a hum that I hoped conveyed a light, breezy attitude, I touched the ends of my shoulder-length brown hair. “Oh, just felt like making a change.”
Karen Souza gave me a pitiful expression while stroking her own artificially blond locks. She was the police chief’s wife and the epicenter of the Lovewell gossip scene.
I’d been waiting on her and her bridge club every Friday morning for the last year, and every week, like clockwork, she’d get in some kind of dig at me.
Once a judgmental old bat, always a judgmental old bat.
And my hair was lovely, thank you very much.
I’d gone back to my natural color, and the cut was low maintenance, just the way I liked it.
She could fuck right off with her patriarchal beauty standards. Secretly, I’d love to go off on her and the other small-minded jerks who gave small towns a bad name.
But I wasn’t that kind of woman. The instinct to please ran wide and deep. So instead of telling her what I really thought, I complimented Mrs. Dupont’s scarf and headed back to the kitchen, mentally cursing the whole table of women from here to Montreal.
And I reminded myself that I was lucky to be here.
I got my pick of the best shifts and the best tables, and the job was an easy, enjoyable one.
Though Bernice and Louis, technically my great-aunt and uncle, threw me as many shifts as they could, I wasn’t rolling in cash.
The diner was hardly a big operation, and the tips weren’t going far enough these days.
But the flexibility of my schedule allowed me a couple of free afternoons a week to tutor the kids of Lovewell at the library.
Sadly, that was not paying the bills either. In Tampa, I’d been able to charge fifty dollars an hour, but up here, even twenty dollars was a stretch for most families.
At this rate, I’d never be able to start grad school.
I shook my head. Nope, I was not going there. Every day was an opportunity to grow, and good things were coming.
Holding tight to that positivity, I headed back to the kitchen to grab the next order.
The sun was shining, and I had a lot to do. I could not spend every waking moment thinking about Owen Hebert and his big hands and kind eyes. Nope. Not doing it.
I was resolved to push all thoughts of the man aside, and I was doing a fine job of it until four giants walked through the door and various heads turned.
Excellent, the Heberts were here.
After I’d dropped off Father Renee’s blueberry pancakes, I grabbed menus, gestured toward the only open booth in the back, and grabbed the coffeepot off the counter.
The Hebert family was larger than life, literally and figuratively, in this small town. When I was growing up, they were that family. Wealthy, successful, and good at everything.
But since their father had been arrested for all kinds of awful crimes, the tide had turned. Now the gossip mill harped on their notoriety for entirely different reasons. There was nothing a small town loved more than putting people on a pedestal and knocking them off it.
None of this was new to me. My family had always been a favorite subject of the town gossips. My mother, the teen mom turned three-time divorcée, and I, her ex–beauty queen daughter, were often whispered about in not so subtle ways.
The snide comments wrote themselves, and I’d learned at an early age to ignore them. Sadly, the Heberts were not as experienced with the judgment, and it had clearly been difficult for all of them.
Years ago, I’d learned to laugh it off and even enjoy the twists and turns the rumors took.
These days, the rumors had been refreshed.
Now I was known as the evil vixen who dumped poor Cole, the town hockey star, destroying him and his career in one fell swoop.
It’s amazing that in these situations, the default position was always to blame the woman.
He got the goodwill and the well wishes, and I got the nasty stares for being a harlot.
Oh how far from the truth that narrative about my on-again, off-again eight-year relationship with the youngest Hebert brother was.
But sadly, the folks in Lovewell didn’t give a shit about the truth.
So here I was, smiling and serving coffee and accepting shitty tips from old biddies who hated me on principle.
I’d learned at a young age that the world always blamed the woman.
In the eyes of the citizens of Lovewell, I’d somehow tricked their most beloved hockey star into dating me.
Then I’d ruined his life and bled him dry.
To them, I was a shameless gold digger. They’d harp on my lack of manners, my morals, or any other value they saw fit to criticize, blaming it on my being raised by a teen mom.
Never mind that I was no longer the child they’d looked down at for all those years.
I was twenty-eight, and my mother had done a damn good job raising me.
But this was the kind of stink that was impossible to wash off in this small town.
“Gentlemen,” I said with a smile, holding a fresh pot of coffee high.
Finn, the largest and friendliest of this bunch, gave me a winning smile. “Good morning, Lila,” he boomed, sliding his mug toward the end of the table. It looked like a toy in his massive hand.
Gus and Jude, both on the quieter side, gave me more subdued greetings, though they were still friendly.
Gus was the oldest brother, a logger who looked like a stereotypical mountain man.
His beard was thick and a little unruly, and it was rare to see him in anything other than a knit hat, a flannel shirt, work boots, and at least one item of clothing with a Carhartt logo.
Jude, on the other hand, had more of a hipster vibe going, with his thick glasses and ironic T-shirts.
Finn was something else entirely. Long hair and a beard, with the cocky confidence of a prior-service Navy pilot.
And then there was Owen. His blue eyes were bright as they met mine.
The hint of a smile he gave me made my stomach clench.
He was wearing one of his crisp dress shirts and jeans.
Although he was the only clean-shaven one, the family resemblance was overwhelming.
Every one of them had blue eyes, square jaws, and massive shoulders.
But the best thing about the Heberts? Despite my history with their younger half brother, they continued to treat me like family. It was a kindness I’d never take for granted.
“How’s Adele?” I asked Finn.
His whole face lit up. “Amazing. The third trimester is uncomfortable, but she’s managing well. I’m trying to convince her to stop working so much. She can’t be crawling under trucks while in labor, you know?”
Gus tossed his head back and laughed. “Good luck stopping her.”
Adele was several years older than me, so I didn’t know her well, but she was famously tough. I doubted she’d let any man tell her what she could and could not do.
I stuck around for a moment, chatting like I always did when they stopped in. They asked after my mother, showing nothing but respect for her, as usual, and Finn thanked me again for helping his daughter Merry with fractions.
Each time I interacted with them, it felt surreal.
For years, I’d believed that one day, I’d be a Hebert too.
That when Cole made it to the NHL, we’d get married, have lots of kids, and come back to Lovewell every year for Christmas to see his family, bringing with us tons of gifts and stories about our blessed, exciting life.
Instead, I’d come back home after cobbling together a degree in my twenties so I could save for a shot at grad school and a fresh start in New York. Money was tight, especially since I’d been helping Mom out, and New York rent was no joke.
Willa would tell me to draw a boundary and firmly insist that I was too busy to help the Heberts. But I didn’t have the energy to fight my pleasing instincts. Not today. Plus, the promise of thirty dollars an hour was too good to pass up. I didn’t need much sleep to function. I could make it work.
The Heberts had been so good to me over the years, so the least I could do was help out while they were struggling. I could file and make Excel spreadsheets with the best of them.
I’d dropped off their usual breakfasts, which consisted of enough to feed a family of ten, then made my rounds, refilling coffee, before Finn called me over.
“Thank you for agreeing to help Owen out,” he said, dipping his chin. “We appreciate it.”
Gus and Jude murmured in agreement.
With a smirk, I turned to Owen. When our eyes met, a shiver of excitement flowed through my veins, and the world around us went hazy. “Haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
Those deep blue eyes were the only thing still in focus. They never left mine, almost as if they were challenging me to stay away from him.
“I know he’s a pain in the ass,” Finn said, pulling me from my stupor, “but I know you can keep him in line.”
Jude laughed, and the dimple in his right cheek popped.
I’d never say it out loud, but he was my favorite of Cole’s brothers.
He was gentle, quiet, and kind, but with a dry sense of humor I appreciated.
Though I supposed he now had competition for the top spot.
Because Owen was sitting back, calmly sipping coffee, saying nothing but communicating so much.
He was silently challenging me. As if he already believed I was capable of all the tasks he needed help with. And as if he looked forward to seeing what I could do.
My heart rate sped up as he continued to assess me, and my knees went a little wobbly.
He was a seasoned negotiator. I’d give him that.
“Pretty sure you’re overqualified, but we’d appreciate all the help you could give us,” Finn said. “Owen’s a bit of a control freak.” He laughed. “But if you’ve got time, he could use help making spreadsheets and organizing files. The rest of us sure as shit don’t know anything about that stuff.”
What did I have to lose? Excitement hummed in my veins at the prospect of a new experience like this.
From our short conversation, it was clear that Owen would be a good boss.
He hadn’t talked down to me, and he’d carefully answered each of my questions.
Despite what I considered limited experience, he’d seemed impressed.
It was no secret that he was under pressure.
Hell, everyone in town knew what the Heberts had been through, and he had every reason to be angry.
But he wasn’t. A little stern, yes, but still kind.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
Owen’s expression didn’t change. He was so serious and controlled.
It shouldn’t, but his stoicism sent a frisson of interest through me. What would it take to knock him off his game? He’d been off-kilter for a moment yesterday when he’d squeezed his coffee cup so hard it exploded all over him. Could I rile him up again? Make him lose his cool?
The clang of a fork on a plate startled me.
Damn. I’d veered way off course. I forced my attention away from Owen and refilled each of the guys’ mugs once more.
When Mrs. Souza called out to me, grumbling that her hash browns were cold—of course they were; they’d been sitting in front of her while she gossiped for the last twenty minutes—I excused myself.
The Heberts finished up, and unlike most of our patrons, left a generous tip. As I was busing the table, loading the plates into a plastic bin, a thick business card, embossed and heavy, caught my eye.
I picked it up and studied it. Owen Hebert, CFO, DiLuca Construction. On the back, he’d scribbled Call me so we can get to work. -O
I tucked it into my apron, fighting a grin. It was a certainty I wouldn’t be sleeping for weeks. Ostensibly because I’d be working so much. But also because there was no way I wouldn’t be spending my time obsessing about Owen Hebert and those damn blue eyes.