Five.
Duke
I linger in the front office as I absently listen to the owner apologize to Maci for the heating issue and his nephews’ disrespect. He offers her a full refund for the night and an extension on her stay until Thursday.
Which is the longest she can be here since the room is booked and paid for by another customer. And I don’t miss the uncomfortable fidget in her posture when she learns this.
Mentally, I’m working out how I can get her car fixed and back to her in record time to alleviate any kind of stress she’s already under. Even though I know it’ll be the better part of a week at minimum.
If she needs somewhere to stay, she can stay with me.
The thought heats my chest in a way it hasn’t in years. Would she go for that? Can I get her to trust me enough by then to have her safely tucked away at the cabin?
Safely.What has gotten into me?
She’s silent as we walk across the parking lot to my truck. I help her inside and jog around to jump in the driver’s seat. “You should’ve called,” I grumble for the third time, earning me a shake of her head as I turn up the heat for her. I don’t know why I keep drilling this into her; it’s annoying even from my perspective.
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
My jaw tightens. There better not be a next time. “My brother, Rhett, knows a good bit about electrical heaters,” I say. “I gave him a call, but he can’t get out here for another hour or two. In the meantime, you can tag along with me until your room heats up.”
“Tag along…with you,” she repeats, confused. And I don’t blame her.
“I’m not sending you into that meat locker of a motel room, Maci,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. It feels tighter with her in my truck wearing my hoodie under her flimsy jacket. You wouldn’t know she’s been up for hours with…morning sickness. My chest expands at the thought yet again, and I push it down. Way down. “I’ve got some errands to run and plowing to do. You’ll be safer—uh, warmer, in my truck.”
Get your shit together, man. Fuck.
“Fine.” She sighs, tugging on her seatbelt. “Can we still eat first?”
A genuine grin splits my face. “Absolutely.”
We set on the short drive down the road to Annie’s Diner, passing Cup O’ Joe on the way. I catch sight of Butch’s truck along with half a dozen other vehicles I recognize all too well parked out front. Vehicles that usually hang out at Annie’s Diner this early on a Saturday…
I slow our approach when an abandoned Buick—half in the street—sits blocking the unplowed entrance to the restaurant. Where another local plow guy is working to get the car unstuck and out of the way.
“Son of a—”
Maci leans forward to get a better look at the scene. “Should we wait?”
I mull it over for a second, but the answer is clear. I can’t make her wait to eat when I can hear her stomach growling from a few feet away. No matter how badly I don’t want to walk into Cup O’ Joe, the thought of her not eating in the next half-hour doesn’t sit right with me.
“No,” I grunt, checking the side mirror before I whip a U-turn. “We’ll just hit the coffee shop, if that’s all right with you,” I say, glancing at her.
She nods, smiling sheepishly. “I am craving a muffin.”
As irritated as I am at having to deal with Butch this morning, I can’t deny the joy I get knowing I’m giving her something she wants. Even if it is fulfilling a minor craving.
However, the second we pull into the tightly packed parking lot, Butch is walking out the front door. If I could’ve stalled another thirty seconds, we would’ve missed him. Damn.
My brother’s stern gaze locks on me like a viper eyeing his enemy. This ought to be fun.
I kill the engine and get out, standing by the front of my truck as Maci slides out.
A few long strides later and Butch is within arm’s reach. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” I huff, my breath clouding between us. Maci shuffles her way to my side, doing a light hop in an attempt to ward off the bitter cold.
Butch’s gaze catches on her, and I can only imagine what’s going through his thick skull. Beautiful girl slides out of my truck first thing in the morning wearing my hoodie from last night on our way in to grab breakfast.
I know exactly how this looks.
Maci glances between Butch and myself. “I’ll, um, find us a table,” she whispers to me, touching my arm before giving an uncomfortable, tightlipped smile to my brother and scurrying in the front door.
Butch wastes no time in asking, “Who is she?”
“A friend.”
“Friend, huh?”
I narrow my gaze into a harsh warning that could rival any Butch Montgomery scowl tenfold. “That’s what I said.”
He pushes his hands in his pockets, and I’d love nothing more than to knock the skeptical glare off his face. He can try to play ‘big bro’ all he wants, we both know I can kick his ass if it came down to it. “You still plan on showing up tonight?” he asks in a condescending tone. Prick.
“I said I would, didn’t I?”
“You also said you’d be the Montgomery to die alone on this mountain,” he adds, tipping his head in the direction of the coffee shop. “Seems you changed your mind pretty fast on that, too.”
Bastard always knows how to kick a man when he’s down. “Fuck off,” I mutter as I stalk past him. I throw open the heavy glass-framed door and step inside the bustling local coffee house.
I find Maci a second later, standing fifth in line. I come up beside her, laying a gentle hand on her lower back. She jumps, staring up at me with those pretty, expressive eyes. I wonder if she knows how much she gives away in them.
“Everything okay?” she asks quietly.
I nod.
“There’s no open tables,” she adds, peering around.
“We can take it to go,” I say, my gaze trained ahead, jaw ticking. There are at least a dozen sets of eyes on us even now, and I hate it. I hate the whispers that’ll be flying around by noon. And I hate that Maci, the stranger in town seen with the broken widower who hasn’t been on a date in years, will be at the center of it.
She has no idea the shit she just got dropped into.
“Oh, okay.” She fidgets beside me, her arm brushing against mine. “So, um, were you just in the area this morning, or did something happen with my car?” she asks.
“I was on my way to the shop and saw your door wide open,” I admit, not adding that I had to take the long way around to pass the motel to check on her. “Your car got in safe and sound last night. We can check on it if you don’t believe me.”
She worries on her lower lip as we move up in line. “No, that’s all right.”
Five minutes later, we’re stepping up to the register. “Hey, Duke,” Cassidy beams, her smile blinding as her eyes widen at the sight of Maci standing close. “You just missed Butch.”
Unfortunately, I didn’t. “Caught him outside,” I say, gesturing for Maci to order. She gets two blueberry muffins, a green tea, and a small coffee while I grab a breakfast sandwich, an apple-cinnamon muffin, and the biggest coffee I can get to go.
I didn’t get much sleep last night. The whole night I spent watching my phone like a hawk, worried I was going to miss her call or text. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I even missed her. Fuck. I missed a woman I know nothing about besides the fact she’s gorgeous and stranded alone in a town she didn’t know the name of less than twelve hours ago.
Oh, and she’s…pregnant.
And single. Can’t forget that.
What kind of sick joke is this? Is it a joke or a sign?
A delicate hand on my arm drags me from the thought just in time. “I’ll be right back,” Maci tells me.
My heart thuds in fear for no reason at all. I’m not thinking as I wrap an arm around her, pull her to me, and search her gaze. “Why? What’s wrong?” The very fragment of a thought the cold from earlier could’ve harmed her or the baby… I can’t even think about it without wanting to rip those two idiots to shreds.
Her cheeks blush a deep enough red to match her hair. “I have to pee,” she whispers.
“Oh.” The tightness in my shoulders ease and I drop my arm from her waist. Way to jump to the worst-case scenario. “Right, well, the bathroom is over there.” I point to the narrow hallway near the back.
She smiles with a shake of her head as she slips past me. I keep an eye on her longer than I should, glaring at Don Mays as he leans to get a better look at her ass. His leer lifts at my heated stare. The moron gives me a thumbs-up before looking elsewhere. Asshole.
“She’s pretty,” Cassidy says, setting down two brown paper bags and a disposable tray of drinks on the counter between us. I grunt, fishing out my wallet as she rattles off the price. “I didn’t know you were…on the market.”
“What?”
“Dating,” she clarifies.
“I’m not,” I deadpan. Why does everything have to be about my love life? Or lack thereof.
She shrugs. “Well, you’re welcome to invite her to the bar tonight after dinner,” she says. “The more the merrier.”
I’d like to say the idea hadn’t already crossed my mind, but it has. I’ve caught myself thinking of ways I can help her—protect her. It’s probably one of the more primitive urges I’ve ever had.
Again, I ask, What the hell is going on with me?
When Maci returns to me, there’s a lightness I feel when I’m around her that I can’t deny—even despite the prying eyes surrounding us. It replaces the dark cloud that’s been fogging my mind these last few years with…her.
It’s dangerous, this feeling.
And I’ve already become addicted.