Chapter Two
“I really tried to order everything I needed.” Alice Sweet sighed. “Some days, with so many interruptions, I can’t remember if I’m coming or going.”
All Hanson could think was welcome to my world.
“I could have sworn I had bought lemons. How can I make lemon meringue pie without lemons?”
He knew the question was rhetorical so he didn’t bother to answer that.
“If there’s time, I could run to the store and pick some up for you.
” The way Alice’s gaze ceased darting from one corner of the kitchen to the other and settled on him, he knew what she was debating.
Could he find his way to the store and back?
“It’s a straight shot from the road in front to Main Street. I couldn’t possibly get lost.”
A deep sigh accompanied sagging shoulders.
“No. You couldn’t.” She smiled. “But the time it would take to drive to town and back, I wouldn’t be able to bake a pie before dinner.
” This time her eyes traveled from the oven to the fridge to the counter and then, back to him.
“Maybe I could have you pick up a pie from the café. If I call ahead, Agnes can have it ready for you.”
As ludicrous as it was, her trusting him to run an errand in town made him feel the most normal he’d felt since that stupid explosion rattled his brains and scrambled his ability to remember whether he was coming or going—literally. “I can do that.”
Now her attention diverted out the kitchen window. Lips pressed tightly together and eyes narrowed in concentration, she swung around to face him. “Do you know how to drive a stick shift?”
Did he?
“My personal car is the only one available. The men each took a truck out to work the fence lines, and not a single family member is at the ranch today.”
Forcing his mind to dig back into its memory banks, visions of his father’s Corvette came to mind. That old sports car had a manual transmission and he did remember taking Madeleine Thompson to senior prom in his dad’s car. “Yes. I do.”
“Wonderful.” Her smile beamed as she reached for a hook by the back door and spinning about, tossed him the keys. “You get going. I’ll call Agnes and let her know you’re coming.”
With a nod, he squeezed the keys in his hands until the jagged edges bit into his palm, pushed to his feet, and not till he was seated in the old SUV did he breathe easy.
The vehicle was so old that the diagram on the gearshift had faded with time and only his muscle memory would get him out of the front drive. Maybe.
Curling his fingers around the knob, he closed his eyes, pleased to find that his left foot had depressed the clutch and his right hand had moved the stick.
Thank heaven muscle memory had indeed kicked in.
Another few minutes and he was off Sweet land and rolling toward town, and couldn’t have been happier if he’d won the Irish Sweepstakes.
Once he’d reached town, he breathed even more freely.
Leaving the car in what he hoped was neutral, he pulled the parking brake and stepped out of the SUV.
He’d done it. He’d driven alone to a semi-familiar place and not gotten lost. It would not have been best-case scenario had he found himself in Oklahoma instead of on Main Street.
Inside the café things were slow. He supposed at mid afternoon they were experiencing the post lunch and pre-dinner lull.
Not sure which way to go, actually, he couldn’t decide if he was confused because this was his first time inside the café, or because of how his brain had been perpetually scrambled since the explosion.
“You must be Hanson.” A smiling woman in a waitress uniform scurried in his direction.
His next question was did he stick out like a sore thumb because he was in khakis and loafers instead of denim and boots, or if it was merely obvious to everyone in this small town that he was new.
“Alice phoned ahead. You’ve got our last two lemon meringue pies.
Have a seat and I’ll bring them right out. ”
“Yes, ma’am.” He did his best to flash a friendly smile then sat on the nearest red vinyl covered chair as instructed. On her way back to the kitchen, the lady stopped to say a few words at just about every other table. Something told him she was not just a waitress.
The bell over the front door rang reminding him of a scene from some long-ago movie where store fronts were small, quaint, and real bells announced newcomers.
Laughter was the first sound after the bell.
A soft, sweet rumble that had his gaze dropping from the brass bell to the long-haired blonde wearing a bright smile and, eyes twinkling, muttered something softly and slipped her cell phone into her pocket.
By the time he was five years old, his mother had taught him not to stare, but he couldn’t help himself.
He’d seen plenty of long-legged, bright-eyed blondes in his day, even dallied with a few along the way, but none had grabbed his attention with the strength of a five-hundred-pound gorilla with no intention of loosening his grip.
If the sun broke through the roof and shined a beam of light onto her while angels sang the Hallelujah Chorus, he wouldn’t have been surprised.
“Here you go.”
Regretfully, he turned his attention to the voice beside him.
The lady stood with two cardboard boxes tied together with red and white twine.
“Thank you.” Accepting the package, he wished he’d had a hat on to tip. Something about this town made him feel like he should be doing old-fashioned gestures.
“Alice knows to keep it in a cool place till she serves tonight.”
“I’ll remind her. Thank you again.” He was speaking to the nice waitress but he was much more aware of the blonde chatting away with a couple and their two small kids at a nearby booth.
For whatever reason, he understood how the moth simply could not resist the pull of the flame even if flying into the fire meant assured death.
Too bad. Another place and time and, well…
.wasn’t that his life story from now on?
Pies safely placed on the floor of the back seat, Hanson sucked in a deep breath, placed his hand on the gear shift and unlike before, his mind went completely blank.
More than once the doctors had warned him that if he overexerted, did too much, being tired would affect his ability to think clearly.
They simply didn’t mention that driving into town and picking up a couple of pies could be overexerting.
Sucking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes once again.
His foot bumped against the clutch, or was it the brake?
And his hand squeezed the stick shift knob but didn’t move. Where the heck was drive?
As a kid growing up, Kat had dreams of moving to the big city, enjoying dinner in quaint restaurants, catching up with friends over coffee or wine at an outdoor café, and having all her needs met without driving for hours to a bigger town than Honeysuckle.
Now? Stepping into the café to pick up a pie for her next client and running into some of her students and their families, that was worth more than any outdoor café in Chicago, New York or her preferred South Beach in Miami.
For her, Honeysuckle wasn’t a town, it was one big family, and she liked that just fine.
“I have your pie waiting.” Agnes smiled widely and waved toward the back counter. “Good thing you wanted coconut cream. I just sold my last two lemon meringues.”
Kat slid onto the stool at the back counter as Agnes disappeared behind the double doors, reappearing moments later with a white cardboard box tied in string with a bright red bow on top. That was something new.
“Since you mentioned it’s a gift, I went ahead and added a bow. Might do it more often.” Agnes seemed to be studying the package, probably wondering if it was worth the expense or not.
“You could put Harriet’s pies in a brown paper bag and we’d all still savor every bite.
” Little more than a year ago, Harriet had moved to town after a nasty divorce in Dallas.
She’d been passing through on her way to a Southern California vacation, stopped for a night, and never left.
It was to the town’s delight that she turned out to be a fabulous baker.
“True.” Chuckling loudly, Agnes handed over the pie.
Not wanting to be late, Kat thanked the woman who had been in charge of the café for as long as she could remember and hurried out the door.
The moment she hit the street the horrible sound of grinding metal had her cringing like nails on a chalkboard.
What the… Hurrying to her car, the sound grew louder and more frequent.
Someone was killing a perfectly good motor.
Though she didn’t want to be late, curiosity got the best of her.
Pausing at the back of her car, juggling her keys and the pie, she searched the lot for the motor assassin.
It didn’t take long to spot the culprit.
Tail lights on, the small SUV across the lot from her car was killing the poor engine.
For a split second, she considered crossing the fifteen feet to the parked car and offering to help, or maybe teach them how to shift gears.
Her mind was still kicking around whether that would be a good or bad idea when the grinding noise came to a stop and the dusty SUV jerked, and like a thoroughbred at the derby, suddenly shot out of the parking space and raced straight toward her.
Sucking in a terrified breath, she made some sound suitable to a teenager in a horror film and throwing her arms up in the air—pie and all—bolted backwards, almost tripping over her own feet, and collapsing against the car parked beside hers before falling splat on the blacktop.
Less than a foot from her car, the SUV came to a hard stop, the engine grinding once more.
Before she found herself covered in tire marks, she scrambled on all fours, away from the cars and pushed to her feet just in time to see the dumb SUV jerk forward and back.
Only this time, it didn’t stop until the vehicle backed into her trunk. Just what she needed.
The other car’s door flew open and a man the size of a linebacker jumped out of the car and galloped in her direction.
Instinct had her scrambling in reverse and out of his trajectory. Too bad the curb didn’t know to slide out of her way. Heels bumping against the concrete edge, once again she was on the ground, flat on her rump.
“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” Whether the look on the man’s face was concern or fear for his increasing insurance premiums, she wasn’t sure. “I’m so sorry.” He held out his hand.
“Mm.”
“Let me help you up.”
Staring at his extended hand, the thought she’d rather play with a viper crossed her mind. This man was trouble with a capital T. “I’m fine.”
“I really am sorry.” His gaze drifted over his shoulder at the now kissing bumpers. “Of course, I’ll pay for all damages. And a new pie.”
“Pie?” That’s right, the pie had gone flying in the air as she tried to break away from his car.
Immediately her gaze darted to where she’d stood when she spotted his screeching vehicle.
“Dang it.” On her feet, she rushed over to the box resting on the ground, the bow still on top.
Could it be? Bending over, she reached for the box.
Behind her she heard, “Allow me.”
Before she could process the man’s words, the two bumped heads. The box dropped to the ground, again, this time breaking open and splattering cream all over her new shoes.
“Uh, oh.”
Slowly turning her head toward the voice, biting down on her back teeth, she threw daggers with her eyes at this man. “Ya think?”
“I’ll replace it.” He moved toward her and before he took two steps, she held her arm straight, palm out.
“Stop right there. Do not come another step closer.” On a sigh, she bent over to retrieve what she could of the box. She had no idea if coconut cream was good or bad for the critters lurking about, but she could at least discard the ruined box into a trash can.
“I really am sorry.” Standing still as told, his feet didn’t move. Instead he waved an arm in her direction. “Please let me…”
His words trailed off as his arm bumped hers dumping what little pie was left in the mangled box onto her shirt.
“Oh, no.” The man had the decency to look mortified, but not the common sense to stay away. Taking a step closer, bare-handed, he reached forward and brushed the pie from her blouse. His eyes widened as he realized he’d just run his fingers across her chest. “I..uh…”
“Just stop.” Never in her life had she wanted to rip anyone’s head off as much as she wanted to at this very moment. “Just. Go.”
“But—”
“Now!” Staring down at her ruined clothes and the nonexistent pie, she shook her head. “Just go.”
“I—”
“Go!”
Taking a step back, the man bobbed his head and seemed to want to say something else.
She followed his gaze to the cars. The damage seemed minimal, if any.
Even though to her eyes it looked like he was backing up at a speed suitable for the Indy 500, there was barely a dent in her bumper.
Making a fast decision, she opted to let her insurance fix the problem as long as she could get away from this man. And his car.
“Let me give you my—”
She cut him off with her hand in front of him. “I am going to get into my car. Go home and change my clothes. And you—without saying another word—are going to go very, very far away. Understood?”
His brows buckled as he contemplated who knew what before finally nodding.
By the time she’d climbed into her car and pulled out of the drive, the man was still standing at the curb of the parking lot staring at her tail lights. So much for a polite gesture on her first day. All she could think now was, what a mess!