Chapter Three
The pies made it home intact. Hanson considered that a victory of considerable proportions given the afternoon he’d had.
Mentally playing a high-stakes game of Tetris, Hanson stared at the bottom shelf of the massive stainless-steel refrigerator.
He shifted a heavy glass pitcher of sweet tea two inches to the left, nudged a bowl of apples toward the back, and carefully slid the two white cardboard boxes tied with red and white twine into the resulting gap.
Perfect fit. Pushing the heavy door shut, he let the seal catch with a satisfying thwack, then leaned his forehead against the cool metal for a long calming moment.
His brain felt like it had been wading through wet concrete.
The noise of the café, the concentration required to shift gears, and the massive adrenaline spike of almost running over the most stunning woman he’d seen in a decade had drained his daily battery faster than a left-on flashlight.
A dull, rhythmic throb pulsed right behind his left eye—a mild but clear warning that his processing speed had hit its limit for the afternoon.
“I can’t thank you enough, Hanson.” Alice stood at the kitchen counter, hands dusted with flour as she worked a rolling pin over a slab of dough. “You saved me. I’d promised Mason my lemon meringue pie if he didn’t give his new tutor a hard time.”
“Glad I could help, ma’am.” Hanson pushed off the refrigerator and made his way to the large, scarred wooden table at the center of the room.
Pulling out a chair, the wood scraping softly against the floorboards, he sat down, wrapping both hands around a glass of ice water she had set down for him instead of the traditional sweet tea he couldn’t quite take a liking to.
He let the quiet, steady rhythm of the ranch kitchen wash over him.
This was what the doctors had talked about, the need to step away from the noise and let the circuits cool down.
He took a long, slow sip of the cold water, actively willing the tightness in his shoulders to uncoil.
He had successfully driven to town. He had successfully retrieved the pies.
He had successfully driven back without wrapping the old SUV around a telephone pole.
Even if he did come within inches of crumpling that woman’s car like an aluminum can.
If only he could forget the part where he’d acted like a complete buffoon in the parking lot, destroyed a perfectly good pastry, and thoroughly alienated a woman who smelled like lilacs and looked like an angel.
If the heavens would take mercy on him, he’d never have to face her again and be reminded of the fool he’d made of himself.
Footsteps sounded from the hallway, and Jess stepped into the kitchen. She carried a stack of colorful workbooks and a pencil box. “Is Kat here yet? Mason is actually sitting at his desk voluntarily, and I don’t want to lose the momentum.”
“Haven’t heard her car.” Alice didn’t bother looking up from her dough. “I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.”
Right on cue, the crunch of tires on the gravel drive drifted through the open living room windows. A car door slammed shut. Light, quick footsteps crossed the wooden front porch.
Hanson kept his seat, perfectly content to stay out of the way and let the family handle the tutor. He took another drink of water, letting his gaze drift toward the hallway just as the front door clicked open.
“Hello? It’s just me.”
The voice sent an immediate, sharp jolt straight down Hanson’s spine. His fingers locked in a death grip around his water glass.
A woman stepped into the kitchen entryway.
Long blonde hair, bright eyes, and a familiar, exasperated energy.
Hanson stopped breathing. It was her. She was no longer wearing the blouse he had effectively decorated with coconut cream.
Instead, she’d changed into a crisp, light blue button-down, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
In her hands, she carried a round, decorative tin.
“Kat, honey.” Alice beamed, wiping her floury hands on her apron. “We were just talking about you.”
“Sorry I’m running a little behind schedule,” her soft voice carried across the large room.
Keeping her focus entirely on the two women, she stepped fully into the kitchen.
“I brought a treat for my new pupil.” She held out the tin toward Jess.
“My mom baked a fresh batch of shortbread cookies this morning. I thought Mason might enjoy them.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.” Jess took the tin, her smile mirroring Kat’s.
“Well, it wasn’t my first choice.” Kat let out a long soft sigh. “My original plan was to bring a pie for Mason. I remembered you mentioning coconut cream was his favorite. It’s not beneath me to bribe a new student.”
The women laughed and, his eyes closed, Hanson prayed for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.
Jess chuckled softly. “Whatever it takes.”
“Unfortunately, I had a slight mishap in the parking lot.”
Jess’s brow furrowed. “Mishap?”
“I had a bit of a run-in with a complete nut case in a dusty SUV who apparently got his license from a box of Cracker Jacks.”
Cracker Jacks? Why did that sound familiar? Was it cereal? Candy? Squeezing his eyes again, he shoved the frustration down as deep as he could to make friends with all the other aggravations the last months had brought.
“Oh my.” Her hands still in the dough, Alice’s eyes flared with concern before narrowing as she listened to what else Kat had to say.
“The idiot threw his car into reverse and nearly ran me over. In the process of trying not to get crushed, the pie went airborne.”
“Good heavens.” A hand flew to Jess’s chest. “Since you’re standing here on two feet, I’m going to say he missed you.”
“His car did, but not the pie. That’s why I’m late. I had to go home and change.”
“Oh, you have had a day.” Alice wiped her hands on a nearby dish towel and cast a quick glance in his direction so brief that he may have been the only one to notice. “Are you sure you’re up to the lesson?”
“Of course.” She waved off the matriarch’s concern, and took another step closer to the table.
Hanson knew it was time for a tactical retreat—if only he had one. Setting his water glass down on the wooden table, he pushed his chair back and stood to his full height.
The movement caught Kat’s peripheral vision.
At the sound of his chair scraping against the tiled floor, she turned her head in his direction.
The easy smile instantly vanished. Her lips parted slightly, her breath caught visibly in her throat.
The bright blue of her eyes hardened into twin chips of solid ice as she took in his khakis, his loafers, and his presence inside the Sweet family sanctuary.
Alice, not entirely oblivious to the sudden, suffocating drop in the room’s temperature, turned toward the table with a tight smile. “Oh, Kat, where are my manners? Speaking of cars and errands, you haven’t properly met our houseguest. He just got back from town himself.”
Hanson didn’t look away. He kept his hands relaxed at his sides, refusing to slouch or hide, and absorbed the full, unadulterated weight of her glare.
“Kat,” as though they were specimens under a microscope, Alice watched the two carefully as she spoke, “this is Hanson Taylor. Hanson, this is Katherine Sutton, Mason’s new tutor.”
The blonde beauty didn’t blink. Slowly, she arranged her features into a mask of pure, polite Southern frost. “Hanson.”
He gave a slow, deliberate nod, holding her gaze with silent acknowledgement of his own guilt. “Miss Sutton. It’s a pleasure to officially make your acquaintance.”
Gripping the leather satchel hanging from her shoulder, Kat stood rooted to the wooden floor and wondered if it was at all possible to strangle a man with nothing but a look.
Across the room, the same idiot who’d nearly flattened her in the café parking lot stood beside the table looking like sin wrapped in khakis and loafers.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair in need of a trim.
Something hard to notice when a motor vehicle is gunning for you, but she noticed them now, along with eyes a shade too honest for a man who drove like a menace to society.
If she hadn’t lived through the parking lot escapade herself, she might have thought she’d imagined the whole thing.
Alice’s gaze bounced from one to the other, her eyes narrowed, and she heaved a deep sigh as the silence stretched. She’d succeeded in connecting the dots.
Too polite to let the older woman dangle, Kat drew in a breath she did not feel and set her shoulders. “It seems we’ve already met.”
Beside the table, the man’s jaw tightened. “In town.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Folding her arms over her chest, Kat shifted the weight of the satchel. “Another way might be that you tried to run me down.”
Jess’s eyes widened. “What?”
“I did no such thing.” A hand scrubbed over the back of his neck. “I mean—I did not intentionally back into your car.”
Her gaze darting back and forth from Kat to the menace, Alice remained perfectly still, not a hint of what she was thinking.
“I’m sorry.” Pushing the chair fully under the table, Hanson took one step forward, then seemed to think better of it and stopped.
“For the car. For the pie. For your shirt.” His gaze dipped briefly to the front of her blouse and instantly bounced away.
Color rose along the collar of his neck. “For all of it.”
A beat passed. Jess stood frozen, jaw slightly ajar, confusion in her gaze.
Alice blinked hard. “So you were the man in the parking lot?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Misery settled over every word. “Though I’d rather not be.”
Jess clutched the cookie tin to her middle. “Well, at least no one was hurt.”
“Only my pride.” Letting out a breath, Kat gave a small shake of her head. “And Harriet’s coconut cream pie.”
“I can replace it,” Hanson said quickly. “The pie. The shirt. Any damage to the car. Anything.”
The earnestness in his voice caught her off guard. No bluster. No excuses. No trying to laugh it away. Just a man standing there taking his lumps. Too bad he’d earned them.
Another second and, to his credit, he dipped his head. “Again, Miss Sutton, I am sorry.”
The sincerity took some of the steam out of her annoyance, which was inconvenient timing at best.
Before she could decide whether or not to throw him a crumb of mercy, he stepped back. “If you guys will excuse me, I’m going to go to my room, lie down, and pray for forgiveness.”
Was he teasing? The effort almost had her smiling—almost. Instead, she barely nodded.
Hanson nodded at Alice. “Thank you for the water.” Then turned down the back hallway.
Movement that large should have felt heavy.
Instead, even his retreat looked controlled.
Steady. Measured. Like a man making sure every step went exactly where he intended it to go.
At the far end of the hall, he disappeared into a doorway and a moment later the quiet click of a door shutting carried back to the kitchen.
“Oh, honey.” Floury hands still tangled in a dish rag, Alice looked at Kat with open concern. “I am so sorry.”
“It’s all right.” The words came automatically though all right wasn’t exactly how she’d describe anything about the afternoon. “No real harm done.”
“Your car?”
“A little bump. Barely noticeable.”
“Your shirt?”
“Probably salvageable.”
Jess finally set the cookie tin on the counter. “Should we call the sheriff?”
That startled a real laugh out of Kat. “For bad driving and crimes against pastry? I think Honeysuckle law enforcement has better things to do.”
The tension in the room loosened just enough for Alice to come around the table. “Still, if there’s damage, we’ll pay for it. And if the shirt doesn’t come clean, I’ll see to replacing it or having it dry-cleaned. Hanson served with Kade. He’s recovering after a little… accident.”
The pause before accident said more than the word itself.
Pieces clicked into place. The careful way he’d stood still instead of crowding her. The odd stop starts in his speech. The way apology had come easier to him than explanation.
Kat looked toward the hall and then back to Alice. “I didn’t realize.”
“No reason you should.” Worry pinched the older woman’s mouth. “He’s a good man. Just having a hard stretch.”
Before Kat could answer, sneakers slapped against the hall floor.
“Mama, is she here?”
A short blur shot into the kitchen and skidded to a stop beside Jess. Mason Sweet looked from his mother to Kat to the cookie tin on the counter with undisguised hope.
“Work first, cookies after,” Jess’s motherly tone left no room for argument.
Slipping slowly into a seat at the table, Mason nodded.
Pulling out the materials she’d packed that morning, Kat lined up a thin notebook, a pencil box, and a stack of small index cards with neat printed letter teams on the front. No bright toys. No nonsense. Just organization, and one careful step after another. “We’ll start easy.”
Mason leaned forward, clearly torn between wanting to bolt and wanting a cookie.
For the next hour, they went over short vowel sounds with flash cards.
To her delight, Mason was working with her.
He’d been able to place all the sounds, but struggled to put them together.
No surprise there. Dyslexia was an umbrella with many different learning challenges, but Mason wasn’t withdrawing and that was the best news of the afternoon.
Convinced that reading was a losing battle, too many kids shied away from their tutors.
Unbidden, her mind momentarily wandered to the man down the hall.
The man struggling with…something, after some sort of accident, who apparently had been sent to recover here at the ranch.
She doubted there was any place better on the planet for a man to heal…
but what was this particular man trying to heal from?