The Caretaker

Chapter 1

SILVER

It’s well past midnight when I spot a familiar truck sitting on the shoulder of the road with the hood raised.

The first drops of rain slap my windshield, driven by the sudden wind.

Autumn storms aren’t the warmest. It’s not a night when anyone wants to be stuck, least of all the mountain of a man currently bent over under the hood. He’s surly on a good day.

“Hey, that’s not where the gas goes,” I call out, after pulling up beside him and lowering my window.

His exasperated expression as he turns his head to look at me is glorious. “It’s the damn battery.”

He steps off to the side when I make a quick U-turn to park nose to nose with his truck. Before I can reach for my jumper cables, he pulls out a set. I kill my engine and join him as he wastes no time attaching the cables to my battery.

“Are you out causing trouble tonight?” he asks, turning his back to clamp the other end under his hood.

Have a man pick you up from jail one time and you never live it down. “I’m on my way home from work. Are you coming from a brothel?”

If there’s a brothel anywhere near this little Kentucky town, I’m not aware of it, but my response makes his mouth twitch into a short-lived smile.

Lee Hartman is a ridiculously attractive man.

I don’t know a woman who would argue about that.

He’s also a champion in bed, a fact I learned about a year ago when we had a drunken, thoroughly enjoyable, orgasm filled one night stand.

“Okay, turn it on,” he orders, stepping back.

I start my truck, and he gives it a minute before hopping in his.

Nothing happens but a few clicks when he turns the key.

His curses can be read on his lips when lightning illuminates everything.

“Let’s give it a few minutes to see if it charges,” he says, approaching my window.

“Get in.”

Lee climbs in the passenger side. “Thanks. I just put that alternator in. It has to be the battery. It was due. Should’ve replaced it months ago.”

“No problem. I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress.” His eyes narrow as he turns to look at me. Calling this six foot three, wide as a damn house, bearded man a damsel is hilarious.

“No need to taunt me into proving I’m a man, sweetheart. Just say you want me to fuck you again.”

Well, that escalated quickly. It was a memorable night. The best sex I’ve had in my thirty-four years, if I’m being honest, but I’m not looking for a repeat. Am I?

“Still think about that night, don’t you?” I taunt, grinning at him. “Can’t say I blame you. I’m hard to forget.”

“I remember you screaming my name and begging for more.”

“Really? I remember riding the hell out of you then making you wait on the porch for your ride home after I left.” I absolutely did.

Drunk, we’d both left our trucks at the party and got a lift back to my place.

In my defense, I had to leave for work, and a co-worker was picking me up.

I’d just been cheated on by a long-term boyfriend who chose to screw my best friend in my living room.

I was on a man hating kick, not that I’m much fonder of them now.

Our verbal sparring isn’t out of the ordinary.

His scowl doesn’t fool me. He loves it as much as I do.

My best friend, Calli, is in a relationship and living with his friend, Arlow.

We’ve hung out with them plenty of times since that night, but I haven’t seen him in a while.

I haven’t seen much of anyone lately unless they’ve been customers at my diner.

My diner. That still feels weird to say.

Mom retired and made me the manager. She died of a stroke a few months later, and I inherited Lucky’s Diner and Donuts.

It’s been so hard, grieving for her and keeping things running but I’ve finally got a good hold on things.

Focusing on the changes I wanted to make has helped.

I’ve been working my ass off to improve the place.

“And yet, you stopped for me tonight,” he points out.

“Well, yes, I’m not a monster. Are you going to Arlow’s birthday cookout next weekend?”

“Yeah, Lacey’s coming too.” His brow furrows. “With her new boyfriend, last I heard.” To give credit where it’s due, even to a man, Lee always watches out for his little sister. She’s twenty-three, not a child, but he’s fifteen years older so it makes sense he’d be a little overprotective.

“You don’t like him?”

“I don’t know him. We’ll see.” He gets out to try to start his truck again. This time it fires right up. Good timing since the rain is really beginning to pick up. I wait in my nice, warm seat while he disconnects the cables, closes both of our hoods, and walks up to my window.

“All good. Be careful getting home in this storm.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

This time he doesn’t restrain his grin. “That smart mouth,” he grumbles, shaking his head.

I’m caught completely off guard when he slides his large hand behind my neck and pulls my head forward, planting his lips on mine.

My little gasp of surprise gives him an easy entry, and he takes full advantage.

I’d like to say I hesitated or gave even a second of thought to my response, but no.

The feel of his tongue slipping into my mouth kills any other impulse but to grab his jaw with one hand and kiss the hell out of him.

My thighs tense and my sex drive that’s been largely muted lately roars to life.

The memory of how he worked that tongue between my legs last time flashes in my mind and coaxes a groan from me.

I can feel the smile on his lips as he breaks the kiss, even before I see it.

“See you.” With the satisfied smile still firmly in place, he turns and walks back to his truck without a backward glance.

Damn. I think he won that one.

I’m finished with men when it comes to relationships, but clearly, I still want them for one particular function.

Which is funny considering my rechargeable boyfriends at home have multi-functional capabilities.

But switching up settings that probably spell out mystery words in morse code just isn’t enough anymore.

They can’t bend me over or pull my hair.

Maybe I should give Lee one more go. Or maybe I should get moving and stop sitting in my truck thinking about this.

He doesn’t pull away until after I do, tailing me down the street, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s going to follow me all the way home. Instead, he gives a short beep of his horn as I turn onto my road and continues on his way. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

It’s been a long day and I’m glad to be home. Goblin rushes over to me, meowing as if she hasn’t been fed in days when I know damn well there will still be food in her bowl. She takes it as a personal affront if the bottom of the bowl is ever visible. “I know, I’m late.”

So many late nights recently and more to go.

After feeding her, I open my mail to find the paperwork from my new home equity loan.

I worked hard and paid off my home in ten years so applying for it was a difficult decision to make, but there was no other choice if I wanted to afford the renovations and upgrades to the diner.

The payments are reasonable, and if things go to plan, I’ll have it paid off in a couple of years.

I’m too tired to watch TV or read so I take a quick shower and head straight to bed. My last thought is of Lee’s scorching kiss, and it follows me into some very satisfying dreams.

I wake to two texts from Will, one of the grill cooks.

Will

The truck didn’t come this morning. We’re going to run out of hamburger meat by dinner rush.

Also the back grill isn’t working.

Fantastic. Good morning to me. Goblin bops her head on my forehead and lies down on my chest as I pet her. As tempting as it is to lie there for an hour or three, I give myself ten minutes before getting my ass moving.

It’s the middle of the lull between breakfast and lunch when I arrive at the diner. Nina, one of the waitresses, gives me a nod and a smile, then goes back to chatting with a table of old men who often spend half the afternoon here, sipping coffee.

They’ve finally stopped asking how I’m doing and giving condolences for my mom’s death.

I appreciated it, but it makes it hard to move on.

For months, every day I stepped into the diner, I’d have to talk about her.

It’s no surprise since she owned and managed this place since I was a baby.

While I’m happy and proud to be the new owner, I miss her terribly.

With her gone, the employees turn to me for everything, despite the fact I recently hired a perfectly capable general manager with years of experience.

As much as I’m tempted to give them all a talking to about that, it’s better to let her assert herself with them.

Camille has been a godsend. When I found out Mac’s Burgers was closing after thirty years, I paid a little visit the last week they were open.

It didn’t take me long to realize she was the life of the place and the best person to replace me as general manager while I assumed more of the owner’s responsibilities.

Camille is in the freezer, checking expiration dates and rotating stock. “Hi, I thought you weren’t in until this afternoon,” she says.

“Just popping in. I’m going to run and get the painting supplies I need. Did you see they put the floors in?”

“I did. They’re gorgeous. You’re going to paint it yourself?” she asks, sliding a box of frozen bacon back on the shelf.

“That’s the plan. I’m hoping the smell won’t be too overpowering if we let it air out for a few days.”

She nods and we escape the chill of the freezer to the steamy kitchen as she tells me, “Misty called off for tonight. Her baby has a fever. Do you want me to call in someone to cover her shift?”