Hard to Handle (15 page)

“She's not.” Because Harley didn't want his uncle to get the wrong idea about her work ethic, he explained, “She's a life coach.”

“Seriously?”

Doing a double take, Harley said, “You know what that is?”

“Sure.” And then, “You didn't?”

Harley should have known. There seemed to be very little that his uncle wasn't familiar with. He ignored the question. “I take it she's real successful at it, but she said she's taking some time off for a few months.”

Satch nodded. “I saw right away that she wasn't an ordinary, run-of-the-mill person. Coaching others isn't easy, you know. You need a boatload of patience and understanding, a keen intellect, and the ability to be unbiased in all things.”

Did Satch think that because he coached Harley?

Probably.

“Yeah, she's all that,” Harley said, cutting off the string of accolades. “Gutsy, too.”

“How so?”

Remembering, Harley grinned. “She's the one who ran my Jeep off the road. But she did it trying to rescue me.”

Satch listened intently as Harley related the story, and then declared, “I like her.”

“Yeah, well, don't like her too much.” He put the Jeep in gear. “We'll be out of Echo shortly, and that'll be the last I see of her.”

“And from what you said, that's just fine by you, huh?”

“It's the only way I'd let it be.” Harley steered the Jeep around and, rather than drive directly to town, headed to Ned's. He wanted to talk to him about Anastasia's truck, and although he didn't plan to let anyone know, he wanted Ned to call him when he found out if Anastasia's brake lines had been cut and notify him if anything else happened.

After today, he wouldn't see Anastasia again, but that didn't mean he wouldn't worry about her.

W
ITH
most of the town shut down, people had gathered at the bar. Sheila kept it well lit, the crowd gave off body heat, and it seemed a good central location for folks to buzz about the weather. Locals mingled with vacationers, while a couple of deputies circulated among them, organizing cleanups and repairs, and taking reports. They'd already spoken with Anastasia, and now they talked with Harley.

Barber lounged back in a seat and amused himself through observation. People fascinated him, especially women—and men when they got hooked on women.

Harley might not realize it yet, but he was good and hooked. It showed in the way he kept glancing at Anastasia, and in the way he had to force his attention back to the deputy each time. A stacked blonde kept trying to get his attention, but Harley never even noticed. He was too busy trying not to stare at Anastasia.

Should he tell Harley that it was all over for him?

Barber grinned and decided against it. After being told that there wasn't much that could be done to track down the men who'd attacked them last night, Harley looked ready to beat someone to a pulp with very little provocation. It was clear that he didn't like the idea of leaving Anastasia alone and unprotected—especially when Harley himself wanted to protect her.

Better not deliberately annoy him further just yet.

He could save it for later.

For her part, Anastasia did her utmost not to look at Harley, even when he turned over the guns and gained the attention of most everyone else in the bar. Oh, she was aware of Harley, had been aware of him from the moment he'd stepped into the bar with his uncle.

But bless her heart, she had pride and gumption galore.

Barber also noticed that, even a little bedraggled from a rough night and lack of finer facilities to pretty herself up, she looked cute as could be.

He understood Harley's interest. He also knew Harley didn't plan to cultivate that interest, not for any woman for any length of time.

Poor sap. He really thought he could call the shots on romance.

Leaning forward in the booth, Barber crossed his arms on the tabletop and said to Anastasia, sotto voce, “You know, sugar, it's okay to look at him. He won't notice, and I promise not to tell anyone.”

To his surprise, Anastasia shook her head but didn't deny the obvious. “Thanks, but I'd rather not. I don't want him to misunderstand and think that I plan to chase after him or anything.”

Her bluntness threw him. “Because you don't?”

“Plan to chase him? No way.” Her big brown eyes met his without reserve. “My personal pride aside, Harley was very clear about his intentions and I respect that. Besides, he's got enough on his plate.”

“How so?”

“He has to prepare for his upcoming fights while dealing with his uncle.” She half-laughed. “That can't be easy.”

Blunt
and
observant. “You picked up on that, did you?”

“The tension between his uncle and him?” She snorted. “I have eyes. Any fool can see that Harley loves Satch, but Satch does like to cross the boundaries, doesn't he?”

Barber sat back. “Not for me to say.”

“Ah, prudent, are you? That's a good quality for a friend to have.”

When she smiled at him, Barber noticed that she had a nice mouth.

Very
nice.

A fist slugged him in the shoulder, not hard enough to be an outright challenge, but definitely hard enough to get his attention real quick.

“Quit daydreaming, you ass.”

Barber glanced up to find that Harley had joined them, and he looked more than a little disgruntled. Barber grinned. “Leash that dog, Harley. I was just making silent observations, that's all.”

“Well, stop making them.” Harley seated himself beside Anastasia, crowding in close to her and making her scoot real fast to give him room. He took her coffee cup and helped himself to a drink in the familiar way of lovers. “The way things stand, there's not much hope of catching those bastards from last night.”

“So I was told,” she said. “Unless they screw up again.”

Looking testy and primed for battle, Harley said, “You mean unless they come after you again.”

“I suppose.” Unconcerned, she peered at her coffee cup in bemusement. “I won't be returning for a few days, so it doesn't matter. In the meantime, everyone will be on the lookout.”

Her reassurance did little to appease Harley. “And when you do return, you'll be back at that damn cabin, isolated and an easy target.”

Her smile stiffened. “Why do you insist on calling me an idiot?”

Harley bunched up. “I didn't. I called you small and female.”

Pausing, she thought about it, and then shrugged. “I can't deny being female, and I suppose compared to you, I'm small.”

Harley's eyes narrowed. It fascinated Barber to see how easily she got to him.

“Actually,” Anastasia said, “I'm thinking I might go ahead and take another job. It'll keep me out of town for a while, at least until things around here get back in order.”

“A job with another man?”

Barber barely contained his hilarity. He had to purse his mouth like he'd just swallowed a lemon. But damn, Harley had it bad.

Putting a hand on her file of papers, Anastasia said, “I haven't decided on the job yet. There're a lot of prospects.” Taunting him, she asked, “Does it really matter?”

“No.” Harley finished off her coffee. “Should I get you another cup?”

“Thank you, no. I was done with it.”

He nodded. “Your truck's at the garage. After Ned got my Jeep free, I had him tow it there.”

She went still. “I could have seen to that myself.”

“I know, but it's already done.” He set down her empty mug. “I also went by to see Ned before coming here, and he said he'll work on it first thing. He has to dig his way out of the snow first, but he plans to get to the garage by early afternoon. I don't know how long the phone lines will be down, but I told him you'd keep trying to reach him until you could get through.”

Smile stiff, Anastasia said, “Gee, you've taken care of everything, haven't you?”

“Harley's a real mother hen on occasion,” Barber said, enjoying their banter.

Opening her purse, she got out a checkbook. “How much do I owe you for the tow?”

“Forget it.”

“I'd rather not.”

Satch strode up to the booth, an intense expression on his face. “The weather report says sunny skies and no more precipitation. With any luck they'll get this mess cleaned up pretty quickly.”

Anastasia smiled at him. “Satch, could you tell me how much I owe Harley?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Satch asked, “For what exactly?”

Barber choked, looked at all three of them, and choked some more. Damn, but knowing Anastasia and Harley spent the night getting cozy, so many good lines came to him he had a hard time restraining himself. Of course, he couldn't say what he wanted to say, not with a lady present.

Understanding him, Anastasia shook her head. “You're a terrible tease, Barber.”

Harley stood, took her checkbook from her, and stuffed it back in her purse. “He's a shitty driver, too.”

“Is he?”

“The worst.” Catching Anastasia's arm, he urged her from her seat. “That's why I want you to ride with my uncle instead, and Barber and I will ride together—with me driving.”

“Now wait a minute,” Satch protested. “You and I have stuff to talk about, remember?”

“If it's about photographers, no, we don't. Everything else can wait until we get back to Harmony.” He stepped out of the booth, tugging Anastasia along with him.

“You're being stubborn, damn it.”

Stiff-necked, Harley said, “I made up my mind, Uncle Satch, and you're not changing it.”

Satch turned to Anastasia with a scowl.

She lifted her shoulders. “Sorry, Satch. If you'd rather I get a ride with someone else, I'm sure I could get a lift—”

Quickly retrenching, Satch said, “No, no, I didn't mean that at all.” With another glare at Harley, he gave up and said, “I'll go warm up the SUV.”

“It really wouldn't be a problem—”

Red-faced, Satch said, “You're riding with me, and that's that.” He stormed away.

“Thank you,” Anastasia called after him. “I'll be right out.”

Hands on his hips, Harley watched his uncle go.

Barber waited to see what Harley would do, and when he just stood there, looking undecided and reluctant, Barber ribbed him. “Now you can unleash the dog, Harley.”

Harley's pale-eyed gaze swung to him. “I'll settle up with you later.”

Well-trained opponents quailed under that vicious look, but Barber just laughed. “Damn, man, I'm going to have nightmares for a week now.”

“Shut up, Barber.”

“Regrets are a son-of-a-bitch, bud, and we both know if you keep holding back like that, you'll regret it.”

Challenged, Harley looked back at Anastasia. She obviously had no idea what they were talking about. Her brows went up in question—and Harley gave in.

He cupped a hand behind her neck. “Barber's a pain in the ass, but he's dead-on this time.”

“About…?”

“This.” He put a very public claim on her by way of a scorching kiss.

Watching Harley lose the fight, Barber thanked the heavens that he wasn't strung out on a woman right now. Thanks to Simon Evans's endorsement to the SBC, his music was taking off bigger than he'd ever expected, and he had his hands full with a thriving career.

There was a time when he'd felt broken over losing Dakota to Simon, but now…well hell, he had too many blessings to hold a grudge, and he got to keep Dakota as a friend, so all in all, he had the world by the ass, and he liked it that way.

Harley came up for air, ran a thumb over Anastasia's bottom lip. His mouth firmed, his gaze went cold; he dropped his hand and, without another word, turned and walked away.

Barber watched him go with a chuckle. “Pathetic.” He turned to say something more to Anastasia, and found her still standing there, her mouth slightly open, her eyes dazed.

At least the feelings were mutual, Barber thought. For his friend's sake, he was glad of that.

He shook his head, chucked her under the chin, and whispered, “Regroup, honey. The whole bar is looking.”

As if jolted by electricity, she snapped to attention. She didn't bother with their audience, and instead stared at Barber. “I'd already told him good-bye.”

“Yeah, I know, at the garage. Apparently he thought another farewell was in order.” Just as he'd thought keeping Barber away from her had merit.

Barber lifted the coat she'd been wearing and held it out to her. “You ready to go?”

“That's Harley's coat. You can return it to him for me.”

“He didn't ask for it.”

“I know. But mine is still hanging where he left it last night, and now it's dry, so I don't need his anymore.”

Barber read through the reasonable explanation to the core of her meaning. “You don't want any reminders?”

She slanted him a look. “I don't want to be tempted to contact him for any reason.”

“Like returning a coat?”

“Exactly.” Ignoring the avid stares of the people milling throughout the bar, she retrieved her coat and put it on.

Carrying her overnight bag, laptop, and file folder, Barber followed her.

She took the laptop from him. “I guess this is it.”

On impulse, he said, “Hang on a sec.” Setting the overnight bag beside her, he went to the bar and requested a pen and paper from Sheila. After he wrote down his number, Barber tried to hand it to Anastasia.

She held up a hand, refusing the paper. “I won't be calling him, Barber.”

“It's my number, not Harley's.”

“I assumed as much.”

“You did, huh?”

“You wouldn't give out Harley's number without knowing me better. But you're giving me your number in case I want to get in contact with Harley.”

Once again taken aback at her shrewd perception, Barber stared down at her. “Did it occur to you that I might be hitting on you?”

“No. You and Harley are friends.”

He put the paper in her hand and curled her fingers over it. “Keep it anyway, just in case you change your mind. Okay?”

Parked out front, watching them through the big glass window, Harley beeped his horn.