Seeking Shelter (5 page)

Not good. Not good at all. He was not getting involved in this. But after a while, he realized she wasn’t leaving.

Setting aside the wrench, he grabbed the rag on the floor by the front wheel and started wiping the grease off his hands. “Something on your mind, kiddo?”

He saw her glance up without lifting her head. “Nope.”

“Okay.” He looked at her for a long time before pushing himself to his feet, then went over to the tool chest and rummaged through it. Rick was a pretty neat mechanic, so finding things wasn’t hard. Jace would make sure to put them back the best he could.

“Does your dad like you riding a motorcycle?”

He hadn’t heard her move, but there she stood, right beside him. Startled again, he slammed his thumb in the drawer. “You’re hazardous, kid. What?”

“Does your daddy like your motorcycle?” Katie looked up at him, at once expectant and exasperated that he hadn’t heard her.

“My dad died a long time ago.” His father had been gone so long the answer was practically rote. He wondered why he hadn’t told her that his mother was gone, too.

“Oh, no.” Katie looked sad and stepped closer to him. “I guess that makes you like me.”

“How so?”

“You don’t have a daddy, either.”

Jace wasn’t sure where this conversation was leading, and he really wasn’t sure he should be following it. He hunkered down beside the little girl, meeting her eye to eye. “Look, kiddo. Your mom really cares about you.” He wondered where the next land mine was.

“I know that.” Katie frowned at him.

“So, I think maybe having a dad isn’t as important as having a great mom.” He swallowed hard. He wished someone had told him that once upon a time.

Katie gazed at him, tilting her head just a little to the side. “How do you know?”

“Well, because I wasn’t so smart when I was a kid. I ran away from home thinking I’d be better off on my own. I was wrong.”

Katie seemed to think about what he said. “But how will I know, if I don’t have a daddy to compare with?”

Jace sighed. This was getting him nowhere. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to talk to her about. He’d never been around many kids and he certainly wasn’t good with them. Maybe if he distracted her...

“Okay, how about you help me fix my bike and we’ll discuss this later.”

Katie frowned at him, then spun away. “You sound just like Mom.”

“Really? I didn’t know my voice was that high.”

Katie giggled, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad he wasn’t going to be around when she got older. Amy was definitely going to have her hands full.

* * *

A
MY
FROZE
. I
N
the far bay of Rick’s garage, Jace knelt beside his broken monster motorcycle. He leaned down, making his shoulders look impossibly broad. The muscles in his back bunched as he struggled with some part or bolt, trying to get it loose. His torso narrowed to where his jeans stretched taut—

A flash of pink broke the spell and Amy’s stomach dropped. Katie was there with him, a broad smile on her face as she jabbered a mile a minute, as usual.

Amy’s anger flared. Not only had Katie not come directly home from the bus, as she’d been repeatedly told to do, but Amy wanted to kick herself for noticing the man before she’d noticed her daughter.

Her step quickened and she reached them just as Katie was handing Jace a wrench. “Mama! Jace is letting me help.”

Her excitement was too sweet to banish, but Amy needed to be the good mom now and take control. “That’s nice, sweetie, but you know you’re supposed to come straight home from the bus.”

“But I always stop and see Rick on the way home.”

It was on the way, Amy had to admit, though she didn’t say it out loud.

Slowly, Jace rose to his feet, and Amy’s heart quickened. He was so tall she had to tip her head back to look at him. The shoulders she’d been admiring earlier blocked the entire world from her view.

She moved closer to Katie. “Let’s head home.” She tried to guide her by the shoulders.

“But, Mama, can’t I stay? You can take my backpack home. You know where I am.”

“You need to change into your play clothes.”

“Can I come back?”

“I don’t think—”

“You go on with your mom. I’ve got to go get some, uh, more stuff,” Jace interrupted, blatantly lying to Katie.

What was he trying to do? Amy was doing just fine taking care of her daughter. She didn’t need his help.

“Okay.” Katie’s voice dipped with disappointment and she seemed to wilt. Amy could swear she actually saw the gears work in her daughter’s head. She watched Katie’s head snap up and her smile return. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Katie.”

“Sure.”

Amy and Jace both spoke at once. Katie looked back and forth between the two of them expectantly.

Amy scrambled for any reason to give her daughter that made sense. All she got was a whole lot of blank. Only the fact that he was a stranger. A very disturbing stranger. A stranger she had questions for.

“Please, Mama? I really like the motorcycle.”

Oh, Katie was in high gear today. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” Amy said before thinking. In one statement she’d made her daughter frown and obviously insulted the man.

“Mama. Can’t I? Please?”

Jace stood there, silent, regarding them with a guarded expression.

“Katie, little girls don’t usually work on motorcycles.” Amy tried again.

“She’s no problem, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” she snapped. Katie and Jace both stared at her.

He leaned back, wiping his hands on the already greasy rag. “Ah,” he finally said, with a chagrined look on his face. “It’s not Katie, it’s me.” He turned slowly and tossed the rag into the bucket beside the workbench. He didn’t look at her, instead lowering his gaze to Katie. “Go on with your mom, kiddo,” he urged softly.

“But, Mr. Jace...”

“Katie, it’s okay.” His voice sounded sad and soothing all at the same time.

Amy found her voice. “Go on, Katie. I’m right behind you.”

“Okay.” Katie dragged out the word with a sigh. “Thanks, Mr. Jace.” She headed to the door as if her tennis shoes were suddenly weighted down.

Amy waited until Katie had cleared the doorway. Then she turned on him. How dare he interfere in her life so easily?

“Don’t even say what you’re thinking.” Jace bit out the words and stalked over to the bike. He turned his back on her and knelt beside it, dismissing her.

“She’s too young for this. I don’t want her to know
anything
about my father.”

Jace spun around all too violently. He didn’t stand, but he somehow managed to intimidate her. “Do you really think I’d do something like that?” He finally uncoiled, rising to his full height again, towering over her. “She’s a great kid. I’d never, ever hurt her, and if you choose not to believe that, you can go to hell. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“I don’t even know you. But you come here, butting into my life, without being asked, telling me about a father I never knew.” Amy took a deep breath, waiting for him to say something. He remained silent. “You have no right.”

“He was a good man,” Jace whispered.

“Men who abandon their families and end up dying homeless on the streets are
not
good men, Mr. Holmes.”

Jace didn’t return to the big motorcycle, but stalked out into the desert sunlight. She watched him go, hearing his boot heels echoing on the cement long after he’d left.

She spun around, intent on going home, but found Rick standing in the doorway.

Her heart sank. Great. Now everyone in town would know.

CHAPTER FIVE

T
HERE
WOULDN
’
T
BE
ANY
sleep tonight. Amy tried and failed to calm the thoughts rioting in her mind. Her father. Her mother. Attorneys and estates. Tall handsome men and motorcycles.

Katie, on the other hand, was sound asleep after another busy day. Amy stood in the doorway of her daughter’s darkened bedroom, watching her. Katie was her world, and leaving her alone for even a moment was hard.

She was the reason for everything Amy did. Slowly, she closed the door and headed for the stairs.

She clipped the baby monitor to her hip, then quietly closed the back door and locked it. She was only going next door, and Katie knew how to call her if she woke up. It was less than a few yards, but every time Amy did this, she battled guilt.

With each step she took, each weed she tromped, the voice in her head screamed,
No! Go back. Be a good mom. Stay with your baby.

And with every other step, Amy reminded herself that she needed to do this. That by doing so, she
was
being a good mom. She needed to make money to support herself and Katie. While the store did well, and the meager child support checks each month kept them afloat, Hank’s visit with the tax papers only increased the urgency.

She opened the back door of the café. Caryn had given her a key and her blessing to use the big, industrial kitchen after hours. The diner itself closed at nine. Though Caryn opened the bar in back from nine to two every night, she didn’t use the kitchen.

It was Amy’s to do with as she pleased, and she set to work with a sigh of resignation.

The single light over the sink lit nearly half the kitchen with a blue-tinged fluorescent glow. One small cabinet in the back was where Amy kept her things. Her mom’s old cookbooks and worn recipe cards were safe here.

As always, she pulled out one of the books and ran a loving hand over the spine. Of all the things from the ranch, these were all she wanted to keep. These half-dozen well-worn, ratty cookbooks were her mother’s true legacy. Cooking and catering was how Madeline had supported them when Amy was small. Amy had been trying ever since to do the same for her own daughter.

She kept praying these old books would reveal her mother’s secret to being such a good cook. So, two or three nights a week, after Katie went to bed, Amy came over here and practiced, trying different recipes, experimenting.

And failing.

Nothing tasted the way it had when her mom made it. Some of what Amy produced was downright horrible. So far, she’d managed to perfect two types of cookies she could sell in the store.

Winding through Caryn’s spotless kitchen with the book in her arms, she thought of her own minuscule kitchen, and some of the joy went out of her. She glanced at the back door, wishing she could do this at home. She wouldn’t worry so much about Katie that way, but she didn’t have a real space to work in. The apartment’s kitchen was definitely an afterthought, a couple of appliances and a table thrown in the corner of the living room.

It was so unlike the big hacienda kitchen out at the ranch that had been Amy’s favorite place as a kid. She missed the smell of fresh baked bread, fried food and the warm chili that always sat on the back of the stove.

Amy sighed. She wasn’t the cook her mother had been, not even close. Maybe if she used the ranch kitchen... No. That wasn’t an option. Just thinking about it made her shiver.

Madeline had been diagnosed with cancer when Amy was thirteen, old enough to learn to cook. By then, Madeline didn’t have the energy to teach her, and she’d never regained it.

Panic over the bills made Amy keep trying, and she set to work now. She didn’t have time for emotions. Morning would come all too soon.

* * *

J
ACE
DESCENDED
THE
narrow stairs quickly. The shower had cleaned off the dust and grime of the day, but did little to ease the intense heat. The house’s air-conditioning almost tempted him to consider sleeping inside tonight. Almost.

But before then he had things to accomplish. He’d been in town two days, and while he’d met quite a few people, he’d yet to learn much about Amy. He hoped to chat up Hank a little more and figure out how to approach her again.

Ever since her visit to the garage yesterday he’d been telling himself that he’d go back later and see if she was more receptive to talking to him.

Stepping into the kitchen, he was surprised to find Rick sitting at the table with Hank. Both men looked up at him, and he wondered what they’d been talking about. “What’d I do now?” he asked, half joking. Hank glared at him. On second thought, maybe he didn’t want to know.

“It’s not so much what you did...” Rick turned around, and while his glare wasn’t nearly as dark, it was still there. “It’s what you didn’t do.”

“And that would be?”

Instead of speaking, Hank tossed a packet of papers onto the countertop. “You came here with a purpose. That’s you on that will, ain’t it?” He jabbed the defenseless papers with a grubby finger.

Jace recognized the documents, though he knew they weren’t the copies he’d stashed in his saddlebags. These were smooth and clean. “Where’d you get those?”

He deliberately strolled over to the coffeemaker and poured himself a cup. He had to admit the old man could make great coffee. Jace waited, and let them stew, let them think about their answer.

“Amy brought them over,” Hank said. “I’ve always taken care of her mother’s business. This was addressed to Maddie.”

Jace refused to get caught up in the small-town nonsense, but alienating these men wouldn’t get him anywhere, either.

He took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. He didn’t feel any obligation to them—until he turned around and faced both men.

What he saw there surprised and pleased him. Concern. Honest to goodness concern for Amy and Katie. He had to respect that.

“Yeah, that’s me. But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why the hell did you come here?” Hank didn’t move, but Jace felt his presence from across the room.

“To most men, I’d say that was none of their damned business.” Jace met them both glare for glare. Hank’s big hands shifted into thick fists. Jace had lost enough fights to know the pain that would follow. He also knew that, despite his tough exterior, Hank was an old man who walked with a cane. There was no question who’d win if they went at it.

“For you two, I’ll make an exception.” Jace settled at the kitchen table before he spoke again. “Yeah, that’s me in that damned will, but I didn’t make it, so don’t blame me.”

“Says here you got money and a key. What for?”

“Yeah. I got that.” Jace knew what the will said, knew what was in that safe deposit box, and that part he wasn’t telling anyone. Except Amy when the time was right.

The room grew too quiet. Rick gave in first. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Just tell us what you’re up to and put us out of our misery, why don’t you?”

Jace smiled, though it was forced. “And I owe you an explanation why?” He glared at Rick. He liked the mechanic, but was still reserving judgment about Hank.

“Don’t get smart,” the older man growled, and he took a step forward. Rick’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Because Amy’s my friend. She’s had enough trouble in her life. She doesn’t need any more.”

Jace waited to see if they said anything else. They didn’t, but they didn’t back down from his stare, either. They both sized up as honorable men, though.

“Look, I was a seventeen-year-old runaway when Mackenzie Grey befriended me,” he finally admitted. “He saved my life. Now he’s gone, and the only thing he wanted was to find his daughter. I found her for him. All I’m here to do is get to know her and maybe tell her a little about her dad. That’s it.”

“That’s bull,” Hank said too strongly.

“Watch it, old man.”

“No, you watch it,
young
man.” Hank leaned closer, and the look in his eyes gave Jace pause. It was more than anger and threat. It was cold and hard, an expression Jace had seen many times before. In the eyes of desperate men.

“Mackenzie Grey abandoned his wife and daughter, left them with nothing,” Hank continued. “He was nobody’s
friend
.”

“And how would you know that? Amy’s mom tell you? Were you there?” This man had no clue about Mac, and what he insinuated was not the Mac Jace remembered. Unfortunately, the attorney’s equally condemning words wouldn’t let Jace entirely deny the possibilities.

“No, I wasn’t there.” Hank was once again too adamant, and Jace frowned.

“Madeline came back here a broken woman.” The old man turned away and focused on the view outside the window. Jace knew he could see Amy’s store from here. “When she died, she left her daughter all alone.” He turned back around to face Jace. “I won’t believe she would have left Amy alone if she’d known her dad was out there willing to take her. It tore her apart that Amy would have no one.”

Jace could tell he was prodding a still-open wound, but he needed to know everything. “How did she die?” he whispered.

Hank didn’t answer. Rick did. “Cancer. Amy was fifteen. She came and lived here with Hank through the rest of high school.” Rick’s own voice held unasked questions, and he looked at the old man with confusion.

“Madeline wouldn’t have left her alone,” Hank repeated, his gaze distant and sad. Too sad for a ten-year-old loss.

“She didn’t, it seems. She left her with you,” Jace said.

“That wasn’t her plan,” Hank admitted. “She didn’t make any arrangements.”

“Sounds more like denial to me.” Jace watched the man’s cheeks redden and his glare sharpen.

Rick shook his head at Jace and inclined his head toward the door. “Hey,” he said, his voice way too cheery as he put a hand on Hank’s shoulder. “Let’s not argue. Obviously, we don’t have all the facts.” To Jace he said, “Want to head over to the bar? I’m buying.”

What bar?
Jace wondered, but figured Rick would explain once they left. Jace knew there was no better place to learn about Amy and this town than at the local watering hole. He nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

Hank didn’t move as the two younger men headed out into the night. Jace glanced back when they reached the edge of the yard, and saw Hank still standing there, the kitchen light illuminating the yearning look on his weathered face.

Rick didn’t speak until they were halfway across the darkened park. “Hank still carries a torch for Madeline. He was in love with her, but she didn’t love him back. Saying anything against her is just...useless.”

As if that explained anything. “So, he raised Amy?”

“Pretty much. Madeline had cancer for as long as I knew her. I was a teenager when she died.” Rick’s voice softened. “What the hell do you think happened between all of them?”

“I don’t know. Apparently the Mac I knew and the Madeline he knew were different when they were younger and married.” Jace shrugged.

“Too bad. Seems Amy and Hank were collateral damage.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Neither of them have normal lives. I don’t think they trust anyone completely. Not even each other.” Rick sounded sad.

Jace knew a thing or two about trust, knew it could be an expensive and painful commodity. He also knew Mac was one of the few people who’d had his. Amy should have had Mac in her life. That realization only strengthened his resolve to share his memories with her.

“Hell, I need that drink,” Rick said.

They reached the diner and Rick yanked the door open, nearly pulling it off the hinges. Jace followed and looked around. The diner? An empty diner? The front room was empty, and just a few lights had been left on. The only indication of life was the thumping beat under his boots.

Behind all the laminate tables with the farmhouse kitchen chairs, beyond the old-fashioned lunch counter, there was a wide doorway. Rick went through and Jace followed him.

He nearly laughed when he stepped into a scene he recognized. The back room was alive with lights and blaring music, and filled with what seemed to be half the town.

Here the decor was decidedly darker and oddly, more masculine. He looked around. Was that a moose head on the far wall? What the hell did a moose head have to do with the middle of Arizona?

A tall bar lined with metal stools ran all the way along the back, the shelf behind it stocked with an impressive amount of liquor. A huge wall mirror provided a view of nearly the entire room. An antique jukebox lit up one corner, and if he used his imagination, Jace could almost see the wooden square of planking as a dance floor.

“Let’s grab a seat at the bar,” Rick yelled, or at least that’s what Jace thought he said. His lip-reading was rusty at best. He followed and they climbed up on two bar stools at the end. Behind the bar, a young woman stalked back and forth, mixing drinks and smiling at her patrons. Jace looked over at Rick and fought back a laugh. So that’s why the mechanic was here. Not for the drinks. For her.

Caryn, wasn’t that her name? He remembered her from the diner out front. Except this Caryn was totally different from the tame waitress. This woman wore a form-fitting tank top, tight jeans and the highest heels Jace had ever seen. And from the look of Rick, she apparently walked on water.

Oh, this was going to be entertaining.

It only got better when the woman swept down the bar, slammed a beer in front of Rick and glared. He didn’t seem to care. He simply grinned at her and tossed a five onto the bar. “Jace, what you drinkin’?” he yelled.

“You said you weren’t ever coming back,” Caryn practically screamed at him, not bothering to look at Jace.

“I changed my mind.” Rick’s cat-that-ate-the-canary grin couldn’t possibly get any wider.

Jace hadn’t had a drink in nearly two years. He was tempted, but knew that slippery slope was way too steep. Mac wasn’t here to save him this time. Jace didn’t even tempt himself by ordering a near-beer or a club soda to make it look like he had a mixed drink. “Coke,” he ordered.

Rick, on the other hand, had no such compulsion. He was a straight beer man, and Caryn kept them coming, watching him out of the corner of her eye. Jace fought back a grin. Her glances weren’t just the usual bartender-watching-over-a-customer looks. No, these held a hint of history and a whole lot of hidden agenda. She was as aware of Rick as he was of her. They both had it bad, but were they going to do anything about it? Jace was curious and sat back to watch.