and fair hair. “Hey, Sam, what can I get you?” she asked, pulling out a small notepad from her red apron and fiddling with her pen instead of meeting his gaze.
Pretending to hesitate over the menu, he said, “I need just a minute. How are things going?”
She shrugged a narrow shoulder. “Busy. Tips have been good.”
“And Will?” Was it just his imagination or had the woman tensed at the mention of her son’s name?
“You’d know that better than I would, Sam. He’s at your place more than he’s at home.”
With school still out for another few weeks, Will had been spending a lot of time working. For the first time, though, Sam wondered if it wasn’t something other than a need for extra cash that had the teen spending so much time at the garage. “He didn’t get that black eye at my shop.”
Nadine paled slightly, but she defiantly held his gaze. “What are you saying, Sam?”
Sam didn’t pay much attention to Clearville gossip, but he had heard that Nadine had hooked up with a younger man. Sam had never liked Darrell Nelson, a grudge that went back to their days on the playground, when Darrell had taken pleasure in picking on anyone weaker than he was. Unease twisted inside Sam as he realized Will would make an easy target, but so too would Nadine. Throwing around accusations wasn’t going to help if the woman was trapped in an abusive relationship.
“I’m not saying anything, Nadine. I’m asking. Is everything okay at home? Do you need any help?”
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
“And Will?” Sam couldn’t resist asking.
“That was…an accident.”
“Nadine—”
“Please, Sam. Just leave it alone.” She rushed off before taking his order, but it was just as well. Sam had lost his appetite.
He wished there was something more he could do, but thanks to his friendship with Billy, Sam knew enough about law enforcement to realize the sheriff would need proof. More than that, he would need Nadine or Will to press charges.
He’d talk to Will again, he decided, and if that didn’t work, then maybe he’d have a talk with Darrell Nelson.
The bell over the diner’s door rang, and Sam looked up in time to see an already familiar blonde step inside. Kara slid her sunglasses up to the top of her head, pushing her straight hair back from her face. She glanced uncertainly around the crowded diner, and he had the feeling that holding Timmy’s hand was giving her as much reassurance as it gave the little boy.
Her nephew. Not her son. Single moms had always been off-limits, and even though something about Kara tempted him to break that rule, he was glad he wouldn’t have to. Glad he wouldn’t have to look too closely at the reason why he would have been so willing to cross that line.
A hint of weariness seemed to tug at her shoulders, something he hadn’t noticed before. She was tired after her trip from—
He frowned. Where, exactly? he wondered, as he realized she hadn’t told him where she was from. Or what had brought her to Clearville. Or how long she was staying. True, they hadn’t had much chance to talk, but weren’t those simple facts ones that normally came up right off the bat?
As Kara paid for a to-go order and reached for the bag, Sam was tempted to cross the diner and offer to carry it for her, like some kid with a crush on a pretty girl, willing to cart around an armload of books if that was what it took to have her smile at him.
She held out her free hand to her nephew, who’d wandered a few feet away to crawl into the booth closest to the front window, but Sam stayed put as the two of them left the diner. No need to push his luck when he could bide his time. After all, he already had a date with the lady the following night.
Thinking he might find out something about the woman who had him so intrigued, he made his way to the front counter. “Hey, Rolly, the blonde who came in for take-out, what did she order?”
“Why is that any of your business?” the other of the diners demanded.
“Give me a break,” Sam said, familiar with the older man’s soft spot for young women. Kara must have quickly made an impression on Rolly, just as she had on him. “I’m just trying to get an idea of the lady’s tastes.”
The former army cook eyed Sam as if he’d never seen him before. “Not someone like you.”
“Is that right?”
“Sure is.”
Certainty rang in the older man’s voice, taking some of the fun out of the game. The attraction was mutual, Sam would stake his reputation on that. But even though he’d seen the spark of awareness in Kara’s gaze, the slight blush on her cheeks, he also sensed a wariness in her. A deer-in-the-headlights hesitation that warned him she’d be more likely to run away from him than rush into his arms.
“What makes you think a lady like that wouldn’t want to go out with me?” he asked Rolly.
“You are something else, Sam.” A familiar female voice had him turning to face Debbie Mattson. Judging by the smirk bringing out the dimples in her round cheeks, she’d been standing behind him all along. “All a woman has to do is cross the town line and you start sensing fresh meat.”
Annoyance flickered through Sam. Not so much at the baker’s pointed barb. That was the kind of relationship they had after knowing each since grade school. It was more the way Debbie had lumped Kara in with all the other women he—okay, he had to admit it—all the women he’d chased after.
He couldn’t come close to putting a finger on what made Kara different. But he’d long ago perfected the ability to hide his true feelings. “My radar must be working overtime, seeing as I met Kara even before she hit town.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope, met her when she ended up with a flat on the side of the road.”
Aware of the narrow mountain roads leading to town and the lack of cell coverage, Debbie’s smirk faded some. “She was lucky you happened by.”
“That’s what I said!”
She rolled her eyes with a laugh. “Why do I have the feeling you’re not joking? Honestly, Sam, when the right woman comes along, how is she going to take you seriously?”
Serious relationships led to serious heartache, and that was something he could do without. “My right kind of woman is all about having a good time.”
They might just have met, but his first glance had revealed that Kara wasn’t the “girls just want to have fun” type. All that meant, though, was that whatever relationship they had wouldn’t last, already a guarantee thanks to Kara’s temporary status in his hometown. He had nothing to worry about.
“Well, I wish you and your good-time girl good luck,” Debbie said as a waitress waved her over to a table she’d just cleared.
Sam doubted Debbie’s wishes had much to do with it, but luck was definitely on his side, he decided,
