nudged aside his plate and folded his arms on the table, watching Hadley. “You’ve told me all about Lucius. Tell me about you.”
Her eyes were as dark a brown as her hair. And now they widened a little. A hint of pink rode her cheeks, and he knew it was nature that had put it there, not cosmetics. “There’s nothing much to tell.”
“You have one brother who’s the sheriff and one brother who’s the mechanic.”
“Stu also has a ranch. Outside of town.” Her cheeks went a little more pink. “I was leaving there when I—”
“Was driving like a bat outta hell?”
She poked the tines of her fork into her waffle and nodded.
“And Wendell Pierce?”
Her eyes flickered. “What do you know about Wendell?”
“Your brother says you two are involved.”
Her jaw worked. She carefully set down the fork. “I can’t imagine why he’d say that.”
Dane could. Shane-the-sheriff didn’t like the way Dane looked at his kid sister.
He couldn’t really blame the guy for that, he supposed.
“Maybe I misunderstood,” he lied smoothly.
“I doubt it,” she muttered. Her brown gaze skipped around the café. Half the tables and all of the booths were occupied. Then she leaned forward. “They’re trying to marry me off,” she said abruptly. “I mean, do I look that pathetic to you?” She shook her head, and her hair rippled over the turtleneck she wore. It was a pretty, soft yellow. And at least a size too large.
“Never mind,” she hurried onward. “Don’t answer that. My ego can only take so much.”
Her ego should have been plenty healthy. Either the men in Lucius—excluding the apparently interested Wendell—were terminally stupid, or they were blind. And he figured that he’d been better off thinking she was already spoken for in the romance department.
He wasn’t in Montana for romance. Or for good old-fashioned lust, which was definitely a shame, because she certainly inspired that, even with her engulfing sweater.
Hardly a polite topic over breakfast dishes, though, and Dane had been schooled from way back about what was polite and what was not. Seemly behavior versus unseemly.
Not that he’d ever paid those lessons much heed.
“I have a sister,” he said truthfully. “Before she got married a while back I was guilty of derailing a few interested men that I didn’t think were good enough for her.”
“But that’s not what they’re doing.” She lifted her hands. “They’re trying to tie me to the tracks, because they know that nobody besides Wendell is interested.”
He couldn’t help smiling a little, she was so clearly irritated. Telling her that, where he was concerned, her thinking was completely off the mark would only lead to trouble, so he just reached for his mug and finished off his coffee.
She sat back in her chair again and finally set down the fork with which she’d been doing more waving than eating. “The accident was my fault,” she said. “You shouldn’t have to pay for your own damages. I have insurance.” Her expression was earnest. “And Stu may be a pain in my behind, but he’s really a whiz when it comes to fixing cars. He keeps this whole town running, pretty much. And he makes things so beautiful again. Or maybe you want to have your car hauled back to where you live in Indiana?”
He hadn’t spent more than five days straight in Indiana for the past decade, and he could have had an entire team come to Lucius to work on the car he’d picked up on Wood’s behalf if he’d wanted. “A whiz, huh?”
The shining ends of her hair bounced around the barely discernible thrust of her breasts when she nodded. “Honest.”
“Guess I’ll have to look into it, then.”
Her smile lit every portion of her face, including her eyes. Then she looked at her watch. “Oh, drat. I’ve got to go. I’ve been helping my dad out mornings for a few weeks at the church while his secretary is on vacation. If you’re going to be staying in town, let me know. I run Tiff’s. It’s the boardinghouse at the end of Main Street. Can’t miss the place.” She fumbled some cash out of her purse, dropped it on the table and had scurried out the door before he could get a word out.
Dane sat back in his chair once more and eyed her money.
He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been expected to pick up the check, no matter how large or small. And with the women he usually saw, the check had never involved waffles in a quaint café with a western-style front on a quiet street that saw maybe three cars an hour.
The busy waitress—Bethany, according to her hand-printed nametag—came by with the coffee pot, and he slid his mug toward her. She filled it, offered a distracted smile and headed on to the next table. The people at the tables around him discussed everything from the uncommonly cold weather, to politics, to who was apparently sleeping with whom. And they acted as if he had every reason to be included.
Even though he’d spent the night in a jail cell, now he’d been introduced by Hadley Golightly. Apparently that was enough. It also made her glad he hadn’t pulled any strings to get out of jail from the get-go. He was nothing more than a guy passing through.
Eventually Dane finished off the coffee. More in hopes that it would help the throbbing in his head than anything. The morning crowd had thinned and he pocketed Hadley’s cash and paid the full bill himself. Then he walked down to Golightly Garage and Auto Body. The Shelby had been moved from the tow truck and was parked in front of an open bay.
For a moment Dane let himself suck in the stink of tires and grease. It had been a long time.
Too long.
He shook off the thought with regrettably practiced ease and walked forward when the man circling the car with a clipboard in his hand noticed him.
The other man lifted a square palm and settled his Green Bay Packers ball cap a few inches back on his blond head. “You Tolliver?”
Dane nodded. The other man stepped forward, hand extended and they shook. “Stu Golightly.” He gestured at the car with his other hand, which was encased in a ragged cast. “Damn, but this is a pure shame. Guess you met my little sister, Had, eh?”
Hadley had told him over breakfast that Shane and Stu were twins, but aside from their general size—extra large—there was little resemblance. “She tells me you’re a whiz.”
Stu grinned, apparently as friendly as his brother was not. “I am, but I ’spect you’ll have someone you prefer to work on her.”
He did. But that didn’t serve his purposes at all.
He went around and pried open the passenger door wide enough to pull his leather duffel from where it was wedged behind the seat, along with the driver’s license he’d stashed in a tight fold of leather upholstery the day before when the ambulance had arrived. He stuck the license in his pocket and backed out of the car.
“Write
