front of the manager’s apartment and let him sleep.
B.D., one of the four old fellows who worked at the motel and played dominoes in the office, came outside to check. Kelly held her fingers to her lips and shook her head, and he ducked back inside.
While Cole slept, she studied him. In the way that sleep softens features, his had modified to more a boyish cast, but he still looked far from innocent. He was a handsome man, but he reminded her more of a battle-scarred gladiator than a romantic Lancelot. The creases bisecting his forehead, though relaxed, were permanently etched there, and his jaw was clenched—probably a permanent state, as well.
An old scar carved a crescent on his left cheekbone, and another furrowed through his beard at his chin. His nose looked as if it had been rearranged a couple of times, and a lone pockmark faintly pitted his cheek an inch below the thick, dark sweep of lashes. The scar was probably the result of childhood chicken pox or adolescent acne, and it made him somehow seem more…vulnerable. Well, maybe not vulnerable.
The whole package that was Cole Outlaw made her toes curl and her fingers itch to run themselves through the waves of his thick hair and over the planes of his face and—
She squirmed in the seat and turned her attention to a mockingbird sitting on a power line. What was with her? Good Lord, she felt as giddy as a high school girl.
After about twenty minutes, Kelly gently shook Cole awake.
He sat up with a start, instantly alert and scowling.
“We’re home,” she announced in her perkiest voice.
“Home?”
“The Twilight Inn.”
“The old place looks a lot different from the last time I saw it.”
“Which was?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe five, ten years ago. It was a dump.”
“It was boarded up and falling down when Mary Beth started renovations last spring. A lot of folks pitched in and helped. Now it’s a charming little motel,” she said, motioning to the row of neatly painted units with yellow chrysanthemums still blooming in the window boxes. “And the restaurant has been refurbished as well. Mary Beth serves the best lunch in town.”
“No breakfast or dinner?”
“Nope,” she said, “but I bought some breakfast items at the grocery store, and one of the guys will bring you an extra meal at lunch to stash in the fridge for dinner.”
She hopped out and got the wheelchair from the trunk. By the time she got to the passenger door, Cole was struggling to get out.
When he saw her with the chair, he waved her away. “If you’ll hand me my walker, I can make it in.”
“Humor me this time and let me push.”
He started to argue, then clamped his mouth shut and sat down in the wheelchair. They hadn’t gone three steps when the office door opened and the four old guys spilled out.
“Land sakes,” one of them said, sticking out his hand to Cole. “I haven’t seen you in a coon’s age. Bet you don’t remember me.”
“I sure do, Howard, but it looks like you’ve lost a little more on top.”
Howard cackled and ran his hand over a head covered only by a few liver spots and a pink patch or two. “That’s for sure. Then you probably remember B.D. and Curtis and Will here.”
After Cole shook hands with all the men, Will said, “Need some help getting in?”
“I have some things in the back seat and in the trunk,” Kelly said.
“You supervise the unloading,” B.D. told Kelly, “and I’ll roll Cole inside.” B.D. was wisp thin and looked as if a powder puff could knock him over. When Cole appeared concerned about the prospect of an eightysomething guy pushing him, the old fellow must have caught the wary expression. He patted Cole’s shoulder and said, “Don’t you worry none, son. I’ve handled one of these contraptions more times than you can shake a stick at.”
He proceeded to expertly wheel Cole into the office unit while the other domino players brought the rest of the items from Kelly’s car.
The apartment behind the office was more like a small suite: two rooms, one with a kitchenette in the corner, and a bathroom. The main room, which had been Mary Beth’s, held only a few pieces of furniture including a sofa and a large leather recliner. Cole settled in the recliner, and Kelly stood his walker next to it.
“There you go,” Howard said, setting the last of the grocery bags on a small table in the kitchen corner. “We’ll get on about our game. You need anything, Cole, just give a holler.”
“I’ll do it, Howard. Thank you.”
“You might have to holler twice,” Will said with a wink. “Couple of us are a mite hard of hearing.”
“He don’t have to holler,” Curtis said. “All he has to do is push that little button right there.” Curtis pointed out the intercom on the phone base beside Cole.
After the old fellows said their goodbyes and left, Kelly took off her sweater and draped it over the back of a chair in the kitchen nook. She stowed the perishables in the small fridge and the other groceries in a cabinet under the microwave, listing the items to Cole as she worked.
“You should have plenty for a simple breakfast and for snacks.” She picked up another large shopping bag. “And I bought you some new sweats and things—without holes.” She grinned.
He glanced down at his shirt where the “HPD PIGS” across the chest was faded almost to oblivion. “You don’t like my football outfit?”
“It’s charming, but I think it’s nearing retirement.” She stashed the new clothes in the chest by the bathroom door. “Your pajamas are in the top drawer here.”
“I don’t wear pajamas.”
Her heart tripped. She didn’t dare look at him. “You have several pair.”
“My mom bought them.”
“Oh.” She closed the drawer and turned. Playing perky again, she said, “Let’s see. The bedroom is through there. The bathroom is here. I put your shaving kit on the counter. The fridge and the microwave and the coffeepot are over there. The remote for the TV is on the table beside you with the phone. I guess that about covers it.” Why was she babbling? She took a deep breath. “Want something to drink?”
“Yeah. A beer would be nice.”
“Sorry. No beer with the medication you’re on. You may have Coke, cream soda, milk, orange juice, apple juice, tomato juice or water. Or coffee. And Mary Beth left a big plate of brownies.”
“A cup of coffee would taste good. And the whole plate of brownies. Join me?”
“Only if I can have two brownies,” she said as she poured water into the coffeemaker. “I’m a sucker for chocolate.”
“I’ll
