a speck of dirt daring to mar its perfection—a sharp contrast to her old pickup truck. She couldn’t remember the last time it had been washed...probably before her husband’s accident.
Skylar swallowed.
Actually, she knew exactly the last time it had been washed and waxed...the day Jimmie had died. He’d waxed both of their trucks that morning. The deep stab of loss was duller now, but it still hurt that he was gone. They were supposed to grow old together, and for months the sorrow and unfairness of it had kept her awake at night. The grief counselor had insisted it was anger at Jimmie for dying. Okay, maybe she was a little angry for a while, but it hadn’t lasted. Mostly she was angry with the driver of that 18-wheeler for running a stop sign, not her husband for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Uh-oh.”
The gloomy voice broke into Skylar’s dark thoughts. The girls were looking apprehensively at the Mercedes.
Aaron Andrew Hollister, or “Randy Andy” as he was sometimes called in high school, climbed out with a frown. “Melanie, I thought you were studying at the library this afternoon.”
“We went already.” She pointed to the pile of books next to her. “And Karin has some of mine in her bag ’cause there were more than I could carry. Don’t worry. Mrs. Gibson is taking me home. It won’t be long because we don’t want to miss the baseball game.”
“You already went to the library? School only let out an hour ago.” His tone strongly suggested that she hadn’t told the truth in the first place. “Your mother wants you to do better in your classes. She hopes your stay in California will make a difference, and you can catch up.”
“Yeah. She always says stuff like that when she dumps me somewhere.” The teen bit her lip, and Skylar could see the resentment in her eyes. The kid had been left with her half brother while her mother was off traveling the world with her second husband, or whatever it was the indolent rich did with their time.
“You weren’t dumped here.” Aaron’s protest rang hollow. By all accounts, Melanie had lived with a dozen or more different relatives and friends of her mother, rarely finishing the year in the same school. That’s how the Hollisters approached childrearing—as if it was someone else’s responsibility. But leaving her with Aaron? Oh, puleeze. That was scraping the bottom of the barrel.
“I don’t care what you call it,” Melanie muttered. It hadn’t taken long for her to transform into a sullen teenager with a chip on her shoulder. “You didn’t want to come here, either.”
His expression froze. “Our situations aren’t the same.”
Skylar perked up her ears. Aaron hadn’t wanted to come back to Cooperton? That wouldn’t surprise her; he used to be contemptuous of small towns and the people in them. Unfortunately for Aaron, his job at Cooper Industries was an inherited responsibility. He was the only Cooper grandchild—his mother, Celina Cooper Morgan, hadn’t had more children after her divorce from S. S. Hollister, so Aaron was always expected to take over one day.
That was something Skylar didn’t want for Karin. Granted, the Gibson Nibble Nook wasn’t a huge company like Cooper Industries, but her daughter would have choices that didn’t require slicing onions and flipping hamburgers. It wasn’t a legacy; they could sell the place when the time came.
Melanie closed her geometry book with a snap. “I know you hate being here, Aaron. I heard you tell—”
“Melanie, we don’t air our private business in front of strangers,” he interrupted.
Strangers?
Skylar wanted to smack him. They were far from strangers. As much as she’d like to forget sleeping with Aaron over fourteen years ago, she couldn’t. And if that wasn’t enough, he’d bragged to his buddies about nailing her. After that, every guy in school thought she was an easy target. She’d already had a bad reputation, but it hit rock bottom when Aaron opened his big mouth.
Funny, she’d given Aaron little conscious thought in years, but now that Melanie was friends with Karin, she was getting daily reminders.
“They’re just studying,” Skylar said, trying to stay calm.
Fair was fair. Melanie was doing her geometry homework, not joyriding. Besides, the hamburger stand was only open for breakfast and lunch. The Nibble Nook intentionally closed at the same time the high school let out for the day; otherwise they could have a crowd of teenagers until late every afternoon. Still, she couldn’t deny that a few farmworkers and other customers often arrived near closing and lingered over their meals.
She and Jimmie had discussed keeping the Nook open longer, but this way they’d had a better family life. It was the same decision his parents had made when they were running both the Nibble Nook and the Nibble Nook Too in Trident, where Skylar had gone to get a job when she’d learned she was pregnant. She sure couldn’t have hung around Cooperton, where people knew her; it was hard enough returning as a married woman.
Aaron shot Skylar a cool look.
He’d been attractive in high school with his dark brown hair and eyes. Now he was downright gorgeous. Luckily she was immune—she knew his handsome exterior concealed a jackass of major proportions. And in the four months since he’d taken over as the managing CEO of Cooper Industries, his employees were discovering what she’d learned as a stupid, reckless seventeen-year-old.
The employees disliked Aaron intensely—he treated them as potential criminals, the company cafeteria prices had tripled and the shortened lunch break wasn’t long enough to let them drive farther than the Nibble Nook for an inexpensive meal.
“Whether they’re studying or not isn’t the issue. And I’ll handle my own problems, if you don’t mind,” he growled.
Then stop handling them badly, she wanted to add, except antagonizing him wouldn’t be good for Melanie or Karin. She’d tried to remember that whenever he’d “visited” the Nibble Nook over the past several weeks.
A vision of Aaron’s face the first day he’d shown up at the Nibble Nook rose in Skylar’s mind, and she almost laughed; the Trident Hell Raisers had been there. They were a harmless group of retirees who’d formed a motorcycle club. Jimmie’s uncle Fred belonged, and they came over once a week to talk, drink coffee and try to look like tough, seasoned road warriors in a defiant “FU” to lost youth.
So, in drove Aaron Hollister in his shiny black Mercedes and expensive suit, horrified to see his sister surrounded by a motorcycle gang. He hadn’t asked questions, just rushed Melanie away so abruptly she’d forgotten her book bag. Skylar supposed she might have been concerned if their places were reversed, but really, the Trident Hell Raisers were retired accountants, doctors and firemen. Uncle Fred had irreverently nicknamed them the Bunion and Hemorrhoids Brigade.
Skylar could have reassured Aaron, but he was so damned obstinate and suspicious, he probably wouldn’t have believed her, anyhow. And he’d just argue that other bikers ate at the Nibble Nook, too. It was true enough, but they’d never caused trouble.
“We did go to the library,” Karin announced. “Mellie checked out a ton of books on President Lincoln for her history paper.”
“I didn’t ask you, young lady.”
Skylar’s temper flared at the stuffy censure in Aaron’s voice. He had a lot of nerve.
