shuts down in the winter. Hell, I’m sorry, Annabelle. Dana and I pretty much talked you into moving here on the promise that you’d have a job. I never figured on Dean being such an ass about the whole thing. I mean, I knew he’d be resistant but not this bad…”
She patted Sammy on the shoulder and scooped up the cash on the desk. “My rent’s paid for the month. I’ll find something else. Besides, I like it here. It’s a perfect town for a fresh start.”
Sammy smiled but there was worry in his expression. Pocketing the cash, she grinned without showing a hint of the true panic starting to blossom, and did what she could to allay his concern. Dana had married a good man. It wasn’t his fault things hadn’t worked out as they’d hoped.
If anyone was well acquainted with disappointment, it was Annabelle. But she never dwelled on the past. And as she closed the office door to Halvorsen Construction she considered the unfortunate incident with Dean Halvorsen well on its way to history.
She paused briefly at her car. For some reason, she’d thought this was going to be the place where she could put down roots. Talk about being way off.
Family, roots, stability. She snorted. An illusion. All of it. God, when was she ever going to learn?
CHAPTER TWO
DEAN HEARD her voice before he saw her. Returning to his double cheeseburger, he tried to ignore the flash of guilt but it had already ruined his lunch.
Annabelle was talking earnestly to Steve Gerke, the manager of The Grill, and by the look on Steve’s face, whatever they were talking about didn’t bode well for her. Dean pushed his plate away, ready to leave. He signaled for the waitress, but she motioned that she’d be a few minutes. Great. Annabelle drew his gaze despite his resolve to pretend he didn’t see her trying to find a job.
“I learn fast,” he heard her say. Her voice was husky yet melodic. A strange contradiction he hadn’t noticed the other day. His ears pricked again. “Anything? Dishwasher, maybe? How about line cook? I can make a mean plate of hash browns.”
“I’m sorry, Ms…”
“Nichols. Annabelle Nichols.”
“Ms. Nichols. We’ve already hired all the staff we need at the moment. Good luck with your search. Leave your number with Maria up front and I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
Tough break. He tried not to see the sharp disappointment on her face but she kept forcing his attention toward her. She looked like one of those fine-boned porcelain dolls that cost so much you shouldn’t touch them. He shook off the thought and motioned again to the waitress, ready to get back to the office, when Aaron walked in. Ah hell.
Dean must’ve racked up a serious deficit in a past life for all the karmic crap he’d been served lately.
He stiffened, determined to ignore the man, but Aaron had a knack for pissing people off—a talent Dean was sure he perfected in the privacy of his own home—and right now, Aaron was doing a bang-up job of rubbing Dean the wrong way.
Aaron’s expression lit with a dark zeal when he saw Dean, and it was all Dean could do to remember his manners and not deck the guy right then and there. There was no love lost between them, and both men knew why.
Dean wasn’t the smooth talker in the family. That was his younger brother Sammy’s forte. And he left him to it for good reason. He’d never excelled at smiling and playing nice when he wanted to do the exact opposite. This was something Aaron knew and exploited whenever possible.
“Great job landing that new plaza contract, though I don’t know how you managed to talk old man Tucker into selling that slice of land. I’ve been trying for years and the old sucker wouldn’t budge. Mind sharing any tips?” Aaron asked with feigned casual interest.
“You seem to be doing fine on your own,” Dean said tightly, his gaze returning to the woman giving Steve one last chance to decide that he couldn’t live without her on the payroll. He had to give her points for tenacity. She didn’t give up easily. “You don’t need any help from me,” he added, signaling an end—at least on his part—to the conversation.
Aaron tracked Dean’s stare and noticed Annabelle, appreciation for her lush curves and ample breasts evident in his lingering look. “Who’s that?”
“Dunno.” That was mildly correct. Dean didn’t actually know her. Didn’t want to know her. Aaron continued to stare and Dean’s patience slipped. “A little young for you, don’t you think?”
“Not a crime to look.” Aaron smiled. “I’d say a body like that was made to draw attention. Maybe someone ought to welcome her to the community. Seeing as you’re heading out, I’ll take care of it.” He clapped Dean on the shoulder, which was at best annoying and made Dean want to growl at the liberty, and then headed in the young woman’s direction.
Good sense told him to leave. But watching Aaron sidle up to Annabelle made his blood boil. Dean looked away, ready to leave, but there was no way he could walk out the door with Aaron sizing her up. Biting off a silent string of curses, Dean followed Aaron, intending to warn the woman off whatever Aaron planned to offer, and, if it worked, he’d enjoy ruining Aaron’s day as a bonus.
Aaron’s smile faltered briefly when he realized Dean was standing beside him, but he didn’t veer off course.
“What seems to be the problem, Steve?” Aaron asked the manager with a wide smile but his attention never left Annabelle. “You giving this beautiful woman trouble?”
To her credit, she didn’t seem impressed with Aaron’s chivalrous act and actually inched away to provide a wider buffer between them as she answered for Steve. “No problem. Just looking for a job. Thanks though.”
“And I told her there aren’t any openings right now,” Steve said, shooting Annabelle a regretful look. “But, like I said, leave your name and number with Maria and we’ll keep you in mind.”
Steve left and Annabelle’s expression showed her disappointment, which Aaron was quick to capitalize on.
“I’ll bet I could find some work for you. What’s your name, sweetheart?” Aaron asked. “Are you new in town?”
“Annabelle Nichols,” she answered, glancing at Dean for a brief second. Her soft brown eyes seared into his with a force that threatened to knock him back, but she didn’t acknowledge him otherwise. She had freckles, he noted with surprise. Faint dots of color sprinkled the bridge of her nose in a way that could only be described as terminally cute, but her long red hair fell in loose, inviting waves—
He jerked imperceptibly at the direction of his thoughts, deciding he was no better than Aaron, thinking things he shouldn’t about someone who was young enough to be…well, a sister.
At forty-one, he didn’t need to be lusting after a woman in her early twenties. That sort of thing begged for trouble, and trouble he didn’t need.
“Where you from?” Aaron asked, looking the part of a politely interested passerby, but Dean didn’t buy it. The man had no shame. “Can’t be from around here. I’d remember someone like you,” he said with a boyish smile, and Dean’s desire to punch him intensified.
But, seeing as he couldn’t deck the man in
