Keeping Cole's Promise
Cheryl Harper
It's time he lived up to his word.Eleven years ago, Cole Ferguson made the biggest mistake of his life, but now he can finally get back on track. The first step? Nail the job at the local animal shelter and keep his head down. But working at the shelter means spending time with Rebecca Lincoln. Rebecca is beautiful and kind but she's also determined to save the world. Cole isn't about to join her. Helping Rebecca would mean breaking his promise—running toward trouble instead of staying clear. She doesn't need him anyway. How could she ever see him as more than just another charity project?
It’s time he lived up to his word
Eleven years ago, Cole Ferguson made the biggest mistake of his life, but now he can finally get back on track. The first step? Nail the job at the local animal shelter and keep his head down. But working at the shelter means spending time with Rebecca Lincoln. Rebecca is beautiful and kind but she’s also determined to save the world. Cole isn’t about to join her. Helping Rebecca would mean breaking his promise—running toward trouble instead of staying clear. She doesn’t need him anyway. How could she ever see him as more than just another charity project?
“Are we enemies?”
Rebecca ran her hands through her hair. She’d never had an enemy before. She wasn’t sure she’d even had a real critic. All she’d ever done was what people expected of her.
“No, we aren’t. Just stay...away. I’m not your project.” Cole waved a hand. “I don’t need your charity, and I sure don’t need another cause to keep me awake at night.”
Rebecca straightened. “Is that was this is about? Because I suggested you should do something to help those boys, we’re fighting again?”
“No, we aren’t fighting, but I haven’t joined the Rebecca Lincoln fan club. It’ll be okay. You don’t have to make another unexpected visit. I made a promise to stay out of trouble. Easiest way to do that? Keep my nose to myself instead of sticking it where it doesn’t belong.”
Dear Reader (#uebdc953b-c3a0-596b-8bfa-2a541e5b86da),
After finding a stray dog, which led to volunteering at my local animal shelter, I was introduced to a special program where selected prison inmates provide weeks of obedience training to rescue dogs. At graduation, the lucky, well-trained dogs are adopted. I’ve been dog crazy since I could toddle after a beagle named Jake, so I appreciate programs that give animals a second chance and I understand the power of a dog’s unconditional love.
Cole Ferguson is a man who needs these gifts—a second chance and man’s best friend. His prison experience opens the door, but a do-gooder, her friends and some student volunteers will convince him that this new life is sweet. Please visit me at cherylharperbooks.com (http://www.cherylharperbooks.com) to find links to adoption programs like this one, to let me know what you think about Keeping Cole’s Promise, to sign up for my newsletter or to find out what’s coming next. Thanks for reading!
Cheryl
Keeping Cole’s Promise
Cheryl Harper
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHERYL HARPER discovered her love for books and words as a little girl, thanks to a mother who made countless library trips and an introduction to Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House stories. Whether it’s the prairie, the American West, Regency England or Earth a hundred years in the future, Cheryl enjoys strong characters who make her laugh. Now Cheryl spends her days searching for the right words while she stares out the window and her dog, Jack, snoozes beside her. And she considers herself very lucky to do so.
For more information about Cheryl’s books, visit her online at cherylharperbooks.com (http://www.cherylharperbooks.com) or follow her on Twitter, @cherylharperbks.
I owe Dana Grimaldi, the editor who patiently works with me on every one of these books, the biggest thanks. She makes these stories and characters that I love so much shine. Thank you for all your hard work, Dana!
Contents
Cover (#u2842a357-d5ce-5f93-ac48-7f303e609718)
Back Cover Text (#uba5e1671-e7dd-5727-9742-8f935ad253bb)
Introduction (#u5eebe522-91d5-5581-9da4-edcd7ac09bf7)
Dear Reader (#ucac4c234-c4bd-5114-b395-84dfafaeb08e)
Title Page (#u297da1d0-f00d-51d4-bffb-a3fc9c034f18)
About the Author (#u51c73464-14bc-50c3-8d1e-d6270f3fd5a7)
Dedication (#u93641414-0af8-5ce2-9d4f-910486be83cf)
CHAPTER ONE (#u6817b850-db9b-542d-a9dc-e435d57af8f1)
CHAPTER TWO (#uc73119f6-a5ad-56e8-8484-871e4cce8b20)
CHAPTER THREE (#u6a679ead-2cb7-52e7-b055-39ff51758bec)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u5d16525d-2dab-506d-a181-eca5bcb48c12)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u214c7549-d361-511c-8c33-7c9b9670d241)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uebdc953b-c3a0-596b-8bfa-2a541e5b86da)
THE DAY THAT Cole Ferguson walked out of Travis County State Jail was twice as terrifying as the day he walked in. On that first day, he’d been unprepared to serve fifteen years for six counts of aggravated assault, but he’d been too young to understand how his life had changed. Both then and now, though, the threat of the unknown was enough to make a smart man shake in his shoes.
At twenty, he’d had zero sense and relied on a cocky certainty in his own skill to battle the nerves. Nearly eleven years later, he’d learned some hard lessons. No matter how bad things were, they could always get worse. In lockup, he’d followed the rules and never had to worry about food or where he’d sleep. As a free man, he stopped in the bright sunshine of a hot September day and wondered what he’d do if the one friend he had left didn’t show.
Figure it out. There was no other choice but to make his own way, head down, one foot in front of the other, for as long as it took.
They’d be his steps, his decision. He had control of his life again.
He’d imagined this day a thousand different ways, but raw nerves and the anxiety of overwhelming freedom were a surprise.
“Well, now, let’s don’t stand out here in the heat. Truck’s running.” Old Ephraim Walker was resting against the wall in the only shady corner beside the doors. Cole had been certain EW was as old as dirt when his grandmother had introduced them the first night he’d been dumped at her trailer “temporarily” while his mother looked for work. Apparently, she was still looking. The occasional birthday cards and Christmas phone calls had dwindled to nothing years ago.
“I thought you might have come up with something better to do on a day like today.” Cole held out his hand. “Can’t thank you enough for making the trip, EW.”
“I shoulda waited inside with the air, but the place gives me the heebie-jeebies, like all the sadness done sunk into the walls and no amount of good news gon’ get it out.” He shivered. EW’s shoulders might be slightly more rounded, but his hair was still white with a dark spot in the front, laugh lines still wrinkled his face and when he smiled, bright white teeth gleamed. “But you ain’t got to worry about that place anymore.” EW clapped a hard hand on Cole’s shoulder.
Four years ago, the first Saturday his grandmother had missed her monthly visit, EW had taken her place and delivered the bad news. His form of comfort had been the same as his congratulations, one hand on Cole’s shoulder. Since her death, they’d written now and then. His grandmother’s old trailer was under EW’s watchful care until Cole’s release.
“Needed to get out of the house, don’tcha know? Fish ain’t bitin’ in heat like this no way.” EW waved a hand in the air and headed for the beat-up truck idling in a parking spot near the front. Sweat was glistening on his brown skin by the time they slid into the truck’s front seat. “No thanks necessary, young fella.”
“Sure don’t feel young.” Cole’s body might be stronger than ever, but there was no denying that the weight of his mistakes had aged him. Maybe time and space would lighten the load. Otherwise, he could only keep putting one foot in front of the other.
“Young is relative, son. You oughta learn that.” EW’s rusty laugh was comfortable and reassuring. Cole’s world had ended eleven years ago, but he’d made it out the other side and there was still something to laugh about. He sucked in a gust of hot air. He could do this. He’d done harder things.
There wasn’t much to say as EW navigated the traffic around Austin and hit the two-lane highway that would take Cole home. The truck coughed and sputtered now and then, but the breeze blasting through the open windows covered most of the engine’s knocks. His grandmother had told him more than once that EW could make an engine sing. This truck was long past its life expectancy but still rolling.
As they puttered through Holly Heights, EW took the scenic route. “Few things have changed.” He pointed at Sue Lynn’s diner. “Best things haven’t, though.”
The Shop-on-In was still displaying the weirdest collection in the large front window. Every street corner had a church. And not one person in the small crowd of shoppers doing business on Main Street turned to point at the prodigal returning to the scene of the crime. When they reached the edge of town, Cole tried to chase away the dread building in his gut.
“Old Gulf station closed. Got one of those fancy places what sells fried chicken and ice cream now.” EW didn’t glance his way as they passed a bright gas station with twelve pumps and a neon sign advertising lottery tickets.
This place was a drastic change from the old-fashioned filling station he’d tried to rob at eighteen. That place had had four pumps and made more money from cigarettes than gasoline. Thinking that he could get enough cash to help his grandmother pay for the heart surgery she needed from such a dump qualified him for the world’s dumbest criminal contest. He would have been lucky to walk away with three hundred dollars.
Eleven years of his life and his grandmother’s respect flushed away for three hundred dollars.
At least he hadn’t shot anyone with the gun he’d borrowed from his best friend. Waving it around was bad enough. “World’s dumbest criminal, for sure.”
EW shook his head as he turned down the dirt road that led to the trailer park. “I’d say you don’t have the natural talent for breaking the law. Better try something else this time.”
“Good advice.” The sizzle of anger tingling around his edges made Cole uneasy. If only EW could have given him that handy advice when he was a kid, Cole’s whole life might have been different.
He had to keep his emotions in check. While he tried to douse the anger with gratefulness for all EW had done since he’d been in prison, Cole rested his arm on the hot metal of the truck door and studied the trailers. None of them was a palace, but the whole park was neat and clean. Whoever the neighbors were, they worked hard. The basketball goal at the end listed to the side over hard-packed red dirt. He and his friends had pretended to play games there every afternoon after school. They’d also cooked up some of the worst ideas in the history of dumb plans there, but that wasn’t the basketball goal’s fault.
EW held up a key ring and jingled the single key. “Left a surprise inside. Might help you figure out what comes next.”
Cole took the key ring and struggled to form the right words to express his gratitude, but there was too much to say. EW had been a good neighbor for years before Cole went to jail. After, he’d helped Cole’s grandmother keep the place up, and when she died, EW had been his only lifeline. “I don’t know how to repay everything you’ve done, but...”
EW raised a single bushy eyebrow. “Keep your promise. Stay outta trouble. That’s all. Until the day she died, your grandmama prayed this day would come.” He shrugged. “And when you have the chance, pick me up some beer. Cheap beer. Lots of cheap beer.”
Cole shook his head as bits and pieces of his grandmother’s lectures floated through his mind. She and EW had disagreed on the importance of a good beer. She had no use for spirits of any kind. EW couldn’t get through the day without a buzz.
And Cole was in no position to lecture. “Will do.”
“Hope it’s soon. A man gets thirsty in this heat.” EW rubbed his mouth. “Figure you might need a ride, once you get your feet under you. Let me know.” Then he tilted his head. “You got a driver’s license still?”
Cole nodded. “Yes, sir. Need to renew it, since it’s about ten years expired.”
EW grunted. “You need to borrow the truck, rent’s cheap.” He winked and mimed drinking from a can.
Cole slid out of the truck and waved as EW’s truck lurched on down the road to his own trailer.
“Home, sweet home. Again.” Cole scuffed one prison-issue sneaker in the grass as he tried to convince himself this was what he’d been dreaming of for years.
Except his grandmother was gone.
And there was no telling what memories would boil up today.
Unless he kept those memories and the emotions they stirred up contained, they’d destroy his chance at freedom. It would be too easy to do something stupid under the influence of grief or fear.
The sun was beating down on his head. The temperature inside the two-bedroom trailer might be worse, since there’d been no one to pay the electric bill for years now. Whatever his grandmother had left would have gone to taxes and the monthly rent on the spot in the trailer park.
Air-conditioning had been a luxury reserved for the hottest of days when he was growing up. Today would qualify, even for his frugal grandmother. As soon as he got a job, he’d crank the cold air in her honor.
Cole climbed the three steps leading to the door carefully. The railing he’d helped EW add listed to one side, and he wasn’t certain the wood would hold his weight. “Rot. Wonderful.” And a warning about what he’d find inside.
Before he yanked open the door, Cole closed his eyes. He’d never been good at meditation, not even after the class offered by the jail’s shrink. Controlling his temper had been a problem when he was young and stupid and angry. At least prison had taught him why he’d want to learn how to keep his cool. It was the only way to keep his promise.
To help, he tried to picture his grandmother’s face, not as she’d been during visitation or even as sick as she was the last summer he’d been home, but on the first night he’d slept in her spare room. Now he understood that she had to have known his mother was dumping him, but the joy in her eyes as she’d held out her arms had been real.
That joy. She’d never lost it. It dimmed, but it never disappeared.
“Come on. Don’t be a wimp. It’s four flimsy walls, and you can leave any time you like.” His voice was loud. If any of the neighbors were watching, they had good reason to worry about the convict frozen on the front steps. At least they would keep their distance.
He squared his shoulders and opened the door. Once he was inside, he took a quick look around the tiny, dusty kitchen and cramped living room. Other than the stale air of a house closed for too long, the place was frozen in time. Cole left the door open and stopped at every window to unlock it and throw it open. A weak breeze stirred the yellowed white curtains as he dropped down on the ancient green sofa that his grandmother had hauled home one afternoon, a gift from one of the families she cleaned for.
The letters he’d written her from prison were stacked next to the photo album she’d always kept front and center on the rickety coffee table. He didn’t open it. He knew what he’d find: every awkward stage of his life captured in a school photo or candid shot.
And next to that photo album was EW’s gift, a stack of newspapers. Cole flipped through them. “Holly Heights. Austin. Surely there’s a job in this pile somewhere.” At some point, food would be a necessity. What little money he had would go toward the grocery store and getting the utilities turned on.
While he was still inside, he’d taken every course he could volunteer for. Only landscape design had been interesting. His reintegration adviser had gotten him guaranteed employment working for a landscaping company out of Houston, but he’d come home to Holly Heights. Would that be the second-worst decision he’d made?
Finding a job where every single employer knew he’d served time was going to be a challenge, no matter how well prepared his counselor promised he was or how big the tax incentive the government offered.
Quitting before I even start.
The thought sounded so much like his grandmother that he almost looked around. Surely there was a recorded message or her ghost.
Cole rubbed his forehead and snatched the first paper. “Let’s see, Austin. What have you got for me?” As soon as he saw the first listing for lawn maintenance, he jumped up and dug around through the familiar junk drawer to find a pen. “Only a phone number. Wonder if EW has phone service.”
After he’d circled five jobs, the realization that there was no way he could make it into Austin every day for work crashed around Cole’s head. Half a second later, he’d balled the paper and tossed it as far away as he could. His fingers shook until he pressed them hard against his thighs.
So weak. The disgust tasted bad in his mouth.
No matter how good his intentions might be, the odds were still too high. He was going to fail.
The temptation to borrow EW’s truck and go after the beer that would make EW happy and might numb some of his own panic washed over him, but Cole gripped the photo album hard with both hands and concentrated on remembering his grandmother’s face.
The tears in Rachel Baxter’s eyes hadn’t fallen on their last visit, but her voice had wavered. “Promise me. You stay out of trouble.”
They’d ended every visit the same way. Why did it even matter now? She was gone. His promise meant nothing. Robbing that new flashy gas station wouldn’t net him much cash, but he’d learned how to navigate prison. This new old world? He was lost.
“Brought a turkey sandwich. Chips.” EW shuffled his feet awkwardly on the yellowed linoleum. “Door was open.”
“Good. I’m starving.” Cole cleared his throat. “These papers are nice, but...” He shook his head.
EW didn’t answer, just held out a plastic bag with sandwiches wrapped in napkins. “One paper? You givin’ up after one paper?”
Cole shoved half a sandwich in his mouth. Snapping in anger or whining after all EW’s help would never do. “Nope.” He grabbed the Holly Heights newspaper and flipped to the two-page classified spread. “Used car. House for rent.” He shoved the other half of the sandwich in his mouth. Talking and chewing would have gotten him a smack on the hand if his Mimi were still here.
In the last column, he found it. A job listing for an assistant manager at an animal shelter. “Paws for Love.” He glanced over at EW. “Know anything about it?”
EW wadded his empty napkin. “Down the road a piece, maybe two miles. Pet project for the new millionaires.”
Cole waited for EW to either acknowledge his pun or explain the “millionaires” comment.
EW stretched lazily and shuffled through the papers to slide one out. On the front page, a full-color photo showing four beautiful women grinning with absolute joy caught Cole’s eye. A surge of jealous bitterness shot through him, turning the sandwich into a hard lump in his stomach. “Local lottery winners Rebecca Lincoln, Stephanie Yates and Jen Neil celebrate the open house at Paws for Love.” As he read the headline, Cole had a vague memory of them at Holly Heights High School, but they were a year or two ahead of him and they’d moved in different crowds. “And Sarah Hillman. Looks like some things don’t change. Hillmans are still running this town.”
He scanned the story about the shelter’s reopening with new funding provided by the foundation set up by Rebecca, Jen and Stephanie. Sarah Hillman was listed as the organization’s director and the day-to-day manager. That would be a problem. He expected a Hillman would set low priority to hiring people like him.
“Two miles...” He pointed toward Holly Heights.
EW shook his head and pointed the opposite direction. “Down the highway.”
Cole tapped a finger nervously on the coffee table. He could walk two miles easy. It was only part-time, but it was a place to start and he had the skills listed. Flexibility. Experience working with animals. He could lift fifty pounds no problem.
“Good character.” That might be the sticking point. Not that he didn’t have it, but that he had no way to prove it.
“Take the truck.” EW stretched in the seat. “Go in the morning. Won’t know until you try.”
“You’ll have to come with me. Can’t drive. No license.” Maybe if he had a personal witness, they would listen.
“Might be better to take your chances without me.” EW raised an eyebrow, and Cole understood exactly what he meant. Mimi had bragged on EW’s skills with motors. The rest of Holly Heights viewed EW as the town drunk.
But Cole would enjoy having a partner, a little bit of backup, someone who believed when he wasn’t so sure himself.
Relying too much on what other people thought was how he’d gotten mixed up with the gang that convinced him taking what he needed was the only answer. Not anymore. Going alone was the only way to stay out of trouble.
“I’ll walk it. I can do it.” The distance was nothing. Convincing Sarah Hillman to give him a shot would be the challenge. Finding a job was the key to everything. If he spent too much time sitting around this trailer with nothing to do but list his mistakes and fight the temptation to drown his problems, he’d be back inside Travis before the year was out. He didn’t believe in fate or destiny, but this felt right. All he had to do was seize his chance.
CHAPTER TWO (#uebdc953b-c3a0-596b-8bfa-2a541e5b86da)
REBECCA LINCOLN PUT the car in Park and checked the clock on her car radio. “Fifteen minutes early, right on time.” The only other cars in the parking lot belonged to Sarah and Shelly, Sarah’s right hand and the most important volunteer at the shelter. They’d both been at Paws for Love since sunrise, no doubt.
As she reached over to grab the floral tote she used to organize all the paperwork for the shelter, Rebecca hit the buttons to lower the windows a crack. Otherwise, the Texas sun would turn her car into an oven. She loved ovens but had no desire to sit in one on the drive home.
Whistling might be over-the-top, but it was a beautiful morning. On sunny Saturdays like this one, the bedraggled flower beds and dusty gravel lot in front of the building seemed twice as sad, but Sarah was slowly and surely changing every piece of Paws for Love for the better. With enough time, she’d hire someone to replace the peeling paint and plant bright flowers, and the outside of the building would reflect all the joyful work done at the shelter.
Time. That was all this place needed now. Smug certainty and a touch of pride at what her money had accomplished added up to a song in her heart. If Jen was there, Rebecca might hum a happy tune, to annoy her.
Before she could open the car door, Sarah stepped out of the building. “Good. You’re here early. Can you cover the phone and desk for me? I need to call Will before Jen gets here.”
“Sure. I’ve got the desk. This time next week, we’ll have some real help for you.” Rebecca was perfectly happy to spend some time behind the counter at the shelter. Sarah was ruthlessly organized, so it was easy to find the log of volunteers. Rebecca ran a finger down the list of names and hours. The kids she’d sent over from the high school where she worked as a guidance counselor had plugged right in. The satisfaction of correctly identifying and connecting kids with opportunities was nice. Every single one of them would have great extracurriculars for college applications.
That job satisfaction made it impossible to consider quitting her job, even after hitting the lottery.
Her phone chirped to notify her that a text had come in. Every time she heard it, she pictured a bluebird of happiness.
Booked the flight into Austin. It’ll be good to see my kids in person. Her mother had taken to texting instead of calling, probably because she was too busy for long conversations. After a lifetime of charity work in Holly Heights, Rebecca’s parents had moved to Florida, where they played golf. Lots and lots of golf.
Already planning the menu. Rack of lamb. I’ve always wanted to try it. Can’t wait to see you. The farewell dinner for Daniel and Stephanie was going to be her inaugural dinner party with the new kitchen. Saying goodbye to her brother and her friend would hurt, but she was anxious to demonstrate what a smart investment the large check she’d write to the contractor would be.
Starving children, Rebecca Lincoln. Refugees. Go for chicken, something reasonable. We aren’t fancy, you know that.
Her mother’s reply shouldn’t have surprised her, because she’d heard similar responses her whole life. But it did shave off a sliver of the good mood she’d begun the day with. Trying something new would have been fun.
While she waited for one of the shelter’s volunteers to come up to the desk, Rebecca wandered over to the bulletin board to check out the photos Sarah had posted of all the dogs up for adoption. She bent to study the details for the cutest beagle on the board when the door opened.
“Welcome to Paws for Love.” The last part of her greeting was strangled as a man stepped inside. His size, the ferocious frown wrinkling his brow, sweat shining on his face, everything about him shouted that he was out of place.
The loud bang of the door as he closed it behind him shook her.
And she was cornered. The sensation of being helplessly cut off flashed through her mind, a reaction from the first and last time she’d tried to stop a fight at the high school. Confident of her authority as an adult and school counselor, she’d stepped between two boys roughly her size and found herself pinned against a wall of lockers, one hard hand on her throat. In the seconds it took Eric Jordan to come to his senses, she’d frantically clawed at that arm and wondered if anyone would save her.
This guy, he was twice the size of Eric Jordan. His shoulders strained against the ironed cotton button-down that had to be at least ten years old. His khakis fit better, but had the same crisp crease that showed careful attention. His white sneakers shuffled as he stopped in the center of the tiny lobby.
She’d been able to look over Eric’s shoulder to see the watching crowd. This guy would block out the sun.
Rebecca put one hand over her racing heart and managed to say, “Can I help you?”
He fidgeted nervously for a second, shifting back and forth between the door and the shelter’s ancient cash register. The too-tight sleeves of his shirt strained over hard muscles as he clenched a folded newspaper. “I’m here about the job.” He wiped one large hand over his forehead.
As Bub, Sarah’s goofy brown dog, came ambling down the hallway, Rebecca held out a hand to try to stop him. Bub had no guard dog setting; he was strictly a social ambassador, a lover, not a fighter.
“Hey, pup,” the big man said, and bent down on one knee. The ominous sound of a seam stretching beyond its limits whispered through the lobby. Bub, sensing another admirer, tipped his chin up for a scratch.
Man and dog communicated silently long enough for Rebecca to get her brain in gear.
“The deadline was Friday. We aren’t accepting applications any longer.” Her voice was the cold, we-have-rules-for-a-reason tone all educators learned early on. People who wouldn’t follow directions were a pet peeve.
“I understand, but I’m asking for a favor, some leeway.” He braced one hand on the counter beside the computer, and the whole base tilted. He scrambled to right it, but everything on top crashed to the floor. The clatter kicked up her heart rate again. Rebecca held out a hand to keep him from crossing behind the counter to clean up his mess.
“We set the deadline for a reason,” she said, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Everyone wants leeway. Why should we give it to you?”
“Are you the manager?” The guy wasn’t going to take the first no. He didn’t have to. She would have to stand there until he decided to go.
“I’m not, but she’s very busy. We had quite a few qualified candidates, so there’s no real reason to ignore the deadline stated in the ad.” Rebecca spoke slowly, determined to hold her ground. It was the fair thing to do.
“Please. I’ll beg. Is that what you need, Your Highness?” The man squeezed the wrinkled newspaper so tightly it squeaked. “The heat. It makes me short-tempered.”
Before Rebecca could figure out how to answer him, laughter eked around the closed office door.
He turned his head and considered the door. “If you’re not the manager...” Rebecca darted around the counter to stand in front of the door. They couldn’t hire him. He needed to leave.
When he moved closer, she regretted the decision. At this distance, the lines on his face were clearer. The fatigue and desperation in his eyes were impossible to miss. It was tempting to give in.
Very slowly, he put his hands on her tense arms and shifted her out of the way before he reached around her to the doorknob and gave it a twist.
Rebecca fell back a few steps to get some breathing room.
And the giggles slowly died out as Sarah regarded her and the intruder. “Gotta go. Call you later,” she said as she hung up the phone.
Before Sarah could ask or Rebecca could explain, the man said, “Cole Ferguson. I’m here about the job.” He slid the crumpled newspaper on top of the stack of applications and stepped away quickly. One hand ran absentmindedly over his closely cropped hair and he glanced down at Bub. The dog rested against his leg and yawned.
Everyone but Cole Ferguson relaxed a fraction. Rebecca met Sarah’s stare over the desk as Sarah mouthed, “Good people.”
Anxious to get this guy back to wherever he came from so that she could regain her composure, Rebecca said, “I’ve explained the situation. Mr. Ferguson was just leaving.” She raised her eyebrows at him and held a hand out toward the door in case he needed a prompt. He wasn’t listening this time, either.
Cole Ferguson hadn’t moved a centimeter when Jen Neil burst into the tiny office. “I’m telling you, she’s got a business degree and experience with fund-raising. Why would we look for anyone else?” When she realized she was interrupting a conversation already in progress, Jen frowned. “Who’s he?”
“He’s interested in the job,” Rebecca said, “but he’s just leaving.” The way his feet were planted made it clear he wasn’t budging.
Sarah waved a hand. “We’ve got the time. Tell us about your experience. It’s obvious the physical part of the work will be no challenge.” She coughed and then smiled brightly. “And I don’t think we have the right candidate in this stack. No pets, Jen. Your sure bet has no pets, not one to tell me about.” Sarah tapped the last question on the application. “How long is she going to be happy around here? The suit she was wearing when she brought in her application? Had to cost at least eight hundred dollars. Believe me, I know. If it were older, it could be my old suit snagged from the consignment shop. But this place is dog hair and cat scratches and wash-and-wear wardrobe. I need someone who can do more than make phone calls and look pretty.”
“I guess you think you’ve got that covered.” Jen raised an eyebrow.
Sarah stuck her tongue out and they both smiled. Rebecca wasn’t sure whether Jen and Sarah were going to murder each other or run off to lunch together most days. After a rocky past, the two of them were tied together by two great loves: Will Barnes—Jen’s stepbrother, Sarah’s boyfriend and the man charged with matching their lottery winnings with worthy causes—and the need to rescue every stray in the Holly Heights vicinity.
Cole folded both hands in front of him and assumed an impressive, perfectly rigid posture. Did he have military experience?
“I worked with a program for three years. It’s called Prison Partners. We trained rescue dogs from local shelters in basic obedience so that they could be adopted.” He cleared his throat.
Prison? Rebecca did her best not to gasp and point, but her instincts had been right. There was no way they could hire a criminal.
He glanced around the room and rolled his shoulders.
“So that means you were in prison?” Jen asked, her eyebrows set in a firm, disapproving line.
Jen was the one who was convinced Rebecca would lose her millions to the first grifter who came along. Even if Sarah wanted to give the guy a chance, Rebecca and Jen could send him on his way.
Being aligned with cynical Jen was a new, unsettling experience.
“Yes. Just got out,” Cole said in a rough voice. “Aggravated assault. Tried to rob a gas station.” Whatever else he intended to say was swallowed as he clenched his teeth and returned to painfully correct posture.
Sarah tilted her head to the side. “Yeah, it’s coming back to me now. I vaguely remember my father telling me all about it. Your grandmother cleaned our house for a while.”
Awkward silence filled the room until Bub heaved a disgusted sigh.
Everyone took a breath.
“Yeah. I imagine a lot of people in Holly Heights could say that.” Cole tipped his chin up.
“Good character. That was one of the qualifications,” Rebecca said, and pointed at the crumpled newspaper. “Remember? Trustworthy, honest.” Not that there was any way to tell the character of any of the other applicants, but at least they didn’t have prison experience.
“Yeah, well...seems you’re the second criminal I’ve met,” Sarah said with a shrug. “Big Bobby Hillman’s headed for lockup as soon as the police track him down. Surely it won’t be much longer.”
Sarah had gotten pretty desperate for an update on her father. He’d embezzled money from his businesses and disappeared. The Austin police had been getting closer, but Hollister, the Austin detective who’d hounded her for so long, was no longer answering her calls.
Cole’s posture relaxed. She, Stephanie and Jen had all changed their minds about Sarah Hillman since they’d gotten involved in Paws for Love. Apparently, understanding they had something close to being in common changed Cole’s perception, too.
“Nobody was hurt in the robbery. Do I remember that right?” Sarah asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I did a stupid thing, but I’ve learned a lot since. I made a promise. No more trouble. Getting this job would help me keep it.” Cole shifted back and forth and managed to make eye contact with everyone in the room except Rebecca. Bub gave his hand a slurp.
Something about the way his lips softened changed his whole face. Broody disappeared, replaced by humor and affection.
“We haven’t even interviewed the others yet,” Rebecca said. “What if there’s the perfect person in that stack?” She held up both hands. “I’ll get an application. If you measure up, we’ll call you back.” Offering a compromise wasn’t the best solution here, but he wasn’t leaving otherwise.
“Listen...” Cole stopped. His hands tightened into fists. “I know a guy with a record seems like a bad bet. Let me show you what I can do.”
Sarah rested her elbows on the desk. “What did you have in mind?”
Cole straightened his shoulders, as if his confidence grew the closer they got to real work. “Show me your biggest headache. Give me an hour. I’ll have him sitting on command.” He patted his pockets. “But I’ll need some dog treats.”
If he was the kind of guy who made it a policy to always carry dog treats, Sarah would hire him then and there. The former mean girl had a weak spot the size of Texas for her animals.
“Our biggest headache barks when he’s happy, sad, excited or bored, chews on everything that sits still for two seconds, has the attention span of a two-year-old and is the sweetest beagle you’ll ever met,” Jen drawled.
“Wait a minute. The deadline for applications was Friday.” Rebecca held up a hand, the breathlessness hitting again as Cole turned to study her. “We’ve got plenty of candidates.”
“You know how much I love rules, Rebecca.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Besides, if he can do what he says he can, I want to see it.” She held out a hand to urge them all out into the hallway. “Cole, I believe it’s time you met Freddie. If you want a test to prove your skill, he’s your dog.”
CHAPTER THREE (#uebdc953b-c3a0-596b-8bfa-2a541e5b86da)
GETTING WHAT HE wanted when he’d set out on foot from the trailer park that morning made Cole feel good. Every step he’d taken to get to Paws for Love had been a sweaty, exhausting battle between his will and his fear.
Walking two miles in the hot sun was enough to force a man to concentrate on what mattered.
“Here’s our cat room,” Sarah said as they passed two large windows. Cats of all colors and shapes slept or scratched or ate or watched their audience disdainfully. “Have any experience training cats?”
He hated to disappoint her. Sarah’s hopeful tone made him want to say yes, but the redhead, Jen, snorted. “Nobody trains cats. Cats train us.” She was shaking her head as she motioned at Cole to continue walking down the hallway.
You can do this. You’ve worked with all kinds of dogs. Never with an audience like this one, but his pep talk succeeded in soothing some of the ridiculous jitters.
When he’d insisted he talk to the manager, he’d expected to be leaving in handcuffs. Superior Rebecca Lincoln could have called the cops. Touching her was a mistake. He could see her anxiety in her eyes.
That fear burned. Was that how his whole life was going to go? Another good reason to give people a wide berth. He’d get this job, do it well and go home. No need to make friends.
Only one thing could distract him from the doubt and fear of failure—a dog named Freddie who howled as if his heart was breaking the instant Sarah stopped in front of his kennel. He was white and black with a tan face and droopy ears that trembled as he poured out his heart.
“What’s the matter, Freddie?” Cole asked in a deep voice. The dog broke off a building howl and tilted his head curiously, his tail wagging wildly. “You just wanted to say hello, didn’t you?” Cole lifted the latch on the kennel as he braced himself. If he had to guess, Freddie was a jumper.
The slight hesitation to the dog’s exit could be fear. “What’s his story?” He held out his hands for Freddie to sniff.
“His owner died.” Sarah rubbed one of Freddie’s ears between her finger and thumb. “The family played hot potato with Freddie for a few months, but I don’t get the feeling any one of them ever wanted him.” She shrugged. “As soon as I reopened the shelter for adoptions, I had more than I could take, but Freddie was on borrowed time. The guy who brought him in threatened to dump him on the highway.”
Cole heard someone curse under her breath. He glanced over his shoulder at Jen, the one he’d instantly pegged as the hard case in the group. Everyone else had turned to look at Rebecca. The princess cursed? Interesting.
Seeing that he was no longer the center of attention, Freddie picked that second to decide Cole was his new best friend. The dog lunged up, feet and toenails scrabbling on the concrete of the kennel. Cole managed to catch him and ease him to the floor. “Easy, boy. Things are going to get better.”
Freddie immediately started a frenzied race around the room, baying at the top of his lungs. All the dogs in the other kennels answered until it was impossible to imagine a nice calm world with silent dogs in it. When he’d inspected the entire room, Freddie hopped up and down against Cole’s leg until Cole picked him up to cradle him in his arms. There, Freddie grinned, a long pink tongue lolling out of his mouth while Cole pressed his chin against the beagle’s head.
All day. I could do this all day.
Cole shook his head as he scratched Freddie’s bright white chest. Then he realized the whole room had gotten quiet. Losing track of what was going on while he was working with a dog wasn’t that unusual. Looking up to see Sarah and Jen blinking misty eyes at him was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.
And terrifying. He’d learned to live without emotion. Seeing it on their faces and feeling it swirl in the atmosphere made him uneasy. Restless.
“He’s okay. I’ve got him.” Cole bent to put Freddie carefully down. “We should let him run around outside for a few minutes. Should help him concentrate.” Maybe they’d stay inside. The women. That would be good.
“Have some treats,” Sarah said as she reached in a tin on the shelf beside the door and handed Cole a few, bracing her feet to keep from being knocked backward into the doorframe by Freddie’s enthusiasm.
Beagles were known for their appetites. Freddie might have also faced some neglect. Attention and food would work wonders for this dog.
Sarah pulled open a door and stepped away. Freddie didn’t move. His eyes were locked on the treats in Cole’s hand. “Outside.” Cole laughed as intelligent brown eyes darted to meet his. No way, man. That’s what the dog’s expression said. He was staying as close to the treats as he could.
With no other option but to lead the parade outside, Cole stepped out into the hot sunshine. Later in the day would be better for training, but this was his shot.
Freddie drifted a few steps away, drawn by all the new smells. Cole eased down on a picnic table and tried to ignore the eyes locked on his every move.
Pretend this is easy.
He crossed one foot over the other and winced at the tight pull of his shirt across his shoulders.
“Freddie.” He whistled and waved a single dog biscuit in the air.
The picnic table kept him from being knocked over as Freddie launched forty pounds of muscle into the air. Cole caught him and set him down in the grass, one hand on the dog’s back, right above his tail. Freddie eased to an awkward, hovering sit. “Good boy. You know your name.” And your favorite dog treat.
He gave Freddie the treat and eased back, a signal to the dog to go on with his business. “I didn’t have a chance to complete an application but...” Cole lost his train of thought when he noticed Jen and Sarah were both staring at him with hands clasped in front of them. Rebecca was sniffing, her lips a tight line. What did that mean? Was it a good sign or a bad one? “I had some training in landscape maintenance and design. I could help with that.” He motioned at the second play yard, a wild mess of weeds that would need to be cleared before it could be used. “And out front, too.” The sign was new, but everything else about the front of the shelter suggested the shelter director had bigger things on her mind than the flower beds. “If I get the job.” That might sweeten his deal.
Sarah smiled brightly at Jen. Once they high-fived each other, he started to feel better about his chances of landing the probationary period. He repeated the same process with Freddie four more times, adding a “Sit” to each treat.
He had one last biscuit in his hand. This was it, his shot to show them he could work patiently with dogs like Freddie.
“You try it.” He waved at Rebecca. “Let’s see how he responds.” Why her? He wasn’t sure. If he had to come up with a reason, he’d say it was because Sarah and Jen clearly had experience with dogs, and he wanted to show that his training could work for someone who didn’t. Mainly, he wanted to see what she would do. Everything about Rebecca was sunny, like her whole life went according to plan. A dog would shake that up. They were messy and she was clearly into neat.
Rebecca wiped both hands down her white shorts. “Freddie.” She called him with a firm voice and then whistled like Cole.
He knew his eyebrows rose, but he was pretty surprised at the impressive whistle.
So was Freddie. The dog trotted up, spared Cole one glance and then stopped in front of Rebecca.
“Sit, Freddie.” When the beagle carefully folded his legs and sat, they all cheered. Freddie’s total time obeying the command had to be less than two seconds, but he was entitled to join in the party. Rebecca was still cheering when she dropped down in the grass and caught Freddie before he could lick her face.
She was giggling, her hair a curly halo blowing in the weak breeze, when she glanced up to catch Cole’s eye. “I’m not sure he’s cured, but you’ve made a good start, professor.”
Was she teasing him? Cole’s lips twitched in response, but answering her smile with his would be a mistake. She didn’t trust him. That was for the best.
Watching her smile fade as she realized who she was talking to confirmed his own mistrust.
Anxious to get the answer he wanted, Cole rolled his shoulders and heard the whisper of another seam. The shirt he’d found in his closet had been too big at eighteen, a thrift-store find his grandmother had bought for his graduation. He fit the shirt now like he fit his old life in Holly Heights.
“I say yes.” Sarah bent to run a hand down Freddie’s back. “I like his style.”
“You want someone with a green thumb,” Jen muttered. “And a strong back. Also, a good way with animals.” She sighed. “But a record, a history of bad decisions.” Her lips twisted. “Sorry. I’ve got to say no. For safety.”
Cole watched Rebecca’s shoulders relax. She’d been scared to death they might hire him.
“I don’t need a title. Forget assistant manager. I can just be a...worker.” He clenched the wooden seat with both hands to keep from making embarrassing begging motions. “One week. I’ll work for free for one week. And you call me extra help or something. I don’t need the title. But I need this job.” His mouth was too dry to say much more. “I need this place. I need this chance.” The words tasted terrible on his tongue, but he was desperate.
Everyone turned to Rebecca. “We should do some interviews. And if he’s the most qualified, then...” She shrugged. The way she studied the ground instead of meeting his stare was cowardly.
Cole was ready to mumble something about hoping they’d keep him in mind so he could escape, but no one was paying any attention to him. All the women were frowning at...Rebecca.
“I have to work with you, so I’ll make the final call. Better not make me regret it.” Sarah was shaking her head as she stepped around Rebecca and Freddie. “But I have two conditions.”
Cole was already nodding when she held out her hand.
“You work for one month as a probationary period.” Sarah held her hand up to keep him from shaking it. “With pay. And you start tomorrow. Very early.”
“Great.” Relieved and more optimistic than when he’d walked in that day, Cole whistled for Freddie. The beagle raced across the yard, ears flapping in the breeze, to lurch to a stop at his feet in an awkward sit. They still had a lot of work to do and Freddie would forget most of what he’d learned today, but he wasn’t afraid. As long as the dog treats held, Freddie would be the perfect student. “Good boy.” Cole scratched his ears and enjoyed the light wave of laughter that floated in the silence as Freddie flopped on his side to offer him his belly.
“He’s gonna be a success.” Cole scratched the dog and then said, “Let’s go, Freddie.”
Inside, the dog bounded from one kennel to the next, baying his hellos, and Cole picked him up to set him inside his own kennel. Freddie’s expression was predictably heartbreaking. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Fred.”
Conversation was impossible with all the barking and howling, so the group was silent until he stopped in the lobby. “Sunrise?”
Sarah wrinkled her nose. “It’s best to start early in this heat.”
“I’ll be here.” So much weight rolled right off his back as he stepped out into the gravel parking lot that it was easier to stand tall. Spotting EW and his truck idling in the lot was almost more than he could handle. Relief and gratitude and enough fear and remorse that this was what his life had come to all roiled in his brain and he wasn’t sure whether to cry or hit something.
But he had an audience. The ladies working with Paws for Love were on one side. EW was on the other. So he took a deep breath of searing Texas air and got inside the truck.
“Thought you could use a ride.” EW didn’t glance in his direction but raised a hand in a wave to the ladies. “You got the job.”
“I could have walked it, but yeah, I did.” Walking was easy. Depending on EW or anyone would get him in trouble, but it was nice to ride in this heat. Neither one of them said anything else until EW rolled past the entrance to the trailer park.
“This definitely deserves a beer, EW, but let’s not go to the new gas station.” Cole wasn’t sure he was ready to walk in those doors yet.
“Groceries, kid. Maybe some lunch.” EW shook his head. “Too early for beer anyway.”
Was EW done drinking? None of his business. “And a new shirt,” Cole said.
EW nodded and that was it. Cole turned his face into the hot wind blowing in through the window because in half a second he was going to do something shameful like cry.
He had a job and a place to live. Nothing could stop him from keeping his promise now.
CHAPTER FOUR (#uebdc953b-c3a0-596b-8bfa-2a541e5b86da)
REBECCA TURNED AWAY as EW’s rusty truck puttered out of the parking lot. The cool air inside the building did nothing to chill the heat in her cheeks.
As soon as the glass door closed behind her, the silence in the tiny lobby was uncomfortable.
“So, that was all the business we had to take care of today, right?” Rebecca said airily as she retreated behind the counter to grab her tote. She wanted out. She did not want to examine her reaction to Cole Ferguson. The file of applications was easy to find, so she waved it and set it on the counter; then she bent and picked up everything Cole had dumped on the ground. “Great. I have a contractor coming to install the cabinets and new appliances, the moment I’ve been dreaming of for years.”
“You have nothing else to say? What’s with the personality transplant?” Jen asked.
Sarah leaned against the counter. “Explanation, please. You’re the one who’s all about saving the world and making a difference. You had an easy opportunity here and you... What would you call it?”
“Freaked. She freaked out,” Jen said. She frowned and then straightened. “Did he threaten you or something?”
Rebecca dropped the tote on the counter. “No. Not with words but...”
Her best friends in the world immediately stepped forward. “Not with words?” Jen asked.
“I mean, no, he didn’t threaten me. On purpose.” Rebecca rubbed the throbbing spot right in the middle of her forehead. Her attempts at explanation were only making things worse. “He was completely polite but insistent.”
“Because he was desperate. I’ve been there.” Sarah nodded.
“Except you aren’t the size of a large green superhero, complete with clothes ripping at the seams.” Rebecca pressed both hands to her cheeks. “Sorry. He rattled me. I don’t know what else to say. Add his history and it’s a bad idea to have him around.”
“But you saw how patient he was with Freddie.” Sarah raised both eyebrows. “There’s no way you feel the same way now.”
Their confusion felt like disappointment to Rebecca. She was letting them down. Her role had always been to lead them to do the right thing, sometimes kicking and screaming. This time, she’d failed miserably. The sharp sting made it hard to find the right words.
“There’s no rule that says bad people can’t like dogs, you know.” Jen smoothed her hair behind her ear. “Or even that dogs can’t like bad people.” Her own dog had come through some serious neglect and possible abuse with a firm love for people.
“Coming from you, the pessimist’s view is no surprise,” Sarah snapped.
“Oh, yeah,” Jen said as she straightened to her full, unimpressive height. “And let’s talk about you ignoring your board’s direction. You didn’t have approval to hire him in the first place.”
“Well, you should have brought that up then, dear board member,” Sarah said sweetly. “You or Rebecca could have played that card if you want to be sticklers about our board of directors. We have a done deal at this point.”
Watching them glare at each other got old fast. “Sarah’s right,” Rebecca said. “She’s in charge here and her offer was smart. A probationary period will help us all decide whether he fits.” She still couldn’t figure out how they’d make him go if he wanted to stay, but that was a problem for another day.
“Fine. I’m here to help Les and Shelly with the outdoor pens.” Jen flexed her muscles. Les was the retired veterinarian who did most of the day-to-day care at the shelter. He and Shelly were an item. “Nothing like trying to teach a classroom of kids all hopped up on summer break the difference between convex and concave polygons to make me want to hammer something.”
“I have bills. Bills, bills, bills,” Sarah said with a sigh. “Save me some hammering.”
Relieved no one was examining her failure closely, Rebecca clasped her hands together. “Once my kitchen is up and running, I’m planning a dinner party no one will forget. Rack of lamb or...something in one oven. Chocolate soufflé in another.” Double ovens. It would be heaven, a luxurious, over-the-top heaven she could never have afforded without the lottery win. She could almost picture her mother’s dismay.
“You need to get out more,” Jen muttered. “No one should get that excited over a kitchen remodel.”
“We could all go out to eat so you don’t have to work so hard. Daniel and Steph would love some Tex-Mex before they fly to Lima. Can you imagine? A whole year before they’ll be back.” Sarah shook her head. “And Steph’s been so busy in Austin, I’ve barely seen her.”
Rebecca didn’t want to spend any time thinking about her brother and Stephanie being so far away for so long. Their work for HealthyAmericas, a program that matched doctors to underserved communities in Central and South America, was so important, but she loved having everyone close. Flying to Lima herself for a visit would take more bravery than she had and a prescription for really strong drugs.
At some point, she was going to have to see about getting both.
“But I love my new kitchen.” Rebecca frowned. “I want to use it.” For all the guilt she was experiencing over spending some of her new fortune on such a selfish project, she looked forward to using the new kitchen every single chance she got. The guilt could be overcome with the smell of baking bread. Probably.
Sarah and Jen shook their heads. Between them, they could barely boil an egg. What did they know of the joy of brand-new appliances?
At least they could poke fun at her without arguing with each other. “I’ll be a little less rich thanks to the big donation they’re taking to HealthyAmericas. Steph should be cooking me dinner.”
Jen wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Nobody wants that.”
“Think this dinner is actually about something else, like a big announcement?” Sarah asked and fluttered her eyelashes.
Rebecca snapped her head around so fast a sharp pain landed at the base of her skull. “Announcement? Like what?” An engagement? Stephanie and Daniel had known each other forever and Stephanie had been half in love with him all that time, but it had only been a few months since Stephanie blackmailed her way in to a trip to the Andes to see his work in exchange for a big donation. Surely they weren’t that close.
Were they?
Rebecca shuffled through the junk in her tote to find her phone. With one quick punch, she had Stephanie on the line. “Are you and Daniel getting ready to make an announcement?”
Stephanie cleared her throat. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
Confused about whether she should be relieved or disappointed, Rebecca said, “But you guys are good, right?” They seemed so in love. That had to be true.
“What is going on with you? Of course we’re fine. Your brother is currently pricing an X-ray machine and happier than a pig in mud. I’m planning my first newsletter. We’ve got a website up. I’ll email you the address. No worries, Bex. We’re great. Any announcement...well, you’ll be the first person I tell. I promise.” Stephanie laughed. “Your brother just turned a nice shade of pink. We’ve only been ‘us’ in Texas. Daniel still expects me to wither up and die when we go back to Peru. Little does he know, I have plans. Big plans. Opening that office in Lima, setting up networks of doctors serving in the remote areas of the Andes...I’m going to be too busy for any withering.” She was silent for a long minute. Rebecca wondered if there was some silent communication going on. “He’s got questions, but me, I have the answers.”
Rebecca eased back, aware of the tension in her shoulders. Daniel had made a terrible decision and had gone around the Holly Heights hospital’s rules to help a patient. His big head had caused him to say things there was no coming back from so he’d retreated. All the way to South America.
On this visit, he seemed happy. Fulfilled. Like he’d found the work he was meant for.
She didn’t want him to blow a good thing with her best friend by being stupidly noble. Thank goodness Stephanie had things under control. She’d always been the brave one in the group.
Jen was a soft center covered by a hard shell. She’d fought for everything she had and used that fierceness to protect her friends and family whenever necessary.
The three of them had been friends long enough that they might as well be related.
They’d recently reconnected with Sarah and folded her into the group as easily as cream into coffee, and she was proving to be a savvy businesswoman.
Rebecca was the one who encouraged others, except for Cole—the one guy who’d caused her to collapse with the trembles—and dreamed of double ovens.
How depressing.
Get a grip. All of this is happening because of you.
“Well, okay. I’ll get back to planning a dinner worthy of my two favorite do-gooders.”
“Bread. Lots of bread,” Stephanie said right before she hung up.
Relieved and sad at the reminder that they’d be leaving soon, Rebecca dropped the phone back in her tote. Everyone was moving or growing or changing. Stephanie had gone to Peru because of her. Sarah had a chance to save her shelter because of Rebecca. Even Jen had discovered the love of her life, a pit bull named Hope, in a roundabout way because of Rebecca. She’d stumbled with Cole Ferguson, but the fact that Sarah had been able to step up and do the right thing only showed the power of Rebecca’s good influence.
Right?
“No announcement, but they’re fine. On that note, I’m off to see my beautiful kitchen,” Rebecca said and pasted on a happy smile. Sarah and Jen were bickering on the way down the hall to the outdoor pens. Sarah and Jen at Paws for Love, Stephanie and Daniel in Lima, everyone had work they had to get to.
Except for her.
“That’s because my kids are scheduled for counseling sessions already, and I’ve been prepping my best students for a full year for all their college entrance exams and forms.” Rebecca dropped her tote on the hot passenger seat and slid in behind the wheel. “I’m prepared. I’ve been working.”
Her own defense didn’t do much to lighten the guilty load as she pulled into her tiny driveway. Bill Hayney was already unloading a beautiful refrigerator.
Today she was going to celebrate her renovated kitchen.
No one was criticizing her. Figuring out why she was so defensive should go at the top of her to-do list.
* * *
THE SOUND OF giggling girls on Friday afternoon reminded Cole that it was quitting time. The best thing about starting at the crack of dawn was being able to leave before school got out and the volunteers arrived. Over the past week, he’d settled into an easy routine at Paws for Love, one that limited most of his contact with actual people.
The Texas heat was bad enough to make a man daydream about avalanches and blizzards, but he was doing a good job.
“Here. Drink this.” Shelly handed him a tall glass of ice water, the condensation rolling down the sides in the most perfect way. “You worry me.”
“I’m tough,” Cole grumbled before he tipped the glass and drained it. The sharp cold brought on a brain freeze that was a tiny price to pay for the sweet burn of cold all the way down. He should have taken a break sooner.
As he flopped down in the shade next to the bench Shelly was seated on, he glanced over his shoulder to shoot her a thankful smile, but it died on his lips when he saw Rebecca and two teenage girls staring out the window. All three immediately disappeared and he wondered how long they’d been watching him work.
And why.
“I thought you’d left for the day,” Shelly said. “Otherwise, I’d have brought two glasses of water.”
When Cole realized he’d taken the glass of water she’d made for herself, he straightened up. “Oh, man, I’m sorry. When you offered it to me, I thought...”
She laughed and waved a hand. “You definitely needed it worse than I did. I’ll make another when I go in. This place is starting to shape up.”
“Yeah, I wanted to finish trimming the fence line before I left today.” Leaving early was the best way to avoid conversation with...anyone. Avoiding Rebecca had been on his mind all week. He, Sarah and Shelly worked easily together, mainly because they gave him assignments and left him alone. Alone was how he liked it.
“Sarah’s hustling to have your check ready before you go. Make sure you stop by the office on your way out.” Shelly raised her eyebrows, almost as if she recognized his immediate struggle not to argue that he didn’t need the extra effort.
The money? That he needed.
“Think she’ll let me come in tomorrow?” Cole asked as he wiped his forehead. “I’m making good progress on that second yard. If I can get Les’s help tomorrow, we can put in the gate Sarah wants.”
“You know this is a part-time job, right? You’ve put in more hours than I have this week.” Shelly tapped his arm. “You’re making me look bad, kid.”
“It’s okay. Some of it can be volunteer hours. Free.” Cole shrugged, surprised she was comfortable enough to tease him.
“Take a couple days off. That’s what the rest of us human types do after a long, hard week.” She sighed. “Soak in some air-conditioning somewhere or float in the water or...” She shrugged. “There have to be a million things you’d like to do now.”
That you’re free.
Unfortunately, free time would be dangerous, give him a chance to think things he shouldn’t.
The cough and sputter of EW’s truck floated over the building to their shady spot.
“Sounds like your ride’s here.” Shelly groaned as she stood. “And the new dog won’t wash himself.”
“I’ll be happy to stay and help,” Cole said as he rolled up off the ground. “EW won’t mind.”
“Go. Get your check. Find some weekend. There’ll still be plenty of work here on Monday.” She wrapped her arm through his and pulled him to the doorway. “They won’t bite.”
He grunted as he yanked open the door. She wasn’t talking about the dogs. There was no honor in pretending not to understand what she meant.
“Nope. Just giggle and stare.” He held the door open for Shelly and followed her inside.
“It’s a requirement of being a teenage girl.” She grabbed his sleeve and towed him down the hallway. “The good ones grow out of it.”
Sarah and Rebecca were laughing at the way Freddie rolled back and forth between their two volunteers. One girl would scratch his ears while the other rubbed his belly. Then he’d roll to the other side so they could switch. He was a very happy dog.
When Rebecca covered her mouth to muffle her snorted laughs, Cole shot Shelly a look.
“Hey, he’s a funny dog. That laughter is totally justified, grown-up or not,” she said as her lips twitched.
She was right. This kind of laughter didn’t fill him with uneasy restlessness. Listening to them filled his chest with a weird, warm lump.
Unfortunately, the second they realized he was there, everyone froze. Freddie’s head jerked around and he did an acrobatic spring toward Cole. The instant before he skidded into Cole’s legs, Freddie squatted into an imperfect sit, his tail wagging wildly, the bright white tip a blur.
“Good boy, Fred.” Cole bent to ruffle the beagle’s velvety, floppy ears and scratch under his collar. “Good sit. We’ll work on sticking the landing next week. You be a good boy until Monday.”
The weekend without Freddie and work stretched out like another kind of sentence, solitary without the confinement, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
He could work for free over the weekend. Just to come in and say hello to his second best friend in the world.
“Here, you guys take him out. See if you can get him to come when you call his name,” Rebecca said softly to the two volunteers. She handed them dog treats and Freddie was ready for his next test.
Cole watched the white tip of his tail disappear through the door before he turned to go.
“I’ve got your check ready,” Sarah said. She darted around them into the lobby and trotted in and out of her office. “Thanks so much for everything you’ve done this week.”
Cole folded and refolded the check while he studied it. “Might be able to get to the flower beds next week.” He forced himself to look up. “If you want. Gonna take some time to clear the old stuff out.”
Rebecca was standing on the other side of the counter, right behind Sarah. She didn’t look up from the papers she had in her hand. Too afraid he’d frown at her or something.
“Maybe. Let’s talk on Monday.” Sarah tipped her head forward. “You know you don’t have to do everything this month, right?” She smiled. “You’ve been such a huge help around here. Next week, let’s talk about a training program. We’re having a big adoption drive in Holly Heights and it would be awesome to have some well-mannered candidates.”
“Sure. I could draw up a schedule to work with more dogs than Freddie.” He’d enjoy that. The new dog, a German shepherd mix, might have the smarts to become a service dog. Right now the animal was unpredictable, lurked in the corner of his kennel with watchful eyes. That made him dangerous. Some basic training would be needed before he could be evaluated, but Cole would like to give it a shot.
Sarah nodded. “Good, but I meant training me and Shelly. The volunteers.” She glanced at Rebecca and cleared her throat. “So on the days you’re not here, we can keep the process going.”
Work with the giggling girls? The dread that swamped him was immediate. He’d never trained people to do anything except leave him alone. His hesitation must have been apparent.
“Please?” Sarah folded her hands together.
A Hillman begging him for help. Add that to the fact that she’d thanked him for doing his job and he’d be willing to try anything she asked. Cole nodded and shoved open the door.
“Hey, have a good weekend,” Shelly called.
Cole waved his hand as he slid inside EW’s truck.
EW raised two fingers and then backed out of the spot. “Running like the bogeyman after you, young fella. Everything okay?”
“Too much...niceness for one day.” Cole hung one hand out the door and closed his eyes as the hot breeze dried his skin.
The prospect of staring at the walls of the trailer while the heat beat down on the roof didn’t thrill him. Besides, he didn’t need a lot of time to worry about what the next week might hold. He’d either pass or fail. Worrying wouldn’t change a thing.
“Got any jobs you need help with?” he asked as he slouched against the seat.
“Yep.” EW drove right past the entrance to the trailer park. When he didn’t slow down at the closest gas station, Cole relaxed a bit. It didn’t matter where they were headed. Anywhere with company was going to be better than time alone.
EW pulled into Junior’s Bait and Tackle where a neon sign shouted We Cash Checks.
“Beer?” Cole asked as he opened the door.
EW pursed his lips. “Well, that’s not a terrible idea, but get the bait first. Some Cokes. We’re goin’ fishin’. Found a nice shady spot yesterday that’s bound to work.”
Cool water. Shade. Silence. EW was a genius.
The uncontrollable smile that curled Cole’s lips felt good. He’d worked hard for his first week out in the open. With EW’s help, he might enjoy a weekend.
CHAPTER FIVE (#uebdc953b-c3a0-596b-8bfa-2a541e5b86da)
“NOT A SINGLE WORD?” Sarah shook her head. “You really don’t like him, do you?”
Rebecca blew out a frustrated breath. “Just... You won’t understand this, but some people, normal people, can be intimidated by making conversation with others they don’t know. We don’t have anything in common. Besides, he was here for less than ten minutes.”
And she’d been watching him for about five minutes longer than that, but nobody needed to know that part. When her students Alyssa and Madison had joined her at the window to see what she was staring at, she’d nearly died of embarrassment.
Then he’d caught them watching.
Rebecca was pretty sure she was actually a ghost at this point. No one could survive the flaming heat of embarrassment that had swept over her and live to tell the tale.
Up close, his power was scary. She’d been amazed at how easily he’d finished the cleanup of the yard that would have taken her a solid month to slog through. He’d mowed and trimmed the huge expanse. The trash that had accumulated there when it was not being used had all been removed. And he’d done it in heat that made stepping outside a test of endurance.
Rebecca would never have imagined the man who’d barged in that first day could be so gentle with the animals.
Cole had doubled the shelter’s capacity with his strength and focus and hard work. In one week, he’d made a change that was going to impact the shelter for years to come. Not just the shelter, either. Holly Heights would be better off, too.
She’d almost chased him away. Why? Irrational fear. How humbling that was to consider.
“What? Did I miss something?” Rebecca ran a hand through her curls self-consciously when she realized Sarah and Shelly were watching. She hadn’t said any of that out loud, had she?
“We’re waiting on you to finish the conversation in your head,” Sarah said with a smirk. “What I said was that you have never once in the years I’ve known you had trouble making conversation with strangers. And we know Cole. So give me another excuse, but this time put it in the form of a question. Just for fun.” Sarah started humming the Jeopardy theme.
Shelly was coldly patient. For the first time since Rebecca had met the older woman who’d kept the shelter afloat until Sarah stepped up, Shelly’s mouth was pursed with displeasure. “That boy is doing the work of two men for this place, I’ll have you know.”
Hearing sweet Shelly, the grandmotherly type who enjoyed the cat room above all else, voice Rebecca’s own thoughts made it hard to stand still. Rebecca wanted to duck behind Sarah or at least hold up both hands as a shield. Then Shelly glanced at Sarah. “I’ll go let the first group of dogs out.”
She narrowed her eyes at Rebecca and marched down the hallway.
“Oops. I should have waited until his biggest fan had left the room.” Sarah shrugged. “We’re one week in. Les and Shelly both believe Cole is better than Christmas, payday and a Cowboys win all combined.”
Rebecca nodded. “Great. I’m glad. And I don’t dislike him.”
“No, you vibrate with nerves whenever he’s around.” Sarah braced both arms on the counter. “What’s the deal?”
Telling Sarah about her disastrous attempt at breaking up a fight wouldn’t explain all the reservations she had about Cole, but it might be enough to buy her some understanding.
“At school, I did a stupid thing. I tried to stop a fight between two boys.” Rebecca squeezed the counter tightly. “Together those boys might make one of Cole Ferguson, but that didn’t stop Eric from pinning me against the lockers, his hand wrapped around my throat. If he hadn’t come to his senses, he could have hurt me. And...I don’t know. That first day, when Cole walked in, he surprised me, rattled me.”
Sarah reached over to squeeze Rebecca’s hand. “That’s scary, Rebecca. I had no idea, but Cole’s just...a guy, no more dangerous than the veterinarians we work with or Will.”
Except none of those guys had spent time in prison. Rebecca wanted to argue, but she’d already disappointed her friends enough.
“Listen, maybe it’s a matter of time,” Sarah said. “I’ve worked with him for a week and haven’t seen one bit of anything other than a man determined to work himself into...something. Exhaustion, maybe. I don’t know.” She sighed. “It sort of reminds me of how I worked here in the early days. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I knew that it could save me.” Sarah blinked rapidly. “It did. You did, with your money and support for this place. And together we can do the same for him. So...try, okay?”
Sarah Hillman, formerly the queen of Holly Heights High School who had terrorized anyone unfortunate enough to cross her, was asking Rebecca to be nice.
The change in circumstances was dizzying. Rebecca had started her first charity in elementary school. Her mother had volunteered them to supply a school in Africa with shoe boxes filled with toys and basic toiletries, so Sarah had convinced her fifth grade class to perform chores in exchange for donations. She’d exceeded the goal by 50 percent. Austin’s homeless, wounded veterans, Romanian orphans—Rebecca had raised funds for them all.
All that work was part of being a Lincoln. They did the right thing. Helping others was all in a day’s work.
Cole Ferguson needed some of that charity.
“I will. I will try.” If she didn’t, she’d be the worst sort of hypocrite.
“Okay, let’s go see what Freddie has destroyed.” Sarah rushed around the counter and wrapped her arms around Rebecca’s neck. “You, you’re awesome. You know that, right? No one cares as much as you do.” Sarah squeezed her arm.
Rebecca nodded to satisfy Sarah. Then Sarah towed her down the hall by one arm and they were caught in a low-level circus in the shelter’s play yard. Happy dogs were barking at something outside the fence, two Lab mixes were zooming in a breakneck game of chase, and it was almost impossible to walk, thanks to a begging hound anxious for a treat or a scratch, or any drop of attention.
As she and Shelly worked with the girls whose volunteer hours at the shelter would enhance their college applications to Baylor and SMU, Rebecca did her best to ignore the small voice whispering in her mind that she should be doing more.
This was important, but it was so comfortable. Writing checks was easy.
Improving Holly Heights was nothing like serving as a doctor in Peru the way her older brother, Daniel, was doing. Stephanie was going to leave home to set up a network to help him. Even Sarah was out of her comfort zone with this shelter, although every day the leadership settled on her shoulders better.
If she was doing everything she could, Rebecca thought, she would feel better. Wouldn’t she?
Talk about First World problems. The lottery winner is morose.
As they worked, Rebecca knew Sarah had one eye on her at all times. Pretending to be her normal self wasn’t working. Even after the shelter closed and she did her very best not to study the entrance to the trailer park she passed on her way home, Rebecca couldn’t get Sarah’s words out of her head. Just try. Not even her nightly twirl and lovefest with her new kitchen could silence them.
The quartz countertops sparkled. The stainless steel commercial-sized refrigerator was quietly awesome. The double ovens were charming as she preheated them to prepare some of her famous cookies.
But all she could hear was Sarah’s words. Just try. The memory of Cole’s face as he said goodbye to Freddie that afternoon distracted her, and before she knew it, three dozen cookies were cooling on racks. Her top-of-the-line dishwasher was quietly cleaning her prep bowls while she rested against the counter in her beautiful kitchen.
Her phone dinged to announce an email—Stephanie’s promised link to the new HealthyAmericas website for Peru. Rebecca clicked it and smiled as her brother’s goofy grin took over the screen. He had his arms wrapped around a gaggle of boys who were clearly soccer fans. Every photo on the page showed volunteers working hands-on with kids who had limited access to medical care.
She read a short profile, so clearly written in Stephanie’s voice that it made Rebecca tear up, about a boy they’d met at three years old and the progress he’d made after he received the vaccinations he needed. Rebecca realized Daniel and Stephanie would be able to watch that boy grow. They’d be his neighbor, see his life and the changes they’d made.
Her money was funding that good work. That improved her outlook for half a second.
While she puttered in her fancy new kitchen, Cole was... She had no idea. A man recently released from prison. What were his circumstances? He walked to work from the trailer park. EW picked him up every day. His old button-down had been replaced with the three-in-a-package T-shirts from the local discount store.
Rebecca covered her hot cheeks with her hands as an unexpected wave of shame swept over her. She had everything. Cole was doing his best with the cards stacked against him.
But he’s a criminal. You work hard to have things you enjoy. The logical voice in her head wasn’t sympathetic.
“And I live in my parents’ house, work the job I love because I graduated from a college my parents paid for and spend obscene money on appliances. Then I drift through life, wallowing in my loneliness.” The guilt tightening her stomach made it hard to sit still. “While I avoid Cole because he makes me feel...”
As Rebecca shoved a cookie in her mouth, she picked up her phone to call Jen, the only single friend she had left. After she lured Jen over, she could convince her to do something crazy.
She could take cookies to Cole. That would brighten his life and it was an easy thing to do.
Almost as easy as writing a check. The cynical voice whispering through her mind was new and unwelcome. It sounded a bit like Jen, too.
When Jen answered, Rebecca said, “I have cookies. Come get them.” Once Jen was here, Rebecca would ask her to drive her over to the trailer park. The two of them together should be safe enough. She could make Cole’s night better, smooth things over and get back on Shelly’s good side, get rid of all the cookies that she’d eat all by herself otherwise and have a reason to bake more. So many wins with one simple plan.
“Can’t tonight. The decorator Sarah recommended is demanding to hear my vision before he’ll take the job and paycheck,” Jen snapped. “Save me some.”
“I need to get out of the house. Take a ride with me.” Rebecca dropped her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Or I’ll bring them to you. Are you unpacking?” Luring Jen out to the car would be easy enough, and she had to get out of the house. The rosy glow of the setting sun covered the ceiling in pink.
“No, I have so many magazines still to destroy while I create my design board. I hate decorating homework. I’ll call you in the morning. We’ll shop for my new house’s kitchen, okay?” Jen ended the call before Rebecca could argue. She almost called Jen back.
“Nope. If she wanted company, she’d tell you.” Rebecca paced in a circle around the beautiful new island she’d had installed. It had four outlets and a prep sink. The cost had nearly knocked her backward when her contractor showed her the bid.
And if she spent a minute longer staring at the outrageously expensive gifts she’d given herself, she’d melt down.
Was she brave enough to go to Cole’s trailer all by herself?
No, but she was desperate to uncoil the knot in her stomach.
Before she knew what she was doing, Rebecca had pulled down a tin covered in happy sunflowers and loaded it with cookies. She could deliver them to Jen, no matter how pathetic it might seem. If she got roped into unpacking or whatever do-it-yourself project Jen had tackled, so be it. At least she wouldn’t be running the movie of her regrets through her mind on a constant loop.
Delivering the next batch of cookies to Cole in the bright light of day made so much more sense anyway.
One turn through town meant she was nowhere near Jen’s new place on the highway headed out to the state park. Instead, she was going toward the shelter. And Cole’s trailer park.
“Just try,” Rebecca muttered as she turned in. If worse came to worst, she could say she was visiting EW. Her father had taken his Cadillac in to EW’s garage every three months like clockwork until EW sold the place. She could remember his old waiting room clearly. He’d favored wildlife scenes and gospel music instead of blaring country tunes and talking heads of twenty-four-hour news channel like the dealership she frequented in Austin.
Of course, EW wouldn’t remember that from fifteen years ago. And no one would believe her story.
The growing shadows didn’t help the trailer park. Everything seemed scary in the twilight, especially the three kids standing under the basketball goal. At this distance, making out their faces was difficult, but the one standing directly under the goal could be Eric.
“Such a terrible idea, Rebecca,” she muttered as she squinted at the nearest lopsided mailbox. “Don’t be ridiculous. No one attacks a woman carrying a tin of cookies.”
This is not your smartest plan. The kid had wrapped his hands around her neck.
Should she even get out of the car?
The door to Cole’s trailer opened, spilling a golden rectangle of light down the steps.
Busted. She had no choice now.
Rebecca stared at his expressionless face, willing him to come down the steps and cross the tiny yard. She’d roll down the window and hand him the cheerful tin with a conciliatory smile and a finely worded apology without leaving the safety of her comfortable, four-door sedan. Then she’d throw the car in Reverse and return to the safe side of Holly Heights.
But her telepathy failed. Cole pressed one shoulder on the doorframe and waited.
Rebecca shook out her clammy hands before turning off the ignition. Holding the tin of cookies like a peace offering and a shield, she slid out of the driver’s seat.
* * *
REBECCA WAS WEARING her petrified expression again. Whatever she’d been watching down at the end of the street had better be some kind of monster. Otherwise, he was doing it again without lifting a finger.
Scaring a woman with his breathing and standing upright.
If he ever wanted female company, this would be something he’d have to work on.
“I should have called.” Her breathless voice was hard to make out, but she repeated herself as she stopped in the light at the bottom of the steps. “I’m sorry. The polite thing to do is to call.”
“No phone.” Cole didn’t move from his perch at the top. If he did, she’d drop the tin and run for the safety of her car. He had a feeling whatever was inside would be compensation for whatever little digs her visit made to his confidence.
“Oh, you don’t have a phone.” She bobbled the tin and managed to catch it. “I would have had to yell really loud then.”
Her joke hit hard on the ground between them. He didn’t smile.
“These days, everyone has a phone. I didn’t...think.” She cleared her throat. “So far, this is going well, am I right?”
“No air-conditioning. No television. Nothing to drive.” Cole straightened. “Want me to go on? I do have running water. The lights work. And I’m not locked behind bars, so I’m making progress.”
“I brought cookies.” Rebecca shrugged. “A peace offering.”
Cookies. The only choice homier and more downright small-town America would have been apple pie. This woman with her golden curls and frilly apron—she must wear it so often she’d forgotten she still had it on—was standing there with baked goods in her hands.
And shaking in her shoes.
The whole situation was nuts.
“What will scare you less? If you tiptoe forward and deposit them on the bottom step or if I come down to get them?” Cole muttered. If she’d brought something else, like spinach, he’d have closed the door in her face. He avoided her at work. How dare she come here like this? “I’m not up for visitors.”
He wanted those cookies. He’d investigated all the cookies in the discount store’s bakery but walked away. There was no sense in spending good money on something that would disappoint him. The need for his grandmother’s sugar cookies would go unfulfilled.
Whatever Rebecca held might soften that blow.
“I have something to say to you.” Her voice broke on the last word, ruining her delivery. Rebecca’s shoulders squared off and her chin snapped up. “I am coming inside and you will listen. Then I will give you the cookies.”
Whatever mental pep talk she’d given herself must have been powerful. The teacher voice was enough to make his lips twitch. Instead of breathy nerves, this time he could hear steel and no-nonsense “do what I say or you will regret it, mister.”
She was good at faking confidence. He had to admire that in anyone.
Cole stepped out of the doorway and did a courtly sweep of his hand. “I wouldn’t dare argue with that tone or the boss’s boss.” Then he raised both hands and backed slowly into the living room.
He watched her face carefully, certain he’d see distaste or dismay. Seeing how the other half survived would be good for her.
Rebecca’s march didn’t slow down until she was standing in the center of his grandmother’s tiny kitchen. She did a measured spin to take it all in and then slid the tin on the empty counter.
“I used to have the same refrigerator.” When she met his stare, her lips flattened. “Put your hands down. I’m not here to rob you.” The small flush that bloomed in her cheeks the second she realized she’d said “rob” to a would-be robber should have been satisfying. But it made her blue eyes brighter.
“Of course not. Nothing here to steal.” Cole lowered both hands. “But I don’t want to scratch my chin and scare you into screaming bloody murder.”
Rebecca crossed both arms over her chest.
“Especially when you might have dropped the cookies.”
Her eyes met his, and some of the grim determination on her face faded.
“You don’t have a weapon, do you?” Cole asked. “If I sneeze, are you going to pull out a handgun and stand your ground?” He lowered his hands.
“Just cookies. A tin of cookies that I can toss out the door at any second.”
He wondered if she knew her shoulders were raised so high that they brushed her golden curls.
“Wasted home cooking. That would be a shame. I might actually cry.” Instead of sitting on the verge of tears like the biggest wimp in Texas. Whether it made him mad or sad, too much thinking brought out the worst in him.
That didn’t mean he was up for visitors, though.
“That almost sounds like the truth,” she said as she shifted from one foot to the other. “You haven’t even tasted them. What if I’m a terrible cook?”
“Frilly apron like that, I figure you must have some skill.” If he could still grin, he would have at the way her head snapped down to check if he was telling the truth.
“Great.” Rebecca closed her eyes. “Exactly the good impression I was hoping for.” She reached behind her to untie the apron, whip it off and fold it carefully before placing it on the counter. Her khakis were still spotless and the white shirt she was wearing was the same one she’d worn to the shelter. There was not one wrinkle in the cotton.
Millionaires probably had a staff dedicated to making sure they didn’t wrinkle.
Showering off the fish smell before he put on his new pair of shorts and one of the three clean T-shirts he owned had been all Cole could manage after the long day.
“Why are you here?” Cole asked. She still didn’t trust him. He wasn’t sure she realized she was leaning toward the door even as she did her best to pretend she was in control.
“I made cookies. I wanted you to have some. You’ve done such a good job this week.” Rebecca clasped both hands in front of her. Her eyes darted to meet his before she returned to studying the linoleum.
“That’s what you came to say? Good job?” No way. Cole knew better.
“This is me making amends. For...when you came in to apply for the job. It’s clear you were the best man for the position.” She smiled. “And I’m welcoming you to Holly Heights.”
And now she was here to make herself feel better. With cookies and a frilly apron and spotless clothes and a superiority that she’d been born with.
Cole grunted. “Well, Your Highness, it’s difficult to express my gratitude for the effort. I have the job. No hard feelings.” He hadn’t done anything wrong, except talk over her and insist on an interview. She thought her expression of remorse was a big gesture, no doubt.
But she had a stubborn streak. She pressed her lips together. “Fine, I understand I have no reason to be so...”
“Afraid?” Cole said. He didn’t want to rehash his history, but curiosity was building. Where was she going with this?
“Right. My only excuse is that I had a...run-in with a student, ended up with his hands around my throat. When you came in that day, it surprised me—”
Cole held up a hand. “I get it. First rule of prison life is not to sneak around behind a man. Good way to get hurt.” And even when he’d made his presence known, Stitch, his cell mate, had reacted violently when Cole caught him off guard. Fight or flight was powerful, especially when a person’s only choice was fight.
“Except this isn’t prison. You weren’t sneaking. And there was no reason to...” Rebecca pursed her lips. “Freak out.”
“I respect fear.” Cole shrugged. “Better than most, I get being afraid. And I should never have put my hands on you.” He had no explanation for why he had except desperation. This soft, sweet woman wouldn’t understand desperation. “The kid. What happened?” Why was he asking? The situation had zero to do with him. He wasn’t getting involved with anyone, much less her.
“He realized the mistake he was making, I think.” Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut. “He might be your neighbor. When I drove up, I’m sure it was Eric standing under the basketball goal.”
“Ah, another reason to shake like you were about to meet with a serial killer when you opened your car door.” Cole shoved aside the curtain to look out the window. The same three kids who’d loitered under the goal almost every night that week were in their usual spot. “Don’t know them, but they spend a lot of time right there. Days and nights.” He didn’t add that that was where all his trouble started. The plan to steal his grandmother’s station wagon for a joyride had hatched right there and ended with a long walk to town and his grandmother having to pay a tow truck to pull it out of the mud. His first taste of alcohol had been under that goal.
Ricky Martinez had shown him the handgun he’d “borrowed” from his stepfather there, too.
Maybe he shouldn’t have felt the wave of nostalgia for the goal. The kids might be better off if he knocked it down.
“I haven’t seen him at school since that day.” She shook her head. “Why didn’t it occur to me that he hadn’t been there since then? It’s been more than a week.”
“Seems like that would be a relief.” Cole let the curtains drop. A weak breeze lifted the fabric before it settled. “Just like me avoiding you was my gift to you. Accept it and move on instead of invading my space with a peace offering I can’t refuse.” He shrugged. “Assuming those cookies are any good.”
“It’s my job to assist these kids and make sure they have a plan for the future,” Rebecca muttered as she jerked the lid off the tin.
His input was unnecessary. She was talking to herself.
She sighed and held out the cookies, her mouth downturned.
“Forget about me and those guys. Nothing but trouble that direction. Focus on the kids you can help.” Cole picked two of the biggest cookies and then set the tin on the table next to his grandmother’s photo album. A split second later he realized he should have shut it before confronting Rebecca. He’d been trying to distract himself by flipping through the pages. Sixth grade had been a rough year for him. If she got a load of that school picture, she’d die of laughter instead of fright. “Those girls headed to college appreciate your help. Save yourself some aggravation. Work on them. Leave the rest of us...” Behind. Where we fall. In the dust. He wasn’t sure what words finished that sentence.
He took a bite as she slammed both hands on her hips. Wrong thing to say.
“I’m supposed to help them all. And that boy needs his high school diploma.” She paced in a line back and forth in front of the coffee table, her fingers twisted together in a tight knot. “Loitering like that is only going to lead to trouble.”
“No argument here.” Cole nodded as he took a bite of the chocolate chip cookie. Then he closed his eyes to savor it. Nothing tasted like homemade.
“So, what are we going to do about this?” Rebecca stopped pacing to wait for his answer.
He couldn’t be bothered. They weren’t his grandmother’s sugar cookies, but they were heaven.
When the first cookie was gone, Cole realized she was waiting for him to say something. “What?”
“I asked what we’re going to do about Eric. Those kids. Out there.” She pointed at the window in case he couldn’t add all the clues. “We have to do something. Good people don’t walk away when they can see someone needs help. What should we do tonight?”
“Nothing. You’re too scared to say boo to them and I’ve got all I can handle keeping a roof over my head.” He broke the second cookie in half and held a piece in each hand.
“Unacceptable.” Rebecca pursed her lips. “Try again.”
He thought about arguing. The firm set of her jaw indicated she was ready to go a round or two.
Cole sighed, set his cookie down and stood abruptly. If that didn’t send her on her way, he’d be shocked. He held both arms out in a trick he’d learned to make himself seem bigger.
More dangerous.
The more he said with body language in prison, the fewer bruises he’d picked up.
She didn’t retreat, but something about her posture shrank. Her hands were clenched in white-knuckled knots. Standing her ground was costing her.
“I’m not going to panic. Not again. No one who hums when he bites into a chocolate chip cookie is going to hurt me.” She tapped her chest. “I make the best cookies in Holly Heights.”
Cole pressed one hand to his chest and dropped down on the couch.
“Also, that’s a dirty trick, using my fear against me.” Rebecca’s disappointed face wasn’t quite as powerful as his Mimi’s, but it was hard to ignore the guilty feeling he’d always gotten when his grandmother gave him the same sad eyes.
“And now we know it doesn’t work,” Cole muttered. “When did that happen?”
“Possibly it was the sight of your knobby knees.” Rebecca tilted her head, a bright smile chasing away clouds of worry. “Now I know your weak spots.” She blinked so innocently as she said it that he studied her face. She was teasing him? They were alone. She had no safety net.
He didn’t smile but watched her until she got that nervous V in the middle of her forehead.
Her smile faded as she stepped closer to the door. When she had one hand on the doorframe, she stopped. “You could talk to them? Tell them they should be in school?”
Cole shook his head slowly. “Not going to happen. I made a promise. No more trouble. They are trouble.” She was trouble.
Rebecca nodded slowly. “If I leave my phone here, will you call the police if things get out of hand when I go tell them they should be in school?” She snapped her fingers. “I could pay you in more cookies.” Her enthusiastic smile told him she’d won plenty of cooperation previously with charm and baked goods.
For a split second, the idea that she was trusting him to have her back, even from way back, by being her phone call lifeline amused him. Her opinion of him had taken a small turn, at least. Then he realized she honestly thought baked goods could fix everything. How naive. And insulting.
“You’ve done your good deed, so your guilty conscience should be taken care of. Go home. Call their parents. Help the kids who want your help.” Cole waved another cookie. “Write a cookbook or something, but learn the lesson that kid tried to teach you. Don’t stick your nose in his business and you’ll be okay.”
Now get out. He didn’t say it. He didn’t have to.
He expected an argument. Instead, she pointed at the tiny photo his Mimi had framed and hung over the sink. “Is that the county fair?”
Cole frowned as he tried to follow the conversation.
“It looks like the building where they do all the craft and food judging.” Rebecca bent to study the photo. “Someone should have brushed your hair.”
“Someone did. The tousled hairstyle was in.” That sounded like a criticism of his grandmother. She’d done her best to hold him down and make him presentable. It wasn’t her fault he’d taken that as a challenge. “And yeah, that’s my grandmother and me at the fair.”
“Blue ribbon. For what?” Rebecca asked.
Cole rubbed his aching head. “What does it matter? Baking. She won a ribbon for baking sugar cookies, but she’s dead, so you don’t have to worry about losing your cookie queen title.”
Even he was surprised at how angry he sounded. Instead of arguing or telling him to shove his head in the toilet, Rebecca turned and disappeared into the dark night.
If she gets hurt by three boys when you could have stopped it, you’ll have nothing in this life left to redeem, idiot.
Cole lifted the curtains. The boys had disappeared.
He hurried over to the door to see Rebecca’s taillights fading as she drove out of the trailer park.
Good. This was not his problem. Those kids would learn their hard lessons.
Cole slammed his door shut and locked it before he turned to see Rebecca’s neatly folded apron on his grandmother’s counter. “Probably has a frilly apron for every day of the week. She’ll be fine.”
Cole studied the tin of cookies and considered walking down to EW’s to offer him a couple. The guy had been his lifeline so far. Without him, Cole wouldn’t have stood a chance. That burned, irritated him because he’d been so certain he’d be better off by himself. There’d been no beer runs, but it was a matter of time until EW let him down. Still, that afternoon had been nice, normal, a glimpse at what life could be like. Too bad EW hadn’t taken him fishing at seventeen. How different his life might have been.
What if you could do that for one of those kids? What if that is all it takes to make a difference?
To drown out the little whisper that sounded a lot like Rebecca’s voice, Cole snatched up another cookie. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with my knees,” he grumbled.
He was certain he’d be replaying her visit long after her peace offering was gone.
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