Worth The Wait

“Redirected it how?”

“To a coworker who looked interested.”

“Oh my God, you’re bragging about passing her off to someone else?”

“Redirecting her,” he emphasized. “It’s not like she was looking to get married.”

“Because that would have really sent you running!” Good God, just shut up, Violet.

After a long look, he picked up the cup and stood. He was halfway to the kitchen when he stopped. Keeping his back to her, he said, “Obviously you know I was married once.”

Violet’s heart started to pound. “Yes.” And she was sorry she’d brought it up.

He looked back over his shoulder at her. “Marriage doesn’t scare me. But cheating, lying women do.”

* * *

Why the hell had he opened his mouth? So she’d been needling him. So what. Nothing new in that, not with Violet. The woman lived to give him a hard time.

Hours had passed since he’d left her sleeping on her sofa, and still he wanted to chew nails. Colt rapped at the back door of the diner and Hogan let him in.

“Uncle Jason said you were here. I was going to work with him today but he said you might need me instead.”

“Yeah.” Hogan rubbed the back of his neck. “I rearranged the schedule for Violet since she’s down for the count. In between taking medicine, she sleeps. The doctor at the ER said she’d be feeling better by Monday, but I think that only means less miserable, not ready to work.”

“She’s home alone now?”

Hogan didn’t like it, either, but he’d set her up on her couch as best he could, arranging her medicine nearby with a glass of juice, a bottle of water and the TV remote. “She’ll be okay. My guess is she’ll sleep most of the day away.”

Colt looked around. “So what can I do?”

Since Violet didn’t have a breakfast menu, the diner opened at noon. Kristy would be in soon, along with another employee. He’d already come up with a plan, so he got Colt going, then did some prep work on his ribs.

With that done, curiosity got the better of him and he moved to Violet’s office to take a look at her paperwork.

Just as he suspected, it was horribly dated, and as far as he could tell, she didn’t have a menu profitability analysis. Critical stuff in restaurant bookkeeping. He’d work on that, he decided, as well as catching her up, but he’d maintain all her regular records, too.

Violet could be prickly. No reason to fire her up more.

Around three, Nathan Hawley, the sheriff, stopped in. Hogan wasn’t surprised when he came around back to sit in the shade.

“I went by to check on Violet.”

Hogan stiffened a little. Nathan was single, and he wasn’t blind. If he hadn’t been tempted by Violet, he had to be dead. “Yeah? How’s she feeling?”

“She told me to go away, and that if I saw you, to tell you to go away, too.”

“How can I go away when I’m not even there?”

“I didn’t ask her,” Nathan said. “She was too limp for me to tease her. But I did notice she was propped on the couch watching a movie. Or pretending to watch it. Overall she looked like a zombie. I told her...”

Just then a single woman, carrying a drink and salad, dark glasses on her eyes, walked out. Ignoring them both, she went to the farthest section of the seating area, to a worn picnic table under a large maple tree.

She sat alone, with her back to them.

Hogan watched her, wondering about her since he’d never seen her before, then realized Nathan was watching her, too.

Amused by the sheriff’s distraction, he grinned. “You were saying?”

Without taking his gaze from the woman, Nathan asked, “What?”

Hogan shook his head. “Never mind. Who is she? Do you know?”

“New neighbor,” he murmured. “Real private.” Finally, Nathan got his gaze off her. “I saw her step outside this morning to jog. I waved, but she didn’t acknowledge me.”

“Does she know you’re the sheriff?”

“My car is parked in the driveway and it’s emblazoned on the side, so yeah, I assume so.”

“If being sheriff doesn’t impress her, maybe she needs to hear you sing.” Nathan cut a mean guitar and sang for the local garage band, the Drunken Monkeys. Where they’d gotten that name, Hogan had no idea. It all happened before he’d moved into the area.

“I wasn’t trying to impress her,” Nathan growled. “Just being neighborly.”

“She’s pretty.” Thick, straight, light brown hair, secured in a low ponytail, hung to the middle of her back. Snug yoga pants and a tank top showed a very nice figure. She still wore running shoes, looked a little sweaty, and gigantic sunglasses hid half her face. “She lives on the other side of you?”

“Moved in a few days ago.”

“Alone?”

“Far as I can tell.”

Just then the woman peered over her shoulder. Those ridiculous sunglasses kept them from knowing if she looked right at them or not, but it seemed likely.

Nathan said nothing, so Hogan did the honors and waved.

She turned back around.

“See what I mean?” Nathan frowned. “What are we supposed to think about that?”

“No idea.” Hogan swiped up a dish towel, wiped his hands, then headed toward her.

Startled, then quickly on board, Nathan followed.

Stopping at her table, Hogan smiled down at her. “Hi. Welcome to Screwy Louie’s.”

Very slowly she put her fork on her salad dish and looked up at him. “Thank you.”

“I’m Hogan Guthrie, the barbecue guru, and this is Nathan Hawley, your neighbor, the sheriff, and part of Drunken Monkeys, the local band.”