Lori Foster - Worth The Wait

Hiding his satisfaction, he poured the coffee, one for him and one for her. He’d confused her, probably a good thing. “There’s milk in the fridge. No creamer, sorry.”

“I drink it black.” She took the cup, careful not to touch him, and sipped.

“So did you work in a hospital?” He watched her stiffen, her face tightening as if gathering steam. He pressed her anyway. “For a private practice?”

Her eyes narrowed. “No.”

“Maybe the military? Though you don’t look like any soldier I’ve ever—”

“I worked in a school, all right?”

Huh. Testy about it, too. “A school nurse. Yeah, that fits.” Even firmed in annoyance, her mouth was nice, her lips full and soft. “Was it grade school? High school?”

She shook her head, refusing to answer.

“I take it you’ve left it behind?”

“Yes.” She took a big drink of coffee, burned her tongue, cursed low and set the cup in the sink. “I have to go.”

“Because I’m asking too many questions?” He could have told her that the more defensive she got, the more curious it made him. He lowered his voice, almost suspicious now. “Because I’m too interested?”

“Because you’re too damned pushy!” She headed toward the door.

Nathan followed. “Thank you, Brooklin, for fixing up my hand.” He pretended she wasn’t furious. “I really appreciate it.”

Uncertain, she glanced at him. “You’re welcome. The butterfly bandages should hold, but try not to soak it.”

He looked into her unusual golden eyes. “Okay to take a hot shower?”

She swallowed. “Yes.” Her eyes went to his chest, then away. “But make it fast.”

He resisted the urge to tell her that he preferred things slow. Very slow. “Yes, ma’am. Fast it is.” Following her out on the porch, he watched her trot quickly down the steps and all but run away.

Again.

But he was wearing her down and he knew it. She knew it, too, and that’s probably what scared her so much.

What the hell was she hiding?

* * *

Brooklin was thoughtful as she went across the lawns, ignoring Nathan’s attention as it followed her.

Without looking his way, she went back into her own home, closing and locking the door behind her. Struck with inspiration—all kinds of inspiration—she went straight to her computer and sat down.

Closing her eyes, she pictured Sheriff Nathan Hawley. Over six feet tall, muscular, light brown hair and piercing green eyes. She didn’t feel a smidge of guilt; surely every single lady in Clearbrook had, at one time or another, fantasized about him.

Probably the married ladies, too.

Was there anyone, male or female, in Clearbrook who didn’t know him? Or at least of him?

Being the most imposing man she’d ever met, he would make an impression wherever he went, she was pretty sure.

She’d done her research on him. During the rehab of the neighborhood, he’d been brought in as a result of a special election. His past, working with a SWAT team in Columbus, made him a certifiable badass.

And he knew it.

He knew how damned handsome he was, how he affected people.

How he stirred all the ladies.

Yes, everyone in Clearbrook knew him. There’d be no misunderstandings.

Sometimes, Sheriff, when you push, people push back.

* * *

Violet had expected Hogan to give as good as he got, and she’d looked forward to it. Their verbal sparring always left her feeling alive and energized. Unfortunately, the weekend was so crazy they didn’t have time for teasing. They’d barely had time to breathe.

Even the preceding week was nuts, the usual lulls Monday through Thursday almost nonexistent as families flocked in for the rare treat of ribs on a weeknight.

She couldn’t wait to see how busy tomorrow, Friday, would be.

She loved the business; she really did, but clearly she needed to hire more help now. She also needed more picnic tables for outdoor seating. Some of the more regular customers had started bringing their own lawn chairs. Things were awesomely, wonderfully out of control.

All because of Hogan.

Her independent soul rebelled at the idea that he’d been so good for business.

So good for her.

But she wasn’t a woman who hid from the truth. Before Hogan, the business had steadily grown under her management.

With Hogan, it all but exploded.

If she hoped to maintain the current momentum—and she most definitely did—she needed him.

Blast the man—he’d even done a miraculous job with her bookkeeping.

Did he still want her? Was he as sexually frustrated as she was? Had he given up on her, or was he just biding his time?

God, she didn’t even know what she wanted, not where it pertained to an intimate relationship. When it came to business, she wasn’t nearly so indecisive.

Taking advantage of a fifteen-minute break, maybe the only one she’d get, Violet strolled around back to see Hogan. She paused just inside the prep area, making note of his organizational skills even here. He’d set up the area himself, taking it over without a qualm. An interior door kept the hot summer air from competing with the air-conditioning inside and allowed him to leave the exterior door open so that he could easily move inside and still keep an eye on the grills.

A man of many talents.

Something sweet but uncomfortable crowded Violet’s chest, making her heart ache in an odd way. The emotion was unfamiliar and, damn it, unwanted.

Giving herself a moment, she quietly stood there and watched Hogan, wondering what it was about him, specifically, that affected her in such a startling way.

Gorgeous, yes. No one could deny that. The Guthrie brothers had some amazing genes coasting through their bodies. But there were others in the area who were also very attractive, and Violet knew she’d never been even remotely tempted by any of them. Well, the idea of sex had tempted her, certainly. But not all the other stuff, not the confusing emotions that tried to take priority over her restaurant.

And sex, just for the sake of sex, had never really been her thing. Not in a small town like Clearbrook. Not with men she’d later have to regard as customers in her diner. The idea of sex had been nice but, in the end, just not worth it.

Now with Hogan, the complications would be tenfold, and still she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Standing in front of one of three grills, an apron tied low on his hips, he turned a rack of ribs. The man had an organizational skill that blew her mind. He never looked frenzied or overwhelmed. Even now, under a broiling sun while tending multiple hot grills, he moved with efficiency.

At the table closest to him, his brother, Jason, and sister-in-law, Honor, sat with neighbors Sullivan and Lexie. Hogan laughed at something Lexie said, then shook his head.

Violet could remember a time when she’d thought something might’ve been going on between Lexie and Hogan. After all, Lexie was an extremely pretty woman with her short, pale blond curls and her very up-front sexuality.

Then Lexie had moved in with Sullivan, and Violet quit worrying about it. Talk about gorgeous—Sullivan, with his inky-dark hair and midnight eyes, killer instincts and ripped body, would keep any woman happy. He was very intense, mysterious and almost intimidating.

He was fantasy material, but not once had Violet been tempted to seek an involvement.

“So admit I was right,” Lexie said to Hogan while turning to Sullivan for backup. “He looks blissfully happy, doesn’t he?”

Sunlight glinted off Sullivan’s black hair as he pretended to survey Hogan. “You know, honey, I think you’re right. Hogan looks peaceful.”

“She’s absolutely right,” Honor chimed in, aligning herself with her best friend. “Seriously, Hogan, you do look somewhat blissful.”