Gail Martin - Family in His Heart

His question raised her spirits. She gave a halfhearted shrug. “Actually, yes, but—”

“I’d like you to stay on. You worked hard and I respect that.” He smiled a toothy grin. “Plus, you surprised me making that offer to help and I surprised myself by accepting it. I don’t know you from Adam.”

She couldn’t help but grin back. “I saw you were in a bind.”

“I can give you six dollars an hour plus your tips,” he said, shifting closer and keeping his volume just above a whisper. “I know that’s not a fortune, but we have good tippers around here. For good service, that is.”

She pictured Nick’s five dollar tip. Six dollars an hour. Good tips. She remembered working for two-seventy-five plus tips. Rona did a quick calculation. Not a bad wage until she found something better. “I can give it a try.” She paused knowing she had to be honest. “But if something better comes along, I make no guarantees.”

He pondered her comment, probably knowing that not much else was available around the area. “You got yourself a deal.” He stuck out his hand and gave hers a shake.

Bernie held up a finger. “I’ll get you an application.” He strode into the storage room and out again with the forms. “You can sit at a table and fill these out and, while you’re at it, grab a bite to eat. I imagine you’re hungry.” He handed her the papers.

Sit at a table. So much for her back-door escape, and by now she didn’t want to. She was hungry and a free meal sounded good. She ordered a whitefish sandwich—Nick’s had looked good earlier in the day—then poured herself a cup of coffee and headed into the dining room.

Her gaze drifted to Nick, who had once again focused on the newspaper, sipping a cup of coffee that Mandy must have brought to him. He was leaning his shoulder against the wall and she guessed he was waiting for her. She still hadn’t figured out the reason he wanted to talk to her. She eyed him, then decided she might as well get it over with.

Rona bit her lips, knowing she was lying to herself. Getting it over with had nothing to do with her motivation. The man had captured her interest. Still she didn’t want the guy to get the wrong idea.

Grasping the application and her coffee mug, she ambled to his table vacillating between interest and indecision. “Sorry.” She waved the forms toward him and motioned to an empty seat. “Bernie asked me to fill out these forms so I’ll sit—”

“You can fill them out here.” He patted the space across from him. “I don’t bite.”

Her old uneasiness soared into her chest. He said he didn’t bite, but she was too gullible. Even her own brother had conned her into making a decision she lived to regret. She knew her brother, but what did she know about Nick? Wavering with indecision, Rona could feel the stress in her face.

“Please,” he said, his tone warm and genial.

She slid her cup onto the table and placed the application farther away, fearing she would stain them with her coffee. Her hands felt unsteady as she settled onto the chair.

“Fish sandwich’s ready.”

Hearing the voice, she turned and saw Bernie slide her dinner under the warmer. She halted Nick with her index finger and hurried to the serving window for her sandwich.

When she’d settled back on the chair, Nick gave the bun a coy grin. “Looks familiar.”

His lighthearted tone brightened her spirit. “You had one earlier, I know. It looked good.”

“It was.” He gazed at her and she felt heat rise up her neck. Get a grip, she told herself, embarrassed that she’d allowed this stranger to wheedle his way into her life. She’d been duped before and though he said he wasn’t thinking anything, how could she trust him? Maybe he was trying to pick her up. What kind of woman did he think she was? She’d always been too trusting, too unsuspecting, and it was time to change. She steadied herself and peered into his eyes. “I don’t understand why you want to talk with me.”

“I don’t, either,” he said, the same crooked grin spreading to his lips. “I’m curious, I guess.”

“Curious?” His words skittered up her spine. “About what?”

“About you. What made you volunteer to wait tables? I’ve seen waitresses blow their corks and dart off, but I’ve never seen a customer stand up and take over.”

“I’ve worked as a waitress.” She felt the heat in her cheeks deepen. “Are you telling me you came back here because you were curious?”

His gaze drifted out the window, then back to her. “My son has track practice and I’m waiting for him.”

Son. Then he was married. Embarrassed at her presumption, she lowered her eyes to his left hand. No ring. Did lumberjacks wear rings?

“You’re a good dad to pick up your son from school.”

Nick’s mouth twisted.

She’d never had her dad pick her up from anywhere, but then she’d been grateful he didn’t. So often he was drunk.

“He doesn’t have his runabout today and we live on the island.” He tilted his head toward the window.

She followed his nod toward the island across the lake, filled with lovely houses bordered by acres of thickly wooded land. Privacy. Elegance.

“I was at a contractor’s meeting in town and it was convenient.” He gazed out the window toward the water and the look on his face made her wonder.

Convenient? She sensed he was dismissing her “good father” comment. “It’s still nice.” Rona pulled her gaze from the window back to him, her memory drifting back to an earlier comment. “You had a contractor’s meeting. Then, you’re in construction?”

He fingered his coffee mug. “Yes, and I own a resort on Drummond Island, up the road a few miles.”

Construction, owns a resort—the man had to be wealthy. Her earlier lumberjack image vanished and she winced at her simplistic perception.

Her focus lowered to the table and the job application. For some reason she felt guilty. “I guessed you for a lumberjack.”

He chuckled. “No, but my family once owned a logging company years ago.” He offered her his hand. “My name’s Nick Thornton.”

Thornton. She felt another grin settle on her face. So much for Bunyan. She grasped his fingers. “I’m Rona Meyers.”

He studied her face while she waited for him to say something. Anything.

Finally he gestured to the forms she’d pushed against the wall. “Job application?” His expression had changed so quickly to a frown.

She studied him without responding. His smile didn’t return. “I need a job and Bernie offered. I figured I’d take it until something else comes along.”

He drew back, his scowl deepening.

The look threw her. What did he care? “I was honest with Bernie. I told him no guarantee. He still offered me work as long as I want. I don’t suppose I’ll find much else in a small town like this, anyway.”

He shifted her application form with his index finger. “There’s work if you know where to look.”

She studied his face, waiting for him to continue.

Silence fell between them again until she felt forced to speak. “Where should I look?”

“At me.”

“At you?” She enjoyed looking at him. He had a great smile, good looks and a playful personality—if she felt like playing games, which she didn’t right now. “What does that mean?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s too late. You’ve found your own job.” He lifted a newspaper from the chair beside him and slid it on the table, glanced at his watch and rose. “Gary’s probably waiting. I’d better get.”

He dropped two dollars on the table and took a step away before pivoting to face her again. “Nice to meet you, Rona,” he said, walking backward.

She watched him swing through the front door and felt very alone. He appeared outside the window, crossed the street and headed along the sidewalk beside the marina. Then he vanished from her sight.