Sharon Mignerey - Small Town Secrets

“Same answer as yesterday. No.” She slipped out from under his arm, everything in her body language suggesting she didn’t want the man touching her.

Zach studied him, figuring this might be her ex-husband—he had the right build to be the guy who had been trying to seem sober last night.

“Get out of here so I can work,” she added, a tight smile not quite taking the sting out of her words.

The cop faced the window with a smile and a shrug, his gaze locking with Zach’s. The man gave Léa another squeeze before coming back to the dining room. He stopped next to Zach.

“You Sadie’s nephew?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Zach wiped his hand on his napkin, then offered it. “Zach MacKenzie.”

“Foley Blue,” the cop said, shaking his hand. He nodded toward the kitchen. “That’s my wife.”

“Ex-wife,” Léa called.

He shrugged again. “Say the word, baby, and I’ll even get down on one knee.” His voice was loud enough to be heard by anyone in the dining room.

“And the answer will still be no,” Léa called from the kitchen, which made a couple of the diners laugh.

“You just keep working on her, Foley,” an old guy at a table with a couple other men said. “She’ll come around. Sooner or later, they always do.”

“Never say die,” Foley replied, earning yet another laugh as he sat on the stool next to Zach.

“Even if the lady has already said no?” Zach asked calmly, not liking that the jokes and laughter were at Léa’s expense. The one thing that had been drummed into him from the time he’d started to even notice girls was that when a lady said no she meant no.

Foley’s smile stayed in place when he turned around to meet Zach’s gaze. “Ever been married, MacKenzie?”

Zach shook his head.

“Then you can’t possibly know what it feels like to watch your marriage crumble into ashes.” Foley glanced toward the opening to the kitchen. “The vows said until death do us part.”

The words should not have sounded like a threat, but somehow they did. Tempted as Zach was to add that the vows also said to love, honor and cherish, he didn’t. Instead, he took a sip of his coffee and deliberately let his gaze slide away from Foley’s challenging one.

“Hey, baby,” Foley called to Léa. “Rustle me up a special.”

“We’re out,” she said.

“Zach here got the last one,” Kim said, appearing in front of the two cops with mugs and coffee.

“You don’t say,” he said, glancing at Zach. “Well, that’s a sure shame.”

“Your usual?” Kim asked, pouring the coffee.

“I guess it will have to do.” His focus turned on Zach. “News around town is that you’re taking care of Sadie’s place while she’s on her trip. You getting settled in okay?”

“Just fine,” Zach responded, pretty sure the police officer hadn’t connected his name to the parolee notice that had probably been faxed to the local law-enforcement agencies by now.

“If you need anything, I’m sure a lot of people would be happy to give you a hand.” He slapped his partner on the back. “Even Rangeview’s finest.”

“Thanks.” Zach lifted the coffee mug to his lips, figuring what Foley really meant was Don’t be asking my wife for a cup of sugar or anything else. One more reason, Zach thought, to ignore the twinge of attraction that slid through him every time he looked at Léa. The last thing he needed was the kind of trouble a cop could give a man on parole. Zach had no doubt—the man would take any interest in Léa as poaching.

“Enjoy your breakfast?” Kim asked, taking away his empty plate and refilling his mug.

“It was great,” he said, reaching for his wallet.

She patted his arm. “Léa says this one was on the house—a welcome-to-Rangeview present.”

“I…thanks.” Next to him, Zach felt Foley stiffen.

When Kim left to take care of other customers, Foley said, “That’s my wife—a great cook, not to mention generous to a fault. It’s tough to make a go of a little business like this one, especially when she doesn’t have sense enough to stop giving away her profits.”

Zach sipped his coffee, thinking, if he understood the situation correctly, the profits were Léa’s to do with as she wanted. One thing was sure, though. This was a no-win conversation.

“She’s letting people take advantage of her all the time,” Foley said in an us-guys-should-stick-together tone. “I keep telling her that you’ve got to take care of number one first. But does she listen? No.”

If asked, that would have been Zach’s motto. Hearing it out of Foley’s mouth made it sound like a bad thing. Zach drained the last of his coffee and pulled out money enough to cover his breakfast and a generous tip.

“Can’t imagine there’s enough to keep a man busy full time working for Sadie,” Foley said. “And jobs are pretty slim pickings.”

“I have plenty to do,” Zach said. His aunt clearly hadn’t bothered to hire adequate help in several years, and every out-building and all the fence line required immediate attention.

“Where did you work before?”

Zach stared at the coffee mug while he sifted through the gradations of the truth he had sworn to tell. The cops would learn soon enough he was an ex-con. “My last job was in sales. Sports equipment for athletic teams.”

“Big change,” Foley said, draining his coffee and fishing his wallet out of his pocket.

“Yep.”

Foley laid several bills on the counter. “Time to get back to work.” As he had when he came in, he went into the kitchen, bending his head close to Léa’s. Like before, her posture became more rigid as she put space between herself and Foley. Unlike before, the conversation between the two could not be heard until he said, “We’ll finish this later.”

Zach made sure he was staring at his coffee cup when Foley came back into the dining room. A second later he and his partner went through the exterior door, which jangled at their departure. Only then did Zach look up. Léa’s somber attention was on the window behind Zach. She sighed, pressed her lips together and turned back toward the stove.

“Need another warm-up?” Kim asked, stopping in front of him once again with her perpetually full coffeepot.

“Sure.” Zach figured he was a fool for waiting around to talk to a woman who was clearly going to be trouble.

But when Léa caught his eye a moment later and a smile lit her face, he knew he’d wait—trouble or not.

“I think that’s the last one,” Kim said, placing a tub of dirty dishes on the stainless-steel counter next to the dishwasher. “Ready for me to put up the closed-till-eleven sign?”

“Sure,” Léa said, arching her back to roll out the kinks. She turned around to face the dining room and found that it had mostly cleared out except for Pete Anderson and L. J. Martinez, both long retired and both regulars who lingered over their coffee until she kicked them out.

Except for Zach MacKenzie who sat at the counter, his gaze steadily on her.

“You’re still here,” she said, loud enough to hear over the radio.

“Yeah.”

As she came out of the kitchen, she was aware of Kim ushering out Pete and L.J., but her greater awareness was of Zach. Léa stopped at the milk dispenser where she filled a large glass. Then she came around the counter and sat down next to him.

“The breakfast tasted great.” The corner of his mouth kicked up. “But then, compared to the food in prison, I’ll probably be thinking everything tastes great for a while.”

His casual reference to having been in prison surprised her, and, in spite of herself, made her smile.

He smiled back. “So I doubt you’ll be wanting to use me as a reference.”