A Hero for Tonight Page 2

  “That’s not what was discussed at lunch today.” Krista picked up a paring knife and quickly made short work of an apple peel.

  “You weren’t at lunch. And do you know why you weren’t at the lunch?” Shane picked up his hat and settled it on his head. “Because in order to be a member of this little lunch club my mother’s put together, you had to have slept with me. And, trust me, that is never going to happen.”

  Krista opened her eyes wide. Her lower lip quivered dramatically. “Oh, Shane!” She turned to his mother. “Do you hear your son? All my hopes and dreams of one day getting to wash his underwear have just been cruelly dashed.” She lowered her head to her arms and began to wail. “It’s not fair! How will I go on? Life just isn’t worth living!”

  He wasn’t amused as his parents laughed.

  His mother must have thought he was getting too angry, because she stepped closer and settled her hand on his arm. “Your father is putting steaks on the grill tomorrow night. We’re having some of the neighbors over for an end of the summer deck party. Why don’t you bring a date and join us?”

  “You think I’d seriously introduce anyone else to you? No way.”

  His mother bit her bottom lip and turned hurt eyes away from him. “I’m sorry you’re upset with me, Shane.”

  His gut clenched. Damn she was good. She could wrap him around her little finger without any effort, especially when those green eyes went wide and filled with her disappointed look. He immediately felt as if he was the one who had done something wrong.

  “Stop the lunch club, Ma. I don’t like it.”

  She stepped back over to him. “You know I would rather cut off my own hand than hurt you.”

  He knew better than to trust her. “But?”

  “This isn’t about you. Not anymore.” She shrugged. “They’re my friends, and I’m not going to suddenly break off contact with them because you told me to.”

  “Give it up, son. You can’t win against her.” His father settled his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “I’ll be back in around six.”

  Once again, his mother turned to Krista. “Am I seriously out of cinnamon?”

  Krista nodded and stood. “I have a huge container at my house. I should have brought it over earlier. I’ll go get it.”

  Relieved to no longer be discussing his love life, he watched her slide her feet into a pair of well-worn sneakers. Unlike most girls, her toes were unpainted, but then, he never knew a time when Krista Saunders felt the need to go the girly route with painted nails and makeup. Not that she needed any. Krista was a natural beauty. She annoyed the hell out of him, but he was still a guy and couldn’t help but notice she’d grown into a pretty sexy woman. As a teenager, her legs and arms had been long and gangly, like an awkward colt, her father used to say. But something happened along age twenty-one, and suddenly her entire body was in complete proportion in a package that he knew some of the guys in town would love to get to know better. He’d gladly give her to any of them, as long as they moved to the other side of the world.

  “Shane, be a dear and drop Krista at her house for the cinnamon. Her car isn’t here.” Ignoring Shane’s dropped jaw she turned to the other woman. “When you come back, bring those containers you bought and we’ll fill them up after dinner.” His mother turned her attention back to him. “Are you coming back for dinner tonight?”

  Normally, he ate with his parents several times a week, but he’d had enough of a certain neighbor for one day. “No, I’ve got plans. Thanks,” he muttered.

  She didn’t argue with him, seeming to sense that he needed to cool off. “I’ll stop by the station tomorrow with some of this coffee cake. I need to catch up with Bertha anyway.”

  If anyone could come close to his mother’s gossipy nature, it was the sheriff’s office administrator. Fortunately, she was also the most trustworthy woman he knew. If it was confidential information, Bertha wouldn’t share, no matter who asked.

  He bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. “Fine. See you then.”

  Without caring if Krista followed or not, he walked out of the kitchen. If she wasn’t outside by the time he was in the car, she could walk.

  He’d just opened the car door when she sauntered down the steps as if she had all the time in the world.

  His hand slammed the horn with a loud blast. “Come on!”

  Krista walked around the car, pulled open the passenger door and plopped into the seat. “Relax. It’s not as if you have to race back to the office.”

  He felt his impatience boil. “How the hell do you know if I have to race back there or not?”

  He twisted to back up, stretching his arm along the back of the seat. When his hand brushed the back of her hair and she jerked from his touch. Shane scowled. Did she think he did that on purpose? As if he’d get that close to her for any reason.

  “Bertha would have called you if there was anything going on. You must feel like quite the big shot with Sheriff Canfield out of town this week.”

  He drove down the street from his folks’ house and turned the corner. “It’s a responsibility, not a game.”

  Krista shrugged. “If you say so.”

  He clenched his hands tight on the wheel. For whatever reason, there wasn’t another woman on earth who annoyed him as much as this one. “Speaking of jobs, what happened to the one you were going to take last month?”

  “It wasn’t for me.”

  “The job wasn’t for you? How would you know? You never even started.” He couldn’t remember the last time she’d held down a job for more than a couple months.

  Next to him, Krista yanked her hair from the ponytail holder and raked her fingers through it. She put the rubber band between her lips, and with both hands, brushed her hair back from her face. Shane couldn’t help but stare as her breasts rose high with her hair-fiddling antics. Along with beautiful legs, Krista had not missed out in other womanly curves. When her hair was once again secured, she dropped her arms and her breasts bounced back into position. His groin jerked irrationally, and he forced his gaze back to the road. What the hell was wrong with him today? That was twice he’d noticed her physically.

  “Don’t worry about it.” She glanced out the side window as he pulled into her driveway. “Falls into the category of ‘Not Your Business.’”

  He stopped the car. “Oh, like my mother’s little lunch clubs falls into the ‘Not Your Business’ category?”

  Before she climbed out, Krista turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling in such a way that, for some reason, he wanted to smile back, even as she mocked him.

  “What is it you’re afraid they’re saying to your mother that makes you feel so threatened?”

  He straightened against the back of his seat. “I don’t feel threatened. I don’t like it. No one would.”

  “I think you have some kinky little sex secrets that you don’t want your mother to find out.”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” He nodded and let out a disgusted snort. “I’m a closet pervert, and I think the women I’ve dated are going to spill all to my mother.”

  “It is odd that you rarely date any of them longer than a few months before you run them off.”

  “Just for the record, I don’t run them off. Most of the time, I’m the one who makes the break.”

  She nodded. “True. I did hear you have real commitment issues.”

  He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “I don’t have commitment issues! Who are you to talk? No job, no boyfriend—what does that say about commitment issues.”

  She shook her head. “Poor Shane, always have to try to make me look bad when you get nervous.” She slid out of the car and turned to lean back in. “Don’t worry, Deputy Donovan, no matter what those women say about you, your mama still loves you.” She shut the door and scampered up the sidewalk to her house.

  Shane watched her push the door open. He rolled his eyes unable to remember how many times he’d lectured her on keeping it locked. She lived alone, and whi
le their town was as safe as could be, it was still not good for a single woman to leave the place unlocked. Some day he was going to hide out inside and give her the scare of her life.

  That would teach her. Or not. You never know with her.

  Krista slipped inside the house and stepped out of her sneakers. She could have easily walked home, and would have preferred it, but the temptation of irritating Shane, as always, was too much to resist. Walking through to the kitchen, she smirked, replaying the conversation in his parents’ kitchen. She’d warned Mary time and again that if Shane ever caught her little lunch group, he was going to be furious. Deep down—although she’d never admit it to him—she had to take Shane’s side on this. It was hard living in a small town and running into people you’d had a relationship with. She’d often wondered what it must be like to live in a big city where, when you broke up with someone, you probably never saw them again in your life.

  Like her and Shane. They’d always rubbed each other the wrong way, but even now, they were thrust together due to her relationship with his family. People used to say they fought like siblings, but even growing up, she’d never once thought of Shane Donovan as her brother or even a cousin. He was Shane; half jerk and half hero. Although she would admit to having a bit of a crush on him in her early teens, never, not even one time in all those years did he even once show any sign of noticing her as a woman.

  She furrowed her brow. Until today. Twice she’d caught him staring at her butt. Twisting around, she tried to view her backside. Had she gained weight? Her jeans still fit just fine. She shook her head.

  Shane would definitely have delighted in telling her she was splitting her seams.

  They’d had this weird adversarial relationship their entire lives. Ever since their mothers plopped them down on the floor together and she’d grabbed his hair, making him cry. In school, if they were in the same class, they ignored each other. Since then, the only time they had any contact was with his family—and that unfortunate incident when he arrested her boyfriend. Not one of her best moments, but she couldn’t even say she regretted it. Bruce had a good heart under all that stupidity.

  So then, what was up with the gawking today? Weird. Although, she hated to admit, her heart always did do a weird flip-flop thing when he walked in the room in his uniform. Not so much his deputy uniform, as in his marine fatigues, and especially his dress blues. Yep, she was as a pathetic as any other woman; Corporal Shane Donovan was one good-looking marine.

  Down in the basement, she grabbed the bag of containers she’d recently bought along with the cinnamon. Her late mother had been Mary’s best friend. The two women started the small seasonal fruit stand the year Krista turned ten. That apple season after her mother died of breast cancer, Mary hadn’t wanted to do it anymore; it had been Krista who asked if they could continue the tradition, together. In Mary’s typical way, she couldn’t say no, even though Krista was barely fifteen at the time. Hard to believe her mother had been gone ten years last month.

  Her father remarried a year ago to a woman with three young kids, and agreed it was smarter to live in Patricia’s bigger house.

  She’d made the decision to stay put and let her father start his new life alone. Though she had a great relationship with her new step-family, she enjoyed them far more if she didn’t have to live with them.

  Up in her bedroom, she grabbed a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt. The nights were getting cooler, and if she ended up out late, she didn’t want to be shivering in her shorts.

  Back downstairs, she shut the front door and drove the short distance back to Mary’s to put in a long night of apple cooking.

  Chapter Two

  It was barely six the next Saturday morning when Krista pulled into the farm market. Over the years, the building that had started as a simple stand had been added onto until it was now a completely enclosed store that sold everything from apples to homemade quilts every fall.

  The Apple Basket was set at the end of a long driveway lined with hay bales and pumpkins. On Saturdays during good weather, complimentary hayrides were given by Shane or his father. Krista was proud of all that she and Mary had accomplished in the past six years. She only hoped her partner would be excited when she shared her idea for keeping the market open year round. Not that she expected Mary to work it all year. Her partner was usually more than happy to be done with it after Christmas. Over the last two years though, Krista had been thinking she’d like to have the business open year round, or at least from April through December.

  As she unlocked the door and flipped the lights on, warmth enveloped her. The furnace had kicked on automatically a half hour ago so the building was already warm and cozy. Moving around the shop, she performed the morning rituals automatically—started the coffee pots and turned on the two oversized ovens in the kitchen.

  Within an hour, she had apple muffins and bread baking, and her third cup of coffee was almost gone. A glance at the clock showed there was still over an hour and a half before they opened. She settled behind the counter and flipped on her laptop. Plenty of time to work on the new website. She’d been toying with the idea of taking orders online for their apple products and having them ready for the customers when they arrived. Hopefully next year.

  She was so engrossed in the new project that she literally jumped when the door burst open. Her heart beat erratically, and her hand automatically went to her chest in reaction.

  Relief mixed immediately with annoyance as Shane’s tall frame filled the doorway.

  “You scared the crap out of me, slamming the door open like that.” Shaking her head, she went back to her computer screen.

  “This door needs to be locked when you or Mom are out here alone, especially at this hour.”

  Her gaze slipped to the clock on her screen. “It’s after seven.”

  “I forgot, rapists and psycho killers clock out at six-thirty. Good to know.” He strode to the coffeepot in the corner. “Makes my job much easier.”

  “Your job couldn’t get much easier,” she muttered half under her breath.

  “Look who’s talking as she plays on Facebook. Then you’ll tell us all how you were at the shop by seven and working hard until it closed.” He grabbed a muffin from the wire cooling rack.

  When he didn’t seem in any hurry to move on, she said, “You need to get the tractor out.” They didn’t open for another hour, but giving him an order made her feel as if she was back in charge. Shane sometimes—no, usually—acted as if he was part owner of the shop, too, and felt it his duty to tell them what to do.

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think it’s a bit hokey, the whole hay ride thing?”

  Shane always complained about the tractor, so she simply shrugged. “It’s all about the ambience. Folks come from the city and want to feel like they’re out in the country. Put some hay in the wagon, drive them around a few cornfields and they spend a lot of money in the store.” Krista kept her attention on her laptop, trying to reformat the apple pictures to showcase the differences between Ida Reds and Red Delicious. It was important that the customer had as close to the same experience online as they did coming to the shop.

  “How’s your dad and the new family doing?”

  Pulled out of her concentration again, she cast an aggravated glance his way. “He’s fine.” She glared at him as he popped the last bite of muffin in his mouth and balled the napkin in his hand.

  Shane brushed his hands down his pants and picked up his coffee once more. “Hey, when did we get travel mugs?” The bright, red plastic coffee mugs were her latest purchase. Piled neatly by the counter, she hoped they would be a great impulse buy for travelers. “Last week.”

  Helping himself to one, he returned to the coffee pot and poured a fresh cup.

  Krista moved to the cash register and rang it up. “That’s ten dollars. Do you want me to run a tab, or do you want to pay for it now?”

  Shane snorted. “You want me to pay for a coffee mug from my mo
ther’s store?”

  “You get free coffee, free baked goods, and free lunch. You aren’t going to start taking free coffee mugs, too; those are expensive.”

  He shook his head. “Fine, run me a tab.”

  Krista drummed her fingers on the counter. They both knew his mother would never make him pay any tab. “All tabs have to be cleared by the time we close at Christmas.”

  Raising one eyebrow, he strutted back to the counter. With his face so close, she could smell his coffee breath.

  “I’ll tell you what, sweet-pea. If I don’t pay my tab, you can tell the sheriff.”

  He straightened and walked outside before she could retort. A few seconds later, she heard the tractor start up.

  What a pain in the ass.

  What was it about him that women found so appealing? Yeah, he looked good in his jeans and T-shirt, and when he smiled, he could make anyone’s knees tremble, but underneath all that was an annoying personality.

  It wasn’t the first time she wondered if maybe she was the only one who was on the receiving side of that particular part of him. Her friend Paula had drooled over Shane since they were teenagers. Constantly, she’d bugged Krista about what she thought kissing him would be like. She’d shuddered.

  Of course, a few years later, Paula wasted no time in telling her exactly how good it was to kiss Shane Donovan, and more. Paula was married with a baby now, and yet when Shane was around, her friend freely admitted he still made her pulse race. Women just never seemed to get over him. And yet, he left her as cold as the cider in the cooler.

  ****

  “Hands inside the wagon. And no one stands up until we come to a complete stop. Ready?”

  At the chorus of “yes” and delighted squeals from the youngest kids, Shane put the tractor into gear and chugged up the familiar path. As the sun was already going down, it would be the last run of the day and the farm market would be closing when he got back.

  When they reached trees with apples low on the branches, he parked.

  “We’ll stop here for ten minutes, so get your bags and go ahead and pick whatever apples you want to take with you. But don’t take them off the ground,” he cautioned, knowing the littler kids would make a beeline for the dropped apples.