13
HOGAN STAYED BUSY till damn near eight o’clock. Weekdays were easier than weekends, so once the dinner crowd died down a little, he shifted everything to one grill and started cleaning the others. With any luck he’d be able to grab some alone time with Violet after the diner closed.
It surprised Hogan when Mr. Marson, a pharmacist in his early fifties, usually distracted and brusque, deliberately caught his eye. The man rarely gave him more than a passing greeting. But now, his hands tucked deep in his pockets and his gaze concerned, he looked ready to settle in and chat.
Curious, Hogan said, “Mr. Marson, how are you?”
“I’m fine. How’s Violet?”
That threw him. “Busy, I suppose. I haven’t seen her much tonight.” And it bugged the hell out of him. Since that night they’d had sex, she’d teased him endlessly. Subtly, so that others never caught them. He wanted her nonstop, and yet today, she’d stayed out of sight. It had been busy, sure, but they both knew she could have spared a few minutes to visit, or at least to say hi, if she’d wanted to. Most nights she came to the prep area to at least steal a kiss. Often she was the one to hand him an order for ribs.
Today, she hadn’t come anywhere near him, or anywhere near enough to where he grilled for him to even get a peek of her. Why would she decide to ignore him now?
“Busy?” Marson said. “What do you mean, she’s busy? I told her she should keep that ankle elevated with ice on it. When I didn’t see her inside, I hoped she was at home resting.”
Hogan stared at him. Violet had hurt her ankle?
“That other one,” Marson continued, “the new lady, her elbow was bleeding enough that I’m not sure she didn’t need stitches. I know I’m not a medical doctor, but I’m also not an idiot.”
“No, of course not.” What the hell had happened?
Like it was somehow his fault, Marson glared at Hogan. “It’s a wonder both of them weren’t killed, and she’s still on her feet? Not a good idea. Not at all.”
Killed? Jesus.
“Told them both to go to the ER to get checked, but even the sheriff couldn’t convince them.”
“Nathan was there?”
“He’s the sheriff. Of course he was there. Wouldn’t you call the sheriff if someone tried to run you down?”
Hogan stared at him. By the second he had more questions than answers. “You’re saying someone deliberately tried to hit Violet and Brooklin?”
“I didn’t see it myself, but the way it was told to me, that’s exactly what happened. Doesn’t make any sense, but you know how stories grow and get more dramatic. I was curious, though. So what do you think?”
Since this was the first he’d heard of it, Hogan didn’t know what to think. He didn’t want to admit that to Mr. Marson, though, so he asked, “What did Nathan think?”
“He was plenty irate—I know that. And he put in some calls. But the van was gone, so what could be done?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did Violet say?”
“Not much.” As in, nothing at all.
“Ah, she’s still upset. She did look ready to cry. Not because of her ankle, though. I think she was just shook-up.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Hogan barely knew Marson, but apparently he loved gossip. Maybe working at the pharmacy was like working as a bartender. He got to hear everyone’s stories. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get my son to watch the grill and I’ll go check on her.”
“You’ll make her take it easy? Get her off her feet?”
If the whole thing didn’t sound so serious, Hogan would have laughed. He had no control over Violet. But he said, “Yes, I will.”
“You make sure she’s got it propped up, okay? And discolored as it was already, if she doesn’t keep ice on it, it’s only going to bruise worse.” He picked up a pair of tongs. “Go on and get your son. I’ll keep an eye on things until he gets here.”
Divided, Hogan eyed him. “You grill?”
Marson snorted. “Of course I grill. What red-blooded man doesn’t? Go on. I won’t let anything burn.”
“Thank you.” Hogan found Colt first. He was on a break, sitting with a tableful of friends, including that supercute girl, Charish, who was new to the area. He decided not to bother him, but somehow Colt sensed him and looked up. As soon as their gazes locked, he was on his feet.
When Colt reached him, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Who said anything was?”
Colt frowned. “You know Violet was hurt, don’t you?”
Well, hell. Did everyone know except him?
Colt nudged him toward the kitchen as he explained, “She didn’t want you to know. No idea why. But she said I wasn’t to bother you. I’d have told you tonight anyway, after work, but since you already know, will you check on her? She’s been rotating things, working the floor for an hour, then disappearing into her office for an hour. I’ve tried to help out, but you know how she is.”
Yes, he knew. Stubborn, determined and sweet. “How’s her ankle?”
“I swear, Dad, it makes my ankles hurt to look at it.”
Hogan nodded. “I hate to drag you away—”
“No big deal. You want me to watch the grill?”
“Just for a few minutes.”
“Got it. Take your time.”
Hogan watched him go—then he saw Colt’s friends at the table, all of them laughing, half-empty plates in front of them, not a care in the world, no real responsibilities.
He also saw Charish’s face as she watched Colt go. Damn.
When he walked into the office, Violet was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, a plastic storage bag of ice on her ankle and a puddle around her foot.
She looked up at him and said, “Um...”
Hogan closed the door behind him, then squatted down by her foot and lifted the ice pack. Colt had warned him, but still it nearly took his breath away. Swollen, black and red and blue, it had to be broken. “You need to go get an X-ray.”
She groaned, squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, “I am not a weak person.”
“Definitely not,” he agreed.
“First that stupid pneumonia, and now this. I never get sick and I’ve never been hurt before. Then you show up and...this is ridiculous.”
Hogan heard the note of tears in her voice and it almost destroyed him. “Is it hurting that much?”
“No, and don’t talk all sweet to me. I’m sappy enough already.”
“Sappy?”
“Sitting in here, feeling sorry for myself and wondering if you’re going to think I’m one of those women who always has an issue.”
First things first. “This is leaking everywhere. Don’t you have a real ice pack here?”
“No.”
“Then at least let me get you another bag.”
“In the cooler. Colt’s been refilling it for me.”
A picnic-sized cooler sat beside her desk. Inside were two more individual bags of ice. Hogan sat back on his heels. “My kid is amazing.”
“I know. He’s the one who got me all sappy, babying me and being so sweet. I had to threaten to slug him if he didn’t quit.”
“Perfect reaction to kindness.”
“I told you, that stuff makes me sappy!”
Shaking his head—and grinning—Hogan got a new bag and, as gently as possible, placed it on her ankle. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to upset you. He’s worried about you—that’s all.”
“But I’m used to taking care of myself. I don’t want him to worry. I don’t want you to worry, either.”
On that last word, her voice broke. Hogan sat down beside her, same position with his back against the wall, and took her hand. She squeezed his fingers hard. He wanted to kiss her, but he didn’t want to do anything to make those tears spill over.
“Will you tell me what happened? All I know from Marson is that you could have been killed, and a van was somehow involved.”
With a new focus, she nodded. “It was the craziest thing.” More animated and less teary, she told him about the speeding van, how Brooklin had reacted and how Nathan had looked like he could chew nails. “Nathan’s dangerous. If that idiot driver wasn’t already gone, I think our good sheriff would have had him for lunch.”
“Brooklin called Nathan?”
“Yes.”
Hogan looked at her small hand, at the short, unpainted nails, and asked quietly, “Why didn’t you call me?” It was a weird thing to admit, but he was both insulted and maybe a little hurt that she hadn’t.
She tried to laugh that off. “Right. If I was going to call anyone, it would have been Kristy. She’s less vital to the running of things here than you or Jerry.”
“I’m different from Jerry or Kristy.”
“True. But I’m paying you to cook ribs, not listen to my hysterics.”
Though the insult grew, he kept his voice calm. “Were you hysterical?”
“Maybe for a minute.” Her head dropped forward. “This stupid floor is not comfortable.”
“No, it’s not.” He brushed his thumb over her knuckles. Her small, slender hands were delicate but strong. She’d had a lifetime of working, pushing past adversity. But when he thought about her doing this all day, serving customers on that hurt ankle, then coming in here to suffer alone, it bothered him deep down to his soul.
Damn it. He didn’t want things going too fast or getting too serious. But he also didn’t want this, her cutting him out and dealing with things on her own when she clearly needed someone.
He wanted to be that someone. At least for this. And for the diner.
And for sex.
Angry at himself, and at the idea that she really could have died, Hogan asked, “You can stand on it?”
“Of course. I can wiggle my toes and flex it and everything. It’s uncomfortable, but I can do it.”
“Obviously, since you’ve been working.”
“You can stow the sarcasm, Hogan. There was no one else to fill in for me, and things had to get done.”
Frustration ripped through him. “You’re the boss.”
Incredulous, she stared at him. “More sarcasm? Colt is a lot nicer than you.”
“Thank God.”
She gave him a cross frown. “I was joking. You’re very nice.” Then she added, “I honestly don’t think it’s broken. I just twisted it.”
“It looks bad, honey.”
“I bruise easily.” Settling back with a sigh, she leaned her head on his shoulder. “I would have bet money that Colt wouldn’t tell you. I made him promise he wouldn’t.”
“He didn’t.”
She turned her face up to see him. “Then how did you know?”
“Mr. Marson. He said your foot should be elevated.”
“That old snitch.” She sighed. “It’s hard to prop it up in here. When I get home, I can—”
“Violet.” Hogan knew he had to tread carefully. She wasn’t unreasonable, not usually, so hopefully she’d do the right thing. But he had to inch carefully around her pride. “Don’t you think you should head home now?”
Her groan was long and dramatic, ending with a disgusted but resigned “Yes, I guess so.”
“Thank you.” With her agreement, Hogan released some of the tension in his shoulders. “Maybe I could—”
“No.” She cut him off with a scowl. “I can drive myself, okay? I’m not incapacitated.”
“Still...” His brain scrambled on ways to make it work. Maybe Colt could stay on the grill. One of the dishwashers could serve, and—
“No, Hogan. If it was that bad, I promise I’d say so. Besides, it’s my left foot.”
“So you won’t need it to brake the car. But getting to the car, and out of the car into your house—”
“Are you serious?” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been working all night. Going to and from the car won’t be a problem.”
Hogan cupped her chin and looked into her eyes. “You’re one hundred percent sure about this?”
Being snide, she asked, “Gee, Dad, want me to call you when I get home safely?”
He kissed her mulish mouth and said, “As a matter of fact, I do.”
* * *
First thing on Tuesday morning, Hogan headed out to track down Nathan. He hadn’t slept much, mostly because he’d spent the night fighting the urge to go to Violet’s house and take care of her. Or try to take care of her. The woman could be difficult when it came to her independence.
His concern, apparently, was something she didn’t want.
She’d made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that she wouldn’t be missing any work. Violet had the notion that he wanted to take over.
Not true. Or rather, not entirely true.
For the most part, Hogan had no problem at all working for her. She was a fair, funny boss.
Other times, he resented the hell out of the fact that she got to call the shots.
This was one of those times.
Knowing Nathan left the house early, Hogan went up the porch steps, raised his hand to knock—and it opened before he could.
Brooklin almost ran into him.
In one cursory glance, Hogan took in her disheveled nightshirt over shorts, sleep-rumpled hair and still-slumberous eyes. He also saw the bandage on her arm.
So she’d been hurt, had called Nathan, then spent the night.
But Violet hadn’t even planned to let him know.
At the moment, Brooklin looked as startled to see him as he was to see her.
“Hogan,” she gasped, her voice thin.
With embarrassment—or something else?
He couldn’t help it. He grinned. “Morning, Brooklin. It’s nice to see you again.”
“I was just...” Her voice trailed off. “Yes, nice to see you. I’m sorry, but I need to go. Nathan’s in the kitchen.”
“No,” Hogan said. “He’s right behind you.”
She jumped, turned to Nathan and said, “You have company.”
“So I see.”
Hogan watched Nathan’s eyes narrow and saw Brooklin’s widen in reaction. Then Nathan brought her close and kissed her on the mouth.
Whistling, Hogan looked down at his feet—but he listened.
“I’ll get home earlier tonight,” Nathan said. “But it’s practice night.”
“Practice night?”
“For the band. You know I’m part of a band, right?”
“Yes. Hogan mentioned it when he first introduced himself.”
Hogan whistled a little louder.
Ignoring him, Nathan said, “We practice in my garage every Tuesday, but we’ve missed a few weeks while some of the guys took their vacations.” He drew her close again. “You’re welcome to come over anyway.”
“I don’t want to interrupt.”
“We finish up around nine, otherwise the neighbors complain.”
“I promise not to complain,” she said. “I’m actually curious to hear you.”
“Feel free to listen, and after it breaks up, you and I have some talking to do, right?”
Feeling the tension, Hogan wisely stepped away to lean on the porch rail. He heard whispered protests from Brooklin, smooth insistence from Nathan.
How nice would it be to have Violet spend the night, to wake up with her in the morning—even to debate with her on the front porch?
Not that long ago it would have been an appalling thought, yet now he envied Nathan for it.
A few seconds later, Brooklin brushed past him as she left, hurrying over to her own house.
“You want to come in?” Nathan asked. “I still have some coffee left.”
Hogan grinned, but said nothing until he and Nathan were behind a closed door. Nathan, freshly shaved and dressed for work but with his shirt still untucked and unbuttoned, headed back for the kitchen.
Hogan followed him. “Well, that was interesting.”
Stopping at the coffeepot, Nathan returned his grin. “Hope you enjoyed it, because you probably just set me back. She’s prickly as hell, and twice as private.”
“Probably why she and Violet get along.” He thought of Brooklin’s reaction at seeing him and asked, “I couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed because I saw her here, or if she was maybe... I don’t know. More than startled?”
Nathan turned grim. “Finding a guy standing there might have alarmed her before she realized it was you.”
Did that mean she really was in danger? Sympathetic to Nathan’s mood, Hogan stated his concerns carefully. “I heard they were together yesterday when they both got hurt?”
“That’s why you’re here?” He handed Hogan the cup of coffee.
“Yeah.” Not needing an invite, Hogan pulled out a chair and sat at the table, waiting for Nathan to join him. “What the hell happened?”
Nathan thoughtfully sipped his coffee. Rather than answer, he asked a question of his own. “Did you talk to Violet?”
“Yes.” Hogan didn’t give the frustrating details of how she’d tried to keep him in the dark. “She told me that someone in a van almost ran them over. She seems to think it was deliberate.”
Nathan frowned. “Yeah.”
“Yeah, what?”
Nathan rubbed the back of his neck, then met Hogan’s gaze. “Are you and Violet involved?” He shook his head. “I mean, for more than convenience or whatever.”
Drawing himself up, Hogan scowled. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re putting me in a bad spot, Hogan. Brooklin is private, so I don’t want to talk to just anyone.”
Yet Hogan could see that he did want to talk. “I work with her. I like her. We’re...friends.”
Nathan snorted. “Look, I can either give you the report I filed, or I can tell you what I really think is going on. But if you aren’t involved with Violet, if you don’t care a hell of a lot for her, then I’d say it’s none of your damned business.”
Hogan stewed for about three seconds, then said through his teeth, “We’re involved.” He pointed at Nathan. “But we’re still working it out, so keep it to yourself.”
Nathan sat back in his chair. “Violet’s not a woman to play games.”
He gave him a dry look. “Since we’re involved, don’t you think I already know that?”
“Maybe.”
Not a woman to play games, no. Violet was a woman to respect, to admire and to desire. Somewhat reluctantly, Hogan admitted, “I care about her, and if she’s in trouble, I need to know.”
After gulping down the rest of his coffee, Nathan stood. “Fine. But I’ve only got five minutes before I need to head out the door, so I have to make it short and to the point.”
Hogan stood, too. “I’m listening.”
“Brooklin is hiding something from her past, something that happened before she moved here. I have no idea yet what it might be, but she’s afraid and my instincts tell me there’s danger. Hopefully soon she’ll tell me everything. I can’t very well protect her if she doesn’t.”
Hogan soaked that in. “That’s why she hired Colt and Jason to set up the security on her house?”
“From my suggestion, yeah. I don’t think she’s a woman who spooks easily, but she saw some shadows on the front porch, then heard someone trying to open her back door.”
“Hell, that’d unsettle anyone, man or woman.”
“Agreed. I get the feeling, though, that Brooklin is afraid of someone specific. You can’t repeat any of this, but now that Violet is involved, I suggest you keep an eye out, especially if she’s closing up the diner at night.”
Without thinking of how telling it might be, Hogan said, “I’ll make sure I’m always there with her.” Then it hit him and he looked at Nathan, who only stared back as if he’d expected nothing less. Moving on, Hogan added, “Violet should know about all this, too.”
“Agreed. I think Brooklin will tell her on her own. She’s not the type of woman who’d want to see anyone else get hurt if she could help it. But tonight when we talk, I’ll bring it up.”
Hogan stated it as a fact. “If she doesn’t tell her, I will.”
“I’d do the same. Just let her know it’s private.” Nathan looked at the wall clock behind the table and began buttoning his shirt. “I don’t mean to throw you out, but I have to get going.”
Until that moment, Hogan had been too concerned with the situation to joke. But now he said, “Got a late start this morning, huh?”
Nathan barely bit back his smile. “That’s private, too.”
After clapping him on the shoulder, Hogan said, “I’m glad you won her over.”
“I’m not entirely there yet, but I’m making progress.”
At the door, Hogan got serious again. “If you find out anything else...”
“I’ll let you know. Until then, just be a little more on guard.”
* * *
Wearing the only pair of bootcut jeans that she owned, which hid her colorful ankle, and thick-soled walking sandals that made being on her feet a little less painful, Violet made her way slowly down an aisle in a local department store. Just as she reached the folding chairs, Hogan came around the corner. He, too, had been looking at the chairs, and he did a double take when he saw her.
His surprise quickly shifted to annoyance. “Why the hell are you shopping?” Before she could answer, he added, “How’s your ankle?”
Damn, he looked good in the mornings. Then again, when did the man not look good? He, too, wore jeans, but with running shoes and a well-worn KISS T-shirt. He’d shaved, but his hair looked a little mussed, as if he’d done that macho frustrated thing of running his fingers through it.
Skipping his questions, she said, “You’re up and about early.”
He frowned at her a second more, then stepped close, tenderly touched her cheek and bent down to press his mouth to hers for three heart-melting seconds. Softer now, he said, “Let me try again, okay?”
She nodded.
“Good morning, Violet. How are you?”
With her heart pumping a little faster, she smiled. “I’d curl my toes if I could. But I can’t. And no, my ankle isn’t worse. In fact, some of the swelling has gone down. But it’s now mostly black, like a sickly eggplant.”
“You shouldn’t be on it.”
With a shrug, she said, “I iced it off and on all night.”
His brows pinched with concern. “Which means you didn’t get any sleep.”
Rolling her eyes, she laughed. “Lighten up, Hogan. I’m not going to perish. I promise I’m fine. In fact, I’m determined to be a very good patient today.” She gestured at the shelf. “I was looking for one of those folding chairs with a foot thing that comes up. You know? I’ve seen them during the community picnics at the creek. Usually it’s the elderly using them, but I thought it could work for my office.”
Hogan’s mouth tipped in a crooked smile. “That’s what I was looking for, too.”
So sweet! “You were, really?”
“Yeah. Thank you in advance for agreeing to be a good patient. Hope you don’t mind if I hold you to it.”
After a quick glance around to make sure they were alone in the aisle, Violet walked her fingers up his chest. “We could make a deal.”
His gaze went intent, hot, and he murmured, “I’m listening.”
“Will you come to my office...let’s see, at least twice? You should be able to manage that, right? And while you’re there, will you kiss me?” She put both hands on his thick shoulders. “God, I’ve missed kissing you.”
“Two trips to your office? Yeah, I think I can handle that.” His expression looked so absorbed, she held her breath, hoping... Then he whispered, “I could come by for a little while tonight after work.”
Warmth spiraled through her. “A booty call,” she breathed dramatically. Batting her eyelashes, she said on a sigh, “Be still, my heart.”
His expression changed. “I didn’t mean—”
Violet laughed. “Yes, you did, and I’m glad.” Rushing past that so he wouldn’t withdraw the suggestion, she asked, “It won’t be a problem with Colt?” Almost as quickly, she shook her head. “No, never mind. Forget I asked. You already told me that you wouldn’t let...well, us be a problem with him. And I’m glad for that, too.” She really was. The last thing she ever wanted to do was make Colt’s life any harder. She cared for him a great deal and figured he’d had enough turmoil in his young life.
Hogan looked away. “I’m starting to feel like a real bastard.”
Fisting her hands in his shirt, she pulled him closer and regained his attention. “Listen up, Guthrie. I want that booty call, okay?” She gave him a hard, fast kiss. “Truthfully, I need it. It reassures me that you make Colt your priority. That’s how it should be. And then I don’t have to worry about being a problem.”
His gaze moved over her face until he was satisfied. Then he nodded. “You’re never a problem, believe me.”
A woman with two noisy kids moved into the aisle.
Hogan took a chair off the shelf, then her arm. “Let’s go.” He adjusted his long-legged pace to match hers, aware of her slight hobbling no matter how she tried to hide it.
“I was going to get some real ice packs, too.” She grinned at him. “Last night I used up all my bags of frozen vegetables, and the freezer bags at the diner leak.”
“I grabbed some from my house. They’re already nice and cold and in a cooler. I also looked it up on the internet and you should have wrapped your ankle.”
She waved that away. “I tried it, but the only way that worked is if the wrap went around the bottom of my foot, and that made it so bulky, walking would be impossible.” Pausing, she lifted up the hem of her jeans on the left leg. “My big concession today is these hideous sandals, which are a godsend or I wouldn’t have conceded to them, and the chair so I can elevate my foot and ice it occasionally. Other than that, I’m treating this like any other day.”
He frowned down at the spongy, thick-soled sandals. “I suppose it’s better than nothing.”
“Mostly I’m worried about Brooklin. But she’s coming in today for lunch, so I can see how she’s feeling then.”
“Good.” Hogan gently led her to the checkout line behind two other people, then lowered his voice so no one would overhear. “Maybe while she’s there you can test out your chair.” He looked down at her, his expression far too solemn. “And you know, it wouldn’t hurt to find out who the hell would want to run her over, with you as collateral damage.”
Shivering with the reality of what could have happened, Violet moved closer. Collateral damage. Yes, she’d wondered about that at least a hundred times. “Last night, I kept wondering if I’d imagined that part.” She stared up at Hogan. “If it was deliberate, wouldn’t that make it attempted murder?”
“I’d say so.” With one arm, Hogan drew her closer and kissed her forehead. “But it could have been someone high or drunk, or just stupid.”
She tried to believe that, but had to admit the truth. Someone was after Brooklin.
Danger had come to Clearbrook, and by pure accident, she’d been drawn in.