Haley's Mountain Man. Tracy Madison

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      “I am. I want nothing, and in case you haven’t noticed, I am a person, so I’d say you’re wrong on that front.” Why was she arguing this? If he wasn’t inclined to accept her offer, she should let the matter drop. But just like the woman she had to confront, Haley couldn’t—wouldn’t—let this drop. “Just say yes.”

      A shot of blue slid into the gray of his eyes, changing them into yet another color she couldn’t name. With a quick shake of his head, he held out his hand. “My clipboard. Please.”

      She debated refusing, but really, hadn’t she made enough of a fool out of herself? Before handing it over, she ripped off the topmost page, which she then shoved into her purse.

      “Sometimes,” she said, “people just want to help for the sake of helping. If you change your mind, you can usually find me at Foster’s Pub and Grill. I mostly work in the back, in the office, so if you don’t see me, just ask for Haley.”

      “I won’t change my mind.” He closed his eyes for a millisecond, muttered under his breath. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t know you. I prefer to tend to my own business.”

      She nodded, held her shoulders straight. “Okay. The offer stands.”

      After another long, steady appraisal, he said, “You’re something, Miss Haley Foster. Definitely something.” He pulled two fives out of his pocket and placed them on the counter. To Lola, he said, “For mine and hers. And I thank you for your time.”

      And with that, the mountain man all but marched out of the Beanery, still appearing to be a man very much prepared for a fight. When was she going to learn? She had a habit of doing this, of sticking her foot in where it didn’t belong, where it wasn’t wanted.

      “Gee, that didn’t go well,” Haley murmured, accepting the tea from Lola.

      “I know what you were doing, and it was sweet of you, but this man … he’s got all sorts of rough edges, kiddo. And I’d estimate that he’s not accustomed to sweetness.” Lola patted her hand and offered a smile. “Very sweet of you, though.”

      “You weren’t fooled for a second, were you?”

      “Your mom pretty much spills all there is to spill about you kids, so no, not fooled.”

      “I tried, I guess.” Another thought occurred to her. “Can you not mention this to my mother? Or anyone else? Um, specifically anyone with the last name Foster?”

      “I suppose I can do that.” Lola chuckled. “None of this is my business, now is it?”

      “Thanks, Lola.”

      The line was lengthening again, so Haley returned to the table she’d shared with Suzette. Rough edges? Not accustomed to sweetness? She knew Lola hadn’t meant to spur her forward with those two comments, but dammit, how could she not try harder?

      Chemical response notwithstanding, she liked Gavin Daugherty. Maybe in spite of his rough edges, maybe because of them. She didn’t know, and frankly, didn’t altogether care at the moment. She liked him. And her heart was still a pile of goo.

      Sighing, Haley retrieved the flyer from her purse and stared at it, thought about how she should back off and listen to her head for once, and not her heart. That would be the smart thing to do, the practical thing to do. That would be what her brothers would insist she do.

      Unfortunately, she mostly ignored her brothers when they insisted she do anything. And listening to her head over her heart? Paying attention to boring old logic instead of her gut? No. She wasn’t very good at those, either. So, really. Why would she start now?

      After another minute’s consideration, she decided there were plenty of valid reasons to follow the path of logic, to think instead of feel. But she wasn’t going to.

      Logic be damned.

      She looked through the window, considered her options, and without another second of hesitation, thrust her arms into her jacket and beelined it toward the door. If she were lucky, she’d be able to catch up to Gavin before he handed out any of those flyers.

      After that … Well, she guessed she’d just play it by ear.

       Chapter Three

      Mind circling with questions, Gavin strode toward his battered pickup truck, berating himself for almost giving in. For that mere second of belief that someone who didn’t know him would actually want to help. He knew better, but dammit, that second of belief had felt good.

      More than that. It had felt … possible.

      Asinine, that. Why would Haley Foster want to help him, a man she didn’t know, a man who wanted to start a business that could very well cut into some of her family’s income? Didn’t make a lick of sense, and anything that held zero logic raised every one of his red flags.

      In his truck, he tossed the clipboard on the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. Dammit. He’d been in such an all-fire hurry to leave that he hadn’t left any of the flyers with Lola. So he’d have to go back, but not now. Likely not until he’d found the words to explain that there wasn’t a partnership with the Fosters, that there hadn’t been one to begin with and that no, he had no idea why Haley had claimed otherwise.

      Closing his eyes, he rested his head against his seat and exhaled a deep breath, tried to decide his next step. He could stop in at other businesses, as he’d originally planned, but he didn’t feel all that optimistic at the moment. Better to wait until he’d regrouped. Monday, maybe.

      Until then, he’d put in some physical labor around his property. Spend the day outside, in the sun, working his muscles until they ached. Yeah. That should do the trick. Of course, if he didn’t start earning more cash than his job at the hardware store gave him, his progress would come to a screeching halt. Not yet, though. He had a little extra left to work with, and plenty he could do with the materials he’d already purchased. Besides, however long it took, it took.

      There wasn’t any hurry. So long as he could move forward, he didn’t rightly care how slow that motion was. He opened his eyes and shoved the key into the ignition, started the engine. Home. Work. When the day ended, he’d have put himself back to rights.

      And he’d quit thinking about Haley Foster, her nonsensical offer to help and the way her almost-but-not-quite green eyes had stared into his as if she knew him. Shouldn’t be that difficult. She was, after all, just a woman. Not much more than a girl, really. And even if her offer had somehow been up front and honest, he’d meant what he said: he preferred to tend to his own business. Especially when the business in question meant so much.

      The Demkos were an aberration in a world of folks who were more concerned for themselves than anyone else. No reason to believe Haley Foster was also an aberration.

      With a muffled curse, he shifted into Drive and pulled onto the road. Too much to hope for, maybe, but that didn’t stop him from doing just that. The sensation was uncomfortable and threatening and dammit, he didn’t like it one bit.

      Reaching over, he switched on the radio and raised the volume loud enough to block out his thoughts, a maneuver that typically proved successful. Not today, and by the time he arrived home, СКАЧАТЬ