The Single Dad's Redemption. Roxanne Rustand

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СКАЧАТЬ “Uh...no problem.”

      “I really do owe you,” she murmured, averting her gaze as she dusted her hands against her jeans. A rosy blush brightened her cheeks. “You have no idea how much I wanted to avoid having Todd show up—he’s a deputy in town—or the fire-department guys. You can be sure it would’ve been front-page news in the local paper, complete with photographs. Like I said, I would never live it down. And my dad...”

      She closed her eyes briefly, clearly cringing at the thought.

      “He’s...” Connor hesitated. “Quite a driver.”

      Her mouth twitched, and then she laughed softly. “That has to be the understatement of the year. But I promise you, I’ll be taking his keys away. I won’t let him get behind the wheel again and risk someone’s life.”

      The small kitchen, with its white cupboards and yellow-checkered curtains, had seemed as bright and airy as the rest of the apartment, but now he felt the walls closing in on him.

      Maybe it was the claustrophobia he’d been fighting since walking out of the prison doors.

      Maybe it was his increasing awareness of her sparkling green eyes and her creamy skin, or his sudden curiosity about what it might be like to hold her in his arms just one more time. But that was a bad idea.

      His ex-wife had provided a painful lesson on the risks of judging women based on beauty, and there was no room in his life for any ties at any rate. The moment his truck was fixed, he needed to be back on the road.

      He cleared his throat. “I guess I’d better be going.”

      He turned for the door to go downstairs, but she touched his arm and he froze at the warmth of her hand.

      “Please—wait. Did you find a job in town?”

      He knew what she was going to ask, even before she spoke. He shook his head.

      “Have you given any more thought to working here?”

      He looked over his shoulder, ready to say no and be on his way, but the hope in her eyes stopped him short. “I wouldn’t be much use. As soon as my truck’s done I need to hit the road, no matter what.”

      Her expression inexplicably brightened, though how she heard anything positive in his reply escaped him.

      “I totally understand, and that’s fine. Even a week or two would help. Would you be willing to fill out a job application, just in case you change your mind?”

      He swallowed hard, knowing it was only fair to tell her the truth before this went any further. A burning wave of humiliation rushed through him over what he now had to reveal to this pretty young woman—one who had probably never received so much as a parking ticket.

      “You really wouldn’t want me here.”

      “Why not?” A teasing glint sparkled in her eyes. “It isn’t like you’ve just landed on Mars, you know. The store may be slanted to female customers, but the job is easy.”

      She sure was determined, he’d give her that. He sighed. “There are things you don’t know about me, ma’am.”

      She tossed a grin over her shoulder as she started down the stairs. “Just put it all on the application. You seem like a nice guy, so I’m sure there won’t be any problems.”

      That was what she thought.

      At the cash-register counter, she handed him another application and a pen, and motioned to the ice-cream table and chair by the front window. “Just have a seat. It won’t take long.”

      Defeated by her perseverance and the ingrained Texas manners that precluded arguing with a lady, he skimmed over the application.

      There were four places to list previous employers, and his job history certainly had a suspicious five-year hole in it. What should he write there—inmate? Infirmary worker while incarcerated at the Eagle Creek State Prison in Montana?

      The job before that was “rodeo cowboy” and before that he’d been the hardworking son of a Texas rancher. Fixing fences, training horses and raising cattle were hardly good work experiences for the kind of employee she needed.

      But the part he’d expected—listing past convictions—wasn’t on the form. Maybe times had changed and those details couldn’t be asked.

      Yet he couldn’t lie and he wouldn’t hide the truth. He fixed his weary gaze on the glittering baubles hanging over the front counter. “As much as I could use the money, I’m really not your guy.”

      She tipped her head and smiled at him. “The cash register is super easy, I promise.”

      He sighed heavily. “Your application form doesn’t ask about legal history.”

      She blinked, clearly not expecting a comment like that, and drew back. “And?”

      “It should.” He fished in his back pocket for his billfold and withdrew a folded photocopy of a newspaper article, smoothed it out on the counter and then handed it to her. “Read this.”

      Her mouth dropped open at the headline. She darted a quick look at him then read the brief article he already knew by heart, word for word.

      Texan Connor Rafferty, sentenced to life without parole for the murder of Sheriff Carl Dornan, has served five years in the Eagle Creek State Prison. Recent DNA evidence has exonerated Rafferty of all charges and he has been released. No one else has been charged, but state investigators say the case is ongoing...

      “Five years,” she breathed, giving him a searching look. “Five years of your life gone and they were wrong?”

      He’d expected doubt, suspicion, even instant fear of a man she might still believe to be a cop killer despite laboratory evidence to the contrary. He’d expected her to order him out of her store. He hadn’t expected to see the sympathy in her eyes.

      He hitched a shoulder. “That’s about it. But right now I’m just thankful to be free.”

      “I can’t imagine what it was like for you.” She shook her head slowly. “And for your poor family.”

      “Nothing good.” He tucked the article back into his wallet. “I don’t think you want a guy fresh out of prison at your cash register.”

      Her brows drew together as she searched his face. “But you weren’t guilty, right?”

      “No. But I spent five years behind bars and I’ll be marked by that injustice forever.”

      “Maybe you should give people a chance to prove you wrong.”

      “Is it worth the risk? If word about my past spreads, people might be afraid to come into your store.”

      “You aren’t exactly unique. Marvella Peters is a beautician in town, and one of her nephews in Chicago was released from prison for burglary two years ago. The same situation—based on DNA.” She thought for a moment. “And I saw a television show about this sort of thing, too. At least you aren’t the poor man who put in thirty years before proven innocent.”

      He’d СКАЧАТЬ