Chapter One

      Trailer trash.

      Cissy Henley cringed. She’d learned early on that living in a trailer had little to do with the label. Only poverty and desperation were prerequisites. And the foul-smelling man hovering behind her in the Peachy Keen Diner thought that was exactly what she was.

      “Anybody home, baby?” He laughed. “I said, you reserving the place for me?”

      Cissy straightened her shoulders and maintained her stance facing the restroom door. The flimsy sticker proclaiming MEN had a gash through the middle and sagged at the corners. She kept a firm eye on the faded wood, reminding herself that no one had entered it during the past few minutes. And she would ensure it remained that way.

      “No,” she said. “It’s out of service for the moment.”

      “Yeah?” His croon dropped a notch, his hot breath hitting the back of her neck. “Well, whatcha say I hang with you till it’s back in service?”

      Cissy sighed. Chauvinistic redneck. Harassing a woman was probably the highlight of his Saturday night. He deserved a swift kick in the shins. Unfortunately, she couldn’t afford to lose her temper.

      Ignore him. He’ll go away.

      A stained T-shirt and hairy arms obstructed her vision. The man wedged himself between her and the door, flashing a smile that was all dingy teeth. He rubbed a lanky hand over the grizzled stubble of his chin.

      “Not right for a lady like yourself to be all alone this late at night.” The words slurred. He ran his bleary eyes over her face and down her chest, leaning back to survey her legs.

      Trailer trash. Cheap. Easy. Her lip curled. She knew the words were flashing in his head.

      Cissy ran her eyes over him, taking stock of his scrawny build and unstable frame. His hands trembled. Probably from too much liquor and too hard living. Harmless fool. But a fool nonetheless.

      “I’m not alone.” She elbowed her way to the other side of him and refocused on the bathroom door.

      “No, not anymore.” He shoved his face in front of hers. Delight pooled in his eyes. He licked his lips and leaned forward.

      “I wasn’t alone before you joined me,” Cissy bit out. “Now, I suggest you take your ass on.”

      His smile faded. It took a moment for his unfocused gaze to register the soft words as a rejection. He blinked hard. “What’s that?”

      The bathroom door banged open. Two blond boys tumbled out, shoving at one another before barreling into them.

      “Aunt Cissy, they ain’t got no paper towels in there,” Kayden, her six-year-old nephew, declared, dragging his palms over the other boy’s shirt. Frowning, he looked the drunk at her side over from head to toe. “Who’s he?”

      Cissy quickly gathered the