High Noon. Debra Webb

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High Noon - Debra  Webb


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      “I know what you’re thinking.” She strode up onto the porch.

      If she was a mind reader they were in serious trouble. “Is that right?”

      She nodded. “You’re wondering why I drive that old truck.”

      He pushed up his hat and studied her a moment. “The thought has crossed my mind.” He wouldn’t mention how recently.

      “It was my father’s.” She turned toward the old blue vehicle. “It was the only thing left after the fire. A buddy of my dad’s saved it for me. Took him a while to find me with the bouncing around from one foster home to the other. It’s a damn good vehicle. Since I was sixteen it’s been the one reliable thing in my life. Got me where I needed to go. Even served as a home sometimes.”

      “That beats the hell out of a high-tech sound system and power windows any day of the week.”

      “Damn straight.”

      The screen door whined as she swung it open. The old house had a comfortable feel about it. Swing on the front porch. Pot of colorful flowers near the door. Old-fashioned screen door fronting an even older slab door with glass so old it had that wavy look. Inside, the place was well-kept and smelled of fresh-brewed coffee.

      Likely every part of the decorating and furnishings were secondhand but she’d done a nice job making the place feel like a home for her and the boy.

      “Buddy still asleep?” Joel didn’t have a doubt that if the kid was conscious he would be either following his mom around or designing the next rocket for space exploration. As smart as he was, he didn’t appear to have any playmates his age. The kid didn’t seem to mind.

      “He’ll be up soon and then he won’t slow down until he crashes for the night.”

      Joel laughed. “Kids that age never slow down unless they’re sick.”

      “Thought you didn’t have any kids.”

      The remark was tossed offhandedly enough but Joel suspected it was one of those self-protective measures. “Lots of nieces and nephews.”

      In the kitchen, there was more of Laney’s eclectic decorating. Again, lots of repurposed items. He was impressed with her ingenuity. A lot of things about the lady impressed him. She grabbed a mug from the rack and poured the coffee.

      “Smells good.” He accepted the cup and savored a long swallow. “Hmm. You have a special blend?”

      She patted a glass container. “I mix a few different beans to get the perfect combination of light and dark, French and Colombian. It’s the best mix I’ve come up with so far.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sounds kind of tragic but it’s a hobby of mine.”

      Judging by the large pot rack hanging over her island and the broad selection of cooking implements, the lady liked to cook. “Did you do the decorating yourself?”

      She cradled a mug of her special brew in both hands. “I did. The remodeling and the decorating. I spent a lot of time in salvage stores and hustling to remodeling sales. It got to be a kind of competition with myself to see how much money I could save.”

      “Looks like you have a knack.”

      “That’s what my grandmother said.” She smiled, remembering. “I was just a kid when I helped her remodel her old farmhouse. She was all by herself and my parents were on the road with business all the time. One day we just tore into the place and started fixing things up. It was a learning experience, let me tell you.”

      “Your folks live around here?”

      She shook her head. “They’re all long gone. Died when I was a kid. Had foster parents through my crazy teenage years and, believe it or not, I just got a little crazier after that. I didn’t get my act together until I had Buddy.”

      He knew her history but asking the logical questions was necessary for his cover. “Well, you turned out pretty damned good, Ms. Seagers.”

      Those brown eyes searched his. “What’s a guy like you doing hanging around the High Noon and tossing out compliments to lonely women?” She heaved one shoulder then let it fall. “Or here, for that matter? You’re clearly educated, polished. Not the usual cowboy who hangs out in saloons.”

      “The company I worked for went south. I have some savings. I decided taking a little time off to just chill would be a good thing.”

      “You seem a little young to retire.”

      He laughed. “True. But there’s a high burnout rate in security services. A lot of pressure and a lot of long days and even longer weeks.”

      “You’re on break,” she suggested, her expression a bit wary and openly disappointed.

      He nodded. “I guess I am.”

      “Why bother with working for me? I mean, it’s still security work. Last night can’t be your idea of chilling.”

      “Definitely not the same.” He finished off his coffee. “Most of my work involved high-risk principals. Politicians, celebrities. Lot of pressure. Last night was a cakewalk.”

      She poured him another cup. “You meet anybody really famous?”

      “You mean like a rock star or movie star?” he teased.

      She scooted up onto the counter. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean.”

      “A few. A former president and vice president impressed me the most.”

      “Wow.” She pursed her lips. “I may have to get you a special T-shirt for work.”

      “Does that mean I have the job?”

      She held his gaze for a bit. He didn’t miss the hesitation in her eyes. “I don’t usually trust people right off the bat. I take a while, most of the time. But for some reason I do trust you, Hayden.”

      That should have made him relax. It sure would make his assignment a hell of a lot easier. But it also meant that she would eventually learn that he wasn’t telling her the whole truth. Knowing that she had decided to trust him made that part a whole lot harder.

      “I’m flattered,” he confessed. A woman like her didn’t trust easily.

      “Just make sure you don’t make me regret it. And when you’re ready to go back to your real life, I expect a two-week notice.”

      The tension held a moment. “You have my word.”

      Another second or two of that thick silence elapsed.

      “I guess you have the job, then. Barring any unflattering information from your references.”

      “Fair enough.” He narrowed his gaze at her. “Now I have a question for you.”

      Her expression turned skeptical. “Be aware, I reserve the right not to answer.”

      “Agreed.”

      “So ask.”

      “Why’re you lonely?”

      She looked confused.

      Before she could put two and two together, he went on with the question that had nothing to do with his assignment. “A woman as young, smart and hot as you should never be lonely.”

      Surprise flashed in her eyes but quickly reverted to wariness. “I was trying to be funny, Hayden. I don’t have time to be lonely.”

      He’d hit a nerve there. He glanced at the array of hanging pots and pans. “You must be a heck of a chef.”

      “I can hold my own.” She set her cup aside, visibly relaxed. “The only time I’ve ever known a man to be interested in kitchen utensils was if he was a chef himself or if he was hungry.”

      Joel grinned. “I’m afraid my culinary skills leave something to be desired.”


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