Hold On To Me (Welcome To Redemption) Page 5

  Don’t look at his body. Focus on Frank.

  “How’s Frank doing?”

  “A little surly today,” Grant said. “They got him out of bed for a bit and he’s pretty sore.”

  “I would imagine.” She fiddled with the spine of her order pad. “Can I call him? I mean, are there rules about only family calling and stuff like that?”

  “No, anyone can call. And he mentioned you the other day, so I’m sure he’d be happy to hear from you.”

  Despite his words about Frank, her stomach sank. Had they talked about her? Had Frank told him about Roy? She tried to read his expression, see if it held disdain for having stayed in the marriage so long, or worse, pity, but he sat forward to peruse the menu again.

  Taking his hint, she asked, “Do you know what you want?”

  He glanced sideways and up through those thick lashes. For just a moment, she thought she saw the corner of his mouth quirk in a cocky little grin, and for some reason was reminded of Tara’s strange warning. Be careful...of what?

  But then Grant lifted his head and his expression was completely neutral. “What’s good?”

  “Everything.”

  He chuckled, and though she’d been serious, she smiled back.

  “What’s your favorite?” he tried again.

  Realizing she should probably take care of her other customers, she quickly picked out two items. “On the cold side, Carrie’s Chicken Salad Croissant is amazing. If you prefer something hot, then I’d recommend the BBQ Beef sandwich. She makes her own sauce.”

  “I’ll take the beef for here, and a chicken salad to go. Then I don’t have to worry about dinner.”

  Jenny jotted his choices on her order pad. “And to drink?”

  “Large milk, please.”

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She moved away, checking with her other tables on her way to put Grant’s order in. After refilling some cups, rearranging the grouped tables back to their original spots, and delivering food and drinks to another table, she retrieved Grant’s sandwich and milk. Hopefully now he’d concentrate on his food instead of her movements around the dining room. Nerves of awareness had almost toppled two cups and a glass of water already. Is that what Tara had meant by her word of caution?

  “Can I get you anything else?” she asked him while setting the loaded plate of hot BBQ Beef and chips on the table.

  He unrolled his silverware and spread the napkin on his denim-clad thigh. “Did I smell cinnamon rolls when I first came in?”

  “Probably, but they were gone before noon.” She pulled out her pen and paper in preparation for one final order of the day. “And most days you’ve got to get here before nine. Carrie only made extra for the holiday.”

  “You’ve seen me before nine.”

  She tapped the pen against her lips. “Yeah, that could be a problem. Carrie doesn’t respond well to cavemen, and I tend to side with her.”

  For a brief moment, she swore she saw sympathy in his eyes. Then his gaze dropped to his plate as he shook his head with a smile. “If they’re so good, why doesn’t she make more?”

  Jenny forced herself to focus past the glimpse of emotion in his eyes to the question he’d voiced.

  “Limiting the rolls makes them a sought after item and gets customers here before many of them have had their morning caffeine. No one can resist the smell of Carrie’s coffee once they’re through the door.”

  “Damn marketing genius,” he grumbled.

  Jenny laughed. Before heading to her next table she said, “You do what you have to, but I’m not exaggerating when I tell you they’re worth it.”

  Chapter 6

  Grant ate his sandwich, watching Jenny while trying not to be too obvious. Her blue eyes really stood out with her mass of hair pulled back in that ponytail, and when she nibbled on her bottom lip, it made him want his own taste. When she leaned over to wipe tables, he was either treated to the enticing view of her denim-clad backside, or wishing her olive-green Coffee To Chai For T-shirt was a deeper v-cut.

  Watching her was so distracting, if she came over now and asked what he wanted, he’d probably say the first thing that popped into his head.

  You.

  Only she’d fly away faster than the hummingbird whose wings were blurred in the photo on the opposite wall. After what Roy put her through, he wouldn’t blame her. It was hard being attracted to her and acting normal after what Frank had told him, but instinct told him she’d resent being treated like a breakable piece of glass. Hell, if she survived Roy, she was a lot stronger than she looked.

  Tara Russell and her redheaded companion got up to leave when he was halfway through his meal. He hadn’t missed the measuring glances Charlie’s sister threw his way, and knew she wasn’t convinced he was one of the good guys yet. Time and actions would prove him worthy, so he offered a friendly smile as they walked by. She nodded, but didn’t speak.

  Instead of resenting her suspicion, he liked the idea of people in town looking out for Jenny. And seeing as how he was right on board with that plan, their defensiveness didn’t surprise him. He barely knew her, and already she’d inspired loyalty and the urge to protect. How had Roy not cherished her?

  No more than he laid his napkin on top the empty plate, Jenny returned to his table. “Everything okay?”

  “Excellent.”

  “Good.” She set his bill and a to-go box on the table before removing the dirty dishes. “I don’t mean to rush you, but my shift is over if you don’t mind taking care of this right away. I’ll take it up when you’re ready.”

  “Sure.” He noted the amount while removing a twenty from his wallet to set it on the bill. Besides good food, the prices were reasonable, and of course, he was partial to the service. “Keep the change.”

  “Thank you.” She scooped up the bill and money. “Have a good afternoon.”

  “Jenny,” he called as she started toward the back.

  When she turned to face him, he glanced up at the black and white photo of the hummingbird. “One of yours?”

  After a hurried look around the coffee shop, she moved closer. “Why would you think that?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You have a darkroom in your closet and you—”

  “Shh.” She sidled even closer and lowered her voice. “No one knows about that, so please don’t say anything.”

  Grant leaned forward, forearms braced on the table, and stage whispered, “Why the big secret?”

  “I just...” She cast another furtive glance around. “I prefer that no one know they’re mine. For now.”

  “They’re good.” His gaze traveled to others displayed in the shop. “Really good.”

  “Thanks. Now forget about it, okay?”

  When she walked away this time, he didn’t call her back. Once she was out of sight, he looked again at the pictures he’d noticed while eating. Better than good, they were spectacular. She had a gift for composition and picking the right subject to focus on to maximize impact. And the lighting effects on a couple of the photographs were downright amazing.

  Why would she want to keep such talent secret?

  Curiosity moved his feet to the counter instead of out the door. The woman making lattes, or cappuccinos, or whatever, glanced at him over her shoulder. “I’ll be right with you.”

  “I noticed the pictures you have for sale and wondered who the photographer is?”

  A voice from behind answered before the woman in front of him could. “I’ve been asking for months; Carrie won’t spill.”

  Grant turned around to see a petite brunette with shoulder length hair holding onto the hand of a dark-haired little boy about four years old.

  “I told you, Allie, when they’re ready, you’ll be the first to know.” Carrie handed off two to-go cups to the waiter Jenny had been working with and stepped up to the counter. “Now would you like to place an order, or did you just come to hound me again?”

  “Dad and Dana want some coffee,�
� the little boy piped up.

  Carrie leaned forward to look over the counter. “Hey, Lukas. Did you know delivery boys get a cookie?”

  The little guy’s eyes lit up. “Really? Can I have chocolate chip?”

  Carrie nodded and handed him one from the tray in the display case. As the brunette named Allie put in her order, Grant tried to make sense of the situation. Both women looked vaguely familiar, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall their last names. And the kid, with his dark coloring...

  “Is this Charlie Russell’s boy?” he asked.

  Even with a mouthful of cookie, the kid beat everyone to the punch. “No, my daddy’s the vet. Charlie is Dana’s...fee...” He turned to Allie with a comical frown. “What’s the word again?”

  “Fiancé. And don’t talk with your mouth full.” She raised her gaze to Grant. “Rick Wilde is the vet, also my husband.”

  Yep, he remembered Rick. One of Charlie’s friends. Made him wonder if Drew Porter was still around, too. Back in the day, those guys had been as thick as thieves.

  “Allie and Dad are newy-weds,” Lukas announced, spewing more crumbs. “They kiss a lot.”

  Carrie and Grant laughed. Allie smiled, even though her cheeks turned red. Two engagements and a recent wedding...definitely something in Redemption’s water.

  Hugging Lukas in front of her, Allie gave Grant a quizzical stare. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  “Sorry, no. And considering what a self-centered jack—snob I was back in high school, this is probably going to happen to me a lot.”

  “What’s a jack-snob?” Lukas asked, twisting his head around to look up at Allie.

  Grant tried not to laugh as he took that question. “Someone who’s not very nice to others.”

  “Like a jerk?”

  “Yes,” Grant confirmed with a grin. “And believe me, little man, you don’t want to be known as a jerk. Always be nice, or you’ll end up apologizing a lot later on.”

  “My daddy says I should say sorry if I do something that’s not nice.”

  “Your daddy is right.” He lifted his gaze to Allie, and after shifting the to-go bag to his other hand, he extended his right. “So starting over...Grant Walker.”

  “Allie Wilde, formerly Daniels.” She released his hand and gestured across the counter to Carrie and the man who’d just come out of the back. “Carrie Lowell and Matt Jacobs.”

  Grant shook hands all around, finally recognizing the family resemblance when he heard the sheriff’s last name. “Carrie, I must say, great food. My only complaint is that you ran out of cinnamon rolls.”

  “Gotta get here early if you want one of those,” Matt advised.

  “So I’ve been told.”

  After a couple more minutes of small talk, Grant bid them good day and left in the new used car he’d purchased from a dealership outside of Pulaski. He wondered if he’d recognize anyone at the DMV when he registered the vehicle in the morning. The maroon four-door was a far cry from the days he’d cruised around Redemption in his brand new red mustang convertible, but the only thing embarrassing now was the way he’d acted back then.

  Earlier, he’d made a list of things to get at Chudzik’s Hardware, and once those purchases were loaded into the trunk, and some groceries in the back seat, he drove home to the apartment building.

  Home. Surprisingly, it hadn’t taken him long to settle in to the point that he was comfortable.

  He carried in the first armload, and then opened his apartment door to head out for the next.

  “Oh!” Jenny gasped as she stood in front of him, arm raised to knock.

  “Whoa—hey,” Grant said at the same time. They laughed, and then he made sure his tone was the exact opposite of the other morning when he inquired, “May I help you?”

  Her lingering smile acknowledged his joke, but it faded as she thrust forward a small white paper bag. “Here.”

  He automatically accepted the wax-coated bag and tested its considerable weight for such a small package. “What’s this?”

  “A cinnamon roll. I figured it was safer to drop it by now than in the morning.”

  With a grin for her teasing, he opened and lifted the bag to inhale the delicious aroma of sweet icing, flaky pastry, and gooey cinnamon filling. Mmm. Even cold, the scent made his mouth water.

  “You bought this for me?” he asked with pleased surprise.

  “Oh, no.”

  So much for that thought. “Did you make it?”

  “Of course not.”

  And feeling less special by the second.

  “Carrie sent me home with two, and there’s no way I can eat them both,” Jenny explained. “Consider it my apology for...ah...the closet incident, and thank you for fixing the door.”

  One more sniff and he decided he didn’t care. She’d thought of him and that’s all that mattered. “Apology and thank you accepted, even though the apology isn’t necessary.”

  “I know.”

  Her cheeky grin surprised him even more than the cinnamon roll, and he stepped aside with a sweeping gesture across the threshold. “Would you like to come in?”

  She stepped the opposite direction. “Weren’t you on your way out? Or do you get your kicks standing at your door waiting for unsuspecting knockers?”

  Heat worked its way along the back of his neck and into his face at her observation. “Yes, I was. On my way out—not waiting.”

  He lobbed the bag the short distance to the kitchen counter where it landed with a thud before sliding a few inches. Then he stepped out into the hall with her and closed his door.

  “I’ve got a bunch of stuff from the hardware store and some groceries to unload yet.”

  They walked down the hall together and parted ways at the stairs. Outside, Grant loaded up at his car, but then had to juggle the items to free up a hand to open the building door. Where was a tenant when he could use one?

  One of the bags ripped where his fingers grasped it and crashed to the ground. The brown paper split open further, spilling the contents all over the sidewalk. Swearing under his breath, he juggled some more so he could set down the rest of his purchases.

  “I got it.”

  He glanced up to see Jenny exit the building. She knelt down to gather the items he’d dropped, stacking a couple boxes of nails on her forearm. Anchoring them against her chest, she then picked up his two hammers and the useless bag.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” She rushed ahead to open the door for him, then led the way down the hall toward the manager’s apartment. Though she’d changed from her work shirt with the coffee shop logo to a pale yellow tee, jeans still hugged her hips.

  “Got a big project planned?”

  Grant dragged his gaze up from her butt. “No, I took inventory and stocked up on what was low. And this stuff here goes in the storage room.”

  When they reached that door, she held it open for him to go through. “How much more do you have? I’ll be your personal doorman.”

  “Couple more trips. I have a bad habit of trying to carry too much at once.”

  “A habit I am all too familiar with,” she commiserated on their way back outside. “At least nails don’t break. Eggs have been my innocent victims more than once.”

  His laugh echoed in the hall as he enjoyed her unexpected company. “Been there, done that. You’d think we’d learn, but no, the poor eggs have to keep suffering.”

  He moved ahead to get the door, but halfway through, he noticed Jenny had stopped a few steps back. “You coming?”

  She stood there, arms crossed in front of her as if to hug herself. “Um...I’ll wait here and grab the door for you on your way back in.”

  “O-kay.”

  Giving in to a confused frown, Grant continued outside, wondering about her sudden reluctance to accompany him outside. Immediately, he recalled his uncle’s comment about Roy hanging around and quickly scanned for the sonofabitch. There were people and cars, but no sign of the cheating wif
e-beater.

  After a deep breath to ward off his anger, he loaded up with everything he had left and clicked the locks on his way back inside. Jenny waited until he was in front of the door before moving forward to push it open. Instead of stepping out and around to give him room, she simply backed up once he caught the edge of the door with his shoulder.

  “Is everything alright?” he asked as she rescued a couple bags from him.

  “Everything’s fine.”

  He didn’t buy it. If her actions hadn’t already clued him in, the tremor in her voice would’ve. When she reached for the storage room door again, he said, “Groceries go in the apartment.”

  “Oh. Right. Of course.” She continued down the hall and opened his door. After setting everything on the counter, he turned and saw the final confirmation she was spooked. Instead of backing out into the hall and saying goodbye, she stood inside, as if waiting for an invite.

  One he was happy to provide as he glanced at his watch. “You know, if you don’t mind keeping me company while I put this stuff away, I’ll share my chicken salad with you.”

  Funny how it appeared she’d flee any second, yet her feet didn’t move.

  “I’m not going to eat your dinner.”

  Grant grabbed the gallon of milk from the counter and opened the refrigerator. “Not the whole thing, no. The key word was share.”

  A glance confirmed he’d managed to coax another smile. That was something. He unloaded groceries until he heard the click of the door.

  “Can I get a glass of water, please?”

  A quick smile was masked as he turned back to the groceries on the counter and pointed her toward the cabinet by the sink. “Glasses are up there. I also have soda or some juice if you’d prefer that?”

  She shook her head at the container of OJ he held up. “Water’s fine.”

  After filling her glass, she moved back to the other side of the counter. Everything he wanted to ask was sure to put her on the defensive, so instead he suggested, “You want to see if there’s anything good on TV while we eat?”