Page 15 of Hard Knock Hero

He stared at me for a long moment with that hard, inscrutable expression.

Then Aiden turned and walked away from me, disappearing through the door to the dining room.

“Goodnight,” I said, but I didn’t hear an answer.

* * *

In the morning, I came downstairs to find the blankets folded neatly on the bottom step, the pillow placed on top.

The kitchen was spotless. The lemon tarts were cleaned up and the dishes were done. The dining room was clean too.

“Aiden?” I wandered around looking for him.

I’d been awake half the night thinking about the guy I barely knew who was asleep downstairs. Wondering what his deal really was. Army made sense. He was a chef, which explained a lot of the comments he’d made about my cooking. Plus the comfortable way he’d swung around that chef’s knife.

He was a man who would go on vacation in a cabin all alone, yet also risk himself for a woman he’d just met and thenclean her kitchen.

It was weird. But also endearing.

“Aiden?” I said again. But the bathroom was empty. So was the pantry. The storage closet. Cold disappointment seeped in as the minutes passed. There was noI’ll be right backmessage. Nothing.

He was gone.

But in the short time I’d known him, Aiden had proved to be unpredictable. He’d cleaned up my mess from last night. I just hoped he wasn’t going to cause any new ones.

CHAPTERFIVE

Aiden

I trudgedthrough the snow on Main Street. A truck with a snowplow pushed its way down the road, and shopkeepers shoveled their sidewalks clear.

First off, coffee.

While I’d tidied up Jessi’s kitchen for her this morning, I wasn’t about to go digging around for beans and filters in there. I wouldn’t have been okay with some stranger getting handsy inmykitchen. That just seemed disrespectful.

White-coated peaks towered to one side of Main Street, while red sandstone cliffs provided color on the opposite. Spruces and pines added a rich hue of dark green, muted by the evidence of yesterday’s storm.

I could see a little better why Jessi liked this place. The town didn’t seem nearly as run-down and desolate as it had last night. The historic charm was on display, with far moreopensigns and inviting interiors in the windows, though at least half of the storefronts were closed down and marked for lease. Yet the fresh air and hum of activity on the street made the town pulse with energy. It was awake.Alive.

I wandered until I found a coffee shop, which turned out to be next door to the Hartley Saloon. Bean grinders whirred. Sugary muffins and fresh Columbian brew scented the air. The line was five deep, and the baristas looked harried, making espresso drinks as quickly as they could. From the chatter I overheard, I gathered that most of the people in here were fellow refugees from the bridge closure and the storm.

While I waited for my turn, I used the free Wi-Fi. The vacation rental host had confirmed my stay at the cabin.Nonrefundable. I wrote back that I probably wouldn’t arrive today, but I’d hopefully be there tomorrow.

Ireallyhoped I’d be there tomorrow.

The rental host had promised true isolation. Nobody around for miles in a place that didn’t even qualify as a blip on the map. That was what I’d wanted. A scenic drive to an even more scenic, isolated locale. I pictured the cozy fireplace of my vacation rental again. Quiet woods surrounding me, no sounds but the thump of falling snow. And a kitchen for me to try out some new experiments. Nothing too fancy, but I wasn’t fancy at home either. And after that, my catering gig for the wedding in Steamboat. Then back to California and my usual life.

Jessi’s real brother would be in Hartley by then, and her problems would once again be her own. As they should be. She had made it clear that she wanted to maintain some distance from me, and I had no problem with that. This was just an interlude. A brief crossing of paths.

But…that didn’t mean I couldn’t make myself useful during my brief stay.

I reached the front of the line and ordered a black brewed coffee. The girl at the counter smiled with relief at my simple order, though she did a brief double-take when she looked up at me. I wasn’t sure what that meant. Was it just general interest, or had she heard about the incident last night?

The town I was from, West Oaks, wasn’t that big. But it was far from the tiny footprint of Hartley. My hometown was on the Southern California coast to the west of Los Angeles, and it had new people constantly churning through. I’d never spent much time in a true small town like Hartley, hours and hours away from the nearest real city and cut off by geography from everything else.

Maybe news around here just traveled that fast. It didn’t seem like something I would enjoy. Having my neighbors so aware of my business? Nope. I liked my privacy, thank you very much.

After I paid, I tucked a dollar in the tip jar, thanked the girl, and went on my way.

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