Page 7 of Sheltering Lawson
The morning went off without a hitch. Geez, I had never worked in a place that was so busy for every meal. But after tasting Brax’s food, especially the gumbo, I wasn’t surprised. I was heading out of the kitchen with a plate full of chicken fried steak for one of the customers, when a man caught my attention at the front door. My lungs seemed suddenly incapable of taking in air. I tried to swallow a mouthful of oxygen and then another as my legs began to shake. Panic clawed its way up the back of my throat. In my peripheral, he looked just like…oh God…had he found me? I whipped my head around, and the plate clattered to the floor smashing, food going everywhere.
People were looking, and Ethan came over immediately. “It’s okay, sugar,” he said softly. “Accidents happen. I’ll help you get this right.”
I barely heard him, my attention focused almost completely inward, everything else becoming vague and peripheral. A shudder of tension rattled through me, stronger than its precursor. I tried to steel myself against it, but failed.
Failed.
I had been so ineffectual, so scared. I couldn’t handle anything as a wave of helplessness surged through me.
I rose and swallowed, feeling even more foolish, my hand to my mouth, blinking furiously at the tears that pooled and swirled in my eyes, blurring my view of him. “I’ll get a broom and mop,” I blurted out and fled into the kitchen to the storage closet where the cleaning supplies were. For a moment, I just stood there.
“Everything all right?” Brax asked. I jumped and spun around. “Yes,” I said. “I dropped a plate. Clumsy. I’m so sorry. You can take the breakage out of my pay.”
“Not necessary. It was an accident. Don’t get worked up over it, sugar.”
I nodded, forcing a smile, and he left. I reached for the broom, mop and a bucket, but had to take a breath to stem the flow of more tears. I wasn’t going to cry. Both these guys were so darn kind. I remembered when I had made a mistake, any mistake, I was berated and belittled for it for days. Their kindness touched something deep inside me, something I hadn’t known before. It was totally uplifting and made me feel completely warm inside. I didn’t know how to handle this consideration.
“Lawson?”
I whirled to find Ethan standing at the door looking more than concerned. Here I was trying to just get through this without burdening anyone with my problems, and I was acting like a dang fool for no reason. It hadn’t been him. Oh, God. It hadn’t been him. I’d overreacted.
“I’m coming,” I said, dashing away my tears, but when I turned around, he was closer. There was no doubt he knew I’d been crying. His face softened into one full of compassion.
“Aw, Tinkerbell, there’s no need to cry,” he said gently. “No harm done. It’s just a plate and some food. Brax has already gotten him another meal. No need to worry.”
Trembling slightly as the heat from his body drifted over my skin, his scent even more compelling this close, I held my ground. My breath caught in my throat as he lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
“You both are so kind,” I whispered. He stepped closer and my nerves stretched a little tighter.
He reached out again and before I knew it, he was hugging me. Simply hugging me. “Ethan,” I said breathless and hating it. My nerves gave a warning tremor as control of the situation seemed to slip a little further out of my grasp.
He felt solid, warm and hard. Every lonely cell in my body cried out at the connection, so desperate for human contact. I hadn’t allowed myself any friends on the road. It opened too many doors, so I had no idea why this felt so damn right. I needed it so much.
For a few moments, he just held me, there was nothing overt about it, nothing sexual, nothing but a man comforting a woman. I went up on tiptoe, my arms wrapped around his neck, the hair at his nape silky, his skin smooth and warm. I was sick with the need to touch him and have him touch me.
He squeezed me hard, then let me go, the brief contact just that—too brief.
He slipped his fingers under my chin, his eyes broadcasting that he was aware it wasn’t the plate or the mess that had upset me. He looked like he wanted to ask me something, but then changed his mind. “C’mon, let’s go get this mess cleaned up.”
We made quick work of it and the rhythm of my serving snapped back into place. I couldn’t quite keep the need to flee at bay, but I simply didn’t have the means right now. It hadn’t been either of the men I feared at the door, just someone who bore a close resemblance to him. I could breathe easy. For now.
The breakfast crowd followed the lunch crowd with people standing at the door. I approached one of the tables Ethan had pointed out as reserved for Outlaw guests. Two women had entered and sat down. Both women had dark hair and pretty features. One was dressed in a simple flowered dress with sandals and the other in a pair of cutoff shorts, a flowing top, very bohemian and cowboy boots. “Hello, ladies. I’m Lawson.” I offered them each a menu and said, “Drinks?”
“We’ll both have iced tea,” the bohemian said.
“Unsweetened for me,” the one with the pretty dress said with an accent that was pure Yankee.
“I’ll be right back.” I walked to the bar and Ethan smiled at me. “Two iced teas, one unsweetened,” I said.
“Coming up.” Our hands brushed as he gave me first one, and said, “Here’s the sweetened.” Then the next. “And unsweetened.”
I turned away trying to keep my heart from fluttering every time he looked at me. That might be impossible.
“I don’t want a limo…it’s too pretentious and over-the-top for me. I don’t want to start my wedding day out with something white and stretch.”
“How about a horse-drawn carriage? It’s so romantic.”
Both women looked up at me, and I thought I might have offended them by butting into their conversation. I don’t know what got into me. Mostly I minded my own business.
