Savannah cooled her temper with another splash of water, dried off, and returned to the counter. Lyle had moved to a table where he read the paper with a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll.
Savannah cut a look at Misty, who shrugged and muttered, “I thought caffeine and sugar might soften him up a little.”
As if the man could hear their conversation, Lyle glanced up. His gaze burned into Savannah with bald, bitter resentment. The man had always hated her. He’d covered well enough for the first year she and Hank had been married. Then Jamison came along, and Lyle had become an overbearing presence in their lives, dictating and demanding. He had infiltrated her life, her marriage, and her family with manipulative, hateful tendrils that had ultimately ripped them apart. And Hank had not only let his father invade their family, he’d adopted Lyle’s controlling nature and turned into a man Savannah had never known. A man she never would have married.
Even after years of being separated from Hank, Savannah still felt jumpy facing off with either one of them. They were truly mirror images of each other. Which was exactly why she picked up the coffeepot and wandered to his table.
“Relax and enjoy your paper,” Savannah told him as she topped off his coffee. “You don’t have to worry about taking Jamison today. My shift ends soon. I’ll take him home with me when Hank drops him off.”
“Arrangements have already been made—”
“I wish Hank had called me before he thought to burden you. We know how busy you are.”
“It’s Hank’s day.”
The days Jamison should have been with his father had stopped mattering to Hank the day Savannah walked out of the house. But she wasn’t about to start a fight she couldn’t win. “A boy needs his mom when he’s sick. But thanks for pitching in.”
“It’s not your decision to make.” He was talking to her back, but that didn’t keep him from attempting to assert his dominance. Like father, like son.
By the time she’d reached the coffeemaker, her façade had melted and she was trembling—with fear, with frustration, and, yes, as much
as it shamed her to admit it, with hate.
Savannah refilled the coffee grounds to give her hands something to do. To give herself a moment to collect her emotions.
Misty came up beside her, and Savannah’s irritation broke through. “Not my decision to make?” she rasped, trying to keep her voice down. “I’ve only been making every decision about Jamison from the moment he was born.”
“Take the counter until he’s gone,” Misty said.
Savannah agreed. She was one incident away from snapping, and that would only hurt her situation.
She refilled coffee for customers, catching up on as much of their lives as they would share with her. Hank had spent years slowly alienating the population of Hazard from Savannah with lies and subtle threats.
When the café’s door opened again, the sweet tinkle of the bell tightened all her muscles. Savannah steeled herself to face Hank. But when she turned, Savannah found… The new guy.
She’d served him yesterday but hadn’t gotten his name. In truth, he intimidated her a little. He was a rugged wall of muscle and confidence with a stern expression and intense eyes. He didn’t smile. Didn’t say much. And seemed to see everything all at once. He wasn’t exactly menacing, but he wasn’t friendly either. And she was—admittedly—averse to men with an edge.
“I’m regretting my decision to give you the counter,” Misty said, stepping up to the coffeemaker and filling a fresh mug. “Tall, Dark, and Mouthwatering just came in.”
“Shh,” Savannah whispered over her shoulder, but she couldn’t argue with Misty’s assessment. Edge or no edge, the man was attractive.
He glanced around the café as he shrugged out of his parka and hung it on a peg beside Lyle’s. Savannah allowed her gaze to slide down his body—just once. Just a two-second glance. She was light years away from entertaining the idea of having a man in her life. And even if she were ready, this man wasn’t her type. She needed someone light and positive, with a good sense of humor. The strong, silent type hid things and hurt people.
She offered him a clipped “Good morning.”
“Mornin’.” He turned and met her eyes, but only for a millisecond before his gaze dropped away. Something Savannah saw far too often.
The day she left Hank, he’d sworn no man would ever touch her again. He’d gone above and beyond to make sure every male of a certain age knew she was off-limits. His authority and reputation ensured men kept their distance and spread the word. She doubted any man in town between the ages of twenty and sixty could identify her eye color. She just hadn’t expected it from such a newcomer.
Savannah wondered if he’d heard the rumors about her already or if she was just so messed up, she saw the behavior in everyone, real or not.
Oh, what it would be like to live in a town free of rumors and fear.
He wandered around the bend of the counter and took the last seat, facing the door. When she came his direction with the coffeepot, he picked up a menu without meeting her gaze.
He’s heard. Figures.
“Two days in a row,” she said. “No one passes through here this time of year. You must be stayin’ around or visiting family.”