17

As soon as the door closed behind Trevor, Franklin pushed to his feet, stretched, and held out his hand to Laureen. “I’m gonna check on our new mama and baby one more time. Feel up to joining me?”

A smile lit Laureen’s face as she clasped her husband’s hand to stand.

Hayley’s cheeks warmed at the love that flowed between them.

Laureen looked at Hayley. “Want to come?”

“No thanks. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll head to bed.”

Franklin pulled his wife close. “Of course we don’t mind. And feel free to sleep in tomorrow morning. You earned it.”

“But…” Hayley’s exhausted brain couldn’t form a coherent protest.

They helped one another into work coats and boots, and then Laureen leaned into Franklin’s side as they exited.

The sigh that had threatened earlier escaped from her, as Hayley pulled her weary frame up the stairs. Her head hit the plump pillow and sleep claimed her. Sometime later, images sped by like a slide show on steroids. Hayley wrapped her arms tight around Trevor as they roared down an empty road on his motorcycle. Its powerful engine rumbled beneath her, and she opened her mouth wide and laughed into the wind. Trevor leaned into a curve, and she followed his lead. No, too far! The bike slid, and the scene changed.

She sat in the driver’s seat of a sports car—she didn’t know what kind—and pressed the accelerator to the floor. Fence posts flew by so fast they barely registered. Suddenly, a cow stood in the middle of the road. Hayley swerved—too late. A sickening crunch, and then the scene switched to a barn. The cow lay bleeding in the straw, its calf lifeless behind it. Sobs bubbled up from deep inside as Hayley reached for the stillborn calf, and it morphed into a human baby. Her baby.

Hayley bolted upright, gasping for breath. Her head pounded in time with her racing heartbeat. She rubbed her face to force herself awake. It was just a horrible dream, but the blackness seemed impenetrable as she peered between her fingers. Where was she? A whisper of movement touched her face. “Wh-who’s there?” She couldn’t hear anything above her hammering heartbeat. Heaviness pressed down, and she curled into a fetal position. Her whisper seemed to echo in the dark room. “Don’t hurt me, please.” Who could help her? “Jesus, where are you?”

The oppressive weight lifted, and Hayley sat up again. Moonlight filtered in around the window shades, and she recognized the room. The farm—she’d moved to Franklin and Laureen’s home. Her pulse and breathing slowed to a normal rhythm as memory returned.

Then a vision of her cache of pills swung pendulum-like before her eyes, a caricature of a smile. She gasped against their lure. “Not now!”

Laureen needed Hayley’s help. She had a purpose; she could be useful.

Hayley lay back against her pillow and closed her eyes. Maybe she should get rid of those pills, remove the temptation. But what if she failed again? Or if it turned out that God wasn’t true, and life wasn’t worth living after all? No, she’d hang on to them. For a while.

Several hours later, noise from below and the scent of coffee jarred Hayley from a restless sleep. She rubbed the dried salt of tears from her eyes and peered at the alarm clock. Seven-thirty? Her first day as Laureen’s personal assistant, and she’d slept in. She pulled on her jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt, ran a comb through her hair, and hurried down the stairs. Her big chance to prove her value to Laureen waited in the kitchen, judging from the soft rumble of voices. Maybe Trevor… Her heart beat a little faster. Hayley pasted on a smile as she entered the kitchen. And stopped short.

Where Trevor sat last night, a muscular, tattooed, bald and bearded stranger relaxed with his elbows propped on the table. His gaze seemed to bore deep into her soul as though, somehow, he knew her.

Heart fluttering, Hayley stepped back.

“Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?” Laureen’s cheerful voice halted her retreat.

“I-I didn’t mean to sleep in. I set the alarm…I’m really sorry.”

“No apology needed, Hayley. I turned off the alarm. Figured you needed extra sleep after yesterday’s adventure.” She patted the chair beside her. “Come, have some coffee and meet Max.”

Max? Franklin had mentioned the man they’d hired to help with farm chores, but she certainly hadn’t pictured someone who looked as if he’d be more at home in a smoky bar or gang hangout.

Hayley preferred to keep her distance. The way he looked at her…she shivered and sat at the opposite end of the table.

“You cold?” Franklin got up, filled a cobalt mug with coffee, and set it in front of her. “Cream and sugar are right there.”

“Th-thank you.” Hayley cradled the mug in her shaky hands and stared into its depths. She needed to prove—to herself as well as the Hieberts—that she was capable. Hayley lifted the mug, took a sip, and let the hot brew slide down her tight throat. Better.

“Glad to meetcha, Miss Hayley.”

Coffee splashed onto her fingers. “Ow.” She plunked the cup onto the table and wiped her fingers on her jeans, carefully avoiding Max’s gaze. At least she hadn’t dropped Laureen’s beautiful blue mug.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” His deep rumble carried a hint of a chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’m not as mean as I look.”

Hayley stared at the vivid tattoo on his left arm. A majestic lion, mouth wide to roar, stared back at her. She’d reserve judgement.

Max must have noticed her reaction. “Ever read The Chronicles of Narnia?”

Hayley nodded as warmth filled her. Grandmother Blankenship had given her the complete set of books for her eighth Christmas, and Hayley had fallen in love with the characters, especially the lion.

“That’s one of my favorite series of all time.” Laureen leaned forward. “Wonderful stories, especially for kids who need a strong hero.”

Hayley dared another glance at Max. So did he imagine himself to be a hero or did the tattoo confess his need for one?

“Want to help me make breakfast?” Laureen broke into Hayley’s musings.

Hayley pushed her chair back. “Of course. What are we making?” Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Her first test—she didn’t dare mess up.

“Bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast. How’s that sound?”

Hayley’s stomach growled, and heat rushed to her face as the others grinned. “Really good, apparently.”

Half an hour later, Hayley gathered the dirty dishes from the table. The men headed outside to do chores and Laureen filled the sink with hot, soapy water. Hayley took a deep breath. The delicious scent of bacon permeated the kitchen. She grinned. She’d eaten much more than usual and would have to work it off.

“Do you mind scrubbing the pans?” Laureen grimaced at the cast on her arm.

“Sure. I’d love to.”

“I love your attitude. Most people don’t exactly jump at the chance to wash pots and pans. While you do that, let’s work out a menu and shopping list for the next few days. I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon. I thought maybe you could drive me to the doctor’s office, and then we could do some grocery shopping afterwards.”

Hayley’s shoulders slumped. She’d hoped she could convince the Hieberts of her value before they learned she didn’t drive. “I-I haven’t driven for a long time. That accident I mentioned at Dave and Lydia’s? I haven’t gotten behind a wheel since then.” The dishwater churned as Hayley’s hands began to shake. She stared at the murky water as it echoed her inner turmoil. So much for proving her competence.

A warm hand settled on her shoulder. “Oh, honey.” Laureen rubbed Hayley’s bowed back. “That crash damaged more than just your car, didn’t it?”

~*~

A chime from his pocket alerted Trevor to a new email. He considered ignoring it. Every message from Vince Starr brought more demands. The man seemed to think Trevor had nothing to do until he got to Toronto. Trevor set down the socket wrench, pulled out his phone, and read the message from a Nate Smith.

“Heard you haven’t found a place here yet. I’ve got a room and space for a couple bikes. Half hour commute to work. $750/month, shared utilities. Let me know.”

Trevor searched his memory, but he couldn’t remember meeting anyone named Nate at Lowrider. Then again, only a few of the guys had bothered to introduce themselves. A frisson of unease rippled through Trevor. Why did it matter? He’d be busy building his own creations. He wasn’t moving there to make friends. Trevor glanced around the small shop.

Ryan looked up, nodded, and resumed reassembling a Suzuki racer. Yeah, friends made a difference. Someone to talk to and relax with at the end of a long day.

A certain redhead came to mind. Hayley had promised friendship, but he wanted more. Her face, those wide jade eyes framed with dark lashes, narrow straight nose, high cheekbones, and full, tempting lips. Her mouth… He swallowed hard and pushed her image away. No time for daydreaming. Too much to do in the next nine days. But his heart twisted as her image faded.

With effort he turned back to Nate’s email. His offer sounded a lot better than anything Trevor had found online. He punched Nate Smith into the search engine. With a name like Smith, there were several. He scanned the most promising, but none mentioned Lowrider Cycles. He read the email again. Nate’s offer sounded good. Maybe too good.