Faith Lewis loved her son more than life itself. But
honestly, if he whined at her one more time, she was going
to duct tape his mouth shut.
"Why can't I stay home by myself?" Austin asked
sullenly from the passenger seat. "I'm not a baby."
Then why are you acting like one? And worse, why
had she reverted to thinking like a nine-year-old herself?
She bit her tongue and strangled the steering wheel. If
she'd learned one thing over the past twelve years, it was
self-restraint.
Thank God she'd learned something, right?
She pulled into the municipal parking lot half a block down
from Brit's Snips and shut off her car.
"It's not fair," he continued, crossing his arms,
his green eyes shooting daggers at her. "I'm almost
ten—"
"Last time I checked," she said, unbuckling her seat
belt, "your birthday was eight months away."
He flipped back his brown hair. If he'd let her give him a
trim, he wouldn't have to keep jerking his head like that.
"But
why do I have to come to work with you?"
She pushed her sunglasses back on her head. "We've
talked about this before. So many times I might as well put
it on a recording and push Play the next time you start in
on me." And he would. Her son was nothing if not stubborn.
Like the color of his eyes, he got stubbornness from her.
But that didn't make it any less frustrating. They'd had
this conversation every day since school let out two weeks
ago. It was going to be a very long summer.
"It's not like I'm gonna start the house on fire or
something. Why can't I stay by myself?"
"For all the reasons I've already explained." Plus a
few she'd kept to herself, such as her fear of coming home
only to discover him gone. Tossing the keys in her purse,
she opened the car door. "Now, I'm already late for work
and you are about one more word away from losing your
video-game privileges. Do you understand me?"
Scowling, Austin sank farther down into his seat.
"Yeah," he muttered.
She raised an eyebrow—yes, just like her own mother
used to do when Faith was little. This day kept getting
worse. "Excuse me?"
"I mean, yes, ma'am."
Unlike her mother—who would've boxed her
ears—Faith ignored the way he rolled his eyes. Hey,
she didn't expect him to like having to toe the line. She'd
done plenty of things in her life because she'd had to and
not because she wanted to.
She stepped out into the bright sunshine, her lightweight
shirt clinging to her skin. But that had more to do with her
frantic morning than the unusual June heat wave, in the
mid-eighties for three days straight.
Heat wave. If the people of Kingsville, Maine, thought this
was hot, they should try spending a summer in a cramped
trailer with no air-conditioning down in South Carolina.
It'd melt their Yankee brains.
"Run down to Reynolds' Mart," she said, handing
Austin a ten dollar bill, "and buy yourself something
for breakfast."
"Okay," he said eagerly.
"Don't even think of buying any boxed pastries,
doughnuts and/or muffins. And avoid anything frosted,
sprinkled with extra sugar, fried or carbonated."
His face fell. "What am I supposed to eat then?"
"How about some yogurt? And some fruit?"
Austin made a gagging noise. "Yogurt is gross. It's like
eating cold snot."
Faith grimaced and slid her purse onto her shoulder.
"Thank you for that visual."
"What if I got a breakfast sandwich? It's all healthy
and stuff."
Sure it was. Eggs, cheese and sausage on a buttermilk
biscuit. Her arteries hardened just thinking about it.
But the past had not only taught her self-restraint, it'd
also taught her which battles were worth fighting. And
wheeling and dealing with her son in the middle of downtown
Kingsville wasn't one of them. Not when she was already two
hours late for work.
"You can get the breakfast sandwich as long as you get
some milk to go with it and a piece of fruit."
"You take the fun out of everything."
"Well, it is my sworn duty as your mother to make your
life as miserable as possible. So glad to hear I'm doing a
good job."
He rolled his eyes again but his lips quirked as he walked away.
She watched him as he went to the corner, looked both ways
and crossed the street. A man in a dark business suit, his
cell phone to his ear, approached Austin from the other
direction. Faith clutched the strap of her purse. Austin,
keeping his head down like she'd taught him, moved to the
inside of the sidewalk and picked up his pace.
The man didn't give him a second glance. Exhaling, Faith put
her sunglasses back on and walked off in the opposite
direction. But she couldn't stop herself from glancing over
her shoulder and checking on Austin.
Twice.
He needed to do things on his own, as much as feasibly
possible, anyway. The store was only two blocks away. Austin
was smart, responsible and more careful than a nine-year-old
should ever have to be. And she'd chosen this coastal town
as the place for their new lives because of the small town's
quaintness and charm.
But mostly she'd chosen it because it was safe—and
hopefully the last place anyone would think to look for them.
And yet she still wouldn't take a full breath until her son
was back in her sight.
Fighting her natural instinct to keep to herself, Faith
nodded and greeted people she passed as she hurried toward
the salon. She knew how to play the game. All she had to do
was be friendly. Normal. Act her part so the people in town
wouldn't wonder. Wonder where she and Austin came from. Why
they'd moved here four months ago.
Who they were.
Faith pushed open the door to Brit's Snips and stepped
inside the air-conditioned building. The salon's owner,
Britney Coletti, was at the back lowering a dryer over the
tin-foiled head of a client. Removing her sunglasses,
Faith's jaw dropped at the sight of her boss.
Britney had gone country today. She'd tamed her long, dark
corkscrew curls into two fat braids. The low-cut brown vest
and frayed micromini denim skirt showed ample amounts of her
toned, tanned body. She leaned over to speak to her client
and Faith winced and quickly averted her eyes. That flash of
Brit's lady bits was more than Faith had ever wanted to see.
Faith tugged at the hem of her own baggy top. She wasn't a
prude—far from it. Before she got married at the naive
age of nineteen, her clothing had veered toward tight,
skimpy and just this side of trashy. For the younger woman's
sake, she just hoped a preference for tacky clothing was all
Britney had in common with the person Faith used to be.
"I'm so sorry I'm late," Faith called over the low
hum of the dryer. "Did Mrs. Willit mind rescheduling?"
"I got ahold of her and booked her for later in the
week." Britney grinned, her nose wrinkling adorably.
"It's all good."
"Well, I appreciate you taking care of it. And I'll make
it up to you somehow," Faith said as she went behind the
counter and skimmed a finger down the appointment book. She
still had fifteen minutes until her next appointment.
"Did you get ahold of the plumber?" Britney asked as
she joined her.
"He's working over at that new motel outside town so
he's busy until Friday." Faith tucked her hair behind
her ear. She and Austin would be without hot water for a
while yet. And she didn't even want to think about how much
the plumber was going to charge.
She clutched the counter until the nausea passed. She'd
brought this on herself by deciding to become a home owner
rather than just renting a house. After all, what better way
to hide than in plain sight? It'd taken her close to a year
but she'd managed to save enough to buy her and Austin a
whole new life, complete with birth certificates, social
security cards and a credit history. It'd been worth every
penny. By purchasing a house and becoming a full-fledged
citizen of Kingsville, she was thumbing her nose at the
people looking for her.
And proving she was ready to stay in one place longer than a
few months.
"You can't live without hot water for that long,"
Britney exclaimed, as if Faith had admitted they'd be
sleeping in the car a few nights. Which, sad to say, they'd
had to do several times.
Faith hefted the strap of her bag over her shoulder.
"It'll be fine."
Her stomach growled. When she'd gone down to her basement
this morning to throw in a load of laundry, she'd been met
with at least two inches of water. She hadn't had time for
even a cup of coffee let alone anything to eat.
And while she might hand over a few dollars to feed her son,
she wasn't about to waste money on herself. Especially since
they'd have to buy lunch because she hadn't had time to pack it.
"I'm going to put my stuff away," she said. "If
my ten o'clock gets here early, could you let me know?"
"Of course."
In the break room Faith tossed her bags on a chair and
groaned as the unmistakable scent of coffee reached her. She
headed straight to the coffeepot on the counter by the sink,
but stumbled over something. She frowned down at a metal
toolbox in the middle of the floor.
Hopping over the damn thing, she poured herself a cup of sanity.
Cup in hand, Faith stepped back over the toolbox and crossed
to the mini fridge. Her choices were limited to half a
ham-and-Swiss sandwich from yesterday or strawberry yogurt.
Cold snot, hmm? She chose the sandwich.
As she chewed, the knots in her shoulders dissolved. At
least the worst was over. It had to be. Her day couldn't
possibly get any crappier.
She heard the back door open. "Hey, Faith." A
familiar masculine voice. "How's it going?"
She viciously bit into her sandwich. There went her theory,
blown all to bits. Guess she shouldn't have tempted fate.
All she had to do was remain in character. Be polite, say
hello and act as if she wasn't, at this very moment and
every moment, terrified of someone—especially
this
someone—finding out her secret. Resigned, she
slowly faced Britney's older brother.
There was no denying Nick Coletti was good-looking. That is
if you liked tall, broad-shouldered guys with wavy dark
hair, bittersweet-chocolate-colored eyes and Roman features.
Her tastes had always run toward men in designer suits over
ones in snug T-shirts, faded jeans and a tool belt hanging
low on narrow hips.
Too bad she'd also chosen men based on the size of their
bank accounts instead of what kind of morals they had.
"I'm fine," she answered, sounding as prim as her
husband's uptight secretary. "And you?"
He grinned, his teeth flashing white against his tanned
skin. "Couldn't be better."
So what if his smile did funny things to her? All that
proved was that she was female. She hung her head so her
hair hid her face as she fought for composure. What made her
a nervous wreck was that, instead of a tool belt, the man
usually wore a holster and badge.
"Great," she mumbled, squeezing the sandwich out of
shape. Reaching over to tear off a paper towel, she knocked
the roll over. Nick caught it in one hand before it hit the
floor.
"You sure you're okay?" he asked, handing it to her.
"You seem a bit—" her skin prickled under his
scrutiny "—flustered."
Yes, he'd flustered her. How crazy was that? Used to be a
time when
she flustered men.
She ripped off a towel and wiped the mustard from her thumb.
As long as she kept her cool, he'd never suspect he put her
on edge. She set the towels back on the table and crushed
the used one in her hand before rewrapping the rest of her
sandwich and putting it back in the fridge.
And damn him for making her lose her appetite when she
wouldn't have a chance to eat again for another three hours.
"I've had a…hectic morning."
He nodded and twisted open a bottle of water. But even as he
drank, his eyes didn't leave her. She calmly returned his gaze.
Let him stare. It wasn't as if he was interested in her.
With her mousy hair and shapeless blue top and white,
wide-legged cropped pants that made her curvy, hourglass
figure look at least ten pounds heavier, she hardly turned
men's heads.
When she'd decided to become Faith Lewis, she'd ditched the
colored contact lenses and fake glasses she'd used as a
disguise for the past three years, but had kept the drab
hair color and baggy clothes. It wasn't much but it made her
feel safe. Even if she would rather shave off her eyebrows
than wear another pair of mom jeans.
Sometimes you just had to suck it up and do whatever it took.
Because nothing, and no one, was going to destroy the life
she and Austin were building in Kingsville.
Nick couldn't quite figure Faith out. She was pretty enough
with her light green eyes and shoulder-length chestnut hair,
but she sure was a jumpy thing. He'd gone out of his way to
be friendly, not only because she worked for his sister but
because she and her young son were new in town. But each
time they ran into each other, she was as uneasy as the
first time they'd met.
"I'd better go," she said, edging past him. No
surprise there. She usually left a room as soon as he walked in.
Faith's escape was ruined, however, when she tripped on his
toolbox.
He grabbed her to keep her from falling. Her body went rigid
and she pulled away from him. "You all right?" he asked.
"Fine. I should've watched where I was going."
But when she took a step, he saw her wince. He crouched in
front of her. "Did you twist your ankle?"
He raised his eyebrows as he noticed her shoes for the first
time. High-heel wedged sandals with crisscross
straps—the better to show the bright pink polish on
her toes. They were girlie, sexy and totally inappropriate
for someone who stood on her feet all day.
Nick touched her ankle to check for swelling. She inhaled
sharply and sidestepped him. "I just stubbed my toe.
Which wouldn't have happened," she said pointedly and,
if he wasn't mistaken, irritably, "if you hadn't left
your toolbox in the middle of the floor."
"You're right." He shoved it against the washing
machine. "I ran out to my truck and wasn't thinking."
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