Home to Montana Page 7

  “Uh-huh.” Without looking up, he wrapped his hands around the mug as if he was chilled to the bone.

  She set the pot on the counter. “Guess driving around brought back some memories, huh?”

  “Yeah.” He looked up. “Some good. Some not so good.”

  Instinctively, to let him know she cared and understood, she touched his arm, her fingers brushing the scattering of dark hair on his forearm. She sensed the strength lying beneath the rigid feel of his flesh, the flex of well-honed muscles.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He covered her hand with his, sending ripples of warmth up her arm. He held her gaze. His amazing blue eyes filled with gratitude. “Thanks. I’m okay.”

  For a moment, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t turn away. Could barely breathe.

  Laughter from the other end of the diner broke the spell.

  She pulled her hand back and took a breath. “So, do you want fries with your burger?”

  “Sure. I skipped lunch. I’m starved.”

  Picking up the coffeepot, she returned it to the warmer and fled to the kitchen to place his order. She should not be reacting to him so strongly. Not to the way his eyes had held hers. Or to the touch of his hand on hers. It meant nothing. He wouldn’t be staying long. His sad memories of Bear Lake would most likely drive him away.

  She was briefly distracted by Hector, who wanted to be sure she knew they were running low on potatoes, fresh squash and bagged salads. She assured him that Mama had placed a produce order, which would arrive tomorrow.

  By the time she returned to the front of the diner, Nick’s order was ready to pick up.

  Nick, however, wasn’t sitting at the counter.

  Frowning, she glanced around and spotted him standing at the ol’ duffers’ booth, which was otherwise unoccupied except for the sign that said Reserved.

  “Nick, your burger is ready,” she called.

  He turned. “What’s with the jigsaw puzzle?”

  “Some of our regulars like to work on it when they drop in.”

  “Can anyone give it a shot?”

  She shrugged. None of the old timers were around, so why not? “Sure. You want to eat there?”

  “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  She picked up his silverware and coffee mug, and carried them and his burger plate to the booth. Nick slid onto the pink vinyl seat. She put his order down in front of him.

  “Is your mother okay now?”

  “She took a nap this afternoon. Sometimes she gets extra tired, which worries me. She’s not getting any younger, but she insisted she’s fine to work the evening shift.”

  “You both work too hard.” He plucked a French fry from his plate and popped it in his mouth.

  “Our profit margin is pretty slim. Not enough there to hire another cook. Or waitress, for that matter.”

  “Making a restaurant profitable is a hard art to learn.” He took a large bite of burger and nodded his approval. “Do you do jigsaw puzzles yourself?”

  “I’ve been known to do a few. Winters can get pretty long around here.”

  “Hmm.” He gestured to the seat opposite him. “Have you got time to sit awhile?”

  His unexpected invitation took her by surprise. So much so, she sat without giving it much thought, although she knew she should have. “For a few minutes. Customer traffic will pick up in a bit.”

  Nodding with his mouth full of burger, he wiped his fingertips on a napkin. Eyeing the puzzle and the remaining pieces, he selected one with two bulges and dropped it into place.

  “You’re good,” she said.

  “Comes from having too much time on my hands.” He grabbed the ketchup bottle and poured a generous amount over his fries. “Your turn.” He tilted his head toward the puzzle.

  Her brows rose. As it happened, she’d already spotted a piece that would fill the empty hole in the tree leaning over the bubbling brook. She eased it gently into place.

  “Nice.” Another bite of burger, a moment to study the puzzle, and he slipped a whimsically shaped jigsaw tile into its spot. He grinned, the light of challenge in his eyes.

  “You think I can’t keep up?” she asked.

  “I’m sure you can,” he said easily but with a trace of “show me” in his voice.

  And so she did. She’d never thought of putting a jigsaw puzzle together as a competitive event. But she rose to the occasion. Back and forth they went, taking turns.

  She groaned when he selected a piece she’d had in mind. She saved her turn by finding another piece that worked.

  He muttered under his breath when his next piece wouldn’t fit, and she got two turns in a row.

  Alisa got so tickled at the fierce way he concentrated, a grin built from inside out. “I’m one ahead of you, you know.”

  “I know. But not for long.”

  She was matching him piece for piece when Greg came running into the diner. His jacket had slipped off one shoulder and his shirt was hanging out of his pants.

  “Mom! I saw Rags outside and I thought—” He skidded to a stop at the table. “Hi, Nick. I was hoping you’d be in here.”

  “Hey, sport. You found me, all right. What’s up?”

  “I figured if you were eating ’n stuff, you might like me to take Rags for a walk or play fetch with him or something.”

  Nick glanced to Alisa for her approval, which she appreciated. “It’s fine with me. Just stay close, okay? It’ll be time for your supper soon.”

  With no need for more encouragement, her son raced back out of the diner.

  Reluctantly, she fingered another puzzle piece then slid it aside. “I’d better get back to work. The place is filling up.”

  He looked around as though he’d been unaware of the customers who had arrived while they’d been playing their game. “You’ll give me another chance to beat you?”

  Annoying heat rose to her cheeks. It wasn’t like he was asking her on a date. Or even flirting with her.

  “Sure.” She stood. “Another time. As long as you don’t mind losing.”

  His scowl made her laugh as she walked away.

  * * *

  Without much to do after he finished eating, Nick went back to his room. He stretched out on the comfortable queen-size bed, propped a pillow behind his head and switched on the television. He tuned into Sunday night football, but it didn’t hold his attention.

  Instead his mind kept replaying the way the tip of Alisa’s tongue peeked out when she concentrated, searching for just the right puzzle piece. How tiny furrows formed a vee between her brows as she studied the puzzle. The way she tucked a wayward strand of blond hair behind her ear when it escaped from her ponytail, her fingers slender and graceful.

  But most of all he replayed the feminine challenge in the tilt of her lips as she left him to take care of the newly arriving customers.

  The woman was a tease. And a temptation. Neither of which he needed.

  He snapped off the TV. “Come on, Rags. I know it’s early, but it’s time to clear my mind. If I don’t, thinking about Alisa is going to keep me awake all night.” Which would be a nice break from nightmares and flashbacks, now that he thought about it.

  With Rags trotting beside him, Nick walked back behind the motel where he’d set up his chinning bar. The sun cast long shadows as it dipped toward the western horizon and the air was beginning to cool to a crisp autumn evening. The sound of dishes and conversation and the smell of grilling meat from the diner kitchen, barely reached him.

  He lifted his arms and gripped the bar. His fingers curled on the familiar shape. He tightened his muscles.

  His mind empty, he pulled and lowered himself in an easy rhythm until a new awareness crept up on him. He didn’t know if it was her floral scent or
if she’d made a sound, but he knew Alisa had walked up behind him.

  Every muscle in his body tensed. So much for emptying his mind.

  “So are you ready for your first lesson?” he asked without turning around.

  Her shoes crushed dried leaves as she came closer. “Does it really help you sleep?”

  “Most nights.” At least for a few hours.

  Rags deserted him to greet Alisa.

  “I don’t think I’ve got enough arm strength to pull myself up.”

  He dropped to the ground. “You’d be surprised how strong you are. Come stand beside me. I’ll show you.”

  “I know I couldn’t do chin-ups in high school. I doubt I’ve gotten any better.” The long rays of sunlight gleamed off of her hair casting the blonde strands in a red glow.

  Nick swallowed hard. “Stand with your legs about shoulder wide then jump up to grab the bar.”

  She tried to jump but failed to grasp it.

  “Here. Let me help you.” He put his hands on her slender waist. “Okay, now jump.” He lifted her so she could grasp the rod. “There you go. Get a good grip. Now pull up.”

  “Right.” She struggled but not well enough to get her chin over the bar. “You’re sure this will relax me?” she gasped.

  His lips twitched. “It takes time to build up your strength.” With Alisa so close, his mind was far from empty. In fact, it was pretty busy admiring her.

  “Okay, relax. Let’s try that again,” he said.

  She relaxed her arms. He circled her waist again, ready to help her up just as she let go of the bar.

  “Oh!” she cried.

  He caught her and slowly lowered her to her feet. Now they were closer than ever, him holding her around the waist, her gazing into his eyes. Their faces mere inches apart. She licked her lips, leaving them glistening.

  He knew he shouldn’t. But he couldn’t resist. Just this one time.

  Leaning forward, he brought his lips to hers. The jolt of awareness, of her slight gasp of surprise, nearly undid him. He lingered a moment. Tasting her. Chiding himself for his weakness. For never wanting to let her go.

  A scream ripped through the air.

  They broke apart.

  Eyes wide, for an instant Alisa froze. Another scream from the diner released her from her paralysis.

  “That’s Mama!” she cried.

  Whirling, she sprinted for the kitchen door.

  Nick’s adrenaline surged. Without any thought but to help Mama, he was right on Alisa’s heels. They went up the steps together. Nick reached for the door ahead of her and flung it open.

  Chapter Seven

  Nick took in the scene at a glance. Hector and his helper shouting orders that no one heard. The smell of hot cooking oil. Mama on the floor, screaming. Her hands and forearms scalded red. The big deep-fry pot next to her, the over-heated contents spreading across the floor in an oily, slippery mess. Alisa on her knees trying to quiet her mother.

  Nick squatted beside Mama. “Are you hurt anywhere besides your arms?”

  “Dear Lord in heaven,” she prayed. “Please stop it from hurting.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Mama, look at me.” He turned her face toward him. “I need to move you out of the oil. Are you hurt anywhere else? Any broken bones?”

  She shook her head.

  Carefully, he slipped his arms beneath her shoulders and under her knees. “Alisa, grab some clean tablecloths and spread them out away from the stove.”

  As she hopped up to do as he’d asked, Nick lifted Mama, who let out another scream. “You’re going to be all right, Mama. I promise. Just stay with me here. Stay with me. Keep nice and calm.” As if with those burns, anyone could keep calm.

  Nick turned to Hector, who was uselessly wringing his hands. “It was not my fault,” Hector whined. “I didn’t see anything and all of a sudden Mama was on the floor screaming.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Hector. No one’s blaming you. Get me some clean white cloths,” he ordered. “Soak them in sterile water.”

  “But I—”

  “Now, Hector!”

  The cook fled, and Nick carried Mama to the tablecloths Alisa had spread on the floor.

  Mama started to writhe.

  “Try to stay still, Mama. We’ll get you help in a minute.” Nick caught Alisa’s eye. “Call 9-1-1.”

  She blinked. “Of course. I wasn’t thinking.” She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and stepped away.

  Nick tried to get a good look at the burns on Mama’s arms and hands. Solid red in color. Some blistering. At least second-degree burns, he was sure. He’d seen a few kitchen injuries like that before. Had to hurt like blazes. The hands especially. The tender skin between her fingers.

  Hector arrived with an armload of wet dish towels.

  “That’s good. Hand them to me one at a time.” He bent close to Mama. “I’m going to wrap your arms loosely with these towels. They’ll cool the burns until we can get you to the hospital.”

  He glanced up to see Jolene, one of the regular waitresses, standing inside the swinging doorway between the kitchen and the front of the diner. She was holding back a red-faced, frightened Greg with her arms around him.

  “Mama’s going to be all right,” Nick called to the boy. She wouldn’t be all right anytime soon, but he was sure she would recover. Likely she’d be scarred.

  Carefully, using one towel at a time, he wrapped her arms and looped the towels around her hands.

  Alisa knelt across from him and soothed her mother’s forehead. “Ambulance will be here soon.”

  “Good. How far away is the hospital?” Nick asked.

  “Bear Lake Medical Clinic is about five minutes away. Our EMTs are part of the volunteer fire department. Sometimes, if they’re off somewhere, it takes them a while to answer the call.”

  Nicked prayed they’d get here soon.

  The cool towels seemed to ease some of Mama’s pain. She drew a shuddering breath and looked up at Alisa. “I don’t know what happened. I reached for the deep fryer and then—”

  “Sh, Mama,” Alisa said. “Don’t worry about that now.”

  “Don’t let anyone slip—”

  “Hector’s already cleaning up the hot oil.” Alisa stroked her mother’s hair back from her forehead.

  “What about our customers? People are waiting—”

  “We’ll find a way to take care of them. Don’t worry, Mama,” Alisa said, although she didn’t look entirely convinced herself.

  Sitting back on his haunches, Nick took a good look around. The staff looked flummoxed. They needed someone to take control. Alisa’s face was nearly as white as the damp cloths around her mother’s arms. She was in no condition to handle the kitchen and waitstaff. She needed to be with her mother.

  Amid clatter and heavy footsteps, the EMTs arrived via the back door. Both of them looked to be in their mid-thirties and moved with confidence.

  Relieved they had arrived so quickly, Nick backed out of the way as one EMT knelt beside Mama, put a cuff on her arm above the wrapped cloth to take her blood pressure and pulse. The other arranged the gurney and set up a heart monitor.

  “She has second-degree burns from hot oil over both of her arms up to her elbows,” Nick told the two men. “I don’t know if oil splashed on her anywhere else.”

  Nodding his understanding, the first EMT spoke quietly. “Well, now, Mama. You weren’t supposed to be cooking yourself for supper.”

  “Silly me,” she whispered and shivered. Chances were good she was going into shock.

  The second guy covered her with a blanket. “Okay, Mama. We’re going to get you onto the gurney then we’ll pay a visit to Doc Jo at the clinic. He’ll take good care of you.”

 
Standing off to the side, Alisa had the look of an accident victim. Pale face. Wide eyes. In shock. “I want to go with Mama to the hospital. But who’s going to take care of the diner? Our customers? Hector can’t. And Greg—”

  “I’ll take charge of the kitchen,” Nick said.

  Greg escaped from Jolene’s grasp. “Mom, I want to go with you and Mama.”

  “Oh, honey, you can’t—”

  Stepping forward, Nick hooked his hand over the boy’s shoulder. “It would really help your mom, son, if you’d stay here with Jolene. You could take care of the customers out front, bring ’em water and clear away the plates. Can you do that?”

  His blue eyes darted from Nick to his mother.

  With a quick glance toward her mother on the gurney, Alisa knelt in front of her son. “Nick’s right. You’d be a big help here at the diner. Jolene needs you because she’s going to be in charge out front. I’ll look after Mama and tell you about it when I get home.”

  The boy managed an uneasy nod as his chin trembled.

  “We’d better get hustling, kiddo,” Jolene said. “We don’t want unhappy customers, do we?”

  Alisa gave him a quick kiss and urged him toward Jolene. “I love you.”

  As soon as Greg turned away, Nick took Alisa’s arm. “Ride in the ambulance with Mama. You’re in no shape to drive. I’ll take care of things here and come to the clinic later to check on you and Mama.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Go,” he insisted.

  Once she was out the door, he turned around to check on the cook staff. Only then did he become aware of the stainless steel appliances and prep tables all around him. The reflections that splintered images into prisms of dark, shattering pain.

  He squeezed his eyes closed and reached for the rubber ball in his pocket. Not now! You can’t let go. It’s only your imagination. Like a dream. It can’t hurt you. It’s only playing tricks on your brain. What you’re seeing happened years ago.

  Cautiously, he opened his eyes. Hector and the helper were staring at him. Nick couldn’t just stand there like a frozen ice sculpture starting to melt. He had to keep his flashbacks at bay. Somehow.

  “Okay, let’s get back on track.” His voice was rusty and scratchy in his throat. “What orders do we have waiting, Hector?”