Page 5 of Sweet Courage
“Go!”
Taking a step back, the man bobbed his head and seemed to want to say something else.
She followed his gaze to the cars. The damage seemed minimal, if any. Even though to her eyes it looked like he was backing up at a speed suitable for the Indy 500, there was barely a dent in her bumper. Making a fast decision, she opted to let her insurance fix the problem as long as she could get away from this man. And his car.
“Let me give you my—”
She cut him off with her hand in front of him. “I am going to get into my car. Go home and change my clothes. And you—without saying another word—are going to go very, very far away. Understood?”
His brows buckled as he contemplated who knew what before finally nodding.
By the time she’d climbed into her car and pulled out of the drive, the man was still standing at the curb of the parking lot staring at her tail lights. So much for a polite gesture on her first day. All she could think now was, what a mess!
Chapter Three
The pies made it home intact. Hanson considered that a victory of considerable proportions given the afternoon he’d had. Mentally playing a high-stakes game of Tetris, Hanson stared at the bottom shelf of the massive stainless-steel refrigerator. He shifted a heavy glass pitcher of sweet tea two inches to the left, nudged a bowl of apples toward the back, and carefully slid the two white cardboard boxes tied with red and white twine into the resulting gap. Perfect fit. Pushing the heavy door shut, he let the seal catch with a satisfying thwack, then leaned his forehead against the cool metal for a long calming moment.
His brain felt like it had been wading through wet concrete. The noise of the café, the concentration required to shift gears, and the massive adrenaline spike of almost running over the most stunning woman he’d seen in a decade had drained his daily battery faster than a left-on flashlight. A dull, rhythmic throb pulsed right behind his left eye—a mild but clear warning that his processing speed had hit its limit for the afternoon.
“I can’t thank you enough, Hanson.” Alice stood at the kitchen counter, hands dusted with flour as she worked a rolling pin over a slab of dough. “You saved me. I’d promised Mason my lemon meringue pie if he didn’t give his new tutor a hard time.”
“Glad I could help, ma’am.” Hanson pushed off the refrigerator and made his way to the large, scarred wooden table at the center of the room. Pulling out a chair, the wood scraping softly against the floorboards, he sat down, wrapping both hands around a glass of ice water she had set down for him instead of the traditional sweet tea he couldn’t quite take a liking to. He let the quiet, steady rhythm of the ranch kitchen wash over him.
This was what the doctors had talked about, the need to step away from the noise and let the circuits cool down. He took a long, slow sip of the cold water, actively willing the tightness in his shoulders to uncoil. He had successfully driven to town. He had successfully retrieved the pies. He had successfully driven back without wrapping the old SUV around a telephone pole. Even if he did come within inches of crumpling that woman’s car like an aluminum can. If only he could forget the part where he’d acted like a complete buffoon in the parking lot, destroyed a perfectly good pastry, and thoroughly alienated a woman who smelled like lilacs and looked like an angel. If the heavens would take mercy on him, he’d never have to face her again and be reminded of the fool he’d made of himself.
Footsteps sounded from the hallway, and Jess stepped into the kitchen. She carried a stack of colorful workbooks and a pencil box. “Is Kat here yet? Mason is actually sitting at his desk voluntarily, and I don’t want to lose the momentum.”
“Haven’t heard her car.” Alice didn’t bother looking up from her dough. “I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.”
Right on cue, the crunch of tires on the gravel drive drifted through the open living room windows. A car door slammed shut. Light, quick footsteps crossed the wooden front porch.
Hanson kept his seat, perfectly content to stay out of the way and let the family handle the tutor. He took another drink of water, letting his gaze drift toward the hallway just as the front door clicked open.
“Hello? It’s just me.”
The voice sent an immediate, sharp jolt straight down Hanson’s spine. His fingers locked in a death grip around his water glass.
A woman stepped into the kitchen entryway. Long blonde hair, bright eyes, and a familiar, exasperated energy. Hanson stopped breathing. It was her. She was no longer wearing the blouse he had effectively decorated with coconut cream. Instead, she’d changed into a crisp, light blue button-down, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. In her hands, she carried a round, decorative tin.
“Kat, honey.” Alice beamed, wiping her floury hands on her apron. “We were just talking about you.”
“Sorry I’m running a little behind schedule,” her soft voice carried across the large room. Keeping her focus entirely on the two women, she stepped fully into the kitchen. “I brought a treat for my new pupil.” She held out the tin toward Jess. “My mom baked a fresh batch of shortbread cookies this morning. I thought Mason might enjoy them.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.” Jess took the tin, her smile mirroring Kat’s.
“Well, it wasn’t my first choice.” Kat let out a long soft sigh. “My original plan was to bring a pie for Mason. I remembered you mentioning coconut cream was his favorite. It’s not beneath me to bribe a new student.”
The women laughed and, his eyes closed, Hanson prayed for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.
Jess chuckled softly. “Whatever it takes.”
“Unfortunately, I had a slight mishap in the parking lot.”
Jess’s brow furrowed. “Mishap?”
“I had a bit of a run-in with a complete nut case in a dusty SUV who apparently got his license from a box of Cracker Jacks.”
Cracker Jacks? Why did that sound familiar? Was it cereal? Candy? Squeezing his eyes again, he shoved the frustration down as deep as he could to make friends with all the other aggravations the last months had brought.
