Firing up the engine, the sound of its powerful rumble vibrated into his veins. Easing down the driveway, he halted at the main road. Staring down the empty road to the left, he ignored the lazy drive that beckoned to him; his brain couldn’t handle anymore quiet. To the right, he could just make out the sign announcing Foothills was only a mile ahead.
Tires crunching over the gravel, he took the right. A couple that had to be pushing a hundred was already out for a walk, decked out with their sun hats, Keens, and what looked to be a picnic in their backpacks, probably headed for the Riverside Trail for a well-deserved scenic breakfast. As he passed a driveway on the left, a guy in a suit behind the wheel of a BMW gave him a neighborly wave, then pulled onto the road behind him as he headed to work.
Nearing town, the driveways became closer together, and eventually there were a few smaller neighborhoods with settled houses on large lots. Across from the downtown park, Zane parked on the side of the street; not enough folks out yet to necessitate parallel parking the beast of a rig. Puffing his cheeks out, he exhaled through pursed lips.
Strolling along, he passed Sutherland’s Hardware, not daring to go in, as he had gotten the distinct impression that Paul would rope him into some temp work in an effort to woo him into the role he wished Asher had taken. Nope. Not living someone else’s dream, even for a man he respected. Smoky scents wafted out of a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, Halseth’s Smokehouse and Pub, but the sign said they didn’t open until eleven. Too bad; something smelled good.
Larissa’s Diner was bursting at the seams with people from all walks of life. A vivacious southern woman was hollering to someone inside as she propped the door open to let in the morning air. His stomach growled, reminding him he’d been too tied up to eat anything this morning.
“You must be Asher’s friend. Come on in,” she waved him in before he had a chance to say no.
“Am I that obvious?”
“Honey, I know everyone in town, and I can spot a tourist a mile off. Plus, you’ve got that look he does. Eyes that have seen too much, a heavy burden on that heart.”
Was she a therapist or a psychic or diner owner? He suspected a little of all three. “You’re not wrong. You know Asher pretty well?” He followed her to a seat at the bar, sliding onto a shiny chrome stool with a blue vinyl cushion.
“Known that kid since he was in diapers.” She strolled around the bar and grabbed a pot of coffee, flipping his cup over and filling it to the brim. “What can I get you for breakfast?”
Rather than opening the menu, he glanced around at the crowded restaurant. “That hash looks great.”
“It’s the best. Avocado gruyere or sausage cheddar?”
“Avocado.”
She scooted away and disappeared into the kitchen. A familiar voice stood out from the crowd behind him. Turning, he saw the neighbor.
Turning, she caught sight of him and granted him a smile as warm as a toasty fire on a snowy day. “Zane, right?”
He nodded, not having a damn clue what to say that wouldn’t come across as the misogynistic crap that Freya accused him of that day. “Yeah.”
“Thanks again for that pie. I’ve been meaning to return the favor with some cookies or something. You like chocolate chip?”
“My favorite.”
“I’ll bring some by sometime.”
He couldn’t help it; he studied her face, noting the yellow at the edge of her jaw that told of a healing bruise. As she turned away, he added softly, “Sienna?”
“Yeah?” Her expression fell heavy as she took in the gravity of his look. Damn, he was obvious; he needed to tuck a few positive life experiences under his belt. “I know what you’re going to say. I’m okay.”
“Please, Freya and I are a few hundred yards away. Don’t hesitate.”
She squeezed her lips together and looked around. “Thank you. Really. But I don’t need any heroes in my life.”
He nodded in acceptance and turned around to find Larissa delivering his hash. Rescuing him from even more unsettled thoughts while he ate, Larissa stopped by and chatted between customers, filling him in with local gossip, plus a few stories of Asher rabble-rousing in his younger days.
After Larissa ran his card and gave him a friendly wave as he strolled out, he looked up and down the street. He could barely see Grady and Lincoln’s practice a few blocks down, Sophie’s across the way, but he wasn’t sure he was in the mood for company. Across the road, the park was a little too cheerful. And he wasn’t ready to sit and feed the birds like the old guy with a gnarled cane, seated serenely on the bench under a massive dogwood tree.
So, he walked north. Didn’t make it far when a green and blue sign in front of a cedar and steel building blocked his path. Turning, he looked at a large, empty patio, in through the expansive glass windows at a two-story-plus industrial-meets-northwest style vacant building. Flip-flopping in his chest, his heart beat deafeningly.
He pulled out his phone and dialed the number on the sign. A polished charm answered immediately.
Finding his voice, Zane cleared the frog from his throat and asked. “What can you tell me about the building for sale across from the park on Main in Foothills?”
“Glad you asked. The property went on the market this morning. A couple from Denver had it built for their daughter to open a café and gift shop, but, apparently, she had other plans and moved to DC to become an environmental lobbyist. Or that’s the story anyway. You interested?”
“Thinking about it,” he admitted.
