Hell Yeah!: Gun Shy (Kindle Worlds Novella) (4 page)

But she found she did need what he was offering.

Companionship.

And she needed it bad.

Chapter Four

Melissa was still sleeping when Andy woke up. He lay there for a moment on the hard floor, just enjoying the sound of her snores.

The fact that she snored amused him.

After a while he sucked in a deep breath and levered to his feet, biting his tongue to keep from groaning. It had been a foolish chivalry to give her the bed. His knee and his hip were screaming at him. He hobbled to the bathroom and indulged in a long, hot shower, which got the joints a little warmed up.

He was going to need to find a good masseuse before long, because his old injury was beginning to complain again.

He left Melissa sleeping because it seemed like she needed it, and he didn’t want to scare her by waking her up—she seemed pretty skittish when it came to men. But if what Joseph told him was true, Andy understood why.

After a visit to the police station to make sure the creep that had attacked her was staying in custody, he headed over to the courthouse to review the details of his father’s estate. As he expected, other than the property, there wasn’t much left.

There probably wouldn’t even have been that if the ranch and the house hadn’t been in his mother’s name. She had willed the estate to her two sons. Even if his dad had wanted to drink it away, he couldn’t have.

A wave of grief and regret pummeled him at the thought. As a kid he’d always imagined himself and his brother working the land together. But now he was the only one left.

Damn Marcus Grant.

Damn him to hell.

At least there weren’t a ton of probate costs and Andy had a healthy savings from the years he’d served as a contractor to the military after he’d retired as a SEAL. So if he decided to stay and keep the ranch, he could afford it.

He stilled as the thought hit him.

Staying had never been the plan.

Now, somehow, it not only seemed possible, but he might even enjoy it.

In his hatred for his father, he’d completely forgotten how much he’d loved this town. How hard it had been at first to leave all his friends. Now, this unpleasant pit stop on his tour of the Southwest had become something more.

It all revolved around her.

A woman who wanted nothing more than friendship.

Well, hell.

He was staying.

At least long enough to explore this.

Until he was sure there could be nothing more between them, he was here for the duration.

Melissa awoke in a warm nest to the smell of coffee and bacon.

It took a second for her brain to shift into gear and when it did, when she recalled everything that had happened last night, she froze.

She was in Andrew’s room. In his bed. And he was…humming.

Cautiously, she cracked open a lid and peeped at the table by the window where he sat reading the paper and drinking from a Styrofoam cup. The paper plate in front of him was empty, but another sat covered on the other side of the table.

She could only assume it was for her.

He’d brought her breakfast.

Her stomach growled and he glanced in her direction. When he saw she was awake, he lifted his coffee in a silent salute and went back to his reading.

It was the fact he didn’t pin her with any intense scrutiny that encouraged her to sit up and edge off the bed.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked without glancing up.

She padded toward the table and sat, keeping her eyes on him the whole time. “Fine.” She carefully unwound the plastic silverware from the napkin and uncovered the plate.

“It may be cold,” he said. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I don’t mind,” she responded, but it was a complete lie. She hated nothing more than cold eggs. Except cold and snotty eggs. She poked at them with her fork. “Did you go to Millie’s Diner?”

He did look up at that. His gaze tangled with hers and she struggled to remain blasé. But damn, he had beautiful eyes. “Is Millie’s Diner the one around the corner?”

She grimaced. “Yes.”

“That’s where I went.”

“Well, for future reference, you’re better off going the extra block to the Sunshine Café if you like breakfast that hasn’t been basted in grease.”

“Sorry.”

She smiled to take the sting out of her criticism. Because she really did appreciate his thoughtfulness. “Willie was a short order cook for the Navy and old habits—”

Andy chuckled and held up a hand. “’Nuff said. I spent half my life in a chow hall. I didn’t even notice that the eggs were bad. But the coffee’s good.”

“Mmm. The coffee is always good at Millie’s.” She took a sip and moaned as the rich flavor warmed her.

“Do you eat there often?”

“Never,” she said on a laugh. She knew better. “I work there.”

“Wait.” He put down his paper and fixed his attention on her. “I thought you worked at Hardbodies.”

“I do.”

“And Millie’s?”

“Yep.” At his astonished expression, she added, “I’m saving up. For a place of my own.”

“Ah. I see.”

She almost believed he did.

“Well, thank you for breakfast. It was very thoughtful.”

He lifted an enormous shoulder. “I was getting something for myself anyway.”

“It was still thoughtful. You will have to let me repay you.”

“You don’t have to repay me,” he growled. For some reason, her suggestion annoyed him.

“I know. But I would feel better if I did.”

“But—”

“Shut up.”

She froze the second the words came out of her mouth. Oh, hell. She would never have been this flip with Baron. She didn’t know why she’d sassed Andrew. Didn’t know why she’d done so without a thought to the consequences. But now he would retaliate. He would—

Laugh.

Was he
laughing?

She stared at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it didn’t. He was genuinely amused by her attitude.

Of their own volition, her lips quirked.

Man, how wonderful would it be to say what she liked without worrying about infuriating someone? It had been a long time since she felt she could be herself.

She might actually enjoy this friendship.

“So,” she said, taking another sip of coffee. “What are your plans for the day?”

It was such an utterly domesticated scene it made her want to laugh.

“Well, first I want to have that look at your car. Then I thought I’d go check out my father’s house to see what condition it’s in.”

“Oh,” she sighed. “I always loved that house. What are you going to do with it?”

“I don’t know. Bulldoze it?”

She gaped at him. “Why?”

But he only shrugged.

“I always thought that was a perfect house,” she said.

“Perfect?” She didn’t understand the bitterness in his tone.

“With the columns. The bay windows. The whimsical lattice. That old oak in front. Very evocative.”

“Maybe it will sell quickly.”

“You’re going to sell it?” Damn. She wished she had the money to buy it.

For some reason he glanced at her before responding. “Not sure yet.”

“Not sure if you’re going to sell it?”

“Not sure if I’m staying here.”

The thought of him leaving town and never coming back filled her with an unaccountable sadness. She had no idea why. “When will you know?”

“When I know.” He smiled at her to soften his words.

She was intuitive enough to see that he didn’t want to discuss it, so she blew out a breath and said, “I just can’t imagine anyone not wanting to live in that house.” It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She remembered driving past it on the way to church on Sundays thinking it looked like a fairytale castle. Of course, she’d only been a child then, but it still stood at the forefront of her mind as the height of perfection. All other houses had been measured against that one.

“There are…bad memories there.”

She flinched as she remembered. His brother had died there. Not in the house, but in the barn, which was close enough. Everyone in town had been stunned when it came out that Danny Grant had taken his own life. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” She toyed with her napkin. “But there must be some happy memories too.”

Andrew nodded, but looked away. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Do you…” She broke off when she realized the impudence of her question.

“Do I what?”

“Nothing. It was stupid.”

“There’s no such thing as a stupid question,” he said.

“You haven’t heard the question yet,” she quipped.

“Try me.”

With a heavy sigh, she blurted it out. “Would you like me to go with you when you visit the house?”

He didn’t respond, other than to stare at her with an intensity that made all her nerves prickle. She was about to withdraw the offer when he swallowed heavily and said in a choked voice, “I would love to have some company, Melissa. Thank you for offering.”

It was the hardest thing he’d done in a while, driving up that familiar drive to the house he hated. He was so thankful for Melissa’s cheerful presence at his side. It was as though she chased the darkness away.

She’d been so thrilled that he’d fixed her car—though it had only been a couple of loose spark plugs—she’d given him a hug.

He could still feel her warmth.

When they pulled to a stop before the house, his fingers clamped on the steering wheel.

“Well,” she said in a chirp. “Here we are.”

“Here we are.”

“The barn looks like it needs a coat of paint.”

He glanced to the left and nodded. It probably needed a good deal more than a coat of paint. His father had not been one for taking care of business, unless business involved getting shitfaced and beating his wife and kids.

“The house could use some sprucing up too. Can you imagine how pretty that trim would be in a bright white?”

“It would be pretty.” But he just said that to be polite. His stomach was churning and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. Damn. This was going to be harder than he’d anticipated.

“Andrew?”

She waited until he met her gaze. “Hmm?”

“It’s just a house.” This she said in a whisper, but there was a wealth of empathy behind it. As though she knew what he was working through. As though she understood.

Then again, of all the people in the world, she probably did.

He nodded and briskly levered from the car and, when she joined him in the yard, made his way up the path to the porch.

The rose bushes his mother had planted along that walk were overgrown and speckled with weeds. He’d need to take care of that. Mom had always loved roses and he hated to think of her babies being in a derelict state.

The porch steps creaked as he mounted them, and he added that to his list of things that needed to be done. Keeping a list was a great way to deal with a situation without facing it emotionally. It was a strategy he’d perfected through hundreds of missions in dangerous territory.

Nothing was more dangerous than this.

When he tried to fit the key into the lock, his hand shook. He sucked in a deep breath, steadied himself, and tried again. The turn of the tumblers resonated through him.

He pushed the door open and it swung in, creaking on its hinges. He almost expected the specter of his father to come screaming down the stairs in a rage.

But he didn’t.

Everything was silent.

He steeled his spine and stepped inside. Crossed that threshold he’d once sworn never to cross again.

He glanced to the left into the living room, with its lovely curved bay windows. The furniture was all gone, but he could still see it there, carefully arranged and tended by his mother’s touch. There had been good memories in that room. Memories of Mom on the couch with Danny and Andy on either side of her as she read to them. Homework done on that coffee table as she looked on. Christmas mornings around the tree filling the niche.

Yes. There had been good times.

None of them included his father.

He turned to the right and stared at the double doors to his father’s study.

How many times had he been dragged in there by the scruff of his neck for a beating? He couldn’t even remember.

He left those doors closed and headed down the hall, past the curving staircase and the large dining room, to the kitchen at the back of the house.

Ah. This room had been filled with love.

His father rarely ever darkened the door, and it was a place Andy, his mom, and brother had spent many happy hours. He could practically smell the cookies baking.

“This is a great space,” Melissa said, wandering to the pantry to peek inside. “Lots of counter space. Double oven…great for entertaining. Do you intend to entertain?”