Cowboy Hank (Cooper's Hawke Landing Book 3) Page 5

“I-I hope it’s okay.” Helena swiped a glance between Hank and George who if was surprised hid it well. Some of her natural color had returned but the suspicious element in her eyes remained.

  “Ladies, this is George, best cook this side of Montana,” Hank introduced the man who greeted them with a smile.

  “I’m Helena and this is Freya.”

  “I’m Hank,” he told the child who stared up at him with wide doe-like eyes. She held her mom’s hand and partially hid. “Come and have a seat. George can make you whatever you like. Right, buddy?”

  The man must have been in a semi-trance because it took him two seconds to answer. “Sure. Anything you want. I bet you like chicken tenders,” he said to Freya who answered with a nod that was so small it could have just been a movement.

  “She loves chicken tenders,” Helena answered.

  “How about you, ma’am?” George asked, already gathering ingredients.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she answered quietly. “I’m not hungry.”

  Hank studied her face. He didn’t know her, but he could see by the set of her jaw that pride kept her from accepting a handout. Was she scared he’d ask her for payment?

  “Ah, come on,” George said. “It’s not often I get to prepare a meal for special guests. Can I interest you in a cheeseburger and sweet potato fries, not to toot my own horn, but it is my specialty?”

  There was only a second’s hesitation. “Sure. I appreciate it.”

  “Come and sit down.” Hank pointed at the bar stools organized around the wooden kitchen island.

  Once they were seated, Hank washed his hands and dried them then nervously stuffed them into his front pockets. What had come over him? He’d met plenty of petite, pale, suspicious women in his day so what made her different?

  Helena laid her hands politely in her lap while Freya stared at him.

  Feeling like he needed to do something quick, he asked, “Can I get you both something to drink?”

  “Can I have cherry pop?” The little girl asked with big eyes.

  “We’ll take water,” Helena cleared her throat and resituated herself on the stool. Little, spirals of hair had stuck on her long, lithe neck and other curls had weaved their way around tiny, sparkling earrings which seemed out of place compared to her outfit.

  Realizing he had steered off track, he stepped over to the refrigerator and grabbed two bottles of water and placed them on the table. Then he grabbed the bottle of brandy from the cabinet and poured a small amount, not enough to get a person drunk but enough to take the chill off. He pressed the small glass into the woman’s hand who looked at him like he’d grown horns. “Just enough to take the chill out of your bones.”

  She made several swipes from the amber liquid back to him as if debating what she should do.

  He started to get the idea she would hand the glass back to him. “It’s only a swallow but if you don’t want it—”

  “What is it?”

  “Brandy.”

  She took a sip. Her slight quiver told him she savored the pool of warmth in her stomach that would soon spread to the rest of her body. He knew that look all too well from a time when he’d relied on the bottle to warm him too…but not from the cold weather.

  “Can I have some?” Freya asked.

  “If it’s okay with your mom I can make you hot chocolate,” Hank offered, receiving a nod of approval from Helena.

  While he went about preparing a cup, she emptied the brandy. When he set the cup of steaming hot chocolate piled with marshmallows in front of Freya she appeared excited as if he’d just given her a bowl of candy. “Be careful,” Hank said. “It might be a little hot.”

  When George placed their plates on the table, they dug in. Freya snatched up a handful of fries and rammed them into her mouth.

  “Slow down or you’re going to choke,” Helena said to her daughter.

  She slowed shoveling the food in but only slightly.

  Helena went about eating with more refined control. She shook out a napkin and laid it over her lap, and Hank was caught by her proper manners. Not that anyone in her situation couldn’t have manners, but there was a quality about her behavior that told him she’d been taught proper etiquette.

  Hank gave them a few minutes of uninterrupted eating before he finally asked, “Are you two just passing through?”

  The creases around her eyes returned and he realized he’d crossed a line he didn’t even know was there.

  “I’m going to take a break.” Whether George sensed the tension or truly needed a break, Hank couldn’t be sure but alone with the woman and her kid he felt a bit awkward. He couldn’t seem to get his communication right.

  *****

  “What happened to your fingers?”

  “Freya! That’s rude. I’m sorry,” she said to Hank who leaned against the edge of the counter, his thumbs hooked in the front pockets of his worn jeans. He didn’t seem offended at all by Freya’s remark.

  “No problem.” His middle and forefinger were missing, and the skin of his hand had deep, white scars that looked more pronounced against the backdrop of his tanned skin. “I lost them while I was serving in the military.”

  “I’ve never seen anyone without fingers,” Freya said innocently.

  “Clearly, we don’t get out very often to socialize.” Helena muttered and shrugged helplessly.

  He chuckled. “I don’t mind. I don’t get offended easily.”

  “You have a nice place here.”

  “Yeah, I’m a bit biased but I think so.” He pushed off the counter and grabbed their dirty dishes and placed them in the sink. “I have dessert. Chocolate silk pie or donuts from the bakery.”

  “Can I, Mom?” Freya asked with pleading eyes.

  Helena knew the hot chocolate was enough sugar, but they hadn’t had anything sweet in a while. “Okay, but only one donut.”

  Hank brought out a pink box and opened the lid. Inside was a variety of everything from eclairs to apple fritters to cinnamon twists. “These are my favorite.” He pointed to a chocolate donut piled high with whipped cream and sprinkles.

  Freya reached for the donut and bit into it.

  “How about for you? Pie? Coffee?” Hank asked.

  “Coffee please.”

  She watched him move deftly about the small space. He had broad shoulders, slender waist and long legs. He wasn’t as big as a house as she’d initially thought, but he was close. She guessed he was at least six foot three and two hundred pounds of muscle. He could easily fit in with her father’s security team. She was used to being surrounded by buff men, but this man didn’t carry a gun.

  Helena had no idea why he was being so nice but so far he made her feel comfortable, completely opposite of how she’d felt when she fist met him, a reminder that she needed to keep her guard up.

  The band had stopped playing and she could hear the low muffled sounds of the crowd, but that had diminished some too.

  The cheeseburger and fries had been better than any meal Helen had ever eaten and she’d eaten at a lot of five-star restaurants. It had taken great control and patience not to wolf down the food and if cowboy hadn’t been watching she probably would have.

  She sipped the steaming coffee after adding a splash of cream and a sprinkle of sugar. It too was surprisingly amazing. Better than any gourmet coffee shop. “This is delicious.”

  “The coffee is made locally. The magic is in the temperature of the water. Too hot and it’s bitter. Too cold and it’s not strong enough.”

  “You sound like a skilled barista.”

  He laughed and she found herself smiling. “Nope, but I consume large quantities and I’m quite particular about my joe. I guess that makes me a pro.”

  “Thank you for the meal.” Although she meant it, she was still somewhat reluctant as to what, if anything, he’d want in return. She’d met a lot of people along the way and very seldom did anyone give anything freely and yet, she couldn’t deny his kind gesture. Or his handsome
features. Even his eyes looked kind.

  Seeing her daughter dig into her meal had brought Helena a joy that she couldn’t describe. There were silver linings although they had been far and few between lately.

  “I’m sure it’s much better than that cold sandwich would have been,” he said.

  At the mention of the “sandwich” some of her embarrassment returned if it had ever left in the first place. Humiliation made her cringe. “I…well...”

  “I’m not searching for an explanation. I get it. I feel like I owe you a big apology though.”

  Their gazes collided. “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t need to be a jerk. I’ve had a long day and I didn’t need to take it out on you. It was just a sandwich.” He’d lost his hat, exposing a head full of dark hair threaded with thick strands of grey. He didn’t look seasoned, but the subtle creases around his eyes and mouth told her he must be at least in his late thirties. His pale, intriguing blue eyes were framed by a dense fringe of dark lashes, and they were locked on her in a way that reminded her she hadn’t felt that trembling in her stomach in an awfully long time. It wasn’t fear, but instead a natural reaction to a man’s nice looks. Though his mouth upturned at the corners in a smile, his eyes didn’t quite light up as they should. His granite shoulders seemed to threaten the durability of the seams on the denim button down shirt. The pearl buttons drew her gaze downward to the large silver buckle embossed with a bull and rider swinging a rope. Had he been a bull rider? Her gaze easily lowered to the noticeable bulge behind his zipper.

  With the clearing of his throat, she swiped her attention back to his face, forcing air into her lungs without hopefully showing any signs of labored breath.

  Swallowing against the thickness in her throat, she shifted on the stool, averting her eyes to watch Freya lick the sprinkles from the donut. “You weren’t a jerk. Not at all. You didn’t call the law.” She linked her gaze to his. His lips curled into a full-blown smile that did reach his eyes this time.

  “That would have been a shit—” He looked at Freya. “I mean, a crappy thing considering I don’t know your story.”

  “I know you don’t know me, but I don’t do things like this.” Helena circled her finger around the rim of the cup.

  “Steal someone else’s food and break into sheds?” One brow popped up over those amazingly blue eyes. “Damn. You mean to tell me you don’t live on the edge every day?”

  She realized he was intentionally trying to make light of the situation. “No, I don’t.”

  “I’d like to hear your story.”

  The humiliation eased some. Sliding off the stool, she didn’t want to discuss any more of her ‘story’ with the stranger. “Thank you for your generosity. I’d like to do the dishes that are stacked there. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Nah, I can grab them,” Hank said.

  “No. Please allow me to help.” She didn’t want to owe him anything.

  He shrugged. “Well, if you insist.”

  She felt a bit nervous being close to him as she stepped over to the sink and ran some hot water and squeezed in some soap. The back door opened and George stepped in, sliding off his jacket and hanging it on the hook. When he saw Helena at the sink he stopped and froze. “Boss, the special guest shouldn’t be washing dishes.”

  “I tried telling her, but she won,” Hank answered.

  “I’m paying for my meal,” Helena said openly. “It was the best meal I’ve ever had.”

  George beamed.

  “I need to step out into the bar and check on things.” Hank left the kitchen.

  “I have three daughters,” George said as he grabbed something from the pocket of his jacket. “My youngest is four and about your daughter’s size. I noticed that your little one isn’t wearing shoes. My kids leave everything in the car, piles of clothes and what nots. I remembered these were left in the backseat.” He held up a pair of black shoes with red bows. “Would Freya like to try them on?”

  Helena would have been embarrassed if she hadn’t been so overcome by the man’s kindness. They’d been in Cooper’s Hawk for less than two hours and had been shown more thoughtfulness in that amount of time than all the other places they’d been in the last six months combined.

  “Thank you, George. That’s very generous.”

  He shrugged a stocky shoulder. “My girl won’t miss them.” He set them on the counter then went to scrape down the flat top and she continued washing the dishes.

  Hank came back carrying a tray of dishes that he set on the counter as she started to pull the plug to drain the water but decided not to. She took the plate off the stack and started washing them too.

  “Jazz said she found this in the ladies’ room. Is it yours?” He held out the jacket she’d left in there.

  “Yes. That’s mine.” She took it and laid it aside. The material was dry and warm now. “Freya, go ahead and put on the shoes and see if they fit.”

  “Those are pretty,” Freya pulled one on and then the other. She slid off the stool and modeled them.

  Hank laughed. “Nice shoes.”

  “I can’t say thank you enough to both of you,” Helena said to Hank and George after she finished the last dish. “We should be going.”

  “I’m not finished yet, Mommy,” the little girl whined. “I still have hot chocolate left.”

  Reminding herself that this could be the last meal her daughter had in a while, Helena stayed patient, “Finish up. It’s getting late.” And they had to find a place to sleep.

  “You two can’t go back out there tonight,” Hank said. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing toned arms covered in dark, crisp hair.

  “I better grab some potatoes from the pantry.” George swiped a glance between Helena and Hank, then turned down a corridor.

  “I don’t want to go back outside. It’s cold and wet,” Freya said.

  “I have an apartment upstairs. You both are welcome to stay.” He must have sensed her concern because he immediately included, “I can sleep down here in my office. There’s a lock on the door upstairs.”

  “Can we, Mommy? Can we?” Freya pleaded.

  “That’s very kind of you, Hank, but we can’t stay here.” She ignored her daughter’s imploring.

  “Why?” he asked.

  Opening her mouth she thought she had a good reason, but nothing came. What could she say? She had no idea where she and Freya could go, but she didn’t want to accept any free handouts because she already felt like she owed him something.

  “I just don’t know—”

  “I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news,” he lowered his voice. “but you won’t find anywhere else in Cooper’s Hawk.”

  She mulled his words. The last thing she wanted was to end up sleeping in the cold. The shed was an option, but the roof leaked. “Okay, but just for one night,” Helena finally said. “But I’m here and I already have pruned hands, so I’ll keep washing.”

  “I will take you up on that.”

  “Hank—” the pretty young waitress stormed into the kitchen and came to a shocked stop when she saw Helena.

  “Jeannie, this is Helena and Freya,” he introduced them.

  The waitress didn’t even acknowledge them. Instead, she went into a rant. “A table is complaining about their food. He said it’s cold and refuses to let me warm it up.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped the toe of her shoe. “I can’t deal with these people.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Hank said. When Jeannie swished back through the door, he turned to Helena. “Thank you for washing. We’re a little swamped.”

  “I can see that.” She smiled.

  After finishing the last tray of dishes and George tore down the kitchen, Hank came back, looking annoyed, and said to Helena, “If you two are finished I can take you upstairs and show you around.”

  Freya bounced off the stool and jumped up and down in her new, borrowed shoes that fit her perfectly. Her ha
ir had dried and the wild curls bounced around her pinkened cheeks. “I’ve never stayed all night at anyone’s house, except for Astrid’s—”

  “Freya, it’s late and you need to get to sleep. I’m sure Hank has work to do outside of entertaining us.” Helena didn’t want her daughter to reveal anything personal. She couldn’t trust anyone.

  “Great.” He motioned for them to follow him up a set of stairs that creaked loudly. “Give me just a moment.” He opened the door that was directly at the top of the stairs and went inside. She heard some shuffling, cabinets open and shut, before he said, “Come on in.” Passing him, she caught a whiff of Irish Spring soap. She found his scent quite pleasing

  “It’s not much, but it’s dry and it’s warm,” Hank said from where he stood in the doorway. “There are extra blankets on the bed and I also laid out some clothes that you might like to wear.”

  She saw a neatly folded stack of clothing.

  “Will your…well, do you have someone who might be upset that we’re staying here?” She tried to phrase it as delicately as possible.

  “No one. The clothes are from Mindy, my brother Creed’s wife.”

  “Okay. Tell her thank you for me.”

  For some, the one room space that consisted of a bed pushed up against one wall, a dresser on the other, and a small round table with a microwave placed on top, might need some work, but for Helena she could only feel gratitude. “It’s perfect.” She swung and met Hank’s gaze for a solid second before he turned away.

  “Bathroom is through that door there where you’ll find clean towels and sheets in the closet. I’ll bring up a couple bottles of water for the refrigerator.” Which was sitting on the top of the dresser. “If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs.” He shifted in his boots.

  “Thank you. We’ll be fine.”

  “Okay then. I’ll leave you two alone.” He took a step for the door, but Freya caught him by wrapping her arms around his waist.

  Hank stood there in shock, looking unsure of what he should do before he finally rested his hands on her shoulders.

  Helena blinked back tears as she watched the scene. Freya hugged a man she didn’t know which was huge. This could be considered both a positive and a negative. Helena had taught her daughter to beware strangers as protection and yet she didn’t want her daughter growing up being afraid of everyone.