Chance of Rain Read online

  Ergo, the farm would lose its ability to function...forever.

  So he would sell the house, maybe to someone with a neighboring farm that could swallow up the land and use it as overflow. Or maybe to a suburban family that thought the rural setting was the answer to their fast-paced lifestyle. He didn’t care. He had come to handle the sale and disposal of the farm personally. It was far less than his heritage demanded of him but all he had to give.

  The sign read Hal’s Hardware, though there’d never been a Hal as far as Sawyer knew.

  He pulled into the parking lot just as a tall woman stepped off the sidewalk, directly in his path. With quick reflexes, he stopped the truck, but the spin of the tires sprayed her with water from a puddle. He winced. With the chill in the air, that water had to be pretty cold.

  Which was confirmed when the woman marched up to him, frozen droplets spraying from her short hair. She was a little intimidating, though he wouldn’t admit that on pain of death.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Sorry about that,” Sawyer said. “I didn’t see you there.”

  She arched her brow. “Look, mister, you may be new around here, but on Dearling’s main road there are more people than cars. Next time it could be Mrs. Fenworth and her potbelly, you understand?”

  “Her...potbelly?” He was all for straight talking, but that just seemed rude.

  “Her pet potbelly. You know, the pig.”

  “Ah.” Yeah, this town was still nuts. “Like I said, ma’am. I’m real sorry.”

  She squinted at him. “You look familiar. And you definitely have the drawl. You from around here?”

  “Just passing through.”

  A partial truth. The last thing he needed was to stir up old trouble. The curiosity was there, and something that felt oddly like nostalgia, but it was best he didn’t get involved. He wouldn’t bother the town. The town wouldn’t bother him. Once he sold the farm, he wouldn’t have any ties to this place at all—exactly what he had always wanted.

  Inside the hardware store, the owner, some guy not named Hal that only looked vaguely familiar, peered at him from beneath thick bushy brows. “You Wilson’s boy?” he asked, referring to Sawyer’s father.

  Sawyer cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. That’s me.”

  He harrumphed. “I never did like Wilson.”

  That made two of them. “Sorry about that.”

  Not here ten minutes and already Sawyer had apologized twice for things he had and hadn’t done. His old patterns of failure and disappointment were as strong as ever. Once again, it was obvious he didn’t belong.

  There really was no place like home.

  * * *

  As quickly as the breakfast rush had filled the place, they filed out. Natalie cleaned up in preparation for the lunch crowd, though technically this was also her break time.

  Mr. Winterman sat down at the end of the counter.

  She sidled up beside him. “What can I get you?”

  “Texas toast,” he said with preemptive insistence. “I don’t want any cheap substitutes like last time. Two eggs, sunny side up, and four pieces of bacon.”

  “You know you can’t have that, Mr. Winterman.”

  “I don’t care what the damn doctor said. I’m going to live my life the way I want. Now serve me my food, woman.”

  She cocked her head. “Do you find this approach successful with the ladies?”

  “When I’m paying them, I do,” he growled, then seemed to rethink his words. A ruddy blush spread over his deeply tanned skin, and he muttered to himself about mouthy waitresses.

  She laughed as she carried the dustpan into the back. One of these days she was going to get that man to smile.

  Barry, her cook, glanced up as she dumped out the ruined mug. “Another one?” he asked sympathetically. He understood the value of the original dishware. Either that or he was really good at placating the crazy boss-lady.

  She ran this place, but it wasn’t really hers. Natalie had been granted power of attorney over the estate when Gram had become mentally incapacitated. The reminder of her grandmother always strengthened Natalie’s resolve to keep things the way they were, the way they had always been. Even when the inevitable happened and she was left truly alone, the diner would still be Gram’s.

  “Afraid so,” she said. “Mr. Winterman’s here. He wants the usual.”

  “Scrambled egg whites, grilled turkey bacon and whole grain toast,” Barry said. “Coming right up.”

  On her way out of the kitchen, she heard the muted tones of the cowbell that hung on the door. Her friend Lucy stalked into the diner, her slim white T-shirt and jeans splattered with mud and a black cloud over her face.

  “What happened to you?” Natalie asked, handing her some napkins.

  “Ugh. Some guy wasn’t watching where he was going. Sprayed me with twenty gallons of water.”

  “Who was it? The Durston boys?”

  Lucy waved her hand as she swiped at her clothes with the other. “No, some outsider. And anyway it was an honest mistake. I had stepped off the curb. I’m just lucky he didn’t hit me.”

  “Hit you? Well, that’s just dangerous, and I don’t care if you were off the curb. I know Mrs. Fenworth is always wandering around with Piggles.”

  Lucy snapped her fingers. “Ah, that’s it. I can never remember the name. One time I called it Piggy and you’d think I insulted its mother the way Mrs. Fenworth looked at me. Honestly, I’m not sure I can say Piggles with a straight face.”

  Which turned out to be true, because as the name left her lips she cracked a smile.

  Natalie laughed with her. “Do you want to change? I probably have something upstairs that could fit you. You’re a whole head taller, but a skirt ought to work just as well.”

  “A skirt.” Lucy shuddered in her damp Levi’s and flannel work shirt. “No, thank you.”

  At the counter, Natalie poured her a steaming cup of coffee, hoping it would take the chill off.

  Joe frowned. “What happened to you?”

  Lucy ignored her brother and took a long sip of her coffee—black, of course.

  Mr. Winterman looked up from his low-cholesterol breakfast and blinked at Lucy’s damp appearance. “Don’t tell me the storm hit already.”

  “Nope,” Lucy said. “This is from the puddles left from last night’s drizzle.”

  Rain was common this time of year, which helped keep the temperature down and was vital to the newly planted crops. Unfortunately, it occasionally escalated into tropical storms and hurricanes. As a result of all the moisture and activity in the skies, storms were always brewing somewhere off the coast.

  Even when they did culminate in a land-based storm, battering poor Galveston for the umpteenth time, they were little more than a thunderstorm by the time they reached central Texas. Despite this, the exact coordinates of the current storm system in the Gulf, its wind speeds, its trajectory, were an endless source of conversation.

  “When do you think it’ll touch down?” Joe mused.

  “Can’t say.” Mr. Winterman shook his head. “Any day, though. Could happen.”

  “Yeah, but it probably won’t reach us,” Joe said, being a fairly reasonable and levelheaded individual despite his youthful antics and current sheriff’s uniform. Or maybe because of them.

  Mr. Winterman grunted. “Right when you least expect it, that’s when it’ll happen.”

  Just then, the cowbell over the door clanged. Natalie looked up, dragging her gaze over well-hung jeans, a faded T-shirt...and a face that damn near stopped her heart. Scruffy and solemn and—damn, damn, damn—familiar.

  “Sawyer,” she breathed.

  There was too much noise in the diner for him to have heard her, too much distance between her behind the c
ounter and him just inside the door, but his gaze honed in on her. Recognition flared in his eyes. And something else. Something dark and hot and clenching tight in her belly.

  Lucy turned too. “He’s the guy who got me all wet. That’s Sawyer Nolan? He looks so different.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Natalie murmured, although he didn’t really. Taller, bigger, thicker in all the right places, but the same clear brown eyes that lit from within when they met hers.

  It had been five years since he’d made an afternoon appearance in a black suit for his father’s funeral. Another six since he’d graduated high school and left town as quickly as the Greyhound could carry him. Even after all these years and all this distance, she remembered the feel of his arms around her waist. He had been a lanky teenager, but even then he’d been taller than her, bigger than her. Now he was massive. He would engulf her. His hands on her hips and his mouth over hers. He would swallow her whole, and please, yes, where could she sign up?

  “Yo, Tally.” Lucy snapped her fingers. “Earth to Natalie.”

  Natalie blinked. Whoa.

  That was strange. She liked a fine-looking man. Who didn’t? But she didn’t gawk. And she sure as heck didn’t pine. So Sawyer was back in town because he lost his water rights. He was probably looking to offload the farm to a man more interested in gambling than Liam Cooper. To an outsider.

  He might not remember her. High school was years ago, a lifetime ago. He looked different, and so must she. He might not even recognize her.

  Then he walked straight toward her. Or maybe it only seemed that way. Logically, she understood that there were tables between them, people between them, so much time between them, but his eyes were locked with hers.

  “Hi, Natalie.” Even his voice was lower, deeper, sending shivers over her skin.

  Of course Sawyer Nolan would show up out of the blue, sexy as hell when she was all rumpled from the breakfast shift. He had muscle definition and a smooth tan. She had coffee splatter on her apron. He’d probably seen the world twice over in the military, while she had lived her whole life behind this counter.

  “Hi back,” she said, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “What can I do for you?”

  Maybe there was something in the air, because her voice came out lower too.

  His eyes darkened as if he’d noticed, which gave her mind permission to fill in all manner of suggestive possibilities to her question. What can I do for you?

  Anything. Everything. A grown-up version of the kiss they had shared before.

  “Coffee, please. I’ll take coffee.”

  Right. This was her, the waitress, the signpost on the way out of town. She grabbed a mug from the stack of clean ones behind her and poured a fresh cup, ignoring the tremor in her hand.

  He nodded his thanks and sat down, but even as he drank his coffee, his gaze kept coming back to her. And damn it, she was smiling. She couldn’t contain her happiness to see him, even if it would be prudent to do just that. Caught off guard, she couldn’t play it cool.

  It just felt so good to see him doing well. Alive and not blown to bits and here in her diner—in her home, really. Though she had no hold on him, she’d worried.

  “I read an article about you in the paper. Heard you won an award.”

  He shrugged. “They give those out instead of raises.”

  “Oh. Well, it seemed really great.” You seem really great.

  “What about you? You’re still working here.”

  His tone was neutral. Empty pleasantries. He hadn’t cared what she did all those years ago. There was no reason to think he would now. Yet she found herself feeling defensive. I love this diner, she wanted to say. I love this town. I loved you, even if it was only puppy love.

  Why did you leave?

  The past had its claws in her deeper than she’d realized. A few weeks of being a couple. Scorching kisses underneath the bleachers. And then he’d enlisted in the navy, left town and never once looked back.

  Until now.

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “Not much changes around here.”

  She could have left it that, really. But then he did the most outrageous thing. He glanced, pointedly, at her ring finger. Her empty ring finger. Then his gaze slid away, but it was too late. She’d seen his interest, and—oh, hell, she was interested too.

  Purely in the physical sense, of course. That strong jaw and those broad shoulders were objectively perfect. She could write a textbook on their dimensions and scholars everywhere would nod their heads in agreement. Yes, indeed, Sawyer Nolan is a sex god.

  But they had nothing deeper than that.

  He quirked a smile. “I’m glad. I know how much this place meant to you.”

  Oh, man, that crooked grin had always done topsy-turvy things to her insides. Her mind scrambled for something to turn it around, back on him.

  “Well, you know. We all have our purpose. Like with you and the SEALs.”

  The space between his eyes creased. “Yeah, I guess.” A beat passed. “You ever wonder about changing your purpose?”

  Giving up the diner meant giving up on Gram, so no, she never, ever would. She shook her head. “I’m all in, you know?”

  After a second, he nodded.

  Joe cleared his throat, making his presence known. Had he been staring at them this whole time? Probably.

  “Hey, man. Good to see you again.”

  Tension saturated the air as Sawyer regarded him. They had been friends once too—even closer than he and Natalie had been once upon a time. But Sawyer had burned every bridge on his way out, and she never really understood why.

  Finally, he nodded. “You too, Joe.”

  “You planning on staying in town long?”

  Sawyer paused, as though deciding how much to share. She could have sworn regret flashed briefly in his eyes before he said, “Can’t say that I am.”

  And that was that. He had left all those years ago. He would leave again.

  She couldn’t possibly be disappointed.

  Sawyer turned to her. “I know it’s early, but do you happen to have any of your famous cherry pie? Even after all these years, I still get the craving for it now and then.”

  The flattery softened her. Cherry pie was her specialty, not Gram’s. He’d thought of it years later? It was seductive. He was seductive...but also dangerous. She stood on the precipice, ready to fall for him all over again.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Fresh out.”

  He gave her a rueful look. “Guess I’ll have to come by another time.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Lucy’s eyebrows rise. Her friend knew she always kept a spare pie in the freezer for just this sort of request. But with Sawyer, pie seemed like a slippery, fruit-filled slope.

  He took a swig of coffee and set it on the counter. The mug cracked down the side, separating from the handle. She stared at the broken pieces of ceramic, suddenly unable to defend the quality or quaintness of her diner. Unable to defend her own decisions, her dubious leadership. It wasn’t old-fashioned at all. It was cheap, backward, exactly what he must think of this town.

  Exactly what he must think of her.

  “Shit.” He grabbed the dish towel from her hand and wiped it up. “Sorry about that.”

  She wanted to let him, but there was a jerkiness to his movements, an almost frantic edge that hinted at something darker beneath the surface. She caught his hands, and they stilled beneath hers. His gaze lifted to hers.

  “It was really good to talk to you, Sawyer. Even if you leave town soon, I’m glad you came by.”

  He swallowed. “I’d like to see you again.”

  Her heartbeat quickened, and lower, a different kind of pulse strummed through her body. It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself sternly.

 
She forced a smile. “You know where to find me.”

  Because she never ever left.

  Chapter Two

  Natalie turned on the faucet, wincing as the cool water sluiced over her reddened skin. Gradually the sting from the burn eased, as did her racing heart. She let her eyes fall shut. A low groan of frustration filled the small bathroom. She knew exactly how the accident had happened. She’d been staring at the door to the diner all freaking day.

  Catching her reflection in the mirror above the sink, she began tucking loose tendrils into her bun. Then caught herself. Stop that. He likely wouldn’t show up, and even if he did, she didn’t care. Didn’t. Care.

  The pink polka-dot flower entwined in her hair called her a liar.

  A knock came from outside the door.

  “Are you okay?” Barry called.

  She had ducked into the bathroom after yelping in pain at the burn. Her cook had medic training from his time in the army. He took her kitchen injuries seriously, rare and small though they were.

  “Should I take a look at it?”

  “I’m fine.” She pulled her hand from the sink, frowning at the red, puckered skin.

  There was a pause. “You sure?”

  “Positive. You can head out. I’ll lock up.”

  The last thing she needed was Barry examining her—or her careless behavior. No doubt he’d already heard about the reason why. The town was small. Like a miniature village in a snow globe, and along came Sawyer to shake it all up.

  Well, she was fine. Fine with things as they were before he showed up, and she’d be fine again when he left. She washed her hands, mentally listing the chores she’d do before closing. Barry was a huge help. He did more than his share. But in a diner of this size and only the two of them, there was always something that needed to be scrubbed, ordered, or baked.

  Except for today, apparently.

  She emerged from the bathroom to find all the chairs atop the tables. The floor gleamed. The sink, empty. So much for keeping her mind off a certain man. She sighed. Cool it, Natalie. It wasn’t as if he’d stood her up for a date. It only felt that way. At least she had some invoices to take care of, though they were better done upstairs on her sofa with something mind-numbing on the TV.