Images of vindictive mob-crews sent by Eric vanished as Joel Coleman blocked her path. She paused, making sure she was in position to run if needed. Not that Joel had ever done anything to threaten her, but being cautious was only smart.

“What?” If the word came out sharp and defensive, so be it.

Joel examined her carefully. “You okay?”

“Just peachy,” she lied, the sarcasm in her voice tinny and bright.

“Don’t fuck around,” he growled.

The words rumbled over her, dark and rough, and for once she allowed herself to look him over. To take in the broad width of his shoulders stretching his T-shirt. Massive biceps pushing the sleeves. Narrow waist and well-worn jeans, with a lighter patch right there where her gaze shouldn’t dwell. He shifted his weight, and the impulse to stare a little longer was hard to fight when his thighs and his…

Vicki dragged her gaze up to the relative safety of his face. Only it wasn’t safe, not by a long shot. Bright blue eyes twinkled at her, a lazy love-em-and-leave-em smirk on his firm lips. His hair long enough she wished she could step in closer and thread her fingers through it to see if it was as soft as it looked.

Yeah, if it wasn’t the stupidest idea ever, she would love to get a taste of Joel Coleman. Always had wanted one, never would take herself up on the craving.

She took a deep breath and stared over his shoulder. “Sorry. I’m still riled up.”

“I figured.” Joel stepped to the side, his body swaying back into her line of vision, and the concern on his face nearly killed her. “I really did want to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” Vicki paused. The words stuck in her throat, but he had helped. “And…thanks. I mean, earlier, at the restaurant.”

“No problem.” He glanced at his watch. “You finish your shift already?”

No use in lying. He’d find out soon enough she’d been canned. “I’m going to look for a different job. One more suited to my personality. Sorry, no peach pies tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Sorry to see you go.”

Vicki needed to get home. Needed to hide, and not have to think for a few minutes. “See you around.”

She shouldered past him, ignoring his hand that brushed her arm as she walked by. She was at the edge of the alley, stepping into the sunlight, when he spoke again.

“I heard Orson’s Hardware is hiring stockers.”

Vicki paused. Glanced over her shoulder. “Thanks. That might be a better place for me. I’ll look into it.”

“Vicki, if…” His words trickled to a stop, and the strangeness in that alone was enough to pin her feet to the ground.

She turned to face him, waiting for him to finish. “What?”

Joel was looking at her. Really looking, as if seeing beyond the tough-girl façade she wore like armor. She tugged her backpack a little closer, hiding behind it.

“If you ever need, well, someone to talk to. Or a hand. Let me know, okay?”

She should have responded. Should have blurted out a noncommittal thanks, but his offer knocked all logic from her brain and left her with nothing but emotional turmoil.

They stood for a moment, nothing said, just a growing sense of disaster looming as Vicki fought the urge to give in. Because giving in would be a bad idea—she was sure of it.

It seemed like an earnest offer. Maybe. Or maybe more of the same of what she’d been handed over the years. People who appeared to be one way, while only wanting to take advantage of the trusting and the naïve.

A bad girl desperate to change her spots couldn’t allow the lure of attraction to lead her astray. She lifted her chin and turned without a backward glance, walking away from temptation in the form of one Joel Coleman.

Because the last thing this rebel needed was to get involved with another rebel.

Chapter Two

Vicki spent all Friday dropping off resumes around town, managing—barely—to ignore the snarky comments at a few places. She collapsed onto the couch and stared at the ceiling, flipping through the nasty comebacks she hadn’t voiced.

Fuck them for being small-minded, small-town bigots.

From flat on her back, not only the ceiling but the kitchen and the door to the bathroom were visible. Her couch was a daybed she turned into her real bed for the night. The tiny bachelor suite had everything she needed to be independent, but at times, man, did the walls close in.

It was the best she’d been able to manage when she escaped the family home. Hadn’t been easy. None of it. Which made her current lack of job situation even more annoying. She knew better. She knew she needed to keep her cool.

The wind rustled the curtains, bringing fall air to swirl around her. The moment’s refreshment helped her refocus, and her breathing calmed.

Okay. She’d blown it. But it wasn’t the end of the world—not yet. She’d planned and saved and scrimped. She had a couple months’ rent squirreled away, and hopefully Joel’s job lead would play out in her favour.

Joel.

She shouldn’t think about him. Shouldn’t imagine his gorgeous eyes focused on her for real. In a time and place she could give in and take a little pleasure.

Vicki scrambled to her feet. Nope. The option was totally out of the question. Even if the Coleman twins weren’t known as sexual whirlwinds, Joel was in a whole different camp. The kind of kids who back in school wandered the hallways taking up more than their share of space and attention. It wasn’t as if the better-off folks in Rocky wore a lot of designer jeans or fancy duds, but the Colemans and the Hansols were not in the same pecking order, and she knew it.

Joel might have worn hand-me-downs from his big brothers, but they were always clean and well mended. Vicki had made sure her and her sister Lynn’s stuff was always washed, although it meant learning how to do their own laundry at ten years old, but there were no hand-me-downs she wanted to wear.

The phone rang, and she grabbed it. “Hello?”

“Vicki Hansol?”

“Yes.”

“Mark Orson at Orson’s Hardware. You put in an application for the position in the stockroom.”

Vicki straightened, even though the instinctive move was invisible. “Yes, sir. I’m looking for full-time hours. I have a recommendation from my—”

“Skip it. My manager was in the café yesterday right before you got your walking papers.”

Shit. Bubbles burst even before the job offer was on the table. “I see. Well, thank you for calling.”

The man’s laugh broke over the line. “Slow down, girl. I’m not brushing you off. In fact, from what Davis told me about the situation, I like your spunk. If you’re a hard worker, I can use you. It’s minimum wage to start, salary increases quarterly if things work out. Two-week trial, though, to make sure you fit in with the boys.”

Vicki clutched the phone in shock. “Really? I mean, that would be fabulous. When do you want me to start?”

“Come in Monday at seven a.m. I’ll get you to fill in the paperwork, and you can pull a shift.” Mark paused for a minute. “You’ll be working with a full crew of guys. Can you handle that?”

Since Eric didn’t work there, she figured she’d be okay. “No problem.”

She crossed her fingers she wasn’t lying through her teeth.

“I’ll find a spare coverall for you to wear. My daughter used to work in the shop before she moved away, and I think she left a couple around.”

“Thank you.”

Vicki hung up somewhat in shock. Only one-day unemployed and back into the swing of things. Stocking shelves was far safer as well. Sherry had been right. Eric was at the café all the time. He’d never pop his head into a hardware and seed shop. Probably had fancy mechanics and other flunkies to do his manual labour.

The world looked a tiny bit brighter. She slipped to the wall calendar and added a couple notes. October stretched before her, and the happy little image of a cartoon turkey decorating Thanksgiving Day mocked her.

Should she try to get together with her family, or was that asking for more heartache?

The thumbtack holding the calendar to the wall nudged loose and everything fell to the floor, the pages flipping like some fancy art shot in a movie, and Vicki stilled. Months spinning past. Her life whirling away, minimum wage and dead-end jobs. Tossing her fists every time someone made a comment about her family.

Was that all she had to look forward to?

God, she was an emotional mess today. She hauled open the fridge and grabbed a Coke, plopping down on the edge of the mattress harder than she should. When the creaking settled, she glanced around, shaking her head in frustration.

Tiny apartment. A small pile of clothing. Her motorbike—so little to show for her life so far. Not even a high school diploma.

Nothing but her pride, and lately even that kept taking a bruising.

And yet…

She’d made a difference when it counted the most. She nabbed the picture frame from beside the bed, the one showcasing her middle sister. Lynn’s innocent smile shone out with unmarred joy.

You were strong enough to do what’s right. The words whispered through her head.

She just had to believe it.

The phone rang, and she snatched it up, panicked for a moment that Mark had changed his mind. “Hello?”

“Hi, Vicki, it’s Karen Coleman. You got a minute?”

Well now, this was unexpected. Karen belonged to another of the local Coleman clans—the Whiskey Creek side. The woman had gone to school with Vicki’s oldest sister. Vicki swung to vertical so she was seated comfortably and listened carefully. “No problem. What’s up?”