* * *
Jaxson
What was it about the woman that set him on edge? He wasn’t usually such a dick.
Apparently, there was a limit to her goodwill, and he’d hit it. He ignored the twinge of regret. He was here for information, not to make friends. Especially not with pretty, wholesome types who smelled like flowers and had hearts as big as their soft brown eyes.
Jaxson left the money on the table and went out to the parking lot. She was sitting in the van with the motor running and didn’t look at him as he got in. He told himself that was a good thing.
She drove to the motel in silence and pulled as close to the back door as possible, proving that even if she was annoyed with him, she was kind enough to minimize the distance he had to walk.
“Thanks for breakfast,” he told her.
She nodded but didn’t look at him. “You’re welcome. I’ll let Zeb Stoltzfus know you’ll be coming by. I’ll pay for whatever it costs to fix.”
Jaxson nodded in acknowledgment, and then he got out of the vehicle and went into the motel, resisting the urge to look back. When he opened his door, the scent of carnations hit him—the flowers she’d brought to cheer him up.
He snorted. What would have been even better for improving his day? Not nearly turning him into roadkill in the first place.
Chapter Six
Penny
“Where have you been?” Penny’s mother asked, stepping out from the refrigerated room in the back of the shop, cradling an arm full of long-stemmed roses.
Penny hung up the keys to the delivery van on the peg by the door. “I went for breakfast after I delivered the flowers for the Stoltzfus wedding,” Penny answered on a yawn.
Penny’s mother laid the roses on the counter and picked up a pair of pruning shears before regarding Penny over the top of her glasses. “You were up all night again, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but it was worth it. Everything came out beautifully.”
“I know. Emma Stoltzfus is thrilled. She’s been posting pictures on Instagram all morning and tagging the shop.”
“Good. Maybe her father will be willing to do me a favor.”
“What’s that now?”
Penny braced herself. She hated being the bearer of bad news even if the news really wasn’t that bad, considering. “There was an incident.”
Her mother straightened and set the shears down, giving Penny her full attention. “What kind of incident?”
Penny relayed the story.
“Oh, Penelope,” her mother said, her face a mask of concern. “Is he okay?”
“Seems to be, other than the limp, which I’m pretty sure he had before I came along.” Penny’s mind went back to the scars she’d seen along with the multitude of muscular bumps and ridges. “I did say I’d pay for repairs.”
“Yes, you will,” her mother said with a determined nod. “He’s a Sanctuary man, you say?”
Penny hesitated, thinking back on her limited conversation with Jaxson. He hadn’t actually said he was, but what other possible reason would he be in town? Sumneyville wasn’t the kind of place people visited for the heck of it.
Aloud, she said, “He did confirm that he was in the Army.”
“A wounded veteran,” her mother murmured. “That settles it. You must invite him to dinner.”
“What? Why?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do.”
In principle, that might be true, but after the way he’d handled breakfast, she didn’t think he’d be likely to accept an invitation to a meal at the Hoffmeier home. Penny’s mother was even chattier than she was. The woman could carry on an entire conversation by herself.
Her father, well, he wasn’t as talkative, but he would welcome another Army man into their home. Both parents supported Sanctuary and their mission but did so quietly. The Hoffmeiers were more about mending fences than they were about burning bridges.
But still ...
“I’m paying for the repairs, and I bought him breakfast,” Penny reminded her.
“Kindness comes from the heart as well as the pocketbook.”
“I don’t think he’ll go for it, Mom. He’s not exactly what you’d call a sociable guy.”
“Then, he and your father should get along well,” Addie said with a grin. “And all the more reason to invite him to dinner. A friendly face and a home-cooked meal can work wonders.”
When Penny continued to look doubtful, her mother added cheerfully, “We won’t know until we ask, which you are going to do as soon as you get some sleep. You look like you’re going to fall where you stand.”
There was no use in arguing. When Addie Hoffmeier set her mind to something, it stayed that way. And maybe, just maybe, her mother would have better luck with prying information out of him than she had. Something told Penny that Jaxson Adams had a great backstory.
Penny left the shop and walked the short distance to her family home. She bypassed the house and continued on toward the back, where she had her own apartment above the detached garage.
She climbed the external stairs and let herself in, breathing a sigh of relief when she stepped over the threshold. This was her sanctuary. Her safe space.
The walls were a soft cream, only visible in intermittent patches because of the abundant greenery. Plants were everywhere. In massive pots in the corners. Hanging in baskets from the ceiling. Sitting on spiral floor-to-ceiling shelves as well as sills, tables, and counters.
She toed off her shoes and made a beeline for her bedroom. The hand-stitched quilt covered in colorful flowers was the same one she’d had since she was a kid. The stuffed polar bear atop it was relatively new. She’d had some left over after last year’s Christmas specialty bouquets, and she hadn’t been able to resist keeping one for herself.
After stripping off her clothes, she slipped on a nightshirt and crawled between the covers, letting her body sink into the mattress.
It felt good to lie down. Her body was tired, but as usual, her mind was still revving a mile a minute. With a deep breath, she began her pre-sleep relaxation routine, beginning with her toes and working her way up. She flexed and released each body part while counting backward from one hundred, willing her brain to calm.
She made it to eighty-eight before Jaxson Adams snuck back into her thoughts.
Intense, growly, grumpy Jaxson Adams.
What exactly was the guy’s problem? She’d said she was sorry. She’d tried to be friendly. She’d given him flowers, bought him breakfast, and offered to drive him up to Sanctuary, and he’d still looked at her as if she’d purposely ruined his day.
Now, her mother wanted to have him for Sunday dinner. It was a disaster waiting to happen.
She turned and punched her pillow in frustration. He was a storm cloud—that was what he was. Dark and threatening, crackling with electricity.
So what if she’d always been fascinated by thunderstorms, rushing out to sit on the back porch and absorb some of that power when one happened by?
He was a man, not a storm, despite his gunmetal-gray-and-emerald-green eyes. His classic, handsome features. An intensity that made her breathless simply by being near him.
Just a man.
Looks weren’t everything. Personality and disposition mattered, too, as did a sense of humor, which he clearly didn’t have.