No Ordinary Home

She kept pace with the man who said he would feed her, but hobbled because her ankle still throbbed.

There were so many things Gracie should be worried about right now. Was the guy really a cop? Had he been lying about not arresting her? About wanting to feed her? Why would a guy she’d stolen from want to help her?

Ahead of her, he walked with a long, confident stride, his shoulders broad and square.

What would he expect in return? She’d fallen so low lately she’d actually stolen food two days ago and a wallet five minutes ago, but that was as far as her crime spree would take her. Did he want her body in exchange for food? She wouldn’t do that.

Despite the questions, the one word that overrode all of them—food—won out.

She chased the tall, handsome stranger around to the front of the building. Tall, handsome stranger sounded like something out of a palm-reading session or a romance novel. Ha. As if there truly were happy endings in real life. She knew better.

What did he want in return?

If this guy wanted to feed her, fine and good, but she would owe him what she chose to owe him. She would polish his shoes, do his laundry if he gave her the chance, or wash his car, but he would take nothing from her other than what she chose to give. She was long past the point of letting people take advantage of her.

But what if he wouldn’t feed her if she didn’t give in to his demands? Where would she be then?

Her head hurt—from the hunger, but also from the endless uncertainty. It was time to stop running. In two days, she would.

Only two more days to go.

In two days, she would say goodbye to the road forever. No more running.

So close.

She stepped into the diner, desperate for the comfort of a full belly. Her lizard brain just wanted the food this stranger offered. Her developed brain would have to worry about consequences—and how to deal with them—later.

The smells overwhelmed her, of hot fat, bacon, eggs frying. Toast. They’d burned a slice or two. Even if burnt to charcoal, she would eat it. With or without butter. Or jam. Oh, jam. How long had it been?

Another scent teased her. The man beside her smelled clean, more than clean, as though the soap he used was part of him, oozing from his pores like the purest thing on earth.

She hadn’t showered in weeks. A month, even? At the last gas station, she’d washed her underarms using cold water, a cheap paper towel as rough as sandpaper and industrial hand soap. Her armpits had burned afterward. They still itched.

Grease and dust coated her hair. What could she do about that? When you were hungry, shampoo was a hell of a lot less important than food. And conditioner? A luxury. She hadn’t used it in a couple of years.

She hadn’t really cared until this man with his disheveled blond hair, clear blue eyes and broad shoulders made her want to comb her hair. Maybe put on a little lipstick.

She’d given up on all of that six years ago. Cripes. Had she really been on the road that long? Only two more days until the end of her journey. Another couple of days and her money problems would end. For too many years, she’d been running from. Now, she was finally traveling to.

Inside the diner, the stranger talked to another man and Gracie’s instincts for self-preservation kicked in. Did this guy think she’d be good for an afternoon three-way?

She might be homeless, she might have fallen lower than she’d ever been in her twenty-nine years, but she was not, never had been and never would be a prostitute. Not even for food.

She stomped out of the diner.

A second later, a hand clamped down on her shoulder and spun her about. For a big man, he sure could move quietly.

“I thought you were hungry. Why are you running off?”

“I saw you talking to your friend. Did you think I’d sleep with you both in exchange for a meal? I’m not a whore.”

He reared back. She’d offended him. “I didn’t think you were. I was just going to feed you. What kind of guy do you take me for? I’m a cop.”

“Cops aren’t always lily-white.”

“Neither are homeless women who hang around truck stops and steal wallets.”

Shame flared in her chest, hot and unwelcome. She used to have a conscience, before life and desperation had taken over. She shouldn’t have touched this man’s wallet, or stolen those date squares two days ago. Gran would be disappointed in her. “I told you I’ve never done it before. This was the first time.”

“I think you’re telling the truth and that’s the only reason you aren’t already sitting in the back of a police cruiser.” He hooked his thumbs into his back pockets. “Figured you just needed a good meal. That’s all I’m offering.”

Gracie wanted to believe him, not because she trusted anyone anymore, or because she had any naive belief in the innate goodness of humanity—a lot had been burned out of her by experience—but because if she didn’t eat soon, she was going to pass out.

“And the other guy with you?”

“He’s a good man.” He didn’t need to add too. She could see in his face he was probably exactly who and what he said he was.

“Let’s pretend we trust each other for the hour it’ll take for lunch.” He watched her steadily, like a poster boy for good health.

Shaggy, dark blond hair framed a face carved by a hard, but loving hand. Sharp, intelligent and wholesome with a generous side of sexy. GQ could put him on its cover and women would swoon. Blue eyes drooped down at the outer corners in a languid parody of sensuality, but the awareness in their depths was anything but lazy.

He differed from the people she saw on the road—too many truckers with potbellies from hours spent sitting behind a steering wheel, or the obesity of housewives and kids who watched too much TV or spent too much time at computers.

But this guy? He exercised a lot.

“Let’s start over.” He stuck out his right hand. “Austin Trumball.”

She didn’t want to touch him, because she knew she was unworthy of him. If she hadn’t stolen his wallet, he would never have given her the time of day, not only because she was down and out, but because she had chosen to be that way, a position most didn’t understand. If he knew that, he’d boot her to the curb.

The choice had been hers and she had long ago accepted it as the right one. Lately, though, as she’d grown so thin her ribs were prominent, she’d had her doubts.

Now here was this man offering not only food, but also decency. Accept, she ordered her pride. Take his free meal and then move on.

Keep a wary eye, but trust him long enough to eat.

She shook his hand. “Gracie Travers.” Why was it that after so long on the road, she still stumbled when she said Travers? She should be used to it by now.

His warm fingers wrapped around hers, hard and assured. She hadn’t been warm in years, not even in the middle of summer. Not even on a beautiful July day as hot as this one.

He shook once, all business, then let go of her hand. She felt the loss of his heat.

“Let’s eat.” He turned back to the diner and she followed without hesitation this time. She wanted a meal, just one big, hot meal to get her through the next two days until she made it to Denver. Then she would be home-free for the rest of her life.

The day after tomorrow, she would turn thirty. Her money would be hers, free and clear. She needed to get to a bank. Denver was the closest large city.

What she wouldn’t give to stop moving, to find a small place to live—nothing ostentatious, just a modest roof over her head and three square meals a day—but that would require a permanent job. To get one she would have to provide a social security number. Once that happened, her freedom would be gone, and that she wouldn’t give up.

If she could access her money, her problems would be solved. She could buy a new identity. She could buy a small house somewhere. If she lived normally without extravagant spending, she would be okay for life. No one would ever need to know who she really was.

Inside the crowded restaurant, Austin’s friend sat in a booth. When he saw her beside Austin, the corners of his mouth turned down.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “Who is she?”

“She’s having lunch with us. I invited her. Her name’s Gracie.” He gestured for her to slide into the booth across from the other guy. She did. “Gracie, this is Finn Franck Caldwell.”

She nodded to him while Austin slid into the booth beside her. He took up a lot of room. She studied both men. About the same age, she guessed, or close to it. Early thirties. Finn wasn’t as big as Austin, but he looked equally as fit.

It didn’t take a genius to see Finn wasn’t happy she was here. Tough. As if that was going to hold her back from a free meal. At least, Austin had assured her there were no strings attached. She wasn’t yet sure she believed him 100 percent.

A harried waitress brought menus. “Coffee?”

“Yes,” they all said and she returned a minute later with a full pot.

Gracie doctored hers with plenty of sugar and cream, sipped it, sighed and sipped again. Nothing had ever tasted better than this hot drink sliding down her throat.

When she opened her eyes, she found both men staring at her.

“What?” she asked, defensive.

“Nice to see someone appreciate a good cup of coffee, that’s all.” Austin had a strong voice, deep and rich like the coffee in her cup. He could make a fortune with that beautiful voice. “What do you want to eat?”

All of it.

She studied the menu. “How much can I spend?”

“As much as it will take to fill your belly.”

His friend still hadn’t said anything. He didn’t have to. The flare of his nostrils signaled his disapproval.

“I’m paying him back,” she shot at Finn, because she wasn’t the deadbeat he thought she was.

“How?”

She turned to study the bench hog beside her. Cripes, he was big. “What do you need?”

Finn snorted and she glared at him. “Not that.”

She turned back to Austin and glanced at his messy hair. “You could use a haircut. I’ll do that.”

Without waiting for a response, she gave her attention over to the menu as though it were the Holy Grail. She couldn’t waste another minute talking. The sooner she ordered, the sooner she could kill the pain in her gut. Perusing the options, she blinked to clear mistiness from her eyes. Not tears. No. She was just tired, but God, look at the choices. Saying yes to one thing meant saying no to another.

When the waitress returned, Gracie ordered steak and eggs, because she would need the protein to get her to Denver. Not many truckers picked up hitchhikers anymore, not like they used to. How could she blame them? The world was a dangerous place.

She thought back to when she was a teenager flirting with veganism. These days, she was far more practical. She needed meat.

This afternoon, and for the next few days, she’d be hoofing it toward Denver. As always, she broke the trip down into segments. If she could make it as far as the next small town by this evening, she might be able to work a full day tomorrow and get herself a cheap motel room for the night. Maybe grab a hot shower before continuing on to Denver and visiting a bank. She should look respectable for that.

If someone would hire her for the day, that is.

The meal came with hash browns and toast.

“Do you have rye bread?”

“Sure, but I have to charge you an extra dollar for it.”

Gracie avoided looking at Austin. “Make my toast rye, and bring marmalade. And I want rice pudding for dessert.” She would need the iron from the raisins. “And a large glass of milk.” Lately, she’d been worrying about calcium. Were her bones weakening because she wasn’t getting enough? Would she pay for it later in life?

Her head still pounded, especially as she wondered whether she’d made the right choice in running away. Then she thought of her mom and dad, and that jerk Jay, and the circus her life had been, and her regrets faded.

Better to be on the road than to be involved in that again, but some days she was so tired she just wanted to quit. Then she would remember she already had. How did a person go about quitting...quitting?

Get your hands on your money.

That will solve your problems.

CHAPTER TWO

GRACIE ATE LIKE a half-starved animal, which Austin guessed she was. Man, could she pack it away.

“Careful,” he warned. “Don’t make yourself sick. You’re putting all of that into an empty stomach. You’ll fill up too quickly.”

“I can take care of my own stomach.” She stopped eating. “Sorry,” she said. She must have realized her tone had been caustic and remembered that he was paying for her meal. Austin almost laughed. He figured if she’d been on the road awhile, on her own, she’d learned to take care of herself pretty well.

She was a prickly one, all right.

“We going to get a move on soon?” Finn nursed the last of his coffee. Both he and Austin had finished their meals, but then they’d ordered less than Gracie had, and she was still plowing through hers.

Finn was still watching him, as he’d done all through lunch, but Austin had avoided his gaze. Now he met Finn’s cynical glare head-on. Finn’s left eyebrow sat cocked. The man could carry on whole conversations with his unruly eyebrows.

That raised brow said everything he wouldn’t utter in front of the woman. They’d been best friends for more than fifteen years. Austin could almost read Finn’s mind, imagined every word he wouldn’t say out loud.

Are you for real, Austin? We’re on the road, on vacation, and you pick up a stray? You can’t stop yourself from helping people, can you? Not even on vacation.

Ready to defend his actions, Austin halted at the quirk of Finn’s lips, because the man was glancing from his scratched cheek to the small woman beside him.

Again, man, really? You let that little thing get the better of you? Some cop you are.

Austin wanted to say she was stronger than she looked, but shame had him holding his tongue. And a certain odd loyalty to the woman he’d only just met. Then his humor kicked in and he grinned and shrugged.

Finn grinned, too, and the tension between them eased.

It would be a shame to let a woman, a stranger, come between a pair of good friends.

Even so, at the moment, Austin’s loyalty was to Gracie, because of her hunger and poverty. Finn had never known a day of need in his life. Austin had. He understood desperation. He totally got despair.

To his credit, Finn had held himself back from asking what had happened while he’d waited for Austin inside the diner.

“As soon as Gracie is finished we can go.” Austin turned his attention to her. “Where’re you going from here?”

She shrugged. He didn’t like the thought of her on the road, even if she was tough enough to handle anything that came along. He wondered if she fully understood the dangers to a woman alone in these places.

If she’d robbed a different kind of man, if it had been late at night with fewer people around, she might have been in more trouble than she could handle. And behind the building, no one would have heard her scream. The thought chilled him. She might be stronger than she looked, but hunger had left her depleted.

“Where did you sleep last night?”

She shrugged again. He grasped her wrist and repeated the question.

She put down a spoonful of rice pudding and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. She’d been raised to have manners. He’d noticed her speech was good, her grammar correct, better than his. She hadn’t been raised poor. He’d bet on that. So, what was her story?

“I know you’re feeding me and I appreciate it,” she said, tugging on her wrist until he let go, “but where I sleep is nobody’s business but my own.”

“You made it mine when you stole my wallet.”

“She what?” Finn leaned forward, expression fierce. “Why haven’t you called the cops? Instead, you’re feeding her?”

Austin raised a hand to placate his friend. “She stole my wallet, but I caught her and got everything back.” Finn looked angry enough to spit bullets. Or maybe that should be tranquilizing darts. After all, the guy was a veterinarian. Naw. The way he was staring at Gracie was pretty lethal. Austin figured he’d better appease him. “She apologized—didn’t you, Gracie?”

She nodded. She’d returned to her pudding and her mouth was full. Good thing. It prevented her from lying. Or maybe she lied easily. He knew nothing about her.

“Where are you headed?” he asked again. “Where are you sleeping tonight?” Last thing he needed was a woman depending on him—he’d had a bellyful of that, more than one man should have to bear in only thirty-one years—but he couldn’t help worrying. The world was a dangerous place, especially for a woman on her own.

“I’m trying to get to Denver. I’m hoping to hitch a ride from here to the nearest town.”

She was heading to Denver? So were they.

Finn must have seen the wheels turning in Austin’s mind because he shook his head. “No. No, no, no. Stop thinking what you’re thinking, Austin.”

Finn had sat through enough of Austin’s griping sessions to know exactly how hard Austin’s life was with his mom. Finn’s eyebrow shot up again. Don’t take on another needy woman, man.

Sensing the tension, Gracie’s head shot up. “Are you heading to Denver?”

Austin nodded.

She swallowed the last gulp of her milk. “Can I hitchhike to the next town? I’ll be no trouble. You can drop me off there and I’ll find my own place to sleep. I promise,” she said, her voice full of both desperation and hope. “Just give me a ride that far. I can make my own way to Denver later. I’ll be no trouble. Honest.”

Finn groaned. Austin knew why. They’d been best friends since high school, and he knew Austin inside out. He knew there was no way Austin would—could—say no.

“Okay, but only as far as Casper. We’re stopping there so Finn can visit a friend.” They could drop Gracie there. The last thing, the very last thing Austin needed was a woman hanging on to him.

* * *

GRACIE SAT IN the back seat of Austin’s old SUV doing sums in her small notebook. She wouldn’t pay him back for the gas since they were going this way anyway, but she would pay him back for everything she’d ordered at lunch.

She remembered to add the extra dollar for rye toast.

This ride to the next town would give her ankle a chance to heal. Things couldn’t have worked out better.

Fascinated by the bantering between the men in the front seat, she eavesdropped shamelessly. She’d been on the road so long she didn’t know what a normal friendship felt like. Thinking back, she couldn’t remember having had one.

The friends she’d had as a child had all been adults and transitory, coming and going as careers and jobs changed.

These men had a strong friendship. She sensed how deep and real it was and it filled her with envy.

Finn talked; Austin listened. She’d learned this lesson about relationships—in many, one was the talker and the other the listener, one the social butterfly and the other happy to take a back seat.

“No way will they lose this year,” Finn said. “Even on their bad days, they’re miles better than the Broncos.”

She’d lost track of the conversation, something about sports teams, but she’d missed which sport they were discussing, distracted by a gurgling in her stomach. She rubbed it.

In the rearview mirror, Austin glanced at her. She settled her hand back into her lap. The man didn’t miss much. Good cop. That was all she needed, to have this guy pester her with an I told you so.

“They’re an awesome team,” Austin said. “Even if they did lose this year. They could go all the way next year.”

If he said I told you so, he would be right. She should have eaten less food more slowly.

Finn popped the lid on a can of nuts and, one by one, tossed them into the air and caught them in his mouth. “They choked, man. No way will they take the championship this year.”

He offered the can to Austin, who shook his head. He ignored Gracie, she noticed. Just as well. Her tummy gurgled and roiled.

Austin’s response was quiet. “We’ll see. They lost. Let’s get past it and hope for a better result this year.” The voice of reason. He probably made a good cop.

Teams. Athletes. She knew nothing about sports, or popular culture, or TV shows. Ironic when you thought about it, because—

A stomach cramp had her hissing in a breath. Fortunately, Austin hadn’t noticed. Or had he? His eyes flickered to the mirror and back to the road.

She studied his profile. Where Finn was lean, quick and full of nervous energy, and a couple of inches shorter than Austin, Austin could probably out-calm the Dalai Lama. He didn’t have the Dalai Lama’s charming wit and smile, though. She knew. She’d met the man once, and had been enchanted by him. It had been difficult for her, though, with him so pure and kind, and her a fraud.

What held Austin back? What caused the sadness that lurked in his fine blue eyes?

“What’s so great about this herd we’re going to see?” Austin asked. Everything about him, even his strong, straight profile, was serious.

“I went to college with the owner. A great guy. He’s giving up his hobby ranch. Needs to sell the herd.” Finn tossed peanuts into his mouth then offered the can to Austin again, who shook his head and pointed over his shoulder to her in the backseat. Finn offered them to Gracie, reluctantly. Odd as it was for someone who’d been starving a short while ago, the thought of eating even one left her nauseated.

She shook her head.

“Knowing this guy—” Finn turned around again “—those cattle will be top quality and in good shape.”

“Can’t wait to see them.” Ah, a spark of excitement lit Austin’s voice. So, they were on a trip to see some cows. She wondered why, so eavesdropped some more.

The gist was that these guys were apparently on their way to Texas, where Austin was going to buy a herd of cattle. So...Austin was not only a sheriff’s deputy, but also a rancher?

“You want a mouser for the barn?” Finn asked. “I’ve got a real little cutie in the office right now.”

What office?

“No one’s adopting her. All everyone wants these days is kittens.” He ate more peanuts. “I don’t want to put her down. Worst part of the job is putting down healthy animals just ’cause they don’t have a home.”

Finn was a veterinarian?

“I’d really like to find her a home.”

“You can’t take her to your dad’s ranch?” Austin asked.

Finn grinned. “Dad would kill me if I brought home another stray. He knows how much I love animals, but put his foot down after the last dog I brought over.”

Austin smiled. “Yeah, I remember all the strays you took home even before you became a vet.”

Ah. So he really was a vet. He had at least that going for him even if he was a jerk in other ways.

“Sure.” Austin shifted gears. “I’ll take the cat.”

A satisfied grin lit Finn’s face.

Finn made a joke about a bunch of cows in a field they were passing and Austin laughed—so the man could laugh—the affection between them palpable.

Again, that pang of envy.

Even before Gracie had run away, there had been few people she could trust. There’d been Gran and...that was it. No one else.

Now Gran was gone and Gracie was alone.

The men laughed and she pulled her gaze away from the fields flying past the vehicle.

Her stomach cramped. Crap, she felt sick and shivery. Her stomach churned.

It cramped again, hard and sharp.

“Stop the car,” she croaked.