Holding Out for a Hero Read online

  She just needed the discipline to do one of her workout DVDs in the morning or evening. She had a whole shelf of them, but gathering the energy to shake her booty at four in the morning or seven at night was hard.

  “Excuse me,” a deep voice behind her rumbled just before a long, muscular arm reached past her toward the limes.

  Hannah turned sharply and found herself face-to-face with Blake, who appeared as surprised as she was.

  “Oh!” She stumbled back against the limes, and a dozen or so escaped from the display, falling to the ground with little bounces.

  “Shit. Sorry.” She dropped her list and pen into her cart and immediately knelt down to gather up the limes.

  “Hannah, Hannah, calm down. They’re just limes.” He squatted next to her and helped, their hands brushing as they reached for the same limes.

  “I’m so sorry!” Her cheeks burned as she jerked her hand back. She noticed several shoppers turning their way, staring at them, and heat spread down her neck.

  Well, they were staring at her mostly. She was the one acting like a grade A spaz.

  Focusing on Blake again, her gaze drifted over him appreciatively. He wore a gray sweatshirt over dark blue jeans and white sneakers. He had a ball cap on his head with a logo she recognized, though she couldn’t remember what sports team it was for.

  God, how did he make casual so freaking sexy?

  Blake’s handsome face was stretched into the gentle smile that had been turning her bones to mush for a year. “I’m the one who should be sorry, Hannah. I didn’t mean to scare you, I just needed some limes.”

  They stood up and put the limes back. Hannah picked up her list again, but her pen was missing in action. “Of course, and here I am, just standing in the way blocking them. I was too busy checking stuff off my list and got lost in thought.”

  Hannah caught Blake looking over her list. “I can see why. You’ve got kind of an eclectic assortment of groceries on there. What are you making?”

  “Just a recipe I saw online.” Before she lost her nerve, she asked, “I never did get to say a proper thank-you for saving me the other day. I’d love to take you to dinner, or I could even make you something.” There was no way she was going to mention her mother wanted to cook for him, too. She’d suffered enough embarrassment to last a lifetime.

  “It’s really not necessary, Hannah. Anyone would have done the same. Besides, the news story they did on me because of you really helped Alpha Dog, so I should be thanking you.”

  “Not just anyone would have put themselves at risk for me,” she said softly.

  His hazel eyes stared into hers, and for a moment, she thought he almost looked . . . afraid? Of her?

  “Then if you won’t accept dinner, I’d at least like to buy you a cup of coffee. There’s a Starbucks at the front of the store.” She glanced down at the two cases of Corona in his cart. “Unless you have somewhere you need to be?”

  After what felt like the hesitation that would never end, Blake nodded.

  “I’ve got some time.”

  WHY HAD HE said yes? He was all set to hightail it out of there, to wave off her gratitude as no big deal, but the way she’d looked at him, those big eyes luring him in like a fish on a line, he’d been powerless to stop himself from caving.

  He took over pushing the cart for her, and her shy smile was lethal when paired with her soft, husky, “Thanks.”

  Damn, he really liked her voice. “Not a problem. My beer is causing most of the weight, anyway.”

  “What’s all of it for? You having a party or something?” she asked.

  “It’s the Super Bowl this weekend. I’m heading over to a friend’s to watch on Sunday, and it’s bring your own beer.”

  “I should have guessed. My dad loves football.” Hannah’s eyes got wider. “You’re drinking all of that in one day? Your poor liver.”

  Blake burst out laughing. “No, there’s a pretty dense crowd of people I work with coming, so I figured I’d buy extra. I’m not an alcoholic, I swear.”

  She probably didn’t believe him after he’d drunk dialed her, but over explaining would just make him sound guilty, which he wasn’t. He liked having a beer or two, but he only drank heavily when things got to be too much.

  “That’s good.” They stepped into line in front of the Starbucks shack, and she looked at him expectantly. “What do you want?”

  “I can get my own coffee—”

  “It’s a thank-you coffee. You wouldn’t deny me the chance to buy you a single cup of gratitude, would you?”

  Blake felt his mouth twitch in amusement. “Of course not. I’ll just take a large coffee. Black.”

  “Boring.” Her teasing tone made him relax. Things didn’t have to be weird between them. He was making it that way.

  They made it to the counter, and she ordered his drink, plus a tall caramel macchiato. He still didn’t like letting her pay for it, but when he started to reach for his wallet, she shot him a dark, warning look so out of place on her normally friendly face that he chuckled and put his hands up in the air.

  “Sorry, I’m just not used to a woman paying for me.”

  “It’s a small repayment for what you did.”

  Blake shifted his feet, uncomfortable again.

  Once she finished, they grabbed a table in the small sitting area and settled in across from each other. Blake studied her covertly, liking casual Hannah. Out of her usual yellow uniform and in a pair of blue jeans, a soft-looking blue sweater, and a patterned scarf, it was no wonder he hadn’t recognized her. Her hair was half up, with the long caramel waves rolling over her shoulders and down her back.

  “You look different outside of work,” he said.

  Her hand flew up, playing with her scarf. “Is that a compliment?”

  “Yes . . . I mean, you don’t look bad at work. It’s just different.”

  She looked up at him from beneath those thick lashes, and his heart raced.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  The barista called Hannah’s name, and as she left to get their drinks, Blake stood up with her, wiping his sweaty palms on his legs. What the hell? Why was he so nervous? It’s not like this was a date or anything.

  Hannah came back and handed him his cup, shooting him a puzzled grin. “Why are you standing?”

  “Because it’s rude to sit when a woman leaves the table.”

  “Where’d you learn that?”

  She sat down, and he did the same. “From my dad, and then the military just instilled what was already there.”

  “That’s nice. Gentlemanly.”

  “Thanks.”

  She took a sip of her drink, running her tongue discreetly across her upper lip. He wasn’t prepared for the shot of lust that raced through him in response to that simple gesture. Damn.

  Shifting in his chair, he tried to focus on anything but her mouth.

  “So, do you come here often?”

  “Yes, it’s right down the road from my house. How about you? Have we been shopping at the same grocery store for a year and just never crossed paths?”

  He shook his head. “I normally shop over at Winco, but it was pretty packed today, so I decided to change it up.”

  “Lucky me.”

  Blake took in her coy smile, and his heart kicked up another notch. “How is that?”

  “Well, because I finally get to give you a semi-proper thank-you, since I haven’t seen much of you the last few days.”

  He glanced away awkwardly. “Yeah, I’ve been busy, looking for somewhere to move to.”

  “Really? That’s amazing, Blake. Any prospective places?”

  “Still working on it.” He didn’t really want to get into his lack of success on the real estate front, so he changed the subject. “What’s been going on with you outside of the diner? I know you’re just subbing for now and that you want to teach kindergarten, but why? Why not high school?”

  She glanced down at the table, and he noticed the nervous way sh
e fidgeted with her cup. “I find any grade above fifth a little . . . intimidating.”

  Blake nodded, understanding. When he’d started coming into Dale’s, the first thing he’d noticed about Hannah was her rather timid nature. “Hell, I work with teenagers all week, so I don’t blame you. Some of them can be challenging.”

  “That’s right. How does your program work, again?”

  “We take judge-recommended juvenile offenders who have committed nonviolent crimes and teach them to train dogs in obedience. Most of the graduates have gone on to continue their education in animal health or work with animals at shelters and veterinary hospitals.”

  “That is awesome. It’s good that you give them a chance to make better decisions with their lives. A lot of kids get lost in the system and never catch a break.”

  The way she said it sounded personal, and he was genuinely curious about her.

  “Did that happen to you?” he asked.

  “Me? No. I mean, I was in foster care, but I was too young to remember. I was placed with my parents when I was just a baby, and they adopted me when I was three. But I did an internship at McClatchy High School, and some of the kids . . . You could just tell they’d given up.”

  The vulnerable sadness on her face had him reaching toward her before he could stop himself.

  As his palm covered the back of hers, heat radiated along his skin. He was completely aware of her; her sweet, fruity perfume, the flecks of gold in her eyes, and the way her lower lip was twice the size of the top.

  He jerked his hand back and knocked his hot coffee back onto his lap and front.

  “Shit!” The loud curse carried as he stood up, cringing as the painfully hot coffee soaked through his jeans to his thighs, lower abdomen, and dick.

  His stomach rolled against the pain, and he fought back the urge to hurl.

  “Oh my God, Blake, are you okay? Come on.” She picked up her purse and took his arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Oh, hell no, if his hand caught fire just touching her skin, he could only imagine what her cleanup would do to him.

  “I’m okay,” he said hoarsely.

  “Are you sure? That coffee was really hot, and it’s all over your . . . well . . . ”

  Several snickers close by let Blake know that they had drawn an audience, and he sucked in a deep breath as he straightened.

  “I’m good. I should be going, though.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, it was good catching up with you. I guess I’ll see you at the diner.”

  “Yeah, sure. See ya.”

  He picked up the empty coffee cup and threw it in the trash before retrieving his beer and limes from her basket. He couldn’t even look at her; not when he’d acted like a complete idiot.

  There was one thing for sure: He was never going back to Dale’s Diner. Hannah was too dangerous for his peace of mind.

  And my genitals.

  Chapter Nine

  THE NEXT MORNING, Hannah got called into work at the diner, and without anything better to do, she took the shift. She needed the money, anyway.

  Plus, she’d been hoping Blake might come in.

  God, she was so pathetic. He’d spilled his coffee on himself just to get away from her. If that wasn’t enough to tell her he wasn’t interested, she didn’t know what was.

  “Kenny, I’m taking the trash out.”

  “No, you let me do that! Crazy girl,” Kenny muttered as he flipped several pancakes on the griddle.

  “I’m fine. If I’m not back in three minutes, you can lead the rescue mission.” She shook her head, tired of everyone’s worried expressions and mollycoddling.

  She opened up the back door and jumped when she saw a man standing near the Dumpster, a roll of duct tape in his hand.

  Hannah screamed without thinking, and the guy dropped the duct tape and ran back down the alleyway, his black Windbreaker flying behind him like a cape.

  “Hannah!” Kenny yelled right at her back. He grabbed her arm and jerked her behind him, waving his butcher knife around as he looked from left to right. “What happened?”

  Hannah tried to calm her heavy breathing before answering, but her response was still pretty breathless. “Sorry, there was a guy by the Dumpster, and he just startled me, that’s all.”

  “This is why you should have let me do the trash, you are still recovering—”

  Hannah huffed as she pushed past him and climbed down the steps, but in all honestly, Kenny might have been a little right. She was jumpier behind the diner than she used to be.

  As she approached the dropped duct tape, she noticed the box he had been taping. She tossed her trash bag up on top and reached down to pick up the box.

  Idiot! What if it’s a bomb or something?

  Hannah forgot the ludicrous idea the minute the box whimpered and shook.

  She nearly dropped it, it scared her so bad. Instead, she set it back on the ground and yelled for Kenny.

  “Bring me a box cutter!”

  “What for?”

  “There’s something alive in here!”

  “Then why the hell would you want to open it? It could be a skunk or something!”

  She started pulling on it, ignoring his worry, but it was wrapped too tight. A few moments later, she heard Kenny’s footsteps and his steady puffing before he passed the closed box cutter over her shoulder.

  Hannah took it, opened it, and carefully sawed through the silver tape. When she got the ends open, she could see something yellow moving on the inside.

  Finally, she pulled the lid open, and the sight inside brought a lump into her throat, outrage pouring out of her in waves.

  It was a puppy with short golden fur. The poor thing’s front and back legs were taped together, along with his little muzzle.

  The puppy whimpered and tried to struggle, but she laid a hand on his side and shushed him.

  “Don’t move, sweetie. I’m going to get this off you.”

  “Holy shit,” Kenny said behind her.

  “Do you have your phone on you?”

  He gave it to her, and when she asked him to grab some oil from the kitchen, he didn’t ask why, just did it.

  Hannah took a few pictures to document what had been done and then dialed 911. She explained why she was calling and gave a description of the assailant to the dispatcher, who said she would contact animal control to come out.

  When she got off the phone, Kenny was back with the oil, and slowly, Hannah coated the tape along the puppy’s muzzle, trying not to get it in his nose or mouth.

  As she slowly removed the tape, the puppy tried moving again, and she spoke softly, cooing to him so he would remain still.

  “Kenny, can you get his legs? Be easy.”

  Together, they worked the tape off until Hannah had the pup’s mouth free. He’d lost some hair, and there were some abrasions, but otherwise, he seemed okay.

  In fact, with his paws and mouth free, he was trying his best to lick Hannah everywhere he could reach.

  “I better get back in there before Marcus starts having a meltdown,” Kenny said. Marcus was their other cook, only he hated to actually work. “Why don’t you bring him in, and we’ll put him in the storage closet until animal control arrives.”

  Hannah snuggled the puppy into her arms as she stood up, guessing he was probably around fifteen pounds or so. He was already bigger than Uncle Miggons and he couldn’t be older than a few months.

  “You’re a big boy, huh? Will you be good while I finish my shift?”

  Kenny laughed as they climbed the steps to the back door. “That little guy isn’t going to the shelter, is he?”

  As the puppy rolled onto his back in her arms, exposing his smooth tummy, her whole body turned to melted butter. He turned his head, gazed up at her, and she knew Kenny was right. There was no way she’d let anyone else take him when those big brown eyes were staring at her as if she was the best human in the whole world.

  I’m going to call you Milo.

&
nbsp; The kind animal control officer showed up just before her shift was over, and Hannah texted him the pictures she’d taken with Kenny’s phone. He’d assured her they would keep her updated if they made any arrests in Milo’s case.

  After work, she’d carried Milo out the back and around to where her car was parked. Once she got the door open, she slid in, closed it behind her, and set Milo on the passenger seat.

  “What do you say we go see the vet? Huh?”

  Milo tried to climb into her lap, but she sat him back on the seat gently. She started the car and headed up the road to Highway 80. She’d called the vet as soon as they opened, asking if Dr. Standen could squeeze them in. Her parents had taken all of their animals to him, and Hannah trusted him.

  Twenty minutes later, she turned into Watt Avenue Veterinary Clinic and carried Milo and her purse inside. She passed by a white van with camo and black lettering on the side and paused in surprise.

  ALPHA DOG TRAINING PROGRAM MOBILE TRANSPORT.

  Her heart thudded in her chest, and she nearly skipped her way to the door. As she stepped inside, she noticed a man standing at the front desk in a pair of black boots, camo pants, and an army-green T-shirt.

  Only he had blond hair, not Blake’s dark strands.

  Disappointment zapped through her as she sat down and began stroking Milo’s ears and neck. He’d tensed up when they’d entered the veterinary hospital, maybe because of the distant barking in the back, but Hannah continued to comfort him.

  The double doors heading into the back swung open, and Hannah caught her breath as a giant hound pushed through, dragging Blake behind him.

  “Damn it, Charge, slow your roll!”

  The blond man at the counter laughed as Blake struggled with the dog, and Hannah found herself giggling, too, covering her mouth with her hand. Blake hadn’t noticed her yet, and she wished she’d bothered to check her appearance before heading into the veterinary hospital.

  Suddenly, the dog spotted Hannah and Milo, and to Hannah’s surprised terror, stood up on his hind legs and launched himself toward them. Blake looked up as he struggled with the dog, but when his gaze caught hers, his grip seemed to go a little lax and his jaw dropped.