Crash!
“Leave her alone! Hands off!” The waitress he’d noticed, his sister’s friend Susan, left the tray and food where she’d dropped them and stormed across the dining room toward his client.
Who stood leering beside another, very young-looking, waitress. “Whoa, hel-lo, baby!” his client said to Susan as she approached. “Don’t get jealous. I’m man enough for both of you ladies!”
“Back off!”
Sam shoved out of his chair and headed toward the altercation. Around him, people were murmuring with concern or interest.
“It’s okay, Susan,” the teenage waitress was saying to his sister’s friend. “He d-d-didn’t really hurt me.”
Stepping protectively in front of the round-faced teenager, Susan pointed a delicate finger at his client. “You apologize to her,” she ordered, poking the much larger, much older businessman in the chest with each word. She wore the same dark skirt and white blouse as all the other wait staff, but her almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones made her stand out almost as much as her stiff posture and flaring nostrils. Three or four gold hoops quivered in each ear.
“Keep your hands off me.” Sam’s client sneered down at Susan. “Where’s the owner of this place? I don’t have to put up with anything from a...” He lowered his voice, but whatever he said made the color rise in Susan’s face.
Sam clapped a hand on his client’s shoulder. He hadn’t pegged the guy as this much of a troublemaker, but then, he barely knew him. “Come on. Leave the ladies alone.”
The other man glanced at Sam and changed his tone. “Aw, hey, I was just trying to have a good time.” He gave Susan another dirty look. “Some girls can’t take a joke.”
“Some jokes aren’t funny, mister.” She glared at him, two high spots of color staining her cheeks pink.
The restaurant manager rushed up behind them. “We can work this out. Mr. Hinton, I do apologize. You girls...” He clapped his hands at the two waitresses. “My office. Now.”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to cause trouble!” Crying, the teenage waitress hurried toward the office at the back of the restaurant.
Susan touched the manager’s arm. “Don’t get mad at Tawny. I’m the one who got in Prince Charming’s face.” She jerked her head sideways toward Sam’s client.
The restaurant manager frowned and ushered Susan to his office.
Sam’s client shrugged and gave Sam a conspiratorial grin as he turned toward their table. “Ready to get back to business?”
“No,” Sam said, frowning after the restaurant manager and Susan. “We’re done here.”
“What?” His client’s voice rose to a squeak.
“I’ll see you to your car. I want you out of Rescue River.”
Ten minutes later, after he’d banished his would-be client, settled the bill and fixed things with the restaurant manager, Sam strode out to the parking lot.
There was Susan, standing beside an ancient, rusty subcompact, staring across the moonlit fields that circled the town of Rescue River. He’d only met her a couple of times; unfortunately, he worked too much to get to know his sister’s friends.
“Hey, Susan,” he called as he approached. “I got you your job back.”
She half turned and arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you did, did you? Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Really?” He stopped a few yards away from her. Although he hadn’t expected gratitude, exactly, the complete dismissal surprised him.
“Really.” She crossed her arms and leaned back against her car. “I don’t need favors from anyone.”
“It’s not a favor, it’s just...fairness.”
“It’s a favor, and I don’t want it. You think I can go back in there and earn tips after the scene I just made?”
“You probably could.” Not only was she attractive, but she appeared to be very competent, if a little on the touchy side. “Rescue River doesn’t take kindly to men being jerks. Most of the people in that room were squarely on your side.”
“Wait a minute.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “Now I get it. You’re part owner of the place.”
“I’m a silent partner, yes.” He cocked his head to one side, wondering where this was going.
“You’re trying to avoid a sexual harassment lawsuit, aren’t you?”
His jaw dropped. “Really? You think that’s why...” He trailed off, rubbed the heavy stubble on his chin, and thought of his daughter, waiting for him at home. “Look, if you don’t want the job back, that’s fine. And if you think you have a harassment case, go for it.”
“Don’t worry. It wasn’t me your buddy was groping, and I’m not the lawsuit type.” She sighed. “Probably not the waitress type either, like Max said when he was firing me.”
Sam felt one side of his mouth quirk up in a smile as he recognized the truth of that statement. He found Susan to be extremely cute, with her long, silky hair, slender figure and vaguely Asian features, but she definitely wasn’t the eager-to-please type.
Wasn’t his type, not that it mattered. He preferred soft-spoken women, domestic ladies who wore makeup and perfume and knew how to nurture a man. Archaic, but there it was.
Just then, the teenage waitress came rushing out through the kitchen door. “Susan, you didn’t have to do that! Max said he fired you. I’m sorry!”
“No big deal.” She shrugged again, the movement a little stiff.
“But I thought you needed the money to send your brother to that special camp—”
“It’s fine.” Susan’s voice wobbled the tiniest bit, or was he imagining it? “Just, well, don’t let guys do that kind of stuff to you.”
“I know, I know, but I didn’t want to get in trouble. Especially with Mr. Hinton on the premises...” The girl trailed off, realizing for the first time that Sam stood to one side, listening to every word. “Oh, I didn’t know you were there! Don’t be mad at her, Mr. Hinton. She was just trying to help me!”
Susan patted her on the shoulder. “Go back inside and remember, just step on a guy’s foot—hard—if he tries anything. You can always claim it was an accident.”
“That’s a great idea! You’re totally awesome!” The younger woman gave Susan a quick hug and then trotted back into the restaurant.
Susan let her elbows drop to the hood of her car and rested her chin in her hands. “Was I ever that young?”
“Don’t talk like you’re ancient. What are you, twenty-five, twenty-six?” Susan was relatively new in town, and if memory served, she was a teacher at the elementary school. Apparently waitressing on the side. Sam assumed she was about his sister Daisy’s age, since they’d fast become thick as thieves.
“Good guess, Mr. Hinton. You didn’t even need your bifocals to figure that out. I’m twenty-five.”
Okay, at thirty-seven he was a lot older than she was, but her jibe stung. Maybe because he knew very well that he wasn’t getting any younger and that he needed to get cracking on his next major life goal.
Which would involve someone a lot softer and gentler than Susan Hayashi. “Listen,” he said, “I’m sorry about what happened. You should know that guy who caused the trouble is headed back toward the east coast even as we speak. And he’s not my friend, by the way. Just a client. Former