Chapter 4: Robyn

It’s hard to sit across the table from Micah and not stare at him. He’s ridiculously handsome, his skin a shade of light warm brown, his eyes dark as night. He has a strong jaw and high cheekbones. And that long, silky black hair! A lot of women would kill for hair like that.

I’m dying to ask him more about his background. Obviously he’s Native American. Would it be rude of me to ask which tribe?

At face value, he seems like a truly nice guy, but I’ve been burned often enough that I’ve learned not to trust anyone—well, except for Ricky. Or, I used to trust him. Not any more, though.

I save my pancakes for last—they’re dessert as far as I’m concerned. I smother them in butter and maple syrup and try not to shovel them into my mouth, but it’s hard. I’m not used to eating this much food at once. I’m so full, my stomach feels like it’s about to burst, but there’s no way I’m missing out on these pancakes. I’m not going to waste one bite because I don’t know when I’ll get food like this again. My typical breakfast is a bowl of cold cereal.

I usually only have time to grab something quick between jobs—a cold sandwich or yogurt or fruit. I’m embarrassed to admit I never learned how to cook. My mom died before she could teach me, and my foster parents didn’t care.

As Micah finishes the last of his coffee, he glances down at my empty plate. I didn’t leave a crumb. It was that good.

“I see you like pancakes,” he says with a hint of a smile.

I think he’s trying not to gloat. Wiping my mouth on a napkin, I nod. “Guilty.”

“Shall we head back to the shop and see what the guys have found?” he asks. “Hopefully they’ve got some good news for us.”

Us . I take one last sip of my coffee. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Micah stands, pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, and drops a twenty and a ten on the table. Twenty bucks for the food and a ten-dollar tip. Generous.

As I stand, Jenny calls, “Have a good day, guys!” from behind the counter.

I wave to her before we reach the door. Once outside, we climb into Micah’s pickup, and we’re on our way back to his shop.

The moment we pull into the lot, the two mechanics rush out to meet us.

“Well?” Micah asks them as he rolls down his window.

The two mechanics look at each other, neither one of them seeming happy.

Finally the younger one, Pete, says, “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s her transmission. It’s totally shot, Micah. The gear teeth are snapped off and the bearings are destroyed.”

Micah turns to me. Clearly, based on his tight expression, this is really bad news. My stomach drops.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, Robyn.”

“So, what does this mean?” I ask. “Can you fix it?”

Micah frowns. “Unfortunately, it’s past fixing. It would have to be replaced.”

“She might as well total it,” Pete says. “A rebuilt transmission would cost as much as the vehicle is worth.”

“Total it? No!” They’d never understand how much this vehicle means to me. I turn to Micah. “Can you fix it?”

“Yes, of course I can fix it,” he says. “I’ll have to find a suitable replacement and get it shipped here. But yes, I can fix it.”

I’m flooded with relief. It would kill me to get rid of this car.

Pete winces. “A decent rebuilt transmission is going to cost around fifteen hundred, plus installation. You’re probably looking at two grand.”

My gaze snaps to Micah, who’s scowling at Pete for blabbing that part of the bad news. “Two grand?” My relief is short lived.

“I’m afraid so,” he says.

My stomach sinks. “I don’t have that kind of money.”

Pete shrugs. “You’d be better off spending that kind of money to get yourself something from this century.”

“No.” Pain knifes through me. Even though this isn’t her actual car, it’s the same make and model, even the same gray color. I remember that vehicle, remember riding in the car with her, like it was yesterday. This car is the only physical connection I have to my mom. “I don’t care how much it costs to fix. I’m keeping it.”

Pete and Tony eye each other, and although they don’t say it out loud, I know they think I’m nuts.

“It has a lot of sentimental value,” I say.

I glance past the guys to my car, which is sitting in the shop, its hood propped up. My mind is racing. My car is dead, so I have no transportation. No place to stay. And no money for a motel.

“Is there someone you can call?” Tony asks. “Someone you can borrow the money from?”

I shake my head. “No. No one.”

Inside, I’m panicking. I’m stuck here. Trapped. So much for my escape plan. I didn’t even make it out of Colorado. I doubt Ricky or his drug dealer boss could find me here—this place is too far off the beaten path. But I’m only an hour-and-a-half from Denver, and that’s too close for comfort.

I glance at Micah, who looks just as unhappy about the news as I am. “I don’t have the money,” I say. Duh. He already knows I’m broke.

“Robyn—”

I can’t bear to hear the pity in his voice, so I hop out of the truck and start walking. I’ve got to figure this out, fast.

“Robyn, wait!” he calls. “Where are you going?”

“To find a job!” When I reach the road, I turn left, heading south, in the direction we just came. Hopefully I can find a job in town.

I need to earn two thousand dollars as quickly as I can. More, actually, as I owe Micah for the tow. My freedom, maybe even my life, depends on it.

* * *

It’s a two-mile walk back to the little rinky-dink downtown where we had breakfast. I figure I’ll start there. I remember passing several other businesses as we drove to the diner, and the downtown extends another few blocks. Hopefully someone needs help. I’m a fast learner, and I’m willing to do anything—within reason, of course.

A few cars pass me on my journey, and I get a few curious stares. I find myself holding my breath each time someone passes by as if I expect to see Ricky.

I hear the throaty roar of an engine coming up slowly behind me. When I glance back nervously, I’m relieved to see it’s Micah in his pickup.

He slows to meet my pace and rolls down his window. “I’m sorry about your transmission. I was hoping it was something easy to fix.”

As I keep walking along the shoulder of the road, he keeps pace with me. “Thanks. I guess it’s just bad luck.”

A driver comes up behind Micah and honks as he passes.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asks, resting his arm on the door frame.

“I’m going to find a job.”

“It’s going to take you a while to earn that much money.”

I shrug. “What other choice do I have?” I toss him a glance. “Don’t you dare suggest some sketchy way for me to earn the money.”

He chuckles. “I wasn’t about to. I was going to say, I think Jenny has an opening for a server. Have you done that kind of work before?”

Suddenly, a dead weight lifts off my chest. “I’ve been waiting tables since I was in high school.”

“Perfect. Hop in and I’ll drive you down there.”

I come around the front of the truck and hop up into the cab. As I buckle my seatbelt, I mentally calculate how long it will take me to save up that kind of money. With tips, I figure it’ll take at least a month, probably longer if I run into additional expenses. Damn it. I wanted to be far from Colorado already.

“You’ll need somewhere to stay in the meantime,” Micah says as we pick up speed.

I turn to meet his gaze, and once again I’m struck by how handsome he is. “Maybe I could rent a room somewhere in town. That’s bound to be cheaper than a motel room.” But renting anything, no matter how inexpensive, is only going to prolong the length of time this is going to take.

“Or.” He pauses. “You can stay in my cabin behind the auto shop. It’s small, just one room, but it has everything you’d need to be comfortable.”

“In your cabin? Where would you sleep?”

“In my office.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I’ve done it plenty of times.”

I shake my head. “I am not kicking you out of your home. You’ve already done so much for me.”

I’m already in debt to this guy for the tow. “I haven’t forgotten I still owe you for the tow. I’ll pay you for that as soon as I get my first paycheck.”

He waves dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. The tow’s on the house.”

“Micah, no. I’m not a charity case.”

He’s struggling not to smile. “I never said you were, Robyn.”

“I can pay my own way. I owe you for the tow, plus breakfast this morning. I’m good for it. I just need a little time to get the money together.”

“Fine. I’ll add the tow charge to your tab, but breakfast this morning was on me.”

When we arrive, Micah finds an open parking spot out front. As we’re approaching the diner, I spot a handwritten sign taped to the glass door, giant words in all caps.

SERVER WANTED

APPLY WITHIN

Micah points at the sign. “I told you.”

Funny, I don’t remember seeing that sign earlier when we stopped for breakfast.

Micah opens the door for me, and I step inside. He follows me in.

Jenny spots us from across the room and waves us up to the counter, where we snag two available stools. She smiles at us as she pours another customer some coffee. “You two can’t be hungry again already.”

Micah nudges me with his elbow. “Go ahead. Ask her.”

I glance at him, then at Jenny. “I saw your help wanted sign on the door. I have five years of serving experience, and I could really use a job.”

Jenny’s eyes widen. “Really?” Her gaze darts to Micah, then back to me. “Lucky for me then,” she says. “You’re hired. When can you start?”

“How about now?” I ask.

“Fantastic. Welcome to Jenny’s Diner .”