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  I had this random urge to back away and give her privacy. It seemed like such a strangely intimate moment to walk into. I held my tongue and said nothing as she soothed the little boy, and in the silence, I studied her the way one would a painting hanging in a museum.

  She was dressed head to toe in black, and her tight-fitting t-shirt seemed to be painted on to those curves. I let my eyes sweep appreciatively down to her lush hips and then back up to take in her strong arms and broad shoulders. She had an athletic grace about her that was belied by the sweetness of her face. Her round cheeks were lightly dusted with freckles and her lips were full and pink and pouty. Her crown of blonde curls was caught up in a knot at the top of her head that swayed from side to side as she rocked the child I assumed was her son since he looked so much like her.

  For a moment, I felt like I knew that hair. I could picture it floating like a cloud around her face, above eyes that were bluer than the lake that stretched out below us.

  No not a cloud, her hair was a lion's mane. Only lionesses don't have a mane and that's what she was. A fucking feline predator. A tiger disguised as a mom.

  A strange sense of déjà vu set me off balance and I had to step forward in order to keep from stumbling. As I did, she looked up at me, blinking bright blue eyes that seemed fuzzy and unfocused.

  "Is he okay?” I asked again, gesturing to her son. I looked again at the little boy and noticed the little smear of blood near his mouth. He regarded me balefully and clung more tightly to his mother. He didn't seem permanently injured, which meant I was free to call the cops and get this whole thing reported so I could get the hell out of here, but for some reason I didn't move from the spot. "What about you? Are you okay?"

  Her eyes snapped open. "You didn't seem worried about me when you were swearing before," she pointed out with an acidic snarl.

  "You hit me," I reminded her.

  "Yeah well you just sort of... appeared," she protested weakly, then turned her attention back to her son. "I think he just bit his lip," she breathed. "Fudge." She looked at me. "Grab the roll of paper towels from the back of my car for me?"

  "You just hit me and now you want me to fetch for you?" I asked, incredulous.

  Her blue eyes blazed and I took an involuntary step back. I've faced down hostile boardrooms and emerged even richer than I was before. I've been accused of ethics violations only to have my accusers turn around and laugh along with me about how ridiculous it all was. I got in a fight with my mother at seventeen and struck out on my own with nothing but my own belief in my inherent rightness to guide me. I never let anyone get the best of me. I was Jameson fucking Tellar and there wasn't a single person in the world that dared order me around.

  But God help me, I found myself turning around and reaching for those paper towels.

  Chapter Three

  Charlie

  I sat back down on the curb and settled Malcolm on my lap. He was in that post-tantrum Zen-state, where he just clung to me, quietly sniffling. Now that my panic over the blood on his face was subsiding, I felt a warm wash of exhaustion flow through my veins.

  The man we'd hit turned back around and handed me the roll of paper towels with an odd expression on his face, but I was too tired to worry about what it could mean. I tore off a piece and silently handed it back to him before gently dabbing Malcolm's lip. Luckily the uniform I was wearing was black and would hide the bloodstains he kept smearing on my shirt, but I wasn't sure about the snot and tears.

  "He's okay?" the man asked, crouching down to our level.

  I blinked up at him, somehow unable to resolve the person shaped blur in front of me into an actual person. My brain, which seconds before had been in overdrive now seemed like it had slowed to a halt. I felt like I was squinting through a thick haze, trying like hell to make sense of what I was seeing.

  The way he crouched down with an easy, athlete's grace made me do a double take, and suddenly I could see everything at once. Blue eyes, sharp but kind, with little amused crinkles at the corner like he spent a lot of time laughing out in the sun. Short, close-cropped blond hair that glinted like gold against his scalp. For a moment, I had the profoundest feeling of déjà vu, like I'd seen him before. Maybe a tourist that had come through the diner, but he was dressed like no tourist I'd ever seen. In his sharply tailored gray suit that looked like it cost half a year of my house payments, he definitely stood out. The fact that he was hot as hell seemed to only dawn on me after I'd stared at him blankly for a solid minute.

  "You look nice," I blurted nonsensically.

  The crinkles around his eyes deepened. "Why thank you," he said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was on my way to a meeting you see..."

  "I'm on my way to work," I interrupted testily. "And now I'm going to be late because you ran a stop sign."

  He narrowed his eyes. "I did not run it. I came to a complete stop. You sat there for so long..."

  "My son dropped his toy."

  "Oh, and you think that gives you an excuse for jamming your foot on the accelerator?"

  My heart was suddenly racing and forcing that strange lethargy away. I stood back up again, meaning to move Malcolm back to his car seat, but this asshole was in my way. "Could you move please?"

  "Oh, now you're waiting for me to get out of the way before you go?" he scoffed.

  I glared at him and waited, lifting my chin. Even though I was on the curb and he was standing in the street, he was still taller than me, so I craned my neck and went up on to the balls of my feet to look him right in the eye. "Move," I challenged.

  He glared back for a beat, his eyes blazing. And then they widened in surprise and suddenly he stepped aside, looking completely surprised.

  "Thank you," I hissed. Malcolm was quiet as I settled him back into his car seat and buckled the straps around him, tightening them carefully so as not to jar his little body too much. Fuck, I'd need to take him to the doctor somehow, and also find the money for a new car seat since this one had been in an accident and...

  Shit that guy was still standing there, way too close. "Can I fucking help you?" I demanded, whirling around. He was laughing, why the fuck was he laughing? "Is this a joke to you?"

  "Nah," he grinned. "I was just thinking about how you gave me the perfect excuse. Hang on."

  I stood there, utterly bewildered as he went back to his car and searched around for something. I couldn't see what he held so tightly in his hand until he returned and showed it to me.

  "A quarter?" I snarked. "Is that to help with my car repairs? Thanks, but it'll cost me a bit more than that."

  "Call it," he said, putting it on the side of his hand. "Heads or tails?"

  "Are you high right now? Is that why you hit me?"

  "Just do it?" he asked. "Be my lucky charm."

  "Fine you freaking weirdo."

  He flicked his thumb underneath and sent the shiny silver coin spiraling up into the air. We both watched as it spun, glinting in the sun. "Heads," I called.

  He deftly reached out and snatched it from the air and then slapped it down on his other hand. Then he pulled his hand back and stared.

  "Well?" I demanded, craning my neck to see it. "What is it?"

  He took a deep breath. "Heads," he said slowly.

  "Fine," I sighed. "Great. What did I win?"

  He shrugged and put the coin back into his pocket. "Looks like I'm going to that meeting after all."

  "Well good. We can both be late for where we need to go." I looked back down the street with a heavy sigh. "So what the hell do we do now?"

  He stared at me for a moment and then it was like his whole body shrugged. "Is your car okay?"

  I looked around the side to the front bumper. "Big ugly dent, but it's still drivable.”

  "And your..." He gestured to Malcolm.

  "Son," I supplied with no small amount of pride.

  "Son." He nodded. "He's okay?"

  "Seems that way. He'd be yelling if he wasn't, trust me."


  "We only hit each other..."

  "You hit me..."

  His nostrils flared and he ignored that. "...At like five miles an hour," he finished. "So..."

  All at once I realized what he was doing. "So... what? We don't report it?"

  He grinned and looked at me. "What do you say?"

  I shook my head. "Well what if I need you to... or you need me to do... something?"

  "How about you give me your number?"

  I glared at him. "Are you trying to pick me up after we got in an accident?" I yelled.

  He shrugged again. "I'm a big believer in luck, and you might have just changed mine. We'll see though."

  "Whatever. I don't believe in luck. You have to actually be lucky to believe in something like luck. I'm the least lucky person on the face of the planet." I gestured to our cars. "Look at what happened! I get in an accident, I'm going to be late for work..."

  "Were you hurt in the accident? Is your car totaled?"

  "Well no..."

  He cocked his head to the side. "Luck depends a lot on how you choose to see things."

  His smile knocked the breath from my lungs. I was feeling decidedly unsteady and that feeling, coupled with the lingering adrenaline left over from the accident was making me openly hostile. "So now I'm getting life lessons from some random guy on the street," I said witheringly. "I count that as being pretty unlucky if you ask me."

  "I'm not some random guy." He held out his hand. "I'm Jameson Tellar."

  Once again that weird feeling of déjà vu washed over me, but I shoved it aside. "Is that supposed to mean something to me? Lemme guess, your friends call you Lucky?"

  "Chance, actually. Good guess, uh..." he paused. "And now would be a good time for me to find out your name, sweet thing." He grinned widely, showing perfect, pearly white teeth.

  I stepped back, away from the megawatt power of his charming smile and the fact that he'd called me "sweet thing." My son was sitting two feet away from me. There was no way I could flirt back. Those days were over for me, no matter how blue his eyes were. "No thanks," I told him. "Maybe you'll figure it out by chance somehow." I turned and headed back to the driver's side of my now dented car. "Thanks for being cool and not involving the police and insurance and stuff, Jameson Chance Tellar." I was moving way too fast in my desperation to get away from him and nearly opened the door into my head. "Um, maybe I'll see you around. Hope not though."

  I slammed the door and started the car, practically peeling out in my haste to get away from him, but I couldn't resist one last look in the rear-view mirror.

  He was standing in the street staring after me, and I sort of understood that. What I couldn't understand was why he was still smiling.

  Chapter Four

  Jameson

  As I watched her car retreating from view, I tried and failed to stifle the laugh that was bubbling up in my throat.

  Fucking hell. What were the chances that a beautiful but bitchy girl with a screaming kid and terrible driving skills would be just the thing I needed to snap out of my self-destructive rage? I shook my head and walked back to my now dented rental car. Slumping back down into the driver's seat, I took a deep breath.

  "Sir?" the voice from my speakers bleated, making me nearly jump out of my skin.

  "Holy shit, Miles. Did you really stay on the line all this time?"

  He sounded wounded. "Of course I did, sir. You asked me to."

  "Well I—" I paused and looked in the direction my still nameless good luck charm was heading. I could almost see her tan car disappearing into the horizon, shortened by the slope of the mountain that hulked to the west of here. I squinted until heat that shimmered up from the pavement hid her from view and then took a deep breath. "I'm glad you did," I told Miles. "Because I need you to do something for me."

  "Sir, are you sure you're okay? That was a really loud bang."

  I waved my hand, dismissing the accident entirely. "That's not important. What's important is that I'm staying in Reckless Falls now."

  "Sir?"

  "It was heads," I explained. "So, I want to you call the Granger Firm and find out where the meeting's been rescheduled to tomorrow, then I need you to check for a hotel room in the area and also maybe I need you to find me a dry cleaner because I only brought the one suit..."

  "Sir?" Miles interjected. "There's no need for me to call about all that."

  I was on a roll and it took me a second to register his interruption. "What?" I demanded irritably. Now that my mind was made up, I didn't like having my plans derailed.

  But Miles knew me too well to pay attention to my annoyance. "While you were off the line they beeped in," he said, sounding inordinately pleased. "I took great pains to let them know all the misfortunes that had befallen you."

  "What?" I laughed. "What misfortunes have befallen me?"

  "Sir, I may have... embellished the accident a bit. So be sure to limp a little when you go to lunch."

  "Lunch? Wait, no one said anything about lunch." As if on cue my stomach started to growl.

  "I know," Miles said. "It's going to be a late lunch slash early dinner I guess. I took great pains to let them know that their scheduling mishap had not only deprived you of a meal, but also caused you to be mowed down by a careless driver on their Main Street."

  "Jesus Christ, Miles," I chuckled. "Remind me to give you a raise."

  "Gladly sir," he sniffed.

  "So where is lunch?"

  "At a new restaurant in town. It's right in the waterfront development. Just got four stars from the Times."

  "The Times?" I laughed. "You mean the Backwater Times? They do restaurant reviews?"

  Miles waited until I was done laughing at my own joke, then calmly said, "No sir. The New York Times, sir."

  "Really?" I looked back over my shoulder at the quaint, seemingly unchanged Main Street. "Shit, this place has changed a bit since I was fifteen."

  "Yes sir, and the Granger Firm is a big part of that. They own the building where Indigo is located and it's their flagship establishment. It would be worth checking out on the side, see how well run it is."

  "Nice thinking Miles."

  "Oh, but sir that's not all." He dropped his voice and I could picture him leaning forward, his wire-framed glasses glinting like they'd somehow caught ahold of his excitement. "Now I'm not one hundred percent certain on this, but you tell me to always trust my gut."

  "Absolutely," I agreed. "It's the only thing you can trust in this world."

  "Well sir, my gut is telling me you can use this whole mishap — the scheduling conflict that caused your accident you know? — you can use it as leverage."

  "Leverage, Miles?" I was impressed.

  "Get a bigger stake than what you were initially angling for," he clarified and there was no mistaking the evil glee in his voice.

  "You think so?" I asked. Without meaning to, my hand went to my pocket and touched the lucky coin through the fabric. "You think they'll blink?"

  "I'm almost positive, sir. They seemed very conciliatory on the phone. I think if you press your point and stick to it, they'll cave."

  I slammed the heel of my hand down on the steering wheel and let out a whoop. "Hot damn," I crowed. "You're right. You're absolutely right."

  "I'm glad you agree with me, sir."

  "This is going to make me stupid rich."

  "You're already stupid rich sir. But yes, even more so."

  I thought for a second. "Guess I should thank the girl that plowed into me, huh Miles?"

  My assistant laughed. "Send her a dozen roses, sir. I think she's your good luck charm."

  Chapter Five

  Charlie

  Back when I worked at the diner, being this late, I would have just ducked into the back and pretend I'd been working the whole time.

  But Indigo was not the diner, and I was really trying to make this work. So when I rolled up to the employee parking lot almost forty-five minutes late, I immediately marched up to my boss
.

  "Finn?" I called. "I'm here now. I'm sorry."

  Finn Walker, the owner and business manager of Indigo restaurant turned and looked at me with an upraised eyebrow. "Everything okay?" he drawled in that low, somewhat dangerous voice of his.

  I lifted my chin, letting him know I wasn't scared of him, even though I really was. Because for once my lateness wasn't my fault. Not entirely, anyway. "Actually, no," I said. "I was in a car accident."

  His other eyebrow shot up. "Dear God, are you okay?" he asked, his whole demeanor changing. "Do you need to sit down? What are you even doing here? Do you need a ride to the hospital?"

  I hid a chuckle behind my lips. "It was just a fender bender," I clarified. For all of his bluster, Finn was a total Boy Scout, mother hen. He clucked over his staff, checking up on our health, and making sure we were always well rested, and well fed before our shifts. "I'm fine," I reassured him. "It was my fault actually, my baby dropped his toy and I wasn't paying attention when the guy ran the stop sign."

  Finn shook his head, looking murderous. "Traffic is getting really crazy around here," he snarled. "This town is growing too fast too soon and we can't keep up with it. It's losing all the small-town charm that made it so appealing in the first place."

  At this, I had to hide my chuckle again. Finn had lived in Reckless Falls for less than a year. But here he was, already acting like a good old-fashioned townie.

  But instead of laughing, I nodded sincerely. "Oh absolutely," I agreed. "There are way too many people, and in the off season too. And they all drive like maniacs."

  Once again, the face of the man whose car I'd hit floated across my brain. Jameson Tellar. There was something so familiar about him. One of those little brain tickles that you get, that you just can't scratch.

  But more than likely it was just my overactive brain trying to latch on to the first hot guy I'd seen in ages that I hadn't already slept with or gone to kindergarten with. This town was pretty small after all and any fresh face was exciting, especially when you were in the middle of a two-year dry spell like I was.