Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(4)

The snack bar’s counter area and appliances were new, although the dirty concrete-block walls still held a decade-old assortment of ragged flyers and posters. A pair of mirrored sunglasses lay on one section of the new white countertop next to an unopened bag of potato chips, a sandwich wrapped in plastic, and a radio that blasted out its violent music like lethal gas being pumped into an execution chamber.

The drive-in’s owner stood on a ladder mounting a fluorescent light fixture to the ceiling. He had his back to her, which gave her a moment to observe this latest mountain standing in the path of her survival.

She saw a pair of paint-splattered brown work boots and frayed jeans that revealed long, powerful legs. His hips were lean, and the muscles of his back bunched under his shirt as he braced the base of the light fixture with one hand and twisted a screwdriver with the other. The rolled cuffs of his shirt revealed deeply tanned forearms, strong wrists, and broad hands with surprisingly elegant fingers. His dark-brown hair, cut a bit unevenly, fell over his collar in the back. It was straight and showed a few threads of gray, although the man didn’t seem much older than his early- to mid-thirties.

She walked to the radio and turned down the volume. Someone with less steady nerves might have been startled into dropping the screwdriver or making an exclamation of surprise, but this man did neither. He simply turned his head and stared at her.

She gazed into a pair of pale-silver eyes and wished he were still wearing his mirrored sunglasses. His eyes held no life. They were hard and dead. Even now, when she was most desperate, she didn’t want to believe her eyes looked like that—so unfeeling, so empty of hope.

“What do you want?”

The sound of that flat, emotionless voice chilled her, but she forced her lips into a carefree smile. “Nice to meet you, too. I’m Rachel Stone. That five-year-old you terrorized is my son Edward, and the rabbit he carries around is named Horse. Don’t ask.”

If she’d hoped to draw a smile from him, she failed miserably. It was hard to imagine that mouth ever smiling. “I thought I told you to stay off my property.”

Everything about him irritated her, a fact she did her best to conceal behind an innocent expression. “Did you? I guess I forgot.”

“Look, lady—”

“Rachel. Or Ms. Stone, if you want to be formal. As it happens, this is your lucky day. Fortunately for you, I have a forgiving nature, and I’m prepared to overlook your giant case of male PMS. Where do I start?”


“What are you talking about?”

“That sign I saw on the marquee. I’m your help wanted. Personally, I think we should get that playground cleaned up right away. Do you know what kind of lawsuits you’re setting yourself up for with all that broken-down equipment?”

“I’m not hiring you.”

“Of course you are.”

“Now why’s that?” he asked with no particular interest.

“Because you’re obviously an intelligent man, despite your surly manner, and anyone with intelligence can see that I’m a terrific worker.”

“What I see is that I need a man.”

She smiled sweetly. “Don’t we all.”

He wasn’t amused, but neither did he seem annoyed by her flippancy. There was simply nothing there. “I’m only going to hire a man.”

“I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear that, since sexual discrimination is illegal in this country.”

“So sue me.”

Another woman might have given up, but Rachel had less than ten dollars in her wallet, a hungry child, and a car that wouldn’t run.

“You’re making a big mistake. An opportunity like me doesn’t come along every day.”

“I don’t know how to say it any plainer, lady. I’m not going to hire you.” He set the screwdriver on the counter, then reached into his rear pocket and pulled out a wallet that had molded to the shape of his hip. “Here’s twenty bucks. Take it and get out.”

She needed the twenty dollars, but she needed a job more, and she shook her head. “Keep your charity, Mr. Rockefeller. I want steady work.”

“Look for it someplace else. What I have is hard manual labor. The lot has to be cleared, the building needs paint, the roof repaired. It’ll take a man to do that kind of work.”

“I’m stronger than I look, and I’ll work harder than any man you’ll ever find. Besides, I can also provide psychiatric counseling for that troublesome personality disorder of yours.”

The moment the words were out, she could have bitten her tongue because his expression seemed to grow even emptier.

His lips barely moved, and she thought of a flat-eyed gunslinger with a mile-deep grudge against life. “Anybody ever tell you that you’ve got a smart mouth?”

“It goes with my brain.”

“Mommy?”

The drive-in’s owner stiffened. She turned to see Edward standing in the doorway, Horse dangling from his hand and lines of worry etched in his face. He kept his eyes on the man while he spoke. “Mommy, I got to ask you something.”

She moved to his side. “What’s wrong?”

He lowered his voice into a child’s whisper, which she knew the man could hear clearly. “Are you sure we’re not gonna die?”

Her heart twisted.“I’m sure.”