Can't Hardly Breathe (The Original Heartbreakers #4)

DANIEL PARKED IN the town square, near Style Me Tender. Virgil would be playing checkers with his best friend of forty years, Anthony Rodriguez. Or rather, pretending to play checkers while people-watching and gossiping like an old hen.

As Daniel strode down the sidewalk, several groups of older women attempted to chat with him, but he never slowed. He was a man on a mission.

Finally, he spotted his target in front of the shop, seated at a small, square table. As a young man, his dad had been stacked with muscle. Now he was far too thin, verging on fragile. Life had weathered his skin, leaving its mark.

To Daniel, he was still one of the most beautiful people on the planet. Virgil was gruff but kind, always honest, and for too many years he’d worked two jobs in order to give his only child the finer things. Nice clothes, money to take his dates to fancy restaurants in the city and a reliable mode of transportation.

Now it was Daniel’s turn to give back. His mom would expect nothing less.

Bonnie Porter had been a true Southern belle. She’d cooked every meal from scratch, just like her mother and grandmother before her, and she’d never raised her voice in public. She’d never cussed, even in private. She’d considered wrinkled clothing a sin and sweatpants the devil’s invention. Most of all, she’d refused to work or clean on Sundays.

Even the good Lord rested, she’d liked to say.

She’d died over ten years ago when a vat exploded at Dairyland, a plant in Blueberry Hill, where half the residents of Strawberry Valley had once worked. Many people in town had lost loved ones in that explosion, not just Daniel and his father.

Even still, a light had been extinguished inside Virgil that day. Daniel, too. He’d learned no matter how much you loved someone, you couldn’t stop Death from demanding his due.

“—take over the receptionist desk,” Virgil was saying. “But dang it all to heck and back, she’s so poor she couldn’t jump over a nickel to save a dime. Who’s gonna sign up for long hours and little pay?”

“She just needs to make do for a few more weeks,” Anthony replied. “The spring festival is coming up, don’t you know? Those rooms are gonna go like hotcakes at a Sunday brunch, and she’ll be sitting pretty on a fat stack of coin.”

The rooms. The inn. Had to be Thea. Daniel’s blood flashed white-hot.

He struggled to maintain a neutral expression. “Hey, Dad. How you feeling?”

Both men smiled in greeting.

“Feeling good, son. Feeling good.”

Daniel noted the color in his cheeks and breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever had caused the old man to pale around Vandercamp must not be a problem anymore.

Since Daniel was here, he might as well work. “I’m going to finish installing the cameras inside.” Considering how much time his dad spent at the salon, he’d decided to monitor the shop, free of charge.

When Daniel had first mentioned putting in a security system, Anthony had said, “In all my years, I’ve never been robbed.”

Daniel had replied, “You were robbed, you just didn’t know it. Every time I visited, I stole the hearts of your customers.”

That had settled that.

“If you want, I can go buy you guys a box of tampons first,” Daniel said now.

Virgil spewed a drink of iced sweat tea. Anthony snorted and slapped his knee.

“You calling us women?” Virgil demanded.

“And insult women? No, sir.” Daniel shook his head. “I’m calling you puss—”

“Hey, hey. Is that any way to talk to your father?” Anthony asked.

“Pussycats,” Daniel finished.

Virgil snorted. “For your information, we’ve been detecting.”

Detecting, huh? “What mystery are you trying to solve?”

“Well, it’s like this.” Anthony moved a red checker into a new box. “Dottie Mathis—you know her, don’t you, boy?”

Every muscle in his body tensed. Had they heard something?

No, no. They couldn’t have heard anything. After all, there was nothing to tell. They were just playing matchmaker.

Tread carefully. “I do know her. She’s my friend. And she prefers her given name. Dorothea. You hurt her feelings every time you call her Dottie.”

Anthony looked properly horrified. “I never meant to hurt no one’s feelings.”

“Why didn’t she say nothin’ to us?” Virgil tossed up his hands.

Daniel hiked a shoulder in a shrug.

Anthony cleared his throat and pulled at his shirt collar. “Dorothea was passing out flyers this morning. A position has opened up at the inn, you see, because she fired her sister.”

“And...” Daniel prompted, doing his best to hide his insatiable curiosity that had nothing to do with her reasons for firing Holly.

The girl had checked him in on multiple occasions without ever speaking a word to him. She’d merely glared at him, as if he’d threatened to torch the place.

When he’d asked her, “Have I done something to offend you?” she’d popped a bubble in his face.

“And she squealed when she spotted me. She even tried to run away.” Virgil gave Daniel the stink eye. “I had to clutch my heart and holler for help to get her to come back. Poor thing wouldn’t meet my gaze, and it got me to wondering. Did something...maybe...happen between you two?” he asked with a glint of hope in his expression.

This. This was the very circumstance he’d wanted to avoid. Getting his dad’s hopes up, only to watch the old man’s features darken with disappointment.

“Women,” he said, as if that one word explained every mystery in the universe. “Nothing happened between us.” And that was the absolute truth. Nothing had happened...yet.

“A good sweet girl, our Dot—Dorothea.” Detective Virgil moved a checker across the board, watching Daniel from the corner of his eye. “She’ll make someone very happy.”

Tread—carefully. Expression blank, he said, “Yep, she’s as sweet as sugar.” In more ways than one. “And you’re right. She’ll make someone very happy.” His stomach suddenly clenched with...something he wasn’t ready to name. He patted his dad on the shoulder, momentarily taken aback by the seeming brittleness of bone. “I better get to work.”

Jude and Brock arrived a short time later, and as they helped install the cameras, they quietly doled out more deets about Thea’s ex. Employees whispered about an upcoming promotion that would launch Jazz Connors, the storm chaser, into a prime-time in-studio position.

No accounting for taste.

Jazz’s relationship with his coworker had, by all accounts, started while he was married and ended roughly two weeks ago.

The affair had most likely wounded Thea’s feminine pride. She’d probably come to Daniel—whom she’d wanted since high school, thank you very much—for a self-esteem boost. Instead, he’d knocked her down another couple of pegs.

Despite his apology, a fresh tide of guilt eroded his newfound confidence. What if he’d hurt her too deeply? What if he couldn’t win her?

No. No! He would show her how much he wanted her. With his mouth and his hands. Words would never be enough.

“What’s this?” Jude snatched up a piece of paper next to a hair dryer. “Our little Dorothea is in need of a receptionist?”