assigned to her, and greeted her with warm smiles. “How’s your first day going?” Jay asked.
“I think I’m getting the hang of it,” Marisol said.
“She’s doing great.” Mary came up behind her and put one hand on Marisol’s shoulder. “I think I might let her stay.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Scott said. His gaze met and held hers for a beat too long. Her heart thudded in her chest like a wild bird, proving she hadn’t imagined the attraction between them.
He was the first to look away. He picked up the menu and studied it, then said, “I’ll have a burger and a glass of iced tea.”
“Give me the Reuben,” Jay said. “And a Diet Coke.”
She hurried from the booth to turn in their orders, aware of his gaze on her as she crossed the room. He’d watched her yesterday, too, checking her out as she fixed their tea. Clearly, he liked what he saw, just as she appreciated his broad shoulders and slim hips, the wiriness that was in direct contrast to Lamar’s height and muscular bulk.
She collected chicken-fried steak dinners for a quartet of construction workers and started across the room, veering around a young man who’d inexplicably stopped in the middle of the room. She’d almost reached the table when a bright light blinded her, followed quickly by a second flash, and the unmistakable click of a camera shutter. A woman squealed. The young man who’d been stopped shoved a small tape recorder in front of her face. “Mrs. Dixon, what can you tell us about your new job here at the Bluebonnet Café?”
The tray slipped from Marisol’s hands, chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes and green beans flying. The camera flashed again and she ducked, shielding her face, while voices rose around her.
“Out! Out of here before I call the police!” Mary shouted at the reporter and photographer, who ignored her, continuing to take pictures and shout questions at Marisol.
Paula rushed over and began cleaning up the spilled food, while the construction workers complained loudly about Marisol’s clumsiness and their ruined dinners. Mary continued to shout at the two intruders.
Panic and anger choking her, Marisol tore off the apron and flung it and her order pad onto the counter. She had to get out of here, lay low somewhere until things calmed down. She darted for the door, only to find her exit blocked by the reporter, who grinned and extended the microphone. “Is it true you’re originally from Cedar Switch, Mrs. Dixon? What do the people here think of your notoriety?”
“I think if you don’t move out of the way and stop blocking the door, I’ll make you move.”
Marisol hadn’t thought of Scott as an imposing man before, but there was definite menace in his posture now as he glowered at the reporter.
“Better do as he says,” Jay spoke from just behind his son.
The reporter glanced from one man to the other, then decided retreat was in order. With a sweeping bow, he indicated the door was clear.
Scott put one arm around Marisol and guided her down the sidewalk. “I didn’t see your car in the lot or on the street. Did you walk?”
“I shouldn’t leave,” she said. “If there’s somewhere I could hide for a few minutes…” She looked back toward the café as the photographer and the reporter exited.
“If you go back, so will they,” Jay said. “We’ll drive you home.”
As they rounded the corner to the small parking lot behind the café, the camera flashed again. Scott lunged at the photographer, who laughed, then dove into a waiting car, which sped away.
“Sorry about that,” Scott said as he helped Marisol into the back seat of a blue sedan, then climbed in after her. Jay took the driver’s seat and drove slowly toward Marisol’s house, circling the block a few times, looking for suspicious vehicles or persons, before pulling into her driveway.
“Maybe I should go back,” Marisol said. She hated running away, like a coward. “I should have stood up to them.”
“What would that have done but give them more pictures, and words they could misquote?” Scott asked. His face was flushed, his eyes dark with anger. Part of her wanted to throw her arms around him, to let him hold her and be the rescuer to her damsel in distress.
Except that she was through with men rescuing her. No man who was supposed to protect had ever done her any favors. And no good would come of letting Scott think she needed taking care of. “I’ll be fine now,” she said. She started to open the door and climb out of the car, but Scott’s hand on her arm stopped her.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked. “Do you want us to stay with you a while?”
“I’ll be okay.” She scanned the front yard and the street, but they were empty. “It doesn’t look like they’ve found this place. At least not yet.”
“Who were they?” Scott asked. “Do you know them?”
She shook her head. “They’re probably from some gossip rag.” She smoothed the front of her skirt. “I was hoping they wouldn’t find me here in Cedar Switch.”
“Was this what it was like for you in Houston?” Scott’s face reflected his horror at the idea. “With people like that hounding you?”
“Pretty much. From the time I was released on bail until the trial ended and Toni and I left to come here there was always at least one group, sometimes more, parked in front of my house. They trailed me everywhere. We managed to avoid being followed here by leaving in the middle of the night and driving through back streets to lose the one car that tried to come after us.”
“I’ll call the police chief and ask him to keep an eye on your place,” Jay said. “Chase away anybody who’s loitering.”
“Thank you, but you can’t keep them out of public places,” she said. “They know their legal rights.” The horror of the scene in the café was beginning to set in—that first blinding flash, the flying tray of food. “Mary will never let me come back to work now,” she said.
“I’ll talk to her,” Scott said. “It’s not your fault—”
“No.” She gripped his arm, silencing him. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. I’m not helpless.”
He started to protest, then apparently thought better of it. “What will you do?”
“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.” She opened the door and climbed out of the car. He didn’t try to stop her this time, though she could feel his eyes on her as she unlocked the front door.
Inside, she locked the door and leaned back against it. What little peace she’d enjoyed since leaving Houston had been shattered. She could only imagine the headlines that would accompany the pictures those two lowlifes had taken: Accused murderess reduced to slinging hash in small town café. Or maybe Billionaire’s widow forced into menial labor. The pictures and stories would make the rounds of all the Junior Leaguers who had once welcomed her as one of their own. They’d shake their heads and click their tongues and tell each other how they had always suspected Marisol was not really “their kind of people” and this only confirmed it. Worse, how long would it be before those two men, or others like them, zeroed in on this house? How long would she and Toni have to barricade themselves inside before a more interesting scandal distracted her pursuers?
Toni. The thought of her daughter spurred her to action. She needed to telephone the school and ask them to have Toni wait in the office for her mother to collect her after school. Under no circumstances was she to go outside, and the school should be on the lookout for any suspicious characters hanging around the campus, especially anyone with a camera.
Toni would hate being singled out this way, especially on her first day. And she would, as usual, blame her suffering on her mother.
For her part, Marisol laid the blame