Last Chance at the Someday Café Read online

  How many secrets can one man really have?

  Tara Hawkins may be the baby of the family, but she’s ready to prove to her siblings she can make it on her own. And she’s betting everything on the success of her diner. Trucker Morgan Thane quickly becomes a repeat customer...and a tempting distraction she can’t afford. The energy between them is overwhelming, yet Tara wonders just how she can trust a man who is hiding so many secrets—a man who’s almost out of hope. When she discovers his heartbreaking reason for being in Haskins Corners, her feelings for him only grow. And the deeper she falls, the closer Tara comes to losing her dream and her heart.

  “Are you going to answer me?”

  Morgan wanted to reach over and haul Tara close. He knew he had to resist, but what a temptation she was. He ached. He knew he had to face her, had to look at her, had to tell her the truth and risk—no, probably guarantee—it would push her away.

  “Go home, Tara. Or back to the diner,” he said softly, slowly turning his head to look at her, clenching the steering wheel in a death grip.

  “Not until you answer me.” She settled into the truck’s seat. “Are you coming back?”

  The silence was thick. “No. Coming back would be a mistake.”

  It took her a while to digest that. “Why?” she finally whispered.

  Morgan’s heart sank to somewhere deep in his gut. He paused, not wanting to see the reaction on her face, not wanting to see her hurt, anger or disappointment. He squared his shoulders. The words sat bitter in his stomach before he let them go.

  “Tara. I’m...married.”

  Dear Reader,

  The A Chair at the Hawkins Table series continues with Tara and Morgan’s story. If you’ve read my other books, you’ve met Tara. Her talent and desire to cook great meals for the people she loves is a big part of what defines her.

  When I sat down to figure out her story, I struggled with what kind of man would be her forever love.

  At that time, I’d reconnected with a childhood friend on social media and we were revisiting a ton of memories from the old neighborhood. My friend was the youngest child in her family, just like Tara, and her father was a trucker who was often gone for long stretches at a time.

  It occurred to me that the man for Tara would come into her life through her cooking. The Someday Café and Morgan were born with that realization. I saw him in my imagination sitting on that stool at the end of the counter—just like where Tara first meets him.

  I hope you enjoy Tara and Morgan’s story, and visit the rest of her extended family, here and in their respective books. They really are quite a family.

  Please feel free to contact me at [email protected], www.angelsmits.com or at 5740 N Carefree Circle, Suite 120-4, Colorado Springs, CO 80917.

  Angel Smits

  ANGEL

  SMITS

  Last Chance at the

  Someday Café

  Angel Smits shares a big yellow house, complete with gingerbread and a porch swing, in Colorado with her husband, daughter and Maggie, their border collie mix. Winning the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart® Award was the highlight of her writing career, until her first Harlequin book hit the shelves. Her social work background inspires her characters while improv writing allows her to torture them. It’s a rough job, but someone’s got to do it.

  Books by Angel Smits

  HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE

  A Chair at the Hawkins Table

  The Ballerina’s Stand

  The Marine Finds His Family

  A Family for Tyler

  Seeking Shelter

  A Message for Julia

  Other titles by this author available in ebook format.

  Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!

  Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards

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  This is for all the kids who grew up with me in the old neighborhood. Lisa, Barry, Larry, Greg, Debbie, Matt, Dan, Julie, Steve, Janet, Jamie, Colleen, Betty and April. Riding bikes, running the streets, climbing trees, shooting fireworks and trick-or-treating were that much more fun with all of you. Thanks for the memories.

  And to Ron, for making being a grown-up just as much fun!

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  EXCERPT FROM THE HERO'S REDEMPTION BY JANICE KAY JOHNSON

  CHAPTER ONE

  TARA HAWKINS WALKED in through the front door of her childhood home for the last time. She’d only been here a couple times since Mom’s funeral, and now the house had sold. Tomorrow, someone else would start a new life here.

  But tonight, one last time, it was theirs.

  The foyer was empty. No coats on the hall tree. No shoes distractedly kicked off. The living room beyond was just as empty. Everything was stripped from the walls. No pictures. No furniture. Only the curtains at the front window fluttering in the breeze. It looked abandoned.

  Her running shoes slapped against the newly polished wood floor. She kept moving, hurrying down the hall to escape the emptiness that threatened to reach out and suck her in.

  Tonight, everyone was supposed to be here—all five of her siblings, maybe a couple in-laws and at least one nephew, possibly two. She was the last to arrive—again. They’d all give her a rough time about it. As usual. But this time, she had an excuse. She didn’t want to be here. But then, neither did they. Not really.

  They’d gather in the kitchen. The big kitchen had always represented home to Tara. She heard their voices in a harmonic flow that reached to her and soothed her grief.

  Wyatt’s deep growl. Mandy’s high-pitched voice cooing to little Lucas. DJ’s laughter mingled with Jason’s soft chuckles. She didn’t hear Addie, which meant... Tara hustled down the hall.

  Addie stood at the counter, a big glass bowl of cookie dough in front of her, and scattered tools that she’d obviously brought with her at her elbow. Addie made the best cookies. Looked like there would be one last batch made here in Mom’s kitchen.

  Playful cheers went up as Tara entered. “About time,” DJ teased.

  “I was hoping to get her share of the cookies,” Wyatt added with mock disappointment.

  “Very funny.” Tara rolled her eyes as she snagged one of the folding chairs. The dining table was staying with the house, too big and heavy to move, and the new owner, according to Addie, was happy to have it. All the chairs, however, were gone. When Mom had passed away, the chairs had been precious reminders of home. They’d each taken theirs with them. Tara’s was in the spare bedroom of her apartment.

  But she had plans for it. Such big plans. Her stomach flipped as she settled next to DJ. They didn’t know. Well, most of them didn’t know. Jason, her older brother and one of the smartest attorneys she’d ever met—and she was only slightly biased—knew. She’d consulted hi
m and sworn him to secrecy. He’d never violate lawyer-client privilege—even for family.

  He winked at her, and she mentally grinned. She sat back and watched Addie work, enthralled with her sister’s confident actions. Was that what Tara looked like in her own kitchen? She hoped so.

  She’d grown up helping their mother cook, and it had been the one thing she’d shared with Mom. Her sisters helped with big meals like holidays, but mostly it had been just Tara and Mom. The ache in her chest eased just a bit as she watched her big sister step into Mom’s role.

  “I’ve never asked you where you got that recipe.” It hadn’t been Mom’s.

  Addie shrugged. “I made it up.”

  “You what?”

  “Yeah.” Addie looked over her shoulder and smiled at Tara’s surprise. “You’re not the only cook in the family.”

  “I know that.” Tara tried to dismiss her sister’s teasing, accusatory comment.

  “Oh, that reminds me.” Addie shoved a cookie sheet into the heated oven and set the timer before turning around. “I found this.” She pulled open the pantry door, lifted out a box that had definitely seen better days, then set it on the table.

  “What’s that?” Tara and the others stared at the battered cardboard box.

  “Open it.” Addie returned to the cookies.

  Tara pushed the chair back as she stood and opened the flaps. Book spines. A rubber-banded stack of cards. Recipe cards. She gasped. “Where did you find them?” She pulled out the stack of stained, tattered cards. When was the last time she’d seen them? “Mom’s and Grandma’s?” She shuffled through them slowly, carefully—reverently.

  “I think so.” Addie looked up with a smile. “You’d know better than I would. They were in the back of the pantry.”

  Tara’s throat ached as memories bloomed in her mind. Of Mom shuffling through these same cards. Sticking the needed card in between the loose frame of a cabinet door. Her gaze turned to that familiar cupboard door next to Addie now. It had never been repaired. Her vision blurred.

  She swiped at her eyes and looked at Jason. She frowned. Why give her these today? “Did you tell them?”

  He shook his head. “No, I didn’t say a thing.”

  “Tell us what?” Wyatt asked. Seconds ticked by as Tara’s gaze locked with Jason’s. He simply shrugged. He wasn’t helping. It was up to her.

  “I—” Her excitement grew and with an emerging smile that suddenly made it all feel real, she finished, “I bought the diner in Haskins Corners.” She hugged the precious recipe cards to her chest. “We closed the deal today.”

  Tara looked around, hoping for smiles and congratulations. The silent stares were not what she’d expected. She knew she’d shocked them all, but this silence was heavy. The buzz of the timer going off was especially loud.

  “Oh.” Addie broke the trance and pulled the cookie sheet out of the oven. The scent of chocolatey, peanut buttery deliciousness wound through the room, nudging everyone to awareness. They didn’t, however, smile.

  She hadn’t expected total excitement from them, but neither had she expected this—what did she even call it—lack of support? Surprise?

  “That’s an awfully big commitment.” DJ was frowning. “Especially for someone so—”

  “Don’t say it.” She hated when they pointed out her faults.

  “Young.” He leaned closer, his frown deepening, if that were possible. “Not saying it doesn’t make you any older.”

  “Now, DJ.” Mandy hoisted Lucas up on her shoulder and gently patted his back in a rhythmic caress. “She’s always talked about this. That’s not a huge surprise.”

  “But it is a bit of a surprise now.” Addie slowly scooped cookies off the sheet. “Why didn’t you tell us before you committed to it?”

  “Because I didn’t need your help. Just Jason’s legal advice.”

  “And you didn’t tell us?” Addie shook her spatula at Jason.

  “Client-lawyer privilege. Sorry, it’s business.”

  “That’s no excuse.” Addie roughly scooped dough from the bowl and plopped it onto the cookie sheet with an uncharacteristic thunk. “This is family.”

  “Addie.” Wyatt’s voice filled with warning, and while Tara appreciated the support, his scowl told her he wasn’t any happier.

  “Hon, don’t take this wrong.” Mandy put her hand over Tara’s. “We just care so much about you.”

  “You all know me.” Tara’s indignation rose and her throat ached. She was not going to cry or lose her temper. She’d expected congratulations, not—not this. “You know I’ve dreamed about this since I was a kid.”

  “Yes, but—” Addie wiped her hands on a towel. “This is such a big step. We expected you to work for someone else, in a fancy restaurant for a while. Learn about business before taking such a leap.”

  “You know I wouldn’t let her go totally stupid, right?” Jason tried to reassure them, but that only made Tara angrier.

  “It wasn’t your choice. Any of you.” She let her gaze move around the room, meeting everyone’s stare until landing on Jason’s. “I asked for your advice as a lawyer. That’s all.”

  “And I gave it,” he reminded her. “It’s a good deal,” he told the rest of them. “She got a bargain and the interest rate on the loan was excellent.”

  “Loan?” Wyatt snapped.

  “Yes, loan.” Tara knew Wyatt’s philosophy on debt. Combine his overprotectiveness with his experience seeing his colleagues in the ranching industry fall under debt, and she knew she’d hit a nerve. “I used my inheritance for most of it, but it wasn’t enough.” She glared at Jason. They didn’t need to know the details. That’s why she hadn’t told them in the first place.

  “You let her go into debt for this?” Wyatt snatched one of Addie’s fresh cookies and bit into it, hard. “What were you thinking?”

  “She can handle it. It’s a solid deal.”

  She didn’t need Jason to defend her, and Wyatt needed to back off. “Hellooo...” She waved her hands. “I’m still here.”

  Addie put the second batch into the oven, then turned to lean against the counter, arms crossed in front of her. Her frown said more than Tara wanted to hear. She looked so much like Mom when she did that. Tara’s heart hurt.

  But Mom would have supported her. She wouldn’t have gotten upset about this. Oh, Mom. I miss you, she mentally whispered. Mom had always encouraged her to follow her dreams, like she had for all of them.

  And Tara was not giving up on this dream.

  DJ must have seen her stubbornness on her face. “We aren’t angry with you. Do you really think you’re ready for this?”

  Tara knew she was ready, but damn it, they were making her doubt herself. As the youngest, she had always felt the weight of her siblings’ shadows. She slowly looked around the room full of people she loved. Their frowns said it all.

  Addie and Wyatt shared a glance. An all-too-familiar glance that spoke volumes. Tara’s emotions bubbled to the surface. “You don’t believe in me!”

  They both actually had the nerve to look surprised. “We didn’t say that,” Addie said.

  “You don’t have to say it.” Tara threw up her hands. “It’s all in that look.”

  Tara marched to the door, wishing and praying someone would stop her and deny all her fears, reassure her that she’d misunderstood, that she was wrong, that they did have total faith in her.

  No one spoke. The only sound was each of her steps through the empty rooms and finally the smack of the front door banging against its frame.

  She kept walking across the yard. “Do not cry,” she repeated half a dozen times before she reached her bright red Jeep and climbed in. She slammed the door and rammed her foot on the gas before tearing out of the drive.

  “I’ll show you,” s
he said to the rearview mirror. “I’ll show you all,” she repeated to the dust cloud that rose up behind her as she headed toward the highway.

  * * *

  SILENCE SUDDENLY FILLED the room, telling Morgan Thane he wasn’t alone. The driving rock beat had swiftly faded away as his younger brother, Jack, turned down the volume on the stereo.

  The weights in Morgan’s fists still moved rhythmically, the soft clink of metal on metal now the only sound left.

  “Do you even know what silence sounds like?” Jack asked, pulling his own earbuds free.

  “You’re listening to your own tunes.” Morgan pointed at the earbuds Jack never went anywhere without.

  “This is white noise to drown out your racket. That stuff gives me hives.”

  “Stuff?” Morgan tried to look insulted. “Stuff? College-educated guy like yourself can’t come up with a better word than stuff?”

  “Nope.” Jack stepped farther into the room, leaving his phone on the table while he went to the fridge.

  Morgan watched Jack move across the apartment. It wasn’t big, so it didn’t take him long. He knew his brother. He knew that body language. Trouble. Something was wrong. “You going to tell me what’s up, or am I supposed to guess?”

  Jack yanked open the refrigerator. “You got any more of those energy drinks?”

  “Yeah. Back of the second shelf.” Morgan knew where every single item he owned was located. He’d always been that way, and after having so little as a kid—and with his soon-to-be-ex, Sylvie, taking off with everything else—he’d become a bit obsessed about it.

  Jack reached in for a can, then popped the top. After he’d downed half the drink, he walked over to the computer to boot it up. He set down the drink, then settled in the old kitchen chair that doubled as a desk chair. He didn’t say a word.

  Morgan didn’t stop. He was only three quarters of the way through his workout. So, the only sounds that broke the apartment’s quiet were the hum of the computer fan and the easy rhythm of the weights against the bar as Morgan worked on curls.