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CHAPTER ONE
WHAT WAS THIS guy doing? China Davis waited for the driver to park so she could take the space next to him. She watched appalled as the red-hot-off-the-line foreign sports car straddled the parking line.
Really? This person was going to take up two spaces in the far-too-small parking lot during morning rush hour?
Disgusted, China observed the driver do just as she’d feared. She would have to go around the building and park in the strip mall parking lot. She’d be lucky if she could juggle the donuts and coffee back to the car without spilling one or both all over her scrubs.
China glanced at the tag on the slick vehicle as she passed. Illinois. It was a little early for the summer crowd to be showing up. Still mid-May, she’d been looking forward to another few weeks of peace before the beach mob invaded.
Living in a small southern coastal town had its advantages but there was a downside also. Four out of the twelve months the locals had to contend with the influx of people. It didn’t help that here was only one main road into town, which had no choice but to end when it met the water of the gulf. From there the driver had to choose east or west along the beach.
Dolly’s Donuts was located on the main road. As the local morning hangout for the senior citizens, it was also the place in town for quality donuts. China’s mom had pointed out more than once to her that patience was a virtue. That might be so but China had promised hot donuts, and she didn’t like to disappoint.
As she hurried into Dolly’s, she mentally reviewed her order list. She glanced at her wrist watch. Yes, she was going to be late. Something that had never happened before. The line at the counter was four deep when she slipped into the tight glassed-in space that was Dolly’s customer area. The place still had the feel of a fifties-era coffee shop, with a few metal stools with orange seats facing a long narrow counter.
China studied the tall man in front of her with the wide shoulders. His dark hair was cut supershort, as if it had been shaved off and was beginning to grow out.
One customer down, three more to go.
Her attention returned to the man. He wore a salmon-color polo shirt that fit him loosely but contrasted nicely with his dark coloring.
She peeked around him to see what was happening with the next patron. The man gave her a pointed look and she straightened, finding her place in line again. Her father had used that same look to make her and her siblings fall in line.
Another down. China stepped forward. Thankfully the man ahead of her was next.
“What do you consider your best donut?” he asked.
Oh, no! He was going to get Roger started on donuts. She’d be lucky to make work by lunchtime.
Dolly’s husband stated in a voice of authority from behind the cash register, “We sell a lot of these.” He pointed to a tray of glazed. “But the best, I believe, are the double chocolate. We make a special...”
China zoned out as Roger went into a monologue on how the dough was prepared.
“I’ll get you some fresh ones from the back.”
“That sounds great,” the man in front of her said, as if he had all the time in the world. He probably did, but she sure didn’t. They were expecting her at the clinic and she needed to be on time. She worked hard not to receive complaints about her actions; she wanted no conflict.
When Roger ambled off, China leaned around the man and said in a low voice, “You’re not from around here or you’d know better. Don’t ever get Roger started. It goes on forever.”
The man pinned her with a dark look of disapproval that made her chest tighten as she shrank back into her place. He turned his back to her again. She wouldn’t be saying anything further to this guy.
In the brief moment she’d seen his face straight on she’d been able to tell he was thin. No tan line marked his temple from eye to ear where sunglasses might have been. In fact, he looked as if he could use a little time outside. Still, he had a
n interesting face. Not handsome in the Hollywood leading man sense of the words but more in an attention-grabbing way.
“Here you go,” Roger said. “How about coffee?”
“Black,” the man said in one deep syllable.
Roger turned away and a full minute later slid the coffee container across the counter and quoted the man his total.
With relief, China moved closer, anticipating her turn. As she did so the man rotated and bumped against her.
“Excuse me,” he said, with an air of authority.
“I’m sorry,” China said, sliding to the side to dodge his coffee cup and moving well out of his way. She didn’t want to cause any more of a scene. It had been on impulse for her to have spoken to him to begin with.
He strolled by her before she turned to placed her order. While Roger bagged it she looked out the glass doors at the broad back of the exasperating man. He headed straight for the fancy sports car. I should have known.
The man was one of those who thought he was entitled because he was handsome and drove a fancy car!
* * *
Payton pulled the Mercedes into a parking space behind the clinic to face a wall of greenery that was overgrown. In his other life it would have been another row of cars in a spiraling parking garage. He looked at the 1940s wooden house that had been converted into a treatment center. The Golden Shores Walk-in Clinic in Mississippi. It was nothing like the state-of-the-art facility he was used to, nothing resembling the highly charged E.R. in Chicago where ambulance sirens blared every few minutes.
Truthfully, nothing about Golden Shores was like the place he’d called home his entire life. Here the buildings went no higher than three levels when he was used to skyscrapers and glittering glass. Two-lane roads were the norm. None of those eight-lane interstates with cars whizzing by. If he got behind a truck pulling a boat then he had to sit back for the ride. Everything moved slower and people spoke with a drawl. But this was what he wanted. The easier pace, the chance to enjoy life. A place to recover. He’d moved nine hundred miles from family and friends to find his own destiny. Cancer had taken its toll and now it was time for him to take control. Create the life he wanted.
He hadn’t counted on the cute but weird local who had been behind him at the bakery. She’d certainly not been tuned into the idea of a relaxed pace. Donuts weren’t his usual fare for breakfast so hopefully the chance of running into her again were slim to none.
