Page 3 of Just Ten Seconds

Jackie’s brows pull together; her pale eyes are laced with concern. “Do you need a second to relax?”

“I’m fine.” I plaster on a smile. “It just caught me off guard.”

From the way she’s pinching her mouth, I know she doesn’t believe me.

Nick twists his cap around and yells into the kitchen at Manny, “Watch it next time. You’re affecting the customers!”

I know he’s not talking about the patrons because they’re going about their meals as if nothing happened, except for a few nearby who are looking at me like I’m a madwoman.

With a wave in explanation, I say to a customer, “The floor can be slippery back here.”

I push a stray hair off my face and collect myself. I wasn’t always such a mess. In fact, I was a pretty well-adjusted woman. Successful, philanthropic … didn’t freak out when someone dropped a piece of Cuisinart.

My chest tightens painfully as my thumb traces the sliver of skin where my gold wedding band used to rest.

There’s a second of silence until the front door of the café swings open, hitting the wall next to it.

A swirl of wind from the autumn afternoon comes barreling in. The paper menus fly off the counter as the leaves from outside swoosh through, moving the hair I just tucked behind my ear back onto my forehead.

I bend down to collect the menus that Jackie worked for hours creating and gather them in my arms, placing them back on the counter.

When I rise, I see the wind isn’t the only thing that came in.

In the doorway is a man.

He’s tall and imposing with dark jeans, construction boots, and a smoldering stare.

The ruggedness of his chiseled face is offset by the worried expression in his eyes. For in his arms is an injured child, curled into his chest.

The chatter of the café goes silent at the sight.

The man looks over at us, his brows bent at the ends. He seems to be in pain, but from the scrunched-up face of the little girl in his arms, it’s clear she’s the one in agony, and he’s in pain for her.

“My daughter fell off her bike,” he says, his head bowed down into his daughter as his arms cradle her like she’s the most delicate thing in the world.

Jackie looks over at me with a questioning glance.

The little girl has a large wound from her knee down to her calf. There’s blood coming from her leg, and it’s dripping onto her sock. It’s wide, deep, and in need of medical attention.

Nick takes a step forward. “I’m sorry, man, but I can’t have her in here.”

My head shoots up in his direction, and my eyes widen. I round the counter and grip him by the forearm, pulling him back. “Nick, the little girl is hurt.”

He turns to me with a grimace. “The health inspector,” he says in explanation.

I understand his concern. The café has been in his family for fifty years. He’s not going to let anything get in the way of it not surviving.

With an outstretched arm, he suggests to the man, “Take her to the emergency room.”

“I don’t do hospitals,” the man bellows, his voice deep and penetrating. The way his teeth clench, you’d think he had a personal vendetta against hospitals. Maybe he does.

I speak up, “You could—”

He looks over at me, and my words fall flat, as I’m temporarily frozen by the extraordinary face of the man. Bronzed skin, a strong jaw, and intense midnight-blue eyes. They’re on fire with concern. He’s a feral man willing to tear down a village to protect the one he loves.

And that blue, God, there are movie stars with wild eyes like his, not real-life, pedestrian, thirty-something men. At least, not here in this town.

It’s not just the color that paralyzes me. It’s the way his gaze is fixed on me with parted lips and a furrowed brow—a look that’s a plea and a promise mixed into one. What he’s promising, I have no idea.