Read Online Defeat the Darkness by Alexis Morgan - Free Book Online Page B

Fitzsimon?”
    â€œHow many young men live in Justice Point, Tate? Of course I mean Hunter.”
    â€œI haven’t seen him this morning.” At least not since he left her kitchen well after mid-night. “Why?”
    Mabel headed for her favorite chair. “We want to thank him for mowing our lawn yesterday.”
    Tate blurted, “For what?”
    Mabel turned an eagle-eyed look in Tate’s reaction. “He found our old push mower out behind the house, sharpened the blades, and then mowed the yard. The place sure looks good.”
    Tate probably shouldn’t have sounded so shocked, but the man spent all his time telling her to leave him alone, that he didn’t want to be bothered by anyone. And yet he did a kind deed for three elderly women.
    â€œThat was nice of him, and I’ll tell him so when I see him.”
    That is, if he’d let her get within speaking distance of him. She brought the ladies their tea before returning to her laptop. Staring at the screen, she realized that the hero in her story had undergone several radical changes. The book, set in the Old West, had all the usual components—a schoolteacher, a sheriff, and a gunslinger. When she’d first started outlining it, she’d planned on the lawman being the one to save the day. But for some reason, the sheriff came off as weak sauce compared to the gunslinger.
    How had the story veered so far off the course she’d laid out? The heroine now ignored the straight-laced sheriff in favor of the strong, silent man with a gun—anda limp. Tate highlighted the last few pages, intending to delete them, when the shop door opened. She stood up, ready to greet her customer, her smile fading when she saw who it was.
    Why was Hunter just standing there, taking up space, and staring straight at her? Before she could put together a coherent thought, the Auntie Ms spoke up.
    â€œMr. Fitzsimon! Come join us.”
    â€œYes, please do!”
    Hunter met Tate’s gaze from across the room, as if daring her to comment. He slowly made his way through the shop to take the fourth seat at the ladies’ table, angling it so that he could stretch out his legs. He leaned his cane against the windowsill behind him.
    She knew better than to smile over the picture the foursome made—three tiny, gray-haired women and one oversized, glowering male. So instead of hunting down her digital camera, she made Hunter a pot of Pu’erh, snagged a couple of blueberry muffins, and carried them over to the table.
    â€œMorning, Hunter. Nice to see you out and about so early.”
    She injected extra cheer into her voice and added, “These ladies were just telling me how sweet you were to mow their lawn.”
    â€œThey baked me cookies again.” His voice was rougher than usual and more defensive.
    So that’s what it was; he didn’t like feeling in debt to anyone. She set down his muffins and tea. “Enjoy.”
    When he reached for his wallet, she waved him off. “It’s on the house.”
    Tate went back to her computer, doing her best to ignore the conversation across the room. The three sisters were ardent baseball fans, and from the sound of things, they were trying to convince Hunter that the American League was vastly superior to the National League. Tate doubted that their staunch belief that the local team consisted of the “nicest young men” carried much weight with Hunter.
    But she had to give him credit for listening to them, rebutting their arguments with some of his own. He had the three women eating out of his hand, twittering and giggling like schoolgirls.
    Was he this nice to everybody but her?
    She forced her attention back to her story. Maybe it was time for the gunslinger to get shot. Nothing lethal, but painful for sure. The heroine might patch him up, but she wouldn’t be gentle or sympathetic about it. Yeah, that felt right. He might eventually earn the