Hard to Handle (16 page)

Anastasia rolled her eyes.

Barber laughed again. “We better go before he comes in here and demolishes me.”

“He wouldn't.”

“Yeah, I think he would. It's actually pretty interesting—and that's why I gave you my number. The fact he has you riding with his uncle instead of me is amusing. Harley's not acting like himself. I think that might be a good thing.”

After a long thoughtful moment, she shrugged and shoved the slip of paper into her jeans pocket. “All right.”

Smart girl.

He lifted her luggage and together they exited the bar. Harley never left his Jeep, but he did stare—hard—as Barber got her and her belongings settled into Satch's vehicle.

Barber figured on a few weeks, a month at the most, and Anastasia and Harley would be together again.

If not, he'd finesse a reunion himself. That was the least he could do for a good guy like Harley.

A
NASTASIA
felt very conspicuous sitting beside Satch in the SUV. He'd made it clear that he didn't want to be separated from Harley, and though he didn't act too disgruntled about the arrangement, she still felt uncomfortable knowing that she'd put a kink in his plans.

“You want me to hit a drive-thru and get you something to eat?”

“No, thank you.” She wasn't about to inconvenience him further. “I can get something at the hotel.”

“You sure you got enough belongings?”

She glanced back at her one suitcase filled with necessities, her laptop, and the important files she'd retrieved in a quick trip to the cabin. “I have everything I need for now.”

“Too bad those deputies couldn't do anything more than take a report and confiscate the guns. With any luck, they can use the weapons as evidence if they can ever catch anyone.”

She turned her head to look out the window. “I doubt they will. Whoever hassled us last night has probably already taken off. They don't want to get caught and strangers are easy to pick out from the locals.”

“You're not thinking about heading right back there, are you?”

“Not just yet, no.”

As they drove north, a thick layer of white blanketed everything, but without so much ice, and without the bulk that buried Echo Lake.

“Harley spoke highly of you.”

Unsure what Satch meant, Stasia gave up her perusal of the scenery. “He's a very nice man.”

Satch gave her an incredulous look. “He thinks you're brave.”

The absurdity of that made her laugh. “I was so afraid last night, I couldn't stop shaking.”

“That's just intelligence. Anyone with a brain would have been afraid of two hoodlums with guns.”

“Harley wasn't.”

Satch rolled a shoulder. “That boy is more action than talk, always has been. He needs to learn better control.”

Hoping to gain more insight into Harley's psyche, Stasia gave Satch her complete attention. “He seems overly contained to me.”

“He's working on it. Used to be, he'd dive into every situation like a free-for-all. It wasn't until after he got burned a few times that he learned to think things through before reacting.”

Or to not react at all? “Last night, when those men came back, he seemed on automatic pilot to me. He was pretty darned impressive, too.”

“Harley can handle himself, no question about that. But he's just plain lucky that he didn't get you or himself shot. Someone with better control would have analyzed the situation more closely, and chosen to duck the trouble, rather than face it head-on.”

Insulted on Harley's behalf, she said, “I'm not sure I agree. When they first came on us, there really wasn't anyplace to hide, especially in the freezing cold. The circumstances called for quick thinking and fast action. Harley supplied both.”

Satch shook his head. “He took a big risk, and he has to stop doing that. He wants a title belt, and that means he has to stick to a game plan, not go off half-cocked.” Satch glanced at her. “Did he tell you what took him out of the last fight?”

“I overheard something about an injury to his elbow.”

“It's a long story, but Dakota—Simon Evans's wife, though they weren't married at the time—had an ex who liked to cause her trouble.” As if the memories annoyed him, Satch worked his jaw. “Harley likes to stop trouble.”

“He got injured defending her?”

“Against three thugs. He put an end to the bastards, and got his elbow dislocated for his trouble.”

Picturing it in her mind, how fast and fluid Harley was in action, Stasia sighed. “Sounds heroic.”

“Yeah, sure. That's Harley. The SBC agrees, by the way. They like him. But they'll like him even more when he fights for the belt and wins. But he
has
to fight this time.”

“I don't understand. You think he won't fight?”

“Hell, he's been offered title shots three times now. Every damn time, something gets in the way. If it happens again, who knows when the SBC will make another offer?”

“I didn't realize.” And she felt sick about it. What if Harley had lost his big chance because of her?

Again Satch glanced at her, this time with speculation shining in his eyes. “He can win, no problem there. He's one of the most talented fighters I've ever seen. But he has to make sure he's in the fight, not on the sidelines with an injury.”

Stasia wanted to know more, but she didn't want to pry. Once she got her affairs in order, she'd study the sport a bit on her own before watching on pay-per-view again.

“Harley tells me you're a life coach.”

Now what was Satch up to? “That's right.”

“Like it?”

“Yes. Very much.” At least, most of the time she did. Other times…she didn't want to think about the drawbacks she'd only recently discovered.

“You any good at it?”

“I have an excellent success record and I come highly recommended.” To tweak him, she asked, “Why do you ask? Do you need some guidance, Satch?”

“Me? No, no. I'm fine.”

To hide her grin, Stasia looked out the side window again.

Satch drove on in silence for a bit until they came to a more congested area. “How about that place?” he asked, indicating a sign for a hotel off the next exit. The building was just visible from the highway. “The lights are all on, so they're not without power.”

“I think the outage was limited to our small town.”

“It's not a chain,” Satch pointed out, “but sometimes the small places are better. More personal attention, you know. And it's not too far from Echo Lake.”

“Yes.” Stasia studied the billboard for the hotel. There were several restaurants nearby, and a convenience store. The area looked clean and well organized. “It'll do. Thank you.”

Satch took the exit and drove up to the hotel. “I'll help you inside.”

“That's okay, Satch. You've done enough. Really. If you'd just pull up to the door—”

While she spoke, he parked the SUV. “I insist. Besides, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Stasia felt dread crawl up her spine, but she pasted on a polite smile. “Okay then.”

He turned off the engine and hustled around to her door. After she got out, he retrieved her luggage and laptop, and she took the thick file folder.

On the way in, he commented, “Harley said you were taking a little time off work.”

“I was, but I'm rethinking that now. All things considered, it might be a good time to be away from Echo Lake for a while.”

“Good, good.” Satch's brows came down. “Harley's going to be in full-time training again.”

Cautious, uncertain of Satch's motives but sensing a trap, Stasia said, “He told me he had an important fight coming up. Is it a title fight?”

“It will be, after the SBC builds him up.”

The parking lot had already been cleared and only a dusting of snow blown by an earlier wind covered the ground. It felt good to be out of the knee-deep stuff.

Satch managed both her laptop and her luggage in one arm and held the door open for her. “I'd like to discuss hiring you.”

She'd just stepped into the hotel lobby when he spoke, and she halted her step. “Hire me? But you just said you weren't interested.”

“Not for me. For Harley.”

He had to be kidding. Stasia blinked at him in disbelief.

Satch urged her farther inside. “He thinks he's focused, but after the stunt he just pulled—disarming two unknown nutcases—the truth is easy enough to see.”

“And the truth is?”

“His brain is everywhere except where it should be. He needs to keep the upcoming fights in the forefront of his mind, and temper his reactions to everything around that. Otherwise he's just going to repeat past mistakes and unfortunate interruptions.”

“Like a dislocated elbow?”

“Exactly.”

Flabbergasted, Stasia asked, “Would you have had him stand by while his friend's wife was hurt?”

“No. That's not what I'm saying.”

In analytical mode, Stasia crossed her arms and studied Harley's uncle. “Should he have left me to fend for myself, to maybe freeze to death or get shot?”

“Of course not.” He held her gaze. “But if his priority was the fight, he'd have hidden, not challenged the bastards.”

“I see.” But she didn't, not really. Was Satch insinuating that she'd somehow swayed Harley toward irresponsible behavior? And if so, why in the world would he want to hire her?

“I don't think you do, not yet. But that's why I wanted to talk to you. You could help Harley block out the negative influences.”

Feeling her way, Stasia said, “Maybe you're unaware of Harley's preferences, but he was pretty up-front that once he said good-bye, he didn't expect to ever lay eyes on me again.”

Satch waved that off. “I know. He made it clear that you weren't his type and things were over, otherwise I couldn't ask you to coach him.”

Every muscle in her body stiffened. “Harley discussed me with you?”

“Only to reassure me. He seemed different with you, and that had me concerned.”

Despite herself, Stasia's interest was piqued. “Different?”

Satch either didn't hear her curiosity or he overlooked it as unimportant. “When he told me he wasn't involved with you, I didn't know if that was the bona fide truth or not. But I watched you at the bar. You understand his priorities.”

“And based on whatever you think you saw at the bar, you think Harley would welcome me as a life coach?”

“Hell no. He'd have a conniption if he knew I was hiring you.”

Of course he would. “Then that's a problem for me, Satch.”

“I don't see why, if it's for his own good—and it is. I always act in Harley's best interests.”

Staring up at Satch, Stasia accepted the similarities between the two men. Satch was a tall, well-built, powerful man with blond hair only a shade or two darker than Harley's and eyes a similar hue of blue, but lacking the burning intensity.

She imagined that the two of them butted heads often. Tempting as the idea of more time with Harley might be, she knew the truth: she wasn't as indifferent as Satch wanted to believe. She didn't want to be an annoyance to Harley, and she most certainly did not want in the middle of their private problems.

Even if she thought she could help smooth those problems by acting as Harley's life coach.

“You'd be perfect,” Satch said, pushing the point. “He's drawn to you, I could tell, so he'd trust you to give good advice—advice that'll help him in his career. And I can trust you not to start pushing for a romantic relationship.”

“I can't see anything being perfect if I begin by misleading him. That goes against the bond of a client and a life coach.” She held up a hand when Satch started to protest. “Let's back up a second. Exactly how do you expect me to help Harley when I don't know anything about the sport or the training process beyond what I've seen on television?”

“You can encourage him to follow through with things that'll gain him more recognition.”

“Like?”

“The SBC wants to feature Harley in an exposé on his life. His background, his daily habits and routines. His social life.”

“Whoa.” Distrusting her own ears, Stasia laughed. “I haven't been close to Harley—much—but I can't see him welcoming something like that.”

“He doesn't. In fact, he refused to do it.” Hands on his hips, Satch leveled a stern look on her. “And that's where you come in.”

“Oh, no,” Stasia protested. “That's where I butt out.”