Broken Hart (A Cross Creek Small Town Novel #1) - Kelly Collins Page 0,47

was gone, I glanced at Kandra.

“Were you hiding from Dottie?”

Her gaze slid to mine as she slumped further in her chair and continued hunkering down. “No.” Picking up her fork, she nipped a bit of whipped cream and a cut strawberry and popped the sweet bite into her mouth before dumping syrup all over the mess.

“Who, then?” I didn’t want to glance over my shoulder and make her more obvious to whoever she was hiding from, but as the seconds ticked by, her discomfort seeped into me and lined my gut with a frost-like chill.

Before she could answer, I heard Benji’s voice. “Kandra?”

He was straight-up shouting at her across the diner. The smattering of other people there began to murmur. The sounds of backsides shifting in chairs and throat-clearing told me things were about to escalate into a full-blown public scene.

Kandra flinched at her name on his lips, and fear filled her eyes. I swallowed back my rage and stood up, turning to face Benji. His tweed jacket, bright-yellow tie, and lime-green shirt assaulted my eyes, and I wanted to hit him based solely on his clothing.

With his head down and a maniacal gleam glaring past me, he put me on edge. He marched right up like he was on the warpath. I sidestepped to block him from Kandra.

Benji danced around me to glower at her, so I put an arm out to block him, and he shoved it away. My fist balled up, and Kandra’s panicked voice rang in my ears.

“Noah, it’s okay.” Her tone told me it was not okay, and the need to beat down this little shit intimidating her overwhelmed me. I grabbed Benji’s collar and hauled him back a few feet while his arms windmilled and furious gibberish sputtered from his lips like bubbles from a drowning man.

“Stay back, or I’ll drag you outside, and we’ll settle this like men. Give her space.” If this was happening, Benji would need to be respectful and not try to intimidate her.

Still, he ignored me and continued to glare at Kandra.

She finally looked at him, taking a slow, labored breath and appearing oddly pale.

“What, Benji?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Benji puffed up and squared his shoulders, leaning forward with a strange light in his eyes.

I waited with every muscle and tendon in my body taut and ready to spring into action if he so much as breathed in her direction the wrong way.

Kandra stopped looking at him and drew in her whipped cream with her fork’s tines, though the fluffy white mound had mostly melted into the waffle. Her hand trembled slightly, and she set the fork down to take a sip of her Sprite. Nothing she did seemed to ease the genuine fear she appeared to be experiencing, and I wondered what I’d missed. What happened between these two to make her so afraid of Benji?

“I wanted to do a story on your return for the paper.” Benji’s tone held a note of sick glee, and Kandra froze, but Benji pressed on. “It will be a welcome back kind of article. The prodigal daughter returns after conquering the modeling world.”

I somehow doubted it was anything like that because Benji liked to destroy people he thought had wronged him somehow. I had no doubts he’d write an exposé of some sort on Sherriff Miranda after her constant refusal to give him the time of day.

The guy had always been a sleaze-bag.

“That’s very nice of you.” Kandra’s voice sounded strangled, and I knew she was waiting for him to deliver whatever blow he had locked and loaded for her.

Benji nodded. “I like for the town to stay informed of everything that’s going on.”

Kandra nodded, her somber mood not lifting one bit. “Yep, small-town news. Nothing big happens, so you have to air people’s dirty laundry or transgressions you think you’ve found.”

I wanted to applaud her cutting words, but instead, I held back. She wanted to go toe-to-toe with this guy, so I’d only step in if she wanted or needed me. I knew she could handle herself just fine.

Benji’s cheeks went bright red. The color clashed with his hideous outfit, somehow. “Things happen here, and people have a right to know.” His livid response almost earned a laugh from me.

“Yep, the Prestons’ cat had five kittens. The Lockhart brothers are making great progress on the new police station, but are they overcharging the city?” she said. “Nope, it turns out they’re not. Will the pothole on Main Street