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She’s survived worse than heartbreak. But this time, she’s not sure she’ll survive herself.

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“Chapter One” – from Unbroken by Kimberly Croft

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Chapter 1

A Year Earlier

The small fishing town of Cutler, Maine is where I was born, grew up, and plan to leave as soon as I am able. Although you won’t get a tourist experience coming here, Cutler is the authentic Maine coast. Even today, some of the land remains as it did a hundred and fifty years ago. We are a hearty people used to poverty, cold weather, and not much stimulation. The biggest excitement we have ever had in Cutler was when former President Bush and his wife Barbara came to town and ordered clam chowder. That was five years ago, and the exhilaration lasted about five minutes. Besides their visit, nothing else but the same old mundane life.

I’m just as guilty as everyone else, doing the same thing every day: go to work, come home, repeat day after day. Working the afternoon shift at Emma’s Chowder Shack, I catch myself glancing at the clock to check the time. My shift will be endless today like it is every day. The overly crowded restaurant, known for its world-renowned clam chowder, crab legs, and lobster rolls, is busier than usual. After being cooped up for months during the endless days of winter and spring, the first days of warm weather bring everyone out. The regulars pour in at lunchtime, like clockwork, to eat and chat about what’s going on in our small corner of the world. The same faces, the same orders, and the same day after day has me in a sullen mood.

We don’t have gift shops, fancy restaurants, or boat excursions, but Cutler is known for our incredible views and, most especially, our puffins. Puffins are birds that live by the sea and look like penguins. They have anyone not from around here bursting at the seams to come see them. Thousands of puffins gather during the spring and summer, bringing people from all over to stare, take pictures, and get overly excited over some birds. Personally, they do nothing for me besides getting in the way and shitting all over the place. Other than that, you can fish all day, stand on the shore and hope to spot a whale, and eat wonderful seafood. The days run together, one after the other, in repetitive mindless activity. Only a few fishermen and their pickup trucks are out today. The town is quiet and this life in a small town is really getting to me. I am, as usual, itching to finally get out.

While pouring endless cups of coffee and serving countless bowls of chowder, I just want to go back home, crawl into bed, and pull the covers up over my head. I am physically and mentally exhausted after a week dealing with my personal life—living in a rundown trailer with my dad, his girlfriend, and her child. Not much of an existence by most people’s standards, but for the past few years, since my mom’s death, it is all I’ve known. To say my life is far from perfect is quite an understatement.

Like almost every day, the morning comes and goes, and the day carries on till the next one. How I have any drive to do anything better in my life is short of a miracle. My dad says my determination is from my mom. She always had big dreams and wanted to get out of Cutler, but she had no self-confidence and feared everything. By the time she was ready to do something with her life, she became sick. On her deathbed, at the young age of thirty-three, she made me promise to become someone great—or at least get out of Cutler and do something that makes me happy. She begged me not to settle for the simple life. Whatever I ended up doing, not to let a man put me down, hit me, or make me feel like I am nothing.

After she passed away, I decided living the same as everyone else around me was no longer a choice. Working my butt off and excelling in school, I graduated with honors and earned a scholarship to attend the University of New England. However, my dad got drunk and wrecked his truck one night, wrapping it around a tree. He had to be in the hospital for months and I couldn’t leave him. Because of that, I lost my scholarship. I was forced to attend community college instead, with the hope that one day I could finish my four-year degree.

I don’t want to wake up each day and pretend to be happy, when deep inside I’m miserable. Masking my unhappiness with drugs and alcohol, like a lot of people here do, is not an option for me. I don’t want to worry about how I will pay my bills or eat, like my parents. I want more in life and am working on my goals to get everything I desire.

However, here I am, in a dead-end job I force myself to go to every day to make ends meet. The Chowder shack and Emma’s home are my second home. Emma is a tiny woman with a mammoth heart, and she’s been like a mother to me. Although she never smiles, I know she is happy by the sound of contentment in her voice. Haggard and worn like a favorite pair of sneakers, she has nothing but love to give and a great place to eat. She is always smoking. I try like hell to get her to quit, only to have her roll her eyes at me and laugh. “Honey, if I didn’t smoke, I’d weigh four hundred pounds. Have you seen my sister? She quit, and now she can’t get her fat ass off the couch!”

A couple years ago, after I told her how bad my situation was at home, Emma offered to turn their office into a bedroom for me. Not wanting to be a nuisance, I declined. Since their son Carson graduated and attends the police academy now, they have even more room for me, and Emma insists I move in. When things become too bad at home, I do stay with them, but I don’t want to take advantage and move in permanently.

Their house is small and crowded, but anything would be better than the trailer park I’ve grown accustomed to. It has become almost impossible to live in the small single wide trailer. With the television on full blast, people in and out of the kitchen constantly, and my dad’s girlfriend, Tabitha, always screaming at someone, there are times I try not to go home. After my shift, I spend most of my time at the restaurant or at Emma’s. These places are a comfort to me, and I consider Emma, her husband Tom, and Carson my family. Carson has always looked after me. He would help me with homework and make sure I made it home safe after my shift. He seemed to always be there when I needed someone to talk to. As I grew out of my awkward preteen years, Carson started to show an interest in me and asked me out a couple of times. I’ve never felt anything for him other than a brotherly love, though, and found myself continually turning him down. I haven’t seen him since he went off to the academy.

I haven’t gotten the nerve to totally move out of the trailer just yet. In the shape my dad is currently in, I have this fear of leaving him alone with Tabitha. I’m the one who makes sure he makes it home at night, that he’s eating, and that his drug use doesn’t get any worse. Without me, I’m afraid Tabitha will lead him down a path that could kill him, if she hasn’t already.

My father’s girlfriend is anything but pleasant and stable. She moved into our trailer two years ago with an attitude, constant chaos, a cat, and Havannah, her young daughter from a previous boyfriend. She also brought her drug habit and passed the addiction along to my father. My dad has an injury from his factory days and Tabitha claims she’s mentally unstable to work, which is not a lie. Since she’s moved in, both have been on disability and take most of my money every week.

While I go to work, they lie around all day, smoking and fighting. Havannah is malnourished and cries from sunup to sundown. Looking at this little girl breaks my heart. She is starved for attention and love and acts out to get that attention. It’s pathetic how she is treated. When I’m home, I try to spend time with her. However, I work as much as I can, and plan to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.

Snapping out of the daydream that is my life, I notice a new man sitting in one of my booths. He looks totally out of place in our little rundown Chowder Shack. As I walk up to him, I stop and blink. I didn’t even see him walk in. Where did he come from? Of all days for this gorgeous man to walk into my world! Why today, when I look tired, haggard, and have an atrocious attitude? Forcing a smile, I stop gawking before I speak.

“Good afternoon. Can I get you coffee?” I stammer. He looks up at me and his eyes are the deepest sapphire I have ever seen. His raven hair is perfectly gelled back, his face is covered with a hint of a five o’clock shadow and, my God, his lips are amazing! This guy looks flawless and extremely wealthy, with manicured hands and sun-kissed skin. He’s wearing a black suit with a crisp white shirt and a black tie. No one ever comes into Emma’s wearing a suit, unless there is a funeral, a school dance, or it’s some politician wanting to try the local food on the campaign trail. Since there’s no funeral in town, and no election coming up, I’m surprised to see someone looking this well dressed on a Friday afternoon. Taking my eyes off him is impossible.

“Yes, please,” he says with a heated smile, and I’m transfixed by how wonderful he looks and smells. Turning over his white mug that sits upside down in front of him, I just miss pouring the coffee all over the table. Most of the people I’m around smell of smoke or fish and wear the same clothes all week. Maybe this guy is lost or is some rich investor hoping to buy up the town and put in casinos. My heart speeds up with shaky breaths, and I try to do my job and not let him see how he affects me.

“Would you like me to tell you the specials for today?” I can barely speak, and I feel as if my words are coming out in a garbled mess. Pulling out my order pad and pen, I hope he doesn’t see the subtle tremble of my hands.

“No, thank you. I know what I want, Scarlett.” Even though most of the locals know me and I wear a name tag, no one addresses me by my name, ever. It’s always, “Hey you” or “Waitress.”

“Okay. What can I get you?” I ask with an unsteady voice.

He points to the sign in the window. “I would love to try the ‘Best clam chowder in Maine’ to go. Who can resist that?”

Smiling at him, I ask, “With hot sauce or without?”

“You pick.” Wow, another first. No one had ever asked me to order for them.

“Well, most everyone always orders without. However, I made the hot sauce this morning and it’s damn good.” Oh, God. What did I just say? I sound totally uneducated.

“Sounds perfect. Make it with hot sauce to go.” He sips his coffee and winks at me, causing the hair on the nape of my neck to rise.

“Is there anything else?” Although I’m reduced to a blithering idiot, I try to act as cool as possible. Fumbling with my necklace, I almost feel faint.

“Not right now.” He smiles.

“Okay. I’ll get this right out to you.” On wobbly legs, I make my way back to the kitchen. Marisa, the other waitress working with me, is watching through the kitchen window, looking as if she’s seen a ghost. Running up to me wide-eyed and out of breath, she can barely speak, which is unusual for her.

“What the hell is he doing in here?” She stares out at my new customer, who seems to have dropped from heaven’s doorstep. I watch as she grabs her cell phone out of her apron pocket and takes his picture.

Pushing her phone down, I whisper through gritted teeth, “Stop that. You’re embarrassing yourself. I have no idea who he is or why he’s here.”

“Wait! You have no clue who that guy is?” I shake my head no, and stick the order on the silver holder, ringing the bell to alert the cook.

“Maybe he’s lost! If that’s the case, I can surely help him find his way home… down my pants. Look at this picture of him. This is my favorite. He’s in the ocean.” She googles him within seconds.

I grab her phone and quickly study the picture she pulled up. Glancing at the picture of a very well-built man in the ocean, and looking back over at the customer, I shake my head no.

“That’s not him.” I look over at him in the booth one more time.

“The hell it isn’t. That is him!”

I hand the phone back to her, rolling my eyes. Marisa has no standards. I’m used to her rude and crude comments about some of the men who come in. She’s always saying inappropriate things about the customers she wants to “knock fishing poles” with.

When I turn around, Marisa’s phone is in my face. “That’s none other than Hugh Cruz. He’s like mega rich, like the Facebook guy rich. Haven’t you seen him on the news? I read somewhere his fiancée broke up with him for someone else. I wonder if he wants to go for a quickie in the back.” Not understanding her way of thinking most of the time, today is no exception. I’m at a complete loss of words.

She continues talking, looking at him through the kitchen window and smiling. Mr. Cruz is busy on his phone and leisurely sipping his coffee, oblivious to the fuss he’s causing. Looking around, Marisa and I are not the only ones talking about him. Everyone seems curious as to who this handsome stranger could be. Marisa whispers, “Can you believe his fiancée left the country, and him, for a scuba instructor? I mean, what is better than that sitting there? I read where he was devastated. I’m just going to walk by his table and smell him. Does he smell good?”

He smells exotic, masculine, and made of money. Whatever he’s wearing can’t be bottled. I think the scent is just him. “I didn’t notice,” I lie and shrug my shoulders.

“Scarlett, you should give him your number or something. If not, give him mine. I’m a sure bet for a good time, and Felix is out on a boat for a few days. I would love to show Hugh Cruz how it’s done.”

“Jesus, Marisa. I don’t want to know all that! Please, shut up! People are trying to eat and you’re being obnoxious.”

Before she can answer me, Emma walks by, clearing her throat as if to tell us to get back to work. The restaurant is filling up and my large “to go” bowl of chowder with a side of hot sauce is waiting to be bagged and delivered to the Adonis himself. Carefully placing his soup and sauce in a brown paper bag, I throw in a couple of small bags of oyster crackers and fold down the top. I grab the coffee pot and make my way back over to him. When he looks up at me, licking his lips ever so slowly, those eyes of his pierce right through to my soul. I imagine sitting on his lap and feeding him his soup, spoonful by spoonful. Christ! Marisa is rubbing off on me!

“Can you join me for a cup of coffee, Scarlett?”

I snap out of my daydream. He must have been reading my dirty mind. Join him? Another first. “No, that’s frowned upon here. Sitting with the customers is number one on the list of things that will get me fired, especially during the lunch hour. Can I get you anything else?” I set his to-go bag on the table, pour him another coffee, and set his bill down.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, you can.”

I reach for my order pad to add to his order. “Okay, what else would you like?”

“You.”

Jerking my head up to look at him, I obviously heard him wrong. “Excuse me?”

“Go out to dinner with me tonight.”

I gasp as my hand flies to my chest, grabbing my necklace again. Go to dinner with him? I glance behind me I look to see if this is a sick joke Marisa is playing on me. Is he in there with other guys and they have a bet?

“I’m sorry, did you ask me out on a date?” I whisper.

“Yes. I want to take you out to dinner tonight, and I’m not good with taking no for an answer. So, with that being said, what time are you done here?” He’s completely caught me off guard.

Tonight? Wow! He’s serious. Crap! I have nothing to wear. Where is he going to take me? There aren’t that many restaurants in town. He can’t pick me up at the trailer, either. No, this is just not going to work. But those eyes! They remind me of pictures of the sea in Greece I once saw in a magazine. They’re the deepest blue, precarious, deadly almost, and full of mischief. As soon as I start to look away, my eyes dart back to him. When our gazes connect, for a brief second the world stops around me. There’s a commotion going on between two of the customers behind me and yet he and I are alone in our own little world. Looking into his eyes, and not turning away, I see desire and a sensual need that bores into me and touches my soul. No one has ever looked at me this way.

“I…” My thoughts are too fuzzy. I don’t know how to respond. He must be joking. I mean, really? Me? I can’t go out with him. There’s no question. This isn’t happening. The bell dings, which means an order is ready for pick up.

“I’ll pick you up around six. Nothing fancy, just dinner.”

My head’s a jumbled-up mess. Just dinner? Swallowing hard, I hesitate before answering him. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you want me to go to dinner with you? This makes no sense whatsoever.” There must be something more to this. This type of guy does not want to go out with someone like me.

“This makes more sense than anything I’ve done today, and I spent almost five million dollars. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I want to spend time with you. It would be my honor to take you out to dinner.” Standing in front of him, I’m stunned—or in shock. The bell dings, this time twice, with the cook yelling out my name.

“My… my order is ready,” I stutter, walking off in a fog. What the hell? Yes, I’ve been hit on before by customers. Yet, this is totally different. This guy is serious! His arrogance, however, is starting to piss me off. I grab my order and walk past him, delivering the food to a couple in the booth in front of him. I feel him intently watching my every move. I have the impression he can see right through my jeans and t-shirt. I can feel every one of my nerve endings tingle.

After I deliver the order and walk by him, he lightly grabs my arm, looking up at me again. His touch sends a shiver through me, stopping me dead in my tracks. “Either tonight or another night this week. I’m very persistent, Scarlett, and I will come in every day until you say yes. If I must come in here and order everything on the menu, I will.”

His smoldering looks and demanding words have me feeling sensual and ticked off at the same time. Laughing at him, and still not taking him seriously, I walk away to wait on other customers filling the booths and tables. I’m so enamored by this man, concentrating on my job is an issue. I hadn’t noticed customers holding up their cups in a plea for more coffee.

I see he is gulping his coffee and then holds up his cup in the signal he needs more. Pouring him more coffee, he pleads his case even more.

“Tonight would be an excellent night for dinner, Scarlett. The weather is perfect and, since you’re working now, you must have the evening off. I’ll make reservations.” He holds up his phone and shakes it around.

How full of himself is he? Is he psychotic? Will he kidnap me? Would that be a bad thing, if he did? My head takes over, telling me this isn’t a good idea, even if my body is telling me something else.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m sorry, I can’t. I have too much to do tonight and…”

“No. You don’t have anything to do tonight. Spend the evening with me.” His voice runs over my skin, causing me to have goosebumps. He gazes at me seriously, but I don’t appreciate him telling me what I’m going to do.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I have a job to do and other customers to take care of. And how the hell would you know what I have to do tonight? Thanks for the offer, but no thanks! See that girl back there staring at us through the kitchen window? She’s a sure bet. Ask her out. You won’t even have to take her to dinner anywhere expensive.” Walking away before I give in to the urge to punch him, I hurriedly make my way back to the kitchen. Marisa is smiling away. I have had it with her today, as well.

“Well, does he want me?”

I huff out an exasperated sigh, tired of this guy and the attention he’s causing. “Go for it, Marisa. He’s an A1 jackass.”

Making fresh coffee, I try to ignore the distraction in booth D. His attitude pissed me off by demanding I go out with him. Telling me I will. I’m offended he thinks I have nothing better to do when I leave here. Come on…. He’s hot, but who does he think he is?

When I look out at the dining area his eyes are still on me. What is with this guy? I don’t like to be told what to do, and just because he’s in here looking rich and handsome doesn’t mean I will drop to my knees ready to service him.

“Here, take him coffee. You can have him!” Marisa pushes her breasts up, smiles, and happily grabs the coffee pot, sauntering out to his table. Watching as they exchange words, he puts his hand over his cup. Good, he must have taken the hint and is leaving. Two more customers come in and I walk over to wait on them with a forced smile. Three more hours left, and I can get the hell out of here.

Marisa stops me. “I’ll wait on them. He only wants you to bring him coffee. Apparently, he’s smitten with you. Lucky bitch!” Glancing over, I notice Emma talking to a regular and laughing. She glances at Marisa and me, sensing something is up. Grabbing the coffee and making my way over to him, I can’t help but roll my eyes. Not saying a word to me, he looks up, gleaming with satisfaction.

“What is your problem? Can’t you take a hint?” I whisper, pouring his coffee.

“My problem is I can’t take my eyes off you. I’m a businessman, Scarlett. I get whatever I want, whenever I want it. Taking no for an answer isn’t an option for me. No, I’m not crazy, nor do I have any ulterior motives other than having dinner with you tonight. One dinner is all I ask. Then I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. I will sit here all day until you agree.”

I hesitate, setting the coffee pot down on his table and staring off with my hands on my hips. Christ! One date. Should I? Is he serious he will sit here all day? Probably. Do I have anything else going on in my life right now? No. He’s right, I have nothing to do when I leave here. If it’s only one night, what’s it going to hurt?

“Okay. I’ll go to dinner with you tonight.”

“I made a reservation for six. Where should I pick you up?”

“Pick me up here.” Not even knowing what I just said, growing dizzy, I blink hard to help focus. He sips the last of his coffee, grabs the bag containing his chowder, slides to the end of the booth, and stands up. He towers over me as I look up at him.

“See, that wasn’t so hard. The coffee was delicious. I can’t wait to try this hot chowder. I’ll be here at precisely six, looking forward to a wonderful evening with you, Scarlett.” He winks at me, pulls cash from his wallet, and throws it on the table. For the first time, I maintain eye contact with him and don’t look away. I don’t want to look away. Gazing at him takes me to another place. A place of happiness and comfort and an escape out of the hell I live in. If he wants to take me out for a night, what could it hurt?

“Keep the change. Your friend is right. My name is Hugh Cruz. She’s hysterical by the way. I heard everything she said.” Glancing down on the table, I see he left a hundred-dollar bill. Quickly in my head I figure out this is a $90.00 tip. Holy shit! He doesn’t turn around as I watch him walk out.

Marisa runs up to me. “What did he say?”

I can’t believe what just happened and what I’d agreed to. Hesitating, and still staring at the door, I tell her, “He asked me out for tonight. No, he told me I’m going out with him tonight.”

“Holy hell.”

My feet feel cemented to the floor as I continue to stare. Holy hell is right. This kind of thing is something you see on a movie screen or read in a book. This doesn’t happen to a girl from Cutler.

Unbroken by Kimberly Croft is available now from Genius Books.
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