Hopefully, he hadn’t fucked that up by sleeping with her. Despite Sandy’s support for the idea and Church’s subsequent assurances that Sandy was good people, they’d yet to hear anything on the public town meeting. Small-town bureaucratic wheels often turned slowly, Heff knew, but Sumneyville seemed even slower than most.
That was the only reason he’d felt compelled to drop by the township building last week. Sandy hadn’t been there, and the slightly muddled, purple-haired woman with cat’s-eye glasses and drawn-on eyebrows hadn’t known anything about the request.
On the positive side, several of the permits they’d applied for had been granted, allowing them to move forward with a few things, like digging ditches for new electrical lines and exploratory drilling for two new wells. On the downside, getting subcontractors out to the site was still proving difficult, which meant they had to do much of the work themselves. At least the backbreaking labor kept his mind off of other things.
Mostly.
As it turned out, the woman who got out of Smoke’s Jeep wasn’t Sandy, which was both a relief and a disappointment. Heff didn’t recognize her, but given his teammate’s innate sense of chivalry, Heff figured it had to be the woman Smoke had been looking out for in town. But why was he bringing her here?
Heff didn’t eavesdrop intentionally, but their voices carried easily in the quiet of the morning.
“Are you sure about this, Steve?” she was saying.
“Yeah, of course,” Smoke answered unconvincingly, making Heff cringe. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I’m not sure I should be here. I feel like an intruder.” She shrugged, looking every bit as uncomfortable as Smoke did, and yet there was something there. Something more than neighborly.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You offered to help, remember? You should at least have some idea what you’re getting into before you commit.”
The woman turned back to Smoke and gazed up at him. Heff watched from the shadows with growing interest. Smoke had feelings for the woman, and she for him—that was obvious—but they were both fighting it.
“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it,” she said, her voice softer than it had been.
“What if it turns out to be more than you bargained for?” Smoke pressed.
Heff had a feeling they weren’t talking about the Sanctuary anymore.
She spoke slowly, as if carefully choosing her words, “Despite the last few days, I’m not some fragile flower. I appreciate the concern, but it’s not necessary.”
“I know it’s not necessary. But that’s what neighbors do, right? They look out for each other.”
The woman stiffened ever so slightly. Heff caught the small movement because, as a sniper, he had been trained to notice those kinds of things. Even the smallest change in body language could be used to predict what would come next. Smoke though was too caught up in his own head to pick up on it.
Poor bastard. He had it bad for her.
She turned away again, looking off into the distance. Then, her lips curled into a small, enigmatic smile. “Yes, that’s what neighbors do. And not that you need it, but for as long as you’re around, know that I’ll have your back too. So, do I get a tour or what?”
Oblivious, Smoke reached for her hand, but she tucked her hands into her pockets and turned toward the manor house, pretending she hadn’t seen it. Heff winced in silent sympathy. Smoke was a good guy but perhaps not the smoothest operator.
“Hey, Smoke! It’s about time you got your fucking lazy ass up here,” Mad Dog called, emerging from the main building. “Oh, apologies, ma’am. Didn’t see you there.”
Rather than be offended, she smiled. “No apology necessary. I’m Sam. Steve was telling me about what you guys are doing here, and I practically begged him to let me tag along. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Sam? As in the Sam who’s been providing us with that nectar of the gods every morning?”
“That’s me,” she said, a slight rose blush rising in her cheeks at the compliment.
According to Smoke, she managed a local coffee shop in town, and Smoke had taken to stopping there every morning for coffee and doughnuts to bring to the site. They were good, but they all suspected that wasn’t why Smoke had added the stop to his daily routine.
In fact, Smoke seemed to be the only one buying his own line of bullshit these days. When a guy puffed up like that at the approach of another man, it was a clear back off; she’s mine message. Apparently, Smoke’s receiver was having trouble picking up the signals his own brain was sending.
Heff moved forward from the shadows. Time to help a brother out.
He sauntered up to Sam, took her hand in his, and raised it to his lips. “These guys call me Heff, but you can call me anything you want.”
She blushed.
Smoke stepped up, put his hand on Heff’s shoulder, and gave him a shove. “Knock it off, Casanova.”
“Sorry, beautiful lady,” Heff said, affecting a half-bow. “Didn’t know you were spoken for.”
“I’m not,” she said quickly. “Steve and I are just neighbors.”
Uh-huh.
It appeared as if she was every bit as stubborn as the big, quiet guy currently tensed up like a tightly wound spring next to her.
Heff’s grin grew wider before he held out his arm. “In that case, allow me to introduce you to everyone and show you around.”
“I was just about to do that,” Smoke growled, stepping even closer to her.
Heff hid his smile. Mission accomplished.
Church emerged from the building then, probably just as curious about the fact that Smoke had brought a woman with him.
“Matt? Matt Winston?” the newcomer gaped.
Church stopped a few feet away, his expression cautiously neutral as he searched for reference.
“My grandparents had a bakery,” the woman continued, more animated now. “We used to provide some of the breads and baked goods for the resort. Even made a lot of the cakes for special occasions.”
Church’s eyes widened in recognition while everyone else watched with growing interest, especially Smoke. “Sammy Appelhoff? Little Sammy?”
When she nodded, Church smiled and pulled her into a hug, surprising them all. Church was so serious most of the time, rarely showing any kind of emotion. Of course, with everything the guy was dealing with these days, he didn’t have a lot of reason to be happy.
She laughed too. “Not so little anymore.”
Church set her down and held her back to look at her. “I’ll say.”
Heff glanced at Smoke. His expression was neutral, but his jaw was clenched, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides.
She laughed again, stepping back to look him up and down too. “Looks like you’ve done some growing of your own. When Steve told me about what you guys were doing, I didn’t realize he was talking about you. Someday, you’ll have to explain to me how you got the nickname Church because, from what I remember, you were no choir boy.”
Mad Dog chuckled and looked away.
Church didn’t bother denying her statement, changing the subject instead. “So, you’re Smoke’s neighbor, huh? I had no idea you were still around. How are your grandparents? Do they still have that bakery on Second Street? You wanted to take over the business, yeah?”
Heff wondered if Sam knew Sandy but tamped down the urge to ask. Wasn’t his business, and he didn’t care.
“I can’t believe you remember that,” she was saying. “But no. They passed when I was still in college.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, Sammy. They were good people.”
She nodded. “Your family was good people too, Matt. It was awful, what happened.”
A shadow fell over Church’s face while the others looked on in interest. Church didn’t speak of it, and out of respect, they didn’t ask. That hadn’t stopped Cage from doing a bit of sleuthing online and sharing the basics with the others. Their trust in Church and his vision was absolute, but th
ey all felt better, knowing a little bit about what they were dealing with, and this way, Church didn’t have to talk about it.
“Bring it in, guys,” Church called, beckoning with his hand. “Come meet an old friend of mine.”
Church introduced each of them in turn.
When Church turned to Heff, he smiled and said, “We’ve already met.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Church mumbled, shooting him a warning look.
Heff grinned back at him.
“Guys, this is Sammy. Or do you prefer Samantha now?”
“Sam works.”
“Sam it is. Do you have time to hang around for a while, or do you have to get back right away?”
“I have some time, and I’d love to have a look around, if that’s okay.”
“Of course. If you give me a minute to rinse off, I’ll give you the grand tour.”
Beside her, Smoke stiffened again and opened his mouth to say something, but Sam cut him off. “I’d like that. It’ll give us a chance to catch up.”
Church and Sam wandered off. Heff turned to get back to work, only to find Smoke in his face.
“What the fuck was that all about?”
“Just trying to help.”
“I don’t need any help. And stay the fuck away from Sam.”
Heff held his hands up. “No worries, man.”
Smoke snorted and stalked off.
Doc gave a low whistle. “Man, he’s got it bad.”
“Yeah, he does,” Heff agreed. “She likes him too.”
Doc frowned. “I don’t know if Smoke is ready for that.”
“He is,” Heff said confidently.
“And you know this because ...”
“Because I’ve got a working pair of eyes and a sense for these kinds of things. She’s good for him.”
Mad Dog joined in the discussion. “Yeah? Then, how come you were baiting Smoke like that?”
“Because he can’t see it.”
“You’re a regular fucking Cupid, aren’t you?” joked Cage.
“Yep, that’s me. Now, make yourself useful and go grab a sledgehammer. We need to get those inner walls in the west wing open, so we know what we’re dealing with.”
Chapter Seven
Sandy
Sandy awoke the same way she had for the last couple of days—overtired and with an annoying, unsatisfied ache in her core. She huffed and got out of bed, already irritated and the day had only just begun.
Before him, she used to have dreams of acquiring A-list accounts, a corner office in a downtown high-rise, and an apartment overlooking Central Park. She still did, but now those dreams also included him coming to her private office and locking the door for a one-on-one meeting. Or showing up at her swanky place, unannounced, and them having hot wall sex because they couldn’t keep their hands, lips, tongues, and other body parts away from each other long enough to make it to the bedroom.
It wasn’t the dreams she minded so much as the inability to see them to the end. Thus far, every scene had ended abruptly because she’d woken herself up with her own moans.
She brushed her teeth with more force than necessary, splashed cold water on her face, then scowled at the mirror, silently willing that flushed, just-had-sex glow to fade. She hadn’t just had sex, but those erotic dreams were hot enough to be damn close. Perhaps because they weren’t based solely on her imagination.
As for the dark circles, they came from lack of sleep. When she wasn’t dreaming of hot desk and wall sex, she was tossing and turning, trying to figure out what she was going to do. In less than a week, she was scheduled to start her new job at Metzgar and Fitz.
She tossed on some yoga pants and a baggy T-shirt and went on a quest for caffeine, stopping short in the doorway when she saw Kevin already there. After seven days, it wasn’t as much of a shock as it had been initially.
Kevin sat quietly at the table, fully dressed, face washed, hair combed neatly to the side, wielding a spoon. A box of Cheerios and a jar of peanut butter sat in front of him along with a reusable water bottle. Just like every other morning, a heavy canvas backpack was strapped to his shoulders, the kind one might find in an Army surplus store. At his feet was the worn duffel that contained exactly six pairs of underwear, six white T-shirts, six striped polos, six pairs of socks, and six pairs of Dockers.
Sandy knew this because, yesterday, she’d found him standing in front of her washing machine, naked. That was when she learned that Kevin had exactly seven days’ worth of outfits and had run out.
She watched in quiet fascination as he dipped the spoon in the peanut butter and then pressed the resulting glob into the box of cereal. When he pulled it back out, the cereal clung to the coated spoon, a perfect-sized mouthful. She’d offered him a bowl and milk the first few days, but he’d declined.
Her half-brother was quiet, docile, and cared for himself with a stark minimalism that made her heart ache. In some way, he reminded her of Trace. He’d never wanted to ask for anyone’s help either.
Sandy couldn’t help but wonder what Trace would have thought of Kevin. How he would have handled the situation had he still been around. She missed her older brother terribly but especially at times like these, when she felt so far out of her element.
She’d tried to start several conversations with Kevin, but he wasn’t much of a talker. She hadn’t pushed, foolishly believing that he wouldn’t be around for very long for it to matter.
She should have known better.
It had been a week since her father walked out the door, swearing that he’d only be gone a few days. Part of her wanted to believe that he would be back, just as he’d said, and that it was just taking longer than expected, but in her gut, she knew.
He wasn’t coming back. And she should have listened to her instincts instead of her heart.
Kevin hadn’t figured it out yet though. He continued to get up every morning, dress, and pack as if he was waiting for their father to walk through the door at any moment.
Does he really believe that, she wondered, or is it just wishful thinking on his part?
With a sigh, Sandy moved into the kitchen and toward the coffeemaker and the fresh pot of coffee it held, thankful she’d gone with the deluxe model with the digital set-ahead timer option.
“Good morning, Kevin.”
He didn’t answer.
She pulled the biggest mug she had out of the cupboard and filled it nearly to the top, allowing just enough space for her favorite flavored creamer, and then she sat down at the table. Kevin’s gaze remained down, though he’d stopped eating.
“Kevin, we need to talk.”
He paused and put the spoon down. He didn’t look at her, choosing instead to stare at the table in front of him.
“Have you heard from Dad?”
He shook his head.
“Neither have I. And that’s a problem because I’m moving to the city in a few days, and we’ve got to figure out what we’re going to do. Is there anyone else you can stay with? An aunt or uncle? Grandparents? Friends? Neighbors?”
At each suggestion, Kevin shook his head, and Sandy felt her heart sink further. Surely, there had to be someone who could help. The clock was ticking.
Long minutes passed in awkward silence. Kevin checked his watch and then closed up his box of cereal and his jar of peanut butter. After dutifully washing and drying his spoon, he picked up his duffel and moved into the living room where, if today was like the ones before it, he’d wait patiently for his father to come pick him up.
Sandy dropped her face into her hands and exhaled heavily. She didn’t want to be the one to tell Kevin that their father was a selfish, lying bastard who only thought of himself.
A soft knock sounded at the back door. Sandy looked up to find Lenny there. She invited him in. He was freshly showered and dressed in the tan uniform of the Sumneyville PD.
He waved his hand toward the coffeepot. “Do you mind?”
“Help yourself,” she told him.
He ambled to the counter, grabbed a mug, and poured himself a cup. “Is he in there?” he asked quietly, inclining his head toward the living room.
“Yes.” She sighed. “He really believes my father’s coming back.”
Lenny leaned back against the counter. “Maybe he will,” he suggested unconvincingly.
“History suggests he won’t.”
“People can change.”
Sandy snorted. “Maybe some people do, but my father’s not one of them. He’s the same self-serving prick he’s always been.”
Lenny tilted his head to the side. “If you believe that, then why did you agree to let Kevin stay?”
“Because maybe a part of me had hoped ...” She shook her head. “A really stupid part. But it’s been a week, Len, and we both know he’s not coming. What the hell am I supposed to do, huh? I should be on my way to New York right now, getting settled into my new place, preparing for my new job. You know, the one I’ve been working my ass off to get for the last ten years?”
Lenny sipped his coffee and avoided her eyes. “I don’t know, Sandy. Maybe this is fate’s way of keeping you around.”
Another snort. “No, Len. My dream job in the city is fate’s way of making up for all the crappy stuff it’s already dumped on me. Stuff which, by the way, is also my father’s fault. This is ... well, I don’t know what this is, other than a hot mess.” She looked up at him hopefully. “No luck tracking him down?”
Lenny shook his head.
“Goddamn it!” She slapped her palm on the table in frustration, keeping her voice low so Kevin wouldn’t hear. “I am not going to let him screw this up for me.”
“You’ve got a couple more days.”
“Yeah.” But in her heart, she already knew it wasn’t going to be enough.
Chapter Eight
Sandy
He wasn’t coming back.
The truth was a heavy stone in the pit of her stomach, growing larger every day. Those “few days” had turned into a week, then two, and all attempts to reach her father had gone unanswered. She couldn’t even leave increasingly desperate voice mails on the number he’d given her anymore because the box was full.
Best Laid Plans: Sanctuary, Book Two Page 4
