by Neesa Hart
But it wasn’t enough. Sam wanted her to look at him, her eyes bright with passion, her lips slightly parted, her fingers trembling and her heart racing. He wanted her to feel the same gut-clenching need he felt as he watched her. Until this morning, he wasn’t certain it could ever happen.
If he’d had any doubts, she’d erased them when she launched into that ludicrous little speech about not letting their relationship go to their heads.
He nearly told her then that she’d been in his head since the day they’d met. He’d been gambling he could get Molly to admit that her frustration with him in editorial meetings had little to do with his direction for the Sentinel, and a lot to do with the tug of physical attraction they’d both been battling. Though he would have preferred to avoid the spectacle she’d caused with that damned ad, it had given him the opening he’d needed to pursue her. He’d had a hell of a time avoiding his sister’s and sister-in-law’s questions this week in Boston, but he’d managed to extricate himself with a minimal hassle.
This morning’s conversation had been eye-opening. Molly, he sensed, was the kind of woman who liked to control her relationships. She chose men who didn’t push her buttons. She found strays, took them in, cleaned them up, and turned them loose without ever suffering even a twinge of remorse.
No wonder he made her so nervous, he thought with a dry grin. His attention was drawn by the sound of Molly’s voice carrying above the cheering crowd. Her duck was losing badly in the opening heat of the day-long event. She should have taken his advice when she’d insisted on picking the scraggiest-looking duck from the pen. He dropped his empty coffee cup in a wastebasket and headed for Molly.
“Run!” she yelled at her duck as she waved her arms toward the finish line. “Run!”
Sam joined her at the fence and slid an arm around her waist. “I think it’s a lost cause.”
She gave him a sharp look. “It’s never a lost cause, Sam.”
He tipped his head toward the field where the ducks were weaving their way across open grass toward a pile of corn which formed a makeshift finish line. Molly’s duck didn’t seem particularly interested in the feed. The duck races, Sam had learned, were conducted at several levels and heats. Local farmers had ducks available for sponsorship for people like Molly who wanted to compete but didn’t have a duck of their own. The big event took place later in the day when competitors who had raised and trained their own ducks competed in a multi-heat event. The rest of the festival tents housed music, concessions and some agricultural interest exhibits which helped disperse the large crowd over the expansive fair grounds. “It’s a scrawny duck,” Sam told Molly. “I told you not to pick a scrawny duck.”
“You don’t always have to be—”
“Molly?” A soft voice attracted Sam’s attention. He glanced over his shoulder to find an auburn-haired woman with two children in tow watching them with avid curiosity. “We’ve been looking for you all morning.”
“Aunt Molly!” The youngest of the two children raced forward and hurled her small body at Molly.
“Hiya, sprout,” Molly said as she scooped up the child. She smiled at the woman. “Colleen. I didn’t expect you guys to come this early.” She nodded her head toward Sam. “This is Sam Reed.”
Colleen gave Sam a probing look. “I guessed.”
“This is my sister, Colleen,” Molly said. She indicated the older child. “This is my niece, Megan, and this—” she hugged the child in her arms closer “—is Kelly.”
“Aunt Molly,” Kelly demanded. “Dad’s gonna get me a baby duck for the kid races.”
Molly looked at Megan who was clinging to her mother’s hand and staring at Sam. “What about you, Megan? Are you going to get a duck, too?”
Megan shook her head. Red curls bounced against her round cheeks. Kelly made a disgusted sound. “Megan’s chicken.”
Megan gave her sister a belligerent look. “Am not.”
“Are, too.”
“Am not!”
“Girls!” Colleen said sharply. “Stop it.”
Kelly patted Molly’s shoulder. “Dad says if you’re gonna get a duck, you gotta pick it up. Megan doesn’t wanna.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m scared,” Megan insisted.
“Enough.” Colleen said with a maternal authority that effectively squelched the budding argument. “If Megan doesn’t want a duck, I can’t say I blame her. Molly’s the only member of this family who’s ever been willing to handle one.” She glanced at Sam. “Sorry to subject you to this. I’m sure you had other plans for the day.”
He shook his head. “I’ve got siblings. I’m used to it.” He extended a hand to her. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” She glanced at Molly. “I’m a little surprised.”
“I’ll bet,” Molly drawled. A loud cheer from the crowd signaled the end of the race. Molly looked at the field to discover her duck still lingering by the outside fence. “I lost,” she said unnecessarily.
Kelly leaned forward to look at Molly’s duck. “It’s a skinny duck.”
Sam turned to Molly with smug satisfaction. “See?”
She glared at him. “Cute.”
Colleen was watching the exchange with keen intent. “Er, Molly, are you planning on joining us all for lunch?”
Molly nodded. “Of course. There’s no way I’m going to miss Mama’s chicken salad. She only makes it once a year.”
Kelly looked at Sam. “Is he coming, too?”
“Yes.”
Kelly grinned. “Mama says he’s your boyfriend.”
Colleen blushed. Sam laughed. Molly shook her head. “You should know by now, Colleen, that they will tell me everything.”
“We had a long conversation at dinner last night about the ad.”
“I’m sure you did,” Molly told her.
“They were excited about seeing you today.”
“I’m surprised you’re here this early. You usually come with Mama and Dad in time for lunch.”
“We came early so Todd could arrange for Kelly’s duck,” Colleen explained.
“I’m getting a fat one,” the younger child stated. “Not a skinny one like yours.”
Molly shook her head. “There’s nothing wrong with skinny ducks, Kel.”
“’Cept they lose,” Kelly stated bluntly. Sam crossed his arms and leaned one hip against the fence. Molly frowned at him. “Smugness is unbecoming.”
“You just can’t stand it when I’m right.”
She rolled her eyes and looked at Colleen. “So are you staying for the rest of the morning?”
“I don’t think so. It’s hard on the girls.”
Molly lowered Kelly to the ground. “I understand.”
Colleen turned to Sam. “You’re welcome to join us for lunch, Sam.”
“It’ll be a little wild,” Molly assured him. “My niece Katie is turning five this week, so we usually have the family celebration the day of the duck races.”
Colleen added, “We’d love to have you. Everyone’s eager to meet you.”
He could well imagine. “I’m planning on it,” Sam assured Colleen. Molly’s audible groan gave him undue satisfaction.
TWO HOURS LATER, Sam and Molly crested a small hill and stepped straight into what had once been Sam’s personal idea of paradise. Before he lived with Edward Reed’s family, his mother had moved from one place to the next, living off credit, charity, and cunning. The large, wealthy Reed family had provided Sam with a sense of stability, but he’d never enjoyed the unconditional support and love of family except from his two half siblings and, to his continued surprise, from his stepmother.
Never feeling he completely belonged to the world of the Reeds, Sam had turned inward, developing a strong sense of self and independence. The only birthday party he’d ever had was the one he’d thrown for himself when he was six years old. Three alley cats and a stray dog had come to share a honey bun he’d swiped from the corner market. Though the Reeds h
ad taken him in and treated him well, they’d never been big on celebrations. That was why, he’d reasoned long ago, his half sister loved planning weddings. They gave her something to anticipate.
And after what he’d gone through this past week, he thought bitterly as he surveyed the scene before him. The stark reality of the difference between his life and Molly’s made him feel as if he’d been hit head-on by a freight train.
In his childhood dreams, birthdays had looked like this. Green and orange crepe paper colorfully wrapped the trunks of the large oaks near the expanse of lawn where the Flynns had gathered for lunch. The lawn was dotted with blankets and baskets where other families had climbed the rise to take a break from the crowds and the noise of the festival during the height of the day. Someone had tied helium balloons in clusters to several low-lying shrubs. The sounds of childish laughter carried above the low rumble of the crowd noise.
Sam hadn’t understood until recently why Taylor’s plans for his own birthday next week were making him feel so squeamish, but looking over the festive scene of Molly’s family made his stomach clench and his mood sour. Molly had made it clear that morning that she expected an explanation for his whereabouts last week. She deserved one.
And having seen this, he wondered how in the hell he was supposed to tell her when he knew his answers would shock, and probably disgust her.
Deliberately, he shoved aside the grim thoughts and forced himself to concentrate on the moment at hand.
After meeting Colleen, Molly and Sam had spent the morning circulating among the burgeoning crowds at the duck races. Sam had taken his share of good-natured ribbing over Molly’s personal ad, and she handled the jibes and soft barbs with effortless grace. The only tense moment had come when they’d encountered Fred Cobell and his wife near the VIP tent. Cobell had given Sam a bitter look and said, “So, Reed, decided to see how the rest of us live?”
Sam slung a casual arm across Molly’s shoulder. “Molly is showing me around.”
Cobell’s gaze shifted to Molly. “I’ve got a friend at the county clerk’s office. She says you were asking some questions over there yesterday.”
Molly nodded. “Just doing my job, Mayor. The Sentinel is going to cover the transportation hub development as comprehensively as we can.”
“It’s big news,” Sam added.
Cobell’s eyes had narrowed. “It’s the best thing to happen to this town in a long time. The economic benefits are enormous.”
“That’s why the Sentinel is covering it,” Sam said, non-committal.
The mayor crossed his arms over his ample chest and looked down his narrow nose at Molly. “Don’t go looking for trouble, Molly,” he said, his warning clear.
Molly raised an eyebrow. “Do you think there’s trouble to be found?”
The mayor ignored her question. He gave Sam a knowing smirk. “You know, Reed, if you were this determined to learn what small-town life is like, you could have asked me. I’m sure we could have arranged something more, er, accommodating for you.”
Though he could have been talking about Sam’s attendance at the duck races, his badly veiled reference to Molly was unmistakable. Sam had to squelch a biting retort. Instead, he gave Cobell a glacial look and replied, “I like to make my own choices. It’s more gratifying.”
Cobell’s wife was pulling on his arm, urging him toward the VIP tent. He gave Sam a final glance and muttered, “Carl told me you’re committed to bringing some changes to the Sentinel, Reed. I’m counting on that.”
As Cobell followed his wife through the entrance of the VIP tent, Molly gave Sam a speculative look. “I don’t like him,” she said. “I’ve never liked him.”
“Me neither,” Sam told her. “But right now, he’s useful. Investigating this story is going to get a lot tougher if he quits giving us access to information.”
Molly nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true enough,” she concurred. “But don’t you think that association with me is going to make him suspicious? You didn’t miss his innuendo, did you?”
“You mean the part about experiencing small-town life with you being messy?”
“Unaccommodating,” she said. “Not messy. I’m sure Fred Cobell thinks you’re an idiot for putting up with me.”
“Yeah. I caught that.”
“He meant it as a threat, you know. He’s not going to trust you as much as he did before. He’s resented me since his first election bid.”
“It may shock you to hear this, Molly, but Fred Cobell doesn’t even register on my radar screen when I make decisions. I’ve got other priorities.”
That had effectively closed the subject. It had taken Sam a while to shake his lingering bad mood, but Molly had goaded him out of it by introducing him to the town’s blue ribbon winners in the festival’s culinary tent. Sam had tasted enough assorted pies and confections to put him on a sugar high. Molly laughed at him when he’d told her that, indicating her plan had been to dull his senses with chocolate and sweets before she exposed him to her family.
Now, as they crested the rise, Sam took in the festive scene with trepidation. On their way up the hill, Molly had explained that her father was part owner of the large cranberry farm that bordered the fairgrounds. Most of the families and their employees in the ownership group used the hill’s vantage point to pull away from the large crowd and the fairgrounds during the noon hour. Molly’s entire family—all four sisters, their husbands, their kids, and her parents—would be present for the birthday gathering.
The thought made Sam nervous.
Molly’s chief concern about his proposition earlier in the week had been breaking the news to her family. She was close to them, he knew, and she wouldn’t be comfortable deceiving them. As far as Sam was concerned, the only duplicity about their relationship was the insinuation that Molly’s ad had been a simple lover’s quarrel. But Molly, he knew, was struggling with both her pride and her inherent openness. For weeks she’d been expressing her frustrations with him to her family and friends. She’d have to swallow her pride now and let them believe that she’d been involved with him.
Sam was anxious to see how she handled it.
“Sam?” Molly laid a hand on his sleeve.
“Hmm?”
Her head tipped in the direction of a large maple tree where blankets were spread with a mind-boggling quantity of food. “Incoming maternal unit. You’re on.”
“What?”
“My mother,” she clarified. Sam glanced at the tree. A plump woman, gray-haired and pleasant-faced, bustled toward them. Clad in a simple blue dress and wiping her hands on a dish towel, she had a warm smile and her daughter’s intelligent gaze.
“Molly.” She dried her hands as she hurried toward them. “You are late.” The smile in her eyes undermined the severity of the rebuke. “Working too hard again, no doubt. What is there to learn at the duck races that you don’t already know?”
With a warm laugh, Molly embraced her mother. “It’s different every year, Mom. And you know it. Stop nagging.”
“Katie was worried you wouldn’t come.”
“Katie knows better,” she told her. Her mother released her and looked at Sam. “This is the reason you’re late?” she asked.
Sam grinned at her. “Guilty. This is my first duck races festival. Molly was showing me around.” He extended his hand. “I’m Sam Reed.”
Molly’s mother took his hand in both of hers. “I’m Fiona Flynn.”
Sam glanced at Molly as he squeezed Fiona’s hand. She was worrying her lower lip with her teeth. He tossed his arm around her shoulders. “Thanks for letting me come this afternoon, Fiona. I know it’s a family affair.”
“Hah—the boys will be glad to have you.” Fiona’s eyes sparkled like her daughter’s. “My husband and my daughters’ husbands always complain about the ratio.” She dropped his hand and beamed at Molly. “Besides, after Monday’s paper, everyone’s been dying to meet him.” She clucked her tongue. “You’ve been avoiding phon
e calls.”
“Mom, it’s not—”
Fiona shook her head. “Never mind. I’m just glad you’re here.” She looped her arm through Sam’s. “My girls tell me you’ve been in Payne several weeks. Is that so?”
He felt Molly’s shoulders tense, so he gave her a slight squeeze before he dropped his arm. This was going better than he’d hoped. Colleen had been warm and accepting that morning, and now he seemed to have won over Fiona. The rest of the family couldn’t be far behind. “I guess it has been a while,” he said. “I haven’t been counting.” He slanted Molly a warm look. “I’ve had other things on my mind.”
Fiona chuckled. “I suppose you have.”
“Molly has a way of distracting me,” he admitted.
Molly muttered something beneath her breath. If she could get away with it, he was guessing, she’d like to kick him in the shin. As far as he was concerned, however, the price she was paying for that personal ad was nothing compared to the intense grilling he’d taken from his family yesterday.
“Aunt Molly!”
A green-and-orange bundle of energy came racing across the lawn and hurled herself into Molly’s arms. With a warm laugh, she picked the child up and spun her around. “Katie-Did. How does it feel to be five?”
“Better’n four,” Katie assured her. Clad in a green sweater and orange jeans, her little body crackled with animation. Her pale hair lay in two neat braids, each threaded with multicolored ribbons. She wore a blue beaded necklace. Purple high-top sneakers completed the outrageous ensemble.
Molly dropped a kiss to her forehead before she set her down. “No kidding?”
Katie held fast to Molly’s hand. “Yeah. I got a tractor.”
Molly laughed. “A tractor? Isn’t that a little big for you?”
“It’s a little tractor.” Katie gave Sam a curious look.
“Oh, I see,” Molly assured her.
From behind the house, a woman who looked like an older, pregnant version of Molly made her way toward them. She was extremely pregnant, he noted, unsure why the sudden realization bothered him. He compared the emerging dynamics here with his last family gathering, Ben and Amy’s wedding reception. His sister, who had planned countless weddings—including the five of her own she’d called off—had insisted on having the reception at the yacht club. The only people who’d felt more out of place than Sam were Amy and her parents.
