You Again

by Ashlee Mallory

“I hope you haven’t forgotten Jared’s welcome home party tomorrow,” Laney reminded her as it closed behind him.

  “Crap. I nearly forgot. What time is it, again?”

  “It’s an open house between one and three, but you should try to be there by one, at the latest. Mom wants pictures, and Dad is counting on you being there since he missed seeing you at the airport. He’s doing much better, but he’s still a little weak. And the kids would hate to miss you, as would Jared…” Her sister was obviously laying on the guilt so Allie couldn’t wiggle out of going.

  Outside, Sam’s car door slammed shut, and the engine came to life.

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t coming.” Before Laney could bring up any more family drama, Allie waved her into the living room. “Come sit down, already. I was about to have some pizza. Hungry?”

  Laney tossed down her purse and peered out the window at Sam’s car as he drove away. “So what’s the real deal? What’s going on between you two? Surely, you’re not falling for the guy all over again, are you?”

  Allie sighed. “No. I told you. He really did save my life.” She relayed the story about being trapped in the basement with the fire raging. By the end, Sam may have earned a brownie point or two with her sister for his valiant efforts.

  Laney hrumphed anyway. “Still. Don’t think you owe him more than gratitude. I saw how he was looking at you.”

  Allie straightened. “How was he looking at me?” Crap. That came out more desperate than she’d intended.

  “See! I knew it. You still like him!” Laney burst out. “Why else would you care how he was looking at you?”

  She had her there. Even so…was Laney only saying that to test Allie’s feelings? Or had she really noticed Sam looking at her in a special way? Lord knew, he hadn’t said a word about being interested in her during the time they were in the archives. He’d been as reticent as ever, until the fire.

  But she couldn’t deny the easy camaraderie they’d shared tonight, afterward. Thankfully, she hadn’t acted like a spaz or drooled on his arm. She’d been relaxed—or so she hoped—and in between catching her breath from the emotions that being in his presence caused, she had enjoyed his company. Had he felt the same?

  Laney was smirking, seeming to read her thoughts. Time to go on the offense here. She poked a finger at her sister. “Aren’t you supposed to be here to make me feel better? I almost died tonight.”

  “You’re right.” Laney’s thin shoulders sagged. “I’m only going to say one more thing on the subject.”

  Allie managed not to snort at the obvious lie. “Uh-huh.”

  “If you think my reaction to him was harsh, just imagine what you’ll hear from my mom if she gets wind that you and the infamous Sam Fratto are spending time together.”

  Allie winced. Unfortunately, she had a pretty good idea of the resulting furor.

  Armageddon came to mind.

  …

  Saturday morning dawned bright and early. Allie knew that because she’d spent the night reliving those moments in the basement and analyzing all the worst case scenarios. She didn’t think she’d slept more than five minutes total.

  Though she hadn’t discussed it with Sam or Laney, she was worried it hadn’t been an accident.

  But with the sun shining bright on her, Claire, and Molly as they watched the boys of St. Andrew’s varsity soccer team play East High, she was willing to push the dark thoughts aside and enjoy her morning.

  And the view. Again.

  She was glad she’d kept her sunglasses in her purse yesterday instead of dropping them on the seat of her car, which was still parked at the school. With the oversized shades perched on her nose, she could watch the field from behind the heavily tinted lenses, and no one could catch her ogling. At the magnificent, tight butt and strong, muscular thighs that every woman under eighty-three was admiring that morning.

  Who knew St. Andrew’s newest English teacher would have such a fine figure after so many years off the soccer field?

  Da-amn. He still could fill out a pair of shorts nicely.

  “Now that’s something I’d like to tap,” the copper-haired eighty-two year old seated at her right murmured with a leer.

  “Grandma,” Allie chastised in a hushed voice. As was usual for Saturday mornings during soccer season, the women had stretched out on a large blanket, watching the action. Much to the delight of the observing audience of females—mostly moms, but also a few of the female students—Sam was running a few drills with the boys before the start of the game.

  Had she mentioned he’d been on the varsity soccer team in high school?

  “What?” her grandmother protested innocently. “Hey, I’m old, not dead, and he’s got a booty I haven’t seen the likes of since Herbert Volkman took me ballroom dancing back in ‘94. And his was pretty spectacular, I can tell you. What I would give to be locked up in a basement with that fine specimen of a man—without the fire, of course. He’s single you say?” Molly asked, eying him speculatively. “You’d better get a move on, chickie.”

  “Sheesh. You sound like Peg.”

  “Bite your tongue. Just because I want to see my only granddaughter happy and in love doesn’t make me anything like that woman.” She returned her gaze to Sam’s posterior. “The babies you two would make? Mm-mm. And the baby-making wouldn’t be too bad either, what with those thighs—”

  “Got it, Gram,” Allie interrupted when a few amused faces turned their way. Claire cracked up, and Allie glared at her.

  Sam came to a halt along the edge of the soccer field and stood talking to Tim Allred, the head coach of the team and Janine’s long-time boyfriend, as though they were old friends.

  Wait. That’s right. Tim and Sam would have been on St. Andrew’s varsity soccer team around the same time. So they were old friends.

  Sam was wearing well-worn, cut-off navy blue sweatpants that hit just above his knees. Even from where Allie was sitting, she could see the sinewy muscles that rippled up his legs. He knew she was there, too—he’d waved at her when they arrived. But other than the informal greeting—if you could call it that—he hadn’t come over to say hello or see how she was doing.

  They had almost died together. You’d think the least he could do was ask how she was freaking doing the next day.

  “Where’s that boyfriend of yours, Claire?” Molly asked as the game got started with the opening kick. “Mike? Mitch?”

  “Rick,” Claire said, her attention on the game. She didn’t bother to clarify that Rick was her fiancé, as she usually did when Molly started in. “He had to fly to Chicago this morning for business.”

  Molly grunted and continued to watch the field. To say Molly wasn’t a fan of Rick was putting it mildly. Allie wasn’t all that impressed with the guy, herself. There was loving and caring about someone, being interested in what they did…and then there was obsession. Rick could come on pretty strong, and he seemed threatened by anyone who took Claire’s time that wasn’t him. Allie had considered talking about it with her friend, but with Molly as vocal as she was, she figured Claire had already heard it all. And she wasn’t exactly asking for opinions on the subject. So Allie had kept it to herself.

  “And what about you?” Molly asked and turned her perceptive brown eyes on Allie. “When are you going to get off the benches and put yourself out there?”

  Allie only shrugged, earning Molly’s snort of disapproval. “Hell. Youth is wasted on you girls. What you both need is a mind-blowing orgasm with a hot, virile guy.”

  Claire spewed her soda.

  Molly pretended not to notice and chugged her coffee—which Allie was certain was heavily laced with Kahlua—and looked around. “I’ve got to use the facilities. I might be awhile.” She hauled herself up. “Tell me what I miss. And if hot-pants over there starts running around the field before I get back, be sure to shoot some video on that phone of yours.” She gave Allie a knowing wink. “The ladies in my bridge club will get a kick out it. And so will I,” she
added waggling her eyebrows, then slung her large purse over her shoulder and tottered away.

  “Don’t even think of lighting up a cigarette anywhere near the school!” Allie hollered to her retreating back through clenched teeth. “They’ll skin you alive!”

  That was, if there was anything left of her gran after Allie got through with her.

  …

  Allie’s attention during the rest of the game was torn between cheering on the St. Andrew’s players and admiring the nice backside of her fellow teacher. And after the boys of St. Andrew’s crossed the field to congratulate the opposing team on a game well played, she continued to watch Sam as he interacted effortlessly with the kids, congratulating them on their game. Then he took up a conversation with Tim and two moms who had joined them.

  She tried to bite back the jealousy that hit like a sledgehammer at seeing him talk to the women, who were sending him obvious signals of interest. Laughing, touching his arm, twirling their hair.

  He was a free man. It wasn’t like she had any claim on him.

  “Holy sh—is that the time?” Molly said in a sudden near panic. “We’d better get a move on, chickies. They start lining up at the center for lunch by ten-thirty, and today’s corned beef on rye and apple pie. Don’t want ‘em running out on me.”

  Resigned to the probability she wouldn’t get a chance to talk with Sam again, Allie bent down and gathered their blanket.

  “Morning ladies,” came a low, definitely male voice laced with an edge of interest, from right behind her upturned rump.

  She whipped up and turned to face him. The first thing she noticed besides the shine in Sam’s eyes—which gave her an odd sort of thrill—was that he hadn’t shaved this morning. Combined with the stubble from last night, he looked impossibly better than she remembered.

  “Hello, yourself,” Molly jumped in. “Heard you’re teaching at St. Andrew’s with my granddaughter and Ms. Claire here. I don’t recall big-hunk-of-manhood being a prerequisite to teaching English in my day.” She gave him a blatant once-over. “I’m Molly, by the way, Allie’s grandmother, since no one has seen fit to introduce us or anything. Probably afraid I might say something embarrassing.”

  Allie cringed. Too late.

  “Sam Fratto,” he said and offered his hand to Molly, who took her sweet time looking him over again before finally taking it.

  “Nice, strong handshake. Just like I like ’em. No pansy-assed grip like some others I could tell you about,” Molly said and glanced over in Claire’s direction. Claire rolled her eyes, and she and Allie exchanged an exasperated glance. “I don’t see a ring on your finger there, Sam. You’re…single, I presume?”

  “So I hear.” His lips twitched.

  “How do you feel about ballroom dancing?” Molly continued thoughtfully.

  “Never tried it.”

  “Too bad. You’d be terrific. Maybe I can teach you a few moves sometime. There’s a class at the senior center every Wednesday night if you’re looking to pick up on one of the surest ways into a woman’s pants,” she said and gave him a wink.

  Allie admired how he actually managed not to visibly choke, though his eyes watered a little from the effort.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he rasped.

  Before Molly could say anything more, Allie headed her off. “It’s almost quarter after ten, Grams. Remember? The corned beef? We’d better leave now if we’re going to have time for Claire to drop us off at my car.”

  “You know,” Sam said graciously to Molly, “I’d be happy to see your granddaughter gets back to her car. I wouldn’t want you missing out on that corned beef.”

  Molly nodded in approval, and Claire looked at her friend askance. “Will you be all right with that, Allie? Because it’s really no bother for me to drop you off. It’s practically on the way.”

  Which wasn’t exactly the truth. It was the opposite direction. “I’ll be okay. You guys go on.”

  “That’s right gentlemanly of you, Sam.” Molly turned her intense gaze on Allie and winked again. “Remember what I said, toots. See ya around, Sam.” She turned and raced across the field, her purse slapping against her backside.

  “I look forward to it,” he said to her retreating form.

  Allie smiled apologetically at him, the blanket still in her arms. “Sorry about that. She’s a bit…eccentric.”

  “Interesting woman. I think I can see the resemblance.”

  She looked at him in wide-eyed horror until she realized he was teasing. She hoped.

  “My SUV is over there,” he said, and she followed his gaze to see the familiar Cadillac Escalade parked on the road running next to the field. “Here. Let me take that.”

  He reached out and slipped the blanket from her arms, leaving her free to scoop her handbag from the grass and follow him.

  In the close proximity of the car, Allie could smell Sam’s dusky male scent mixed with grass and a little clean sweat. Crap. Even sweat smelled good on him. Determined to stay focused, she cracked the window a bit to allow in some fresh air as they drove the short distance to St. Andrews.

  Surprisingly, they ended up having quite an animated discussion. Besides the excitement of the game, Sam told her how Tim was already trying to coerce him into staying on at St. Andrew’s as his assistant coach. Which didn’t entirely surprise her. She’d already heard as much from Janine. After all, his success on the high school team was legendary. St. Andrew’s Academy took first in the state championship his senior year, something that hadn’t happened for more than eighteen years before that or since. They’d come close, but it wasn’t enough for many.

  “Have you had a chance to look at those boxes yet?” he asked when they pulled into the school parking lot next to her Outback. The lot was empty save for her car, being Saturday morning.

  “No. I was too exhausted last night for more than a quick peek. There are a bunch of VHS tapes in two of them. I planned on reviewing the footage later today.”

  Her keys in her hand, she got out and started to walk around to the driver’s side of her SUV. And stopped abruptly to stare. It took her a moment to process what she was seeing.

  Sam hurried to her side and looked at her car in shock.

  The windshield was smashed. Not just broken, but completely shattered, and the glass cubes had sprayed all over the front seat. Which would have been bad enough, but it had rained last night, with the result that the inside of her car was wet and dirty and completely uninhabitable.

  “Oh my flipping heck,” she whispered, stealing Laney’s favorite line.

  Sam already had his cell phone out, along with the detective’s card, and was talking to someone on the other end. “He’ll be here in ten,” he said when he hung up.

  She shivered and wrapped her hands around her arms to try and get warm.

  “Come on. Let’s get back in my car.”

  She was too shocked to say anything and hadn’t realized she was shaking until Sam turned the heat up. Her body was wracked by a long shudder.

  No way this had been an accident. Someone had wanted to send her a message. And she was more certain than ever that the fire was not a coincidence. That hadn’t been an accident, either. It had to have been intentional.

  She met Sam’s concerned gaze with fear creeping up her spine.

  Someone clearly didn’t want her digging through those archives. That was the only logical explanation.

  But why?

  The answer slowly came to mind. And once there, it seemed obvious.

  Someone was desperate to keep something from the past a secret.

  Something to do with Mr. Williams’ murder.

  Something bad.

  Maybe bad enough to risk murdering her, too.

  Chapter Six

  Allie was quiet for the first few minutes Sam drove her home. Which was fine with him. He was still stunned at the implications from the vandalism.

  Could someone really be trying to send her a message? Or worse…?

/>   What were they so afraid she’d find?

  “Guess I’d better call and figure out how much a rental car will set me back,” she said. It wasn’t what he’d expected her first thought to be. “Not that I have a few hundred dollars just sitting in the bank for that expense.”

  “Check with your auto insurance first. It might be covered.”

  “Crap.” She dropped her face to her hands, her blond ponytail bouncing up. “Which reminds me of the five hundred dollar deductible I’ll need to cough up. And adding to the growing tally of expenses, I still have Vi’s birthday party coming up and her gift to buy.” She raised her face and pushed back some of the wisps of her hair that had fallen forward. Even tormented, she was pretty. Almost to herself, she mused, “Actually, maybe I can try and get by without a car until Monday, maybe longer with careful planning.”

  She looked over at him, finally, and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I know this is not the biggest issue I’m facing right now. It’s easier for me to focus on the small problems than being scared out of my mind. I can’t be as cool as you.”

  Clearly, she had no idea.

  His hands rested lightly on the steering wheel, his shoulders relaxed. Just another day at the office for a crime writer. He was used to seeing the ugly side of people’s nature—the murder and the death. She wasn’t.

  But he wasn’t about to admit he was more bothered by the recent events than he was letting on. It might freak her out even more.

  Leaving her last night had been more difficult than he would have imagined. And not just because he had his own doubts about the fire.

  No. He’d been bothered by how much he’d wanted to capture that full bottom lip of hers with his own mouth. To see if the wine tasted any sweeter on her own lips, her tongue. And more.

  It had taken every ounce of self-control he had to get up and walk away under the pretense of more wine.

  Fortunately, he’d come to his senses in time. Because as appealing as it was to consider a brief but pleasurable fling with the teacher, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. And he’d sworn off anything more than that long ago. He’d seen what kind of pain and betrayal came from caring too much. Look at him and his ex. His parents.