The New Guy in Town

by Teresa Southwick

* * *

  Faith was tired to the bone.

  She’d met Alex at the house and he was going to arrange for the building inspector to check it out, but warned that with so much property damage from the fire there was going to be a long line. He recommended patience. Good luck with that, she thought.

  She’d missed dinner and now had to put on a brave, cheerful face for Phoebe. That thought just made her want to curl into the fetal position. Since she was behind the wheel of her van, that would be a problem for other drivers on the road. A few minutes later she parked her car in front of Sam’s house and used the key he’d given her to get in the front door.

  “I’m home.”

  That was automatic and she wanted the words back because this wasn’t their home. It was beautiful and big and she really loved the place, but it wasn’t where she belonged. Right now she felt as if they would never again have a home and it took so much energy to keep Phoebe from seeing.

  “Hi, Mommy.” The little girl came running to meet her in the family room and threw herself into Faith’s arms.

  She hugged her child close and was a little surprised when her daughter didn’t pull away instantly. “Hello, baby girl.”

  “I’m not a baby.” Phoebe looked up and grinned before stepping back.

  “You sound like Leah.”

  “Don’t let my niece hear you say that.” Sam stood with his back to the kitchen island. “Hi.”

  “Hey.”

  This was when it really sucked to be so tired. He looked sinfully masculine and sexy with one ankle crossed over the other. It was starting to be a habit but that didn’t stop Faith from wanting to throw herself into his arms and not let go. He might even rub her back and whisper to her that everything would be okay. And she might even pretend to believe him because of how much she wanted it to be true.

  If she was very lucky he might even kiss her.

  “Faith?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I asked how it went with Alex. At the house,” he added, as if recognizing her brain blip.

  “Good.”

  “Can we go home, Mom?”

  “Not yet. And it’s hard to say when.” She pulled the little girl close to her side and willed an optimistic tone into her voice. “It’s like four hundred thirty-two things have to happen and we’re at number five. But soon we’ll have a plan.”

  “Waiting is the hardest part,” Sam said softly.

  Apparently he saw right through her stiff-upper-lip routine. There was sympathy bordering on pity in his eyes, Faith realized.

  “Yeah.” What else could she say when he was right?

  “Did you eat?” he asked.

  “No, but I don’t really feel like it. My stomach—” She put a hand to her abdomen where there was a knot the size of a Buick.

  “Do you want to talk about it, Mom?” Phoebe had such a wise, mature look on her little face.

  “No, sweetie, that’s okay.”

  “Sam said talking would make my tummy feel better and he was right.”

  “Really?” Faith noticed the glimmer in his eyes and tried to decide whether it was self-satisfaction or humor.

  “I can make you pancakes,” he offered.

  “They were so good, Mom. Sam said my tummy wouldn’t care if it wasn’t breakfast time and it didn’t. I really liked them for dinner.”

  Sam studied her a little warily. “I also grill a mean cheese sandwich. It pairs well with a light, crisp chardonnay.”

  “You had me at ‘sandwich.’” And suddenly Faith was starving. “But I wouldn’t say no to a glass of wine.”

  “Coming right up.”

  She and Phoebe watched him assemble a pan, bread, cheese and everything he would need. Then Faith noticed the digital readout on the microwave clock.

  “Phoebe, it’s time for your shower. You have to get up early for camp tomorrow.”

  “Do I have to?”

  Faith heard something in her voice and saw rebellion in her eyes. Connecting that and the comments about Sam being right, she had a feeling something was up. “I’m sorry, kiddo. You do have to, but I’ll come up and help.”

  “That’s okay. I can do it.” Phoebe dragged herself dramatically out of the room.

  When she started to follow, Sam said, “Can I talk to you first?”

  “Okay.” The Buick knot was back. “What’s going on?”

  “Cabot said one of the camp counselors noted that she was unusually quiet today. I thought it might be because of the fire damage to her house. Even to a rookie like me it was obvious that she was bummed when I picked her up. Eventually I convinced her to tell me why.” He took a spatula from the drawer by the stove. “A girl at camp is giving her a hard time.”

  “Bullying?”

  “Classic definition of it. I looked it up.” His expression turned sheepish. “Don’t judge. I was flying by the seat of my pants.”

  She couldn’t suppress a small smile, but it didn’t last long. “She hasn’t said anything to me.”

  “She didn’t want you to worry.”

  Faith was annoyed, frustrated and proud all at the same time. “Okay.”

  “I thought you should know.”

  “Good call.” In a nanosecond house worries shrank in importance. Funny how concern for your child’s emotional welfare could take your mind off dealing with fixing the roof over your heads. “I appreciate the information, Sam.”

  She hurried up the stairs and passed the bathroom, where the shower was already on. After putting out pink pajamas, she went in to help. Steam filled the room.

  “Doing okay, Phoebs?”

  “Yes.”

  Faith leaned a shoulder against the wall while she waited and let her throbbing pulse slow down. “Did you go swimming today?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you have to wash your hair.”

  “I know.”

  This ritual was so routine. They did this every night, except the part where Faith wanted to fire questions at her like a prosecuting attorney in court. But she held back and forced herself to make meaningless conversation. It took every ounce of her willpower not to demand the name of the twerp who hurt her.

  Finally the water turned off, and when the shower curtain was pushed back, Faith wrapped her in the big fluffy towel then used a brush to untangle the long blond strands. A few minutes later she was in her jammies and climbing into the big bed, in the beautiful room under Sam Hart’s roof. And someone at the summer camp that was supposed to be fun had tormented her child.

  Faith sat on the edge of the mattress and smiled before saying what she always said during the bedtime ritual. “Tell me about your day.”

  “Not good.”

  “What happened?” Faith’s chest tightened.

  “Shelby Finch made fun of my shirt and shorts. She said they were ugly.”

  Faith wanted to ask if Shelby Finch had been forced to evacuate her house with nothing but the clothes on her back. Did she have to cobble together a wardrobe on a shoestring budget because everything she owned was threatened by a wildfire? Instead Faith said, “That’s not very nice.”

  “I know. I talked to Sam about it.”

  “That’s good.” Faith would have loved to have been a fly on the wall and eavesdropped on that conversation.

  “He said I should stay away from her and hang out with my friends. Because she only does it when I’m all by myself.”

  “That sounds like a pretty good idea.” She brushed the hair out of Phoebe’s eyes. “It won’t be long until camp is over and Shelby will go home.” Good riddance to the little dweeb.

  “That’s what Sam said.” Phoebe yawned. “Mommy, can Sam pick me up again tomorrow?”

  “Oh, honey, he’s already doing so much by
letting us stay here. We shouldn’t impose on him.”

  The little girl rolled to her side and looked up sleepily. “I think it would be okay because he likes us.”

  “He’s being a good neighbor.”

  “But he’s different from most grown-ups. They don’t always pay attention to kids.” Her eyes closed.

  “I know. And they should. Good night, baby girl.” No pushback on the endearment meant that she was well on her way to being sound asleep.

  Faith kissed her forehead, then tucked the covers snugly around the little body and turned off the bedside lamp. Quietly she left the room and went downstairs.

  She was sort of getting used to feeling overwhelmed in ways both good and bad. What Sam had done for her little girl fell into both positive and negative territory. She walked into the kitchen, where he was standing at the stove, watching over a sandwich he was grilling for her. There was a glass of wine on the counter and he picked it up then handed it to her.

  “Thank you. And—” She shook her head as emotion flooded her. “There are no words to express my gratitude.”

  “I just opened the bottle and poured. It was no big deal,” he teased.

  “Not that.” She met his gaze. “You took the time to listen to a child who was going through something traumatic.”

  His expression turned grim. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to just listen when all you want to do is fix the problem?”

  “Yes, I do, actually.” She wanted to say Welcome to the hood—parenthood. But he wasn’t Phoebe’s father. Just a guy doing a favor, being neighborly.

  “She’s concerned about being a snitch, which I can respect. So we brainstormed some ideas for her to deal with the situation on her own. But after talking over strategies I warned her that the people in charge of the camp might need to know what’s going on.”

  “Sound advice.” She sipped her wine. “And they’re going to. If not before, then on the last day I intend to talk to Cabot about that little girl. In case he wants to turn down her application next summer. He always has a waiting list.”

  “Excellent.” Sam lifted his beer bottle in salute.

  Faith leaned a hip against the cupboard beside him. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t recommend that Phoebe pull that little witch’s hair or something even more physical.”

  “You have no idea how hard it was not to.” He stood there in his snug, worn jeans and equally formfitting T-shirt looking right at home cooking. Why in the world was that the sexiest thing ever? “I’m a novice, but something told me you’d frown on that.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s a yes. You did good, Sam. Thank you—” When tears unexpectedly filled her eyes she was completely mortified. After setting her glass on the counter beside her, she brushed the tears away. “I’m s-sorry—”

  He moved close enough for her to feel the heat from his body. “I’ve already been thanked. Phoebe gave me a hug. I think she likes me.”

  She wasn’t the only one, Faith thought. “You’re very good with her. And I appreciate that more than you can possibly know. I didn’t mean to get all blubbery and make you uncomfortable.”

  Gently, Sam reached out and cupped her cheek in his big hand, brushing a tear away with his thumb. “Never apologize for loving your child that much.”

  Faith’s heart skipped at the intensity in his eyes and she held her breath. He was going to kiss her. Anticipation grew inside her as she waited to see what his mouth would feel like against her own. He lowered his head and tingles danced over her skin as time seemed to slow. Then he pressed his lips to her forehead. She’d never had a brother but would swear that was the way one would have behaved with his sister.

  Sam moved away and flipped the sandwich in the pan to brown the other side and melt the cheese. He should be good at that, what with the way he’d melted her insides.

  Well, on the up side, she wasn’t crying anymore. But now she was confused and distressed in equal parts. She’d thought he was going to kiss her. Could she really have been so wrong? By far her strongest emotion was disappointment that he hadn’t followed closely by the certainty that if Sam ever made a move on her, she would definitely not push him away.

  Chapter Nine

  Sam was at loose ends and had too much time to think. That was never a good thing.

  In a couple hours his brother was getting married, or re-vowing, as he and Rose were calling it. Sam had badly wanted to needle Linc about whether or not a second wedding meant more than one divorce if things went south. Two things stopped him. Linc wasn’t the least bit nervous about the ceremony. In fact he couldn’t wait. And he’d been in love with Rose for ten years. They were lucky and Sam envied them. But he was still bored.

  Everyone in the wedding party had been ordered to show up at Holden House several hours before the ceremony, dressed and ready to rock and roll. April Kennedy, the town photographer, was taking pictures and had finished with the men. It was the ladies’ turn and they could be tied up right until the ceremony. Linc was with his two dads and that was too weird for Sam. So he was wandering around by himself, checking out the brand-new hotel.

  That was when he spotted Faith wheeling a flat cart of flower-filled vases and supplies into the Mountain View Room, where the vows were going to take place. Talking to her was never boring, so he pushed open the door where she’d just disappeared. She was setting flower arrangements on either side of the hearth in front of a river rock fireplace with a cherrywood mantel. It was decorated with garlands of greens and flowers across the top that draped down the side to the floor. Rows of chairs were set up facing it.

  “Hi,” he said, walking closer.

  Faith gasped and whirled around, then pressed a hand to her chest when she recognized him. “My God, Sam. You startled me.”

  “Sorry. I thought you heard me.” Although he was impressed by her focus on the job. He couldn’t help wondering if her concentration extended to other, more personal activities.

  Such as kissing. And sex.

  Those two endeavors had been high on his try-not-to-think-about list since the night over a week ago when she’d thanked him for listening to Phoebe. The sweet torture of her breasts against his chest had made his hands ache to feel her soft, bare skin. And all of her feminine curves nestled close to him had made it damn near impossible to remember he was trying not to cross that line with her.

  “What are you doing here?” Faith asked.

  “I thought the tuxedo was a big clue, but that could just be me.”

  “If that’s an attempt to reinforce your ego, I’ll play along. You look very handsome.” When she glanced up, there was a glimmer of appreciation before it vanished. Then she was back to concentrating as she knelt by a chair and fastened a three-dimensional white bow, a rose and baby’s breath to it.

  “Thank you.”

  “I know there’s a wedding,” she said wryly. “My point is, don’t you have somewhere to be? Something to do before it starts?”

  “No.” He slid his hands into the tailored black Armani trousers that matched the jacket. By his count there were fifty chairs. Not that he was a mathematical genius, but there were ten rows with five across. And she was just starting. “I am useless.”

  “Like a bump on a pickle.”

  “Exactly.”

  She twisted some wire, then expertly tucked it out of sight before moving sideways and starting the same routine on the next chair. “Surely someone needs you.”

  “Sadly, no.”

  “What about pictures?” With speed and skill she worked to attach the flowers and bow before again moving on.

  “Already done.” He followed behind her, watching her slender, delicate hands work magic. What if she touched him?

  She stopped suddenly and looked up at him. “You okay, Sam?”

  “Fi
ne.” Unless you factored in that he had probably made some sort of sound and tipped her off to his internal conflict about her.

  She returned her attention to what she’d been doing. “Did April take more than one picture?”

  “Of course. But we’re men. No one cares about us. I probably won’t even make the cut for the album.”

  “Why not? You’re the groom’s brother after all.”

  “Which is the only reason I’m in the wedding party at all. Other than that, I’m nothing. Just a suit to escort women down the aisle to their seats.”

  “Not the best man?” Faith glanced up.

  “At this shindig? Not a chance.”

  “Who is? Your brother Cal?”

  “Oh, please... My parents are just happy he showed up.”

  “Rose told me he works a lot,” she said.

  “Yeah. And it requires traveling. He’s the CEO of Hart Energy and is off looking at alternative energy sources that have minimal environmental impact. The latest one is algae.”

  “Sounds like a worthy business enterprise.”

  “More like an excuse for a getaway to somewhere remote and exotic.”

  “So you think he’s a slacker?”

  Sam laughed. “Cal is many things, but that’s not one of them. If anything he’s an adventurer, but definitely he works too much.”

  “So he’s not in the wedding because he could have been a no-show. That’s what Rose told me.”

  “Right,” he confirmed.

  “Who is the best man?”

  “My dad.” Sam smiled at the memory of Linc asking Hastings to do the honors. It was the first time he’d ever seen his father quite so emotional.

  Faith studied his reaction. “What?”

  She was progressing with this task at a pretty good clip and he moved with her to the next chair. “It’s just... That was a moment, when he asked dad.”

  “Why?”

  “There was tension between them when Linc found out Hastings isn’t his biological father.”

  “I heard about that.”

  “Oh?”

  “Like I told Rose, the only way to keep a secret in this town is to not tell anyone.” She must have seen that he was still surprised because she added, “We discussed it when she came in for flowers. I had to know how many boutonnieres to make.”