The New Guy in Town

by Teresa Southwick

  “Have I told you how very much I admire the way you think?”

  “Yes.”

  They got out of bed and dressed—sort of. She put on her panties and his long-sleeved shirt, wrinkled from landing in a heap on the floor. He pulled on jeans and fished an old, threadbare T-shirt from a drawer. In the kitchen he got out the single, mile-high slice of cake for them to share and one fork to eat it with. She sat on his lap and he fed her.

  She moaned at the burst of wonderfulness on her tongue. “This is better than sex.”

  “Whoa—” He held the fork out of reach and gave her a faux-outraged look. “Really?”

  “That was too easy. And, seriously, you should have led with decadent dessert. Romancing me afterward...” She tsked.

  “If memory serves, you were the one who brought up sex. And were, dare I say it, impatient to move things along.”

  “If I cop to that, can I have my cake?” she said, pointing to the morsel he was holding away from her.

  “Yes, you may.”

  “Okay. What happened in your bedroom was all my fault.” She opened her mouth and he obliged. “Remind me to tell Lucy that her cake works quite efficiently as an interrogation technique.”

  Having worked up an appetite, they finished dessert in record time and Faith sighed. “That was really good.”

  “So was the first dessert.”

  “I agree.” She sighed and slid her arms around his neck, then rested her forehead to his temple.

  So sex had happened in spite of all the lectures she’d given herself. And here she was sitting on his lap, teasing and talking just like always, though a tad more intimately than before. That didn’t mean anything had to change. They were friends and would stay that way, even after she moved out. Which reminded her. “Alex called me today.”

  “What about?”

  “The inspection on my house went well. It’s structurally sound, just like you thought. He’s brought on more help because there’s a lot of work here after the fire and repairs should start soon. Alex thinks the process will go quickly.”

  “So it’s all good.”

  “Yes. I’ll be able to move back in sooner than expected. Seems a fair quid pro quo since I stayed longer than anticipated. But it means I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

  His body seemed to tense. “For the record, you haven’t been so bad.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, but I know we’ve been an inconvenience.”

  “Not really.” His arms tightened around her. “Why is there never a construction delay when you really want one?”

  She laughed. “You’re sweet to try and make me feel better. But the sooner we get back to our place, the sooner you can recover your routine. We wouldn’t want to wear out our welcome.”

  Or, she thought, risk this interlude turning into something more than either of them wanted it to be.

  * * *

  “This was fun, Mommy.” Phoebe sat in the passenger seat of the van. “But I wish Sam came with us.”

  “Seriously?” Faith glanced at her daughter. They were driving home from the Vista Valley mall, a good-size shopping center an hour away from Blackwater Lake. “Do you really think Sam would have enjoyed digging through piles of jeans or racks of tops?”

  “Yes. Because he likes hanging out with me.”

  “That’s true. Who wouldn’t? You are an awesome kid. But guys aren’t really good shoppers.”

  “Sam might be.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it, kiddo.”

  “Did you ask him to come?”

  Faith glanced over again. Why wouldn’t she let this go? “Actually, no, I didn’t.”

  “How come?”

  If only this was one of those questions where she could simply pull rank and say because I’m the mom. That was less complicated than the truth. Which was that it crossed her mind to invite him but they’d had sex a couple nights ago and she was doing her darnedest to pretend nothing had changed. She’d give herself an A for effort, but everything felt different.

  She smiled more. Her heart did a little involuntary dance every time she saw Sam no matter how hard she tried to keep it from happening. When he looked at her there was a secret in his eyes, a memory of the intimacy they’d shared. But nothing would come of it, which was impossible to explain to an eight-year-old.

  “First of all, I didn’t invite Sam because he would be bored. And second, this is our special day. A tradition. You and I have shopped for school clothes together since you were in kindergarten.”

  “That’s really nice, Mom.” Neither road noise nor radio muffled the big sigh coming from the passenger seat. “But I really missed Sam. And I bet he was lonely without us today.”

  Wasn’t the mother supposed to guilt the child? Now Faith felt as if she’d slapped the man who took them in. And he had looked awfully wistful when they’d headed out for the mall earlier.

  “I’m sure he found something to do.” Faith put as much cheer in her voice as she could manage. It was a challenge, what with feeling petty and selfish. “And we’re almost ho—I mean back.”

  She’d nearly said home. But that was just a saying, right? It didn’t have any deeper meaning.

  Her cell phone was sitting in the console between the seats and signaled an incoming text message.

  “I’ll get it, Mommy. You’re not supposed to look at your phone when you’re driving.”

  “Okay.” The kid probably knew more about the device anyway. Hopefully in a few years when Phoebe was behind the wheel, she’d remember what she just said.

  Phoebe picked it up. “It’s from Sam. He made barbecued chicken for dinner. He wants to know if you want rice or potatoes.”

  If they hadn’t slept together she wouldn’t have thought twice about that question. It would be no big deal. But somehow she was reading something into the question. “Tell him rice.”

  Phoebe’s fingers moved over the keys and then she waited. Several moments later there was a signal. She read the message and giggled. Faith’s stomach knotted. She hoped he hadn’t said something meant only for her, something that her daughter shouldn’t read. That was different because of sex.

  “What is it?” she demanded.

  “Don’t be mad, Mommy. I answered that you wanted ice cream. Sam knew it was me.”

  Oh, thank God. “So text him back and say rice.”

  “I don’t have to. He said he’ll surprise us. Maybe with dessert.”

  The way to a woman’s heart... It was much less complicated when the female in question was eight. He’d fed Faith chocolate cake after she gave herself to him. What did that mean?

  Ten minutes later when they walked in the door with some of the bags, Sam was waiting. He whistled at the volume. “Did you buy out the store?”

  “No, silly.” Phoebe set her bag down and gave him a hug. “But there’s more in the car. We couldn’t bring everything in.”

  “I’ll go get it,” he volunteered. “Carrying stuff is men’s work.”

  “Don’t forget,” Faith warned, “that most of her clothes were ruined because of the fire.”

  “I’m not judging.” Sam moved close and the look in his eyes felt like a caress.

  “And I needed a few things, too.” Her heart two-stepped at the heat from his body. “I’m not going to even think about how much I spent until the bill comes.”

  “Keep in mind that your insurance will cover the replacement cost of your belongings. I looked over your policy and it’s a good one.”

  The simple reassurance was something Faith was still getting used to. She didn’t expect support because she’d never had it from anyone besides Aunt Cathy. You couldn’t miss what you’d never had.

  She smiled up at him. “I’d forgotten about that. Thanks for
helping me justify all of this.”

  “Happy to be of help.”

  Phoebe was looking at them, a puzzled expression on her face. “Are we gonna unload the car? I’m starving.”

  “At your service, General.” He gave her a small salute.

  “I’m not a general.”

  “You give orders like one.” He walked by Faith and their shoulders brushed, on purpose most likely.

  When all the bags had been carried inside and dropped at the bottom of the stairs to be dealt with later, the three of them worked together in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. Phoebe set the table. Faith put together a salad and Sam heated frozen potatoes in the oven. So much for rice. He knew her little girl loved French fries. When all the food was set out they took their usual places at the table.

  Sam picked up the platter of chicken and held it out to Phoebe. “The drumsticks are all yours, Squirt.”

  “That’s my favorite.” She looked at him as if he’d hung the moon.

  “Your turn,” he said to Faith, the platter in one hand, tongs in the other.

  She took the tool from him and their fingers brushed. The touch sizzled straight through her but somehow she managed to put a piece of chicken on her plate.

  “You’re supposed to say thank you, Mom.” Phoebe gave her a look. “That’s what you always tell me.”

  “You’re right. How could I forget?” She saw Sam smile and the knowing look in his eyes said he knew exactly why she’d forgotten. And that he’d be more than happy to make her forget anytime.

  “May I have some French fries?” Phoebe asked politely.

  “Sure.” Sam picked up the plate so that she could serve herself.

  “You need salad, too,” Faith reminded her daughter when there was a very generous portion in front of her.

  “I will,” the little girl assured her. “But I have to eat some stuff first to make room on my plate.”

  Sam made a sound and Faith shot him a warning look that said he better not laugh and, to his credit, he didn’t. He got points for that. As a mother Faith had learned there were some hills to die on, but this wasn’t one of them.

  When everyone had a full plate, they started eating and Phoebe wasn’t the only one who was hungry. The chicken was cooked to perfection, not dry or burned. But it was messy. Faith wiped her face.

  “You’ve got some sauce—” He pointed to her mouth, then picked up one of the extra napkins on the table and brushed it over her lips. “There.”

  “Thanks.” Faith smiled. Then she noticed her daughter taking it all in and got a bad feeling something was coming. It didn’t take long to find out she was right.

  “Mommy, are you going out with Sam?”

  How she wanted to simply say it was complicated, but that wouldn’t stop Phoebe. Apparently she’d become aware of the intimate shift between her and Sam. If she hadn’t underestimated this child’s ability to pick up the vibes going on around her, she’d have been prepared with an answer. But now she had to wing it. No pun intended to the chicken.

  Faith gave Sam an apologetic look, but he didn’t seem upset at all. More amused than anything and, dare she say, eager to let her field the question.

  Kids were nothing if not literal and that’s how she decided to approach the response. “Sam and I have never gone out.”

  He nodded as if to say that was technically true. Although technically sex made it a debatable distinction. At least she wasn’t one of his first-date-rose girls.

  “Is he your boyfriend?”

  “We have never talked about it.” Again Faith decided to go with a literal truth. It was a Hail Mary pass because she knew her daughter and that wasn’t going to fly.

  The little girl looked more curious, if that were possible. And determined. She turned to Sam. “Do you like my mom?”

  “I like her very much,” he said without hesitation.

  “Mom, do you like Sam?”

  She’d liked him the first time he bought a rose from her and that hadn’t changed. Although since living in his house, she’d found out he wasn’t the shallow play-the-field kind of guy she had teased him about being. He was kind, caring and generous and she liked him even more.

  “Yes,” she said, “I like Sam.”

  “Are you getting married?”

  Oh, boy. Now it was really uncomfortable. At least the truth was simple and easy. “No—”

  “How would you feel about it if we did?” Sam interrupted her to ask Phoebe.

  “Well—” She stuffed a French fry into her mouth. “If that meant you could be my dad, I would really like it.”

  He smiled affectionately. “So you approve of me for your mom?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s good to know.” All traces of amusement were gone and Sam looked dead serious. “How about this? If your mom and I decide to get married, you will be the very first to know.”

  “Do you promise?”

  He made an X on the left side of his chest. “Cross my heart.”

  “Okay.”

  That seemed to satisfy her because the inquisition stopped. But Faith was curious now. Apparently Phoebe had inherited inquisitiveness from her.

  On the one hand, Sam’s direct approach had stopped the awkward questions. He’d done it to distract and the strategy was pretty darn smart. That had to be why he’d said what he had. She couldn’t imagine any other reason for him to confirm Phoebe’s approval.

  In spite of their “what if” discussion about marriage, Faith couldn’t believe he was serious about taking that step. If she’d learned anything from selling flowers to him all these months, it was that Sam was all about the chase. Because Faith was a challenge it made her intriguing to him.

  Surely that’s all it was. When she moved back to her house, things would go back to the way they were. In the meantime they were friends with benefits.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Phoebe, it’s bath time.” For the two weeks since school had started, Faith walked into the family room at the same time every night and issued this order.

  Sam had mixed feelings. He enjoyed watching television or playing video games with this little girl but watching the imaginative ways she tried to wiggle out of the bedtime routine was pretty entertaining, too. By far his favorite part of the day was later, when more often than not he took Faith to his bed. If he was dissatisfied about anything, it was that she never stayed through the night. She didn’t want her very perceptive daughter to pick up on how much things had changed, what with them sleeping together.

  “But, Mom, me and Sam are watching this show.” She was curled up against him on the leather couch and burrowed in a little deeper.

  “It’s recorded,” he told her. “We can finish it tomorrow.”

  “Whose side are you on?” Phoebe frowned up at him.

  He felt a tug in the region of his heart at the look that was so much like her mother. “I don’t take sides. I’m neutral. Like Switzerland.”

  “What does that even mean?” the little girl asked.

  He used the remote to shut off the TV. “I’ll explain in the morning.”

  “Good answer.” Faith smiled her approval. “Well done.”

  “I’m learning the ropes.”

  “What if I forget to ask about it in the morning?” Phoebe insisted.

  “I’ll remind you,” he promised.

  “What if you forget?”

  “I’ll write myself a note and leave it by the coffeepot.”

  She thought about that, then nodded. “You and Mommy both drink coffee so I guess someone will remember.”

  “Crisis averted,” Faith said. “Let’s go. You need to wash your hair tonight.”

  “But it gets all tangled,” she complaine
d.

  “I have a spray that gets all the snarls out.”

  “But it hurts when you comb it.”

  “I’ll be gentle,” she promised.

  Phoebe stood and folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to wash my hair.”

  Her mother didn’t back down. “Really? I never would have guessed.”

  “You’re gonna make me anyway, right?”

  “I see you’ve met me,” Faith said drily. “The alternative is greasy hair that will start to smell and get bugs. There goes your friends, invitations to birthday parties and social life. You’ll be stuck with just me.”

  And me, Sam wanted to say. But he didn’t have the right.

  “You’re exaggerating, Mommy.”

  “No.”

  “Sam?” The little girl looked at him. “If I don’t wash my hair would it smell so bad I couldn’t stay here with you?”

  The question of staying with him had crossed his mind a lot as the repairs on their house progressed. Every day of work on it was a day closer to them leaving. The thought of this big house without them in it wasn’t pretty.

  “You can stay with me no matter what.” He shrugged when Faith gave him a look. “But at school they might have something to say about it.”

  “I hate school anyway.” Her little face settled into a pout. “But if I don’t go, the sheriff will take Mommy to jail.”

  “Oh?” One of his eyebrows rose as he looked at Faith trying not to laugh.

  “We’ve had this conversation before. About hating school,” she explained.

  “I figured.”

  “Sam—” There was an “aha” tone in Phoebe’s voice. “‘No matter what’ means I could stay with you if they put Mommy in jail, right?”

  Caught between a rock and a hard place. The kid had a future in litigation. Lawyers got paid to make an argument and Phoebe was a natural.

  “That’s right, Sam. A promise is a promise. She could stay with you.” Faith was enjoying this way too much.

  No fair. Two against one, he wanted to say, but he was no coward. Crisis defined character and he would show the women what he was made of.

  “You could absolutely live here with me,” he agreed enthusiastically. “But you should keep this in mind. I can’t leave you alone when I go to work and since the school has declared your hair a health hazard, you’d have to come to the office with me.”