“Not to us.” She came to stand in front of him. “Sam, we’ve been lovers and best friends since we were nineteen. I would think, after all these years, you could trust me.”
“What was I supposed to think when I saw you kissing that moron?” Sam threw up his hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want some clown to come and sweet-talk you away.”
“Oh, really, Sam. As if that’s ever going to happen.”
“You don’t think it could? You haven’t been happy since the girls left, and I’m gone a lot. You’re still a good-looking woman. And, I’ll admit it, I’m a selfish bastard,” he added. “I get jealous of how much of you everyone else gets. I have to share with the bakery, the neighborhood, and every little girl in town, but, damn it, Sar, I draw the line at a lech like Steele.” He drew her to him. “After all these years, I’m still crazy about you. I guess I’m crazy. Period.”
“I guess you are,” she agreed, lessening the sting with a smile. “You know you’re not off the hook for not trusting me. It’s going to cost you for a long time to come. So you’d better plan on taking me out to dinner on Saturday.”
“Dinner,” he repeated.
“And I was looking through the park and rec catalogue. I want to take the dance class that starts in January. Salsa.”
“Dancing?” He looked like she’d just asked him to lop off an arm.
“You really did hurt my feelings, Sam. The surprise visits, those accusations . . .”
He held up a hand. “Say no more.” Then he kissed her and whispered that he loved her. “Thanks for putting up with me all these years. You really are the best thing in my life.”
“And you’re the best in mine,” she assured him. Her husband had all the qualities a woman wanted in a man. He was kind, generous, and blind. Every day the mirror showed her a woman with expanding hips and falling breasts and a waistline the size of a tree trunk, and yet Sam still thought she was beautiful and guarded her like treasure.
As she shut the door after her departing husband, though, she wasn’t thinking about how lucky she was. She was remembering something he’d said. Did Sam really feel neglected?
Yes, she was busy with the bakery, and when Steph had lived nearby she’d done a lot with the girls. But now that they were gone . . . she was still busy, doing good deeds for everybody in town but her best friend. Maybe instead of putting the heart back in Heart Lake she needed to focus on putting a little more heart in her marriage.
With that thought in mind, she went to the garage where the spare freezer hummed away, preserving her extra meat, bread, and freezer jam, along with the stash of berries she kept to make pies in the winter. She pulled out a carton of blackberries, took it to the kitchen, and got to work.
An hour later she called the station and told the fireman who answered to tell the chief to get home. His wife needed him ASAP.
Exactly seven minutes later Sam burst through the front door, calling her name.
“Out here,” she called from the dining room.
He charged down the hall and into the room, skidding to stop. His jaw dropped at the sight of her low-cut black dress. He watched as she set the freshly baked pie on a trivet. “Babe, what’s going on?”
She walked around the table and laid a hand on his chest. “Nothing. Yet.”
He smiled. “Okay. How about the pie, is that for us?”
“Nope,” she said, and enjoyed watching his face fall. “It’s for you.”
“Yeah?” He was grinning now.
“Want a piece?”
He slipped his arms around her. “Maybe later.”
“That’s like something out of a sitcom,” said Jamie after Sarah told her and Emma about her close encounter with Leo when the women met for chocolate.
“It is now, but, believe me, I wasn’t laughing at the time,” Sarah said, and took a sip of her mocha. “The nerve of the guy.”
Jamie shuddered dramatically. “What would make Leo think you wanted him, insanity?”
“Conceit,” said Sarah. “It makes me think of the old fart in Tootsie. ‘They call him the Tongue,’ ” she intoned. “Now, there’s a great classic movie for you girls to watch,” she added.
Jamie nudged Emma, who was at the table with them, but only in body.
“I’m sorry. What?” she said.
Sarah and Jamie exchanged looks.
“You guys, that snow is starting to stick,” Emma said. “I’m going to go.”
“Do you want to spend the night at my house?” Jamie offered. “If the power goes out we can build a fire in the woodstove.”
“Thanks, but no. I should be home in case Pyewacket comes back.”
“Call if you need anything,” Sarah told her.
She nodded and stood, grabbing her coat and leaving her hot chocolate unfinished. “I’ll see you guys.”
“There must be something we can do to cheer her up,” Jamie said, watching Emma trudge off down the street. Poor Em. First her business, now her cat. A cat, of course. “I know! Why don’t we get her a kitten for Christmas? That will cheer her up.”
“That’s a great idea. It won’t save her business, though.”
“I don’t know what to do about that,” said Jamie with a sigh. “I can afford a cat. I can’t afford to finance another shop.”
“If worse comes to worst and she has to close, I’ll hire her,” said Sarah.
“At least she won’t starve then.”
Now Sarah sighed. “Maybe not physically. Poor Emma. She’s invested so much of herself in that shop.”
Jamie got up and took her mug and Emma’s over to the little sink in her work area. “You know, with all the nice things she’s done for people, you’d think they’d be a little more loyal. How many quilts do you think she’s donated for raffles and auctions in the last year?”
“I’ve lost count,” said Sarah.
Jamie frowned. “This whole Heart Lake Angel thing is a bust as far as I can see.”
“Don’t give up yet,” said Sarah. “People—”
“Are not basically good,” Jamie finished for her. Sarah should have figured that out by now.
“I wasn’t going to say that,” Sarah said patiently. “But I was going to say that people have a lot of good in them, and this time of year tends to bring it out.” She glanced out the window. “Oh, that is really starting to stick. Do you want to leave your car here? I can take you home.”
It was a kind offer, especially since Sarah hated driving in the snow. “I’ll be fine,” Jamie assured her. Her tires would be more like skates than tires but she’d make it if she went slowly.
“You’re sure?” Sarah pressed.
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. Call me when you get home.”
“Yes, mother,” Jamie teased.
Sarah pointed a scolding finger at her. “I’m the closest thing you’ve got up here so don’t give me grief.” With that parting shot, she hugged Jamie, then hurried off.
Jamie didn’t dawdle over her closing-up tasks, but by the time she got out of the shop there was a good two inches of snow on the ground and the dark sky was thick with falling flakes. Oh, boy.
Hoards of snowflakes hurled themselves at her windshield as she drove away from the shop. A car eased past her, the snow softly shooshing under its tires. Farther up she saw another car already in a ditch. No surprise. With its mild Pacific Northwest weather, Heart Lake didn’t get enough snow to turn its residents into expert drivers. Living in California hadn’t turned Jamie into an expert, either. She clutched the steering wheel and forced herself to breathe. Just ten minutes. You’ll be home in ten minutes.
Who was she kidding? At the speed she was going she’d be lucky to get home in thirty. If she managed to stay on the road. Was it getting slipperier?
“You’re fine,” she assured herself. She’d have been finer if she’d taken her trusty charge card to Big Ben’s Tires and gotten all-weather tires when she first heard the weather
forecast. But she’d thought she had another day. This wasn’t supposed to hit till tomorrow. That was what she got for trusting the weatherman.
She crept around the lake. Just a little farther and she’d be in her cabin, feeding the woodstove and heating up a can of chili. Just a little farther and . . . Whoa. Slipping here. Okay, turn into the slip. Except there’s a car coming! Panic. Scream. Turn the other way. Slide sideways. Hit the ditch, tip to the right.
Swear.
The other car swooshed on by, its red taillights disappearing behind a rooster tail of snow.
“Okay, don’t panic,” she told herself. “It’s not like you’re in the middle of nowhere.” It only felt like it. She grabbed her purse from the floor and pulled out her cell phone. No bars, of course. Why had she bothered? She knew there was no cell reception on this stretch of road.
What should she do? Should she get out and walk? She had no parka, no boots. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea. She did have a blanket in the trunk. She’d get that out, then put up her car hood as a distress signal.
She popped the hood, pulled the old blanket out of her trunk, and then hustled back inside her car and huddled under it. Mom had always lectured her about having an emergency kit in her car: flares, blanket, water, and some sort of food. Well, she had the flares and she had the water. She wished she’d remembered to replace the stash of Pringles she’d eaten a few months back when money was tight.
Where were Emma and Sarah? Had they made it home okay? They should have all stayed together, just gone to Sarah’s and had a big slumber party. It was too late for that, so what to do now? What would Emma do if they were stuck here together? Sing some dopey Christmas song, of course.
Jamie took a stab at it. “ ‘On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .’ ” Oh, this was dumb, and it wasn’t making her feel any better. She hunched down farther under her blanket and began rewriting the old carol. “Oh, the first thing I’ll get with my trusty credit card: four brand-new tires.”
Speaking of tires, did she hear the crunch of tires on snow in back of her, the crunch of slowing tires? It was a truck, a big, kick-ass, who-cares-if-it’s-snowing truck. Sarah was right. People did have good in them.
Not people. Person. Big, hunky, not-right-for-her Josh Armstrong. What was he doing out of uniform? Who cared? For the first time since they’d met by the side of the road she was glad to see him.
She let down her window. “If you’re wondering why I’m stuck here, it’s because I saved a life.”
He bent over and leaned an arm on the car. “Yeah?”
“I decided to slide away from the other car rather than into it.”
He smiled. “That was thoughtful. I guess that counts as your good deed for the day.”
“Maybe even for the week.”
“Want a ride?”
She made a face at him. “No, I kind of like sitting here feeling my toes freeze.” She grabbed her purse and scrambled out.
He chuckled and followed her to his truck. Once there, he reached around her and opened the door. She clambered inside the cab to the welcome embrace of warmth and Brad Paisley on the radio singing about waiting on a woman.
“You can call a tow truck when you get home,” Josh said. “Although I imagine it will be a while before you get your car back.”
“Oh, well,” she said. “If this stuff sticks I won’t be going anywhere tomorrow.”
“From what I hear about how you all handle snow up here, nobody will,” said Josh. “I hope it’s gone by the weekend. Isn’t that the big Christmas Festival?”
“Yeah. A lot of our local artists really depend on it. It’s where they make most of their money for the year.” It was an effort to keep her voice sounding casual when she was fighting off a pheromone zing.
“I hear Santa shows up.”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, trying to distract herself with the memory of all that kid excitement.
“My girls are counting the days,” said Josh.
“So did I when I was little. By the way, why aren’t you in your trusty patrol car, handing out tickets and changing tires?”
“I’m on days for the next three months. Kind of nice to have a normal life,” he added.
He was a widower with two little girls. She wondered if his life was ever normal.
When she came back to her childhood roots, she’d come hoping that in the familiar soil of Heart Lake she could grow a new beginning. The new life was still a work in progress, but it was looking better all the time. What was life like for Josh Armstrong? When someone you loved died how did you fill that black hole?
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
She blinked at him. “How normal is your life?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “You don’t waste time cutting to the chase, do you? It’s as normal as I can manage to make it.”
She understood about managing. She nodded and looked out the window. It was a blizzard out there. “We are all going to be snowbound tomorrow.”
“Unless we have a truck and four-wheel drive,” he corrected her with a grin. “Poor Dad. He’s going to have the girls home all day.”
They pulled up in front of her cabin and she turned to him. “Thanks. That was really nice of you.” Josh did seem like a nice guy.
So had Grant when she’d first met him.
He smiled. “You’re welcome.” Then, “You got food?”
“I’m okay.”
“Woodstove?”
As if he couldn’t see the chimney. “Yes. And wood.” The landlords had left her half a cord.
“Got somebody to make a fire for you?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Me. I wasn’t a Girl Scout for nothing.”
He smiled, undeterred. “I could use a cup of coffee before I drive back out onto those cold, snowy roads.”
She smiled back sweetly and opened the door. “You’ve got a four-wheel-drive truck. Remember? A little thing like snow isn’t going to stop you.”
“I take it gratitude isn’t your strong suit?”
Of course she was being rude. “I am hugely grateful,” she said as she slipped out of the truck. “Come by the store and I’ll give you a fortune in free chocolate. I promise.”
“I’d rather have a cup of coffee.”
She gave up. “Okay, fine.” She took a quick step back, but not in time to hide the sudden hiccup.
“I won’t bite, you know,” he said as he followed her up onto the porch.
She looked over her shoulder. “So you say. For all I know you could be a vampire.”
He leaned over and gave her a good look at his teeth. “See? Perfectly safe.”
She felt a sudden shiver and unlocked the door. Inside, she flipped on the light.
“You’d better call the tow company while you’ve still got power,” he suggested, walking over to the woodstove.
She already knew that. She didn’t need Josh the cop to tell her. You are being a total beatch. Isn’t it nice to have somebody care? She had plenty of people who cared, she argued. She didn’t need a man. At least not this one.
As she dialed she heard the iron squeak of the woodstove door as Josh opened it, followed by the crumpling of paper. By the time she got off the phone he’d found the matches in the little tin cookie box she kept by the stove and a flame was licking up the paper and kindling.
He put a small log on the fire, and then gave her wood box a careful examination. “Got more wood?”
“I’ll bring some in later.”
“Out back?”
“Look, you don’t have to—” He was already on his way to the door, his big boots clomping on the old hardwood floor. “Okay, suit yourself,” she muttered, and got busy making coffee.
The phone rang just as she finished. Caller ID reminded her that she was supposed to let Sarah know she got home safely.
“Good,” Sarah said as soon as she answered. “I was getting worried.”
“Sorry. I just got in,” Jamie said, and decided that was all she was going to tell her aunt. Sarah didn’t need to hear about her little accident with the car. She’d insist on buying tires for Jamie, and she’d done enough already. “Have you heard from Emma?”
“She made it in twenty minutes ago.”
“Any sign of the hellcat?”
“No.”
“It definitely looks like a kitten for Christmas for Emma,” Jamie said.
“I think so. Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Sarah asked.
Josh came back in, his arms loaded with wood. He seemed to fill the doorway. He dumped the firewood in the wood box and then disappeared outside again.
“I’ll be fine,” Jamie assured Sarah. Josh Armstrong was making sure of that. “Hey, don’t try to go in to work tomorrow. The snowplows won’t be out at four A.M.”
“Don’t worry. I went by the bakery on the way home and hung a CLOSED FOR SNOW sign in the door. I’ve already given my girls the day off. I’m going to stay home and tuck in with my new issue of Bon Appetit. And you stay warm over there. Remember, if you need anything, give a holler.”
What Jamie needed was protection from this uncomfortable feeling of attraction that was coming over her like the flu. “Are you ready for that coffee?” she asked as Josh deposited his second load of firewood in the wood box. She hoped her tone of voice relayed the message that she would be friendly but not friends. There was no percentage in friendship. Guys always wanted more.
“Sure.” He shrugged off his coat and hung it over a chair, then joined her at the little kitchen’s breakfast bar. He leaned on the counter and looked around. “Cool place.”
She got down a mug and poured coffee in it. “I like it.”
It wasn’t much, really: two bedrooms, a bathroom, this little kitchen, and the not-so-great great room. But with its cedar paneling, old wood floors, and vintage throw rugs it was cozy. Her furniture consisted of the buttery yellow leather couch she’d saved for a year to buy, a vintage rocking chair that had been her grandma’s, the old hope chest her mom and dad had given her for her eighteenth birthday, and an ancient cedar picnic table with accompanying benches that she’d gotten at a garage sale and restained. The table sported her newly made pinecone wreath, which held a scented pillar candle. Her one piece of art was a giant painting of sunflowers that she had bought from a local artist during the Fourth of July festivities.
Angel Lane Page 19
