If she could only determine what that was....
“Hey, good choice, my man.” Sam grinned over her shoulder and Kara looked back to see her nephew holding a tiny red metal car in his hand. A car that even she could see looked very much like the one Sam drove.
“Now that is a familiar sight,” he added.
Kara swallowed against the rising panic. Was it only that car Sam recognized, or on some level was he starting to see a younger version of himself in the green-eyed, blond-haired boy?
Her heart tumbled inside her chest as Sam crouched down, folding his big body until he could meet Timmy’s gaze face-to-face. When he held out his palm, the boy’s face fell and he reluctantly handed over the car. “No, Timmy. You can keep the car. I wanted you to give me five.”
He shot a confused look at Kara. “Five what?”
“Give me five. That’s what it’s called when I hold out my hand and you slap my palm with yours.”
Eyes wide, Timmy shook his head. “I’m not supposed to hit.”
“It’s not hitting. It’s...” Sam glanced over his broad shoulder as if looking for some help in this department, but Kara could only shrug.
Clearly both she and Marti had been lax when it came to explaining the high five. The gesture wasn’t exactly one that filled her daily life, though she realized it was a guy thing. High fives. Chest bumps. Those complicated handshakes. They were all signs of male celebration and camaraderie that were completely beyond Kara.
Was that why Marti had asked Kara to find Timmy’s father? To provide the boy the male role model missing from the first four years of his life?
“You know what? Don’t worry about giving me five.” Lowering his voice, he added, “But I want to tell you something about that car. A car like that is super-fast.”
His eyes wide as if understanding Sam was imparting some kind of secret knowledge, her nephew whispered, “How fast?”
“Faster than a bird or a bear or...” Sam’s voice trailed off but not before a look passed between man and boy.
An unspoken communication that shook Kara to the core even as Timmy filled in, “Monsters?”
Sam bumped his fist against the one Timmy had closed around the small car. “You better hold on to that. Just in case.”
A sudden clatter of metal against concrete broke the moment. Sam’s head swung back toward the open doorway to the garage and pushed to his full height with a frown when a muffled curse followed. “Will,” he called, “you break anything important out there?”
At first only a pained silence answered before the teen responded, “Just my foot.”
“In that case, get back to work.”
Kara gaped at the callous response and took a step toward the door. “Don’t you think—”
Reaching out, Sam wrapped a hand around her arm, stopping her progress, her words, her heartbeat. For a crazy moment, she imagined him pulling her closer, his eyes darkening as he kissed her.
“He’ll be fine.”
It took a moment for Kara’s mind to refocus on Sam’s words instead of his touch. “You don’t know that.”
“I know if we rush out there and start hovering over Will, it will only make that bruised foot feel worse.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
He gave a short laugh at that. “Because it’s guy logic. You’ll have to trust me on this one. If we pay any attention to him right now, it’ll hurt his pride and embarrass the he...heck out of him. For a kid like Will, that’s worse than broken bones any day.”
As if proving the truth—logical or not—of his words, the high-pitched whine of machinery resumed as Will went back to work.
“Will’s shy and quiet, but he’s tough in his own way.”
A hint of pride and admiration filled Sam’s voice. Admiration for the teen’s toughness? Kara wondered.
A toughness that Timmy, with his reluctance to hit and his fear of monsters, didn’t possess.
“He’s just a boy,” she protested, not sure if she was talking about Will or Timmy. “Do you really think ignoring pain is the best way to deal with it?”
Half expecting some quick response about rubbing dirt on a wound and getting back in the game, Kara was surprised when Sam gave her question some thought. “Admitting you’re hurting makes you vulnerable. Hiding that pain’s a pretty good way to make sure no one can make that hurt even worse.”
Memories of her own hidden pain pushed to the surface, but Kara forced the thoughts aside even as she wondered if she and Sam might have something in common. “I wasn’t exactly suggesting that you go out there and slam Will’s hand in a car door to make him forget about his foot.”
Sam laughed and the moment was broken, the quick grin on his handsome face almost enough to wipe away the thought of this big, strong man being vulnerable to anything—or anyone. “As far as distractions go, I can think of a few that would be more enjoyable.”
Kara barely had time for a blush to rise to her cheeks before he turned his focus to business. “Now, if I can take a look at your driver’s license, I can use that into to get you into the computer.” Jiggling the mouse on his desk, a screen popped up marked with blanks.
Information Sam was waiting to fill in. Information like her last name and where she was from. Pieces of a puzzle that might become a clear picture if she told him anything more about herself. She glanced over at the toy box where Timmy was carefully guiding his car along the well-worn edge. On some level, Sam had already picked up on her resemblance, faint though it was, to Marti. Add in the last name they shared and the city where they’d both lived, and he was bound to put the pieces together.
“Kara?”
Sam gazed at her from across his desk, waiting for her to hand over her license. Nerves shook her stomach as she realized she’d been wrong. She’d thought telling Sam he was Timmy’s father might be the biggest mistake she could make. But having him figure it out before she told him would be so much worse.
Without letting herself stop to think, she said, “What about that dinner I owe you?”
Her forced smile started to tremble along the edges as Sam’s slightly surprised gaze met hers. Did he see right through to her ulterior motives? Or could she fool him into thinking her nerves were due to accepting his date?
His green eyes lit with pleasure, and Kara’s stomach pitched in a slow, shaky roll. Were her nerves more about going out with Sam than she wanted to admit? She’d have to worry about that later. For now, she breathed a sigh of relief when Sam moved his hand away from the mouse.
“Tonight?”
“Um...” His eager question caught Kara off-guard. If she didn’t know better, she might think this “date” really mattered to Sam. But she did know better, didn’t she?
He’s interested in you.
“Sorry,” he said, his smile turning a little embarrassed and slipping further past her defenses. “I forgot you just got into town. You probably want to take it easy and get Timmy settled. How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Hey, I eat dinner every day, so take your pick.”
Kara couldn’t help giving a startled laugh at Sam’s dogged pursuit. With his good looks and quick smile, she’d assumed a man like Sam Pirelli treated everything in life as easy come, easy go. But in the past few minutes, he’d shown a depth and determination she hadn’t expected.
“And I can ask Hope Daniels to babysit Timmy,” he added. “She’s a friend of the family who watches my niece, so you don’t have to worry about her. She’s very reliable.”
But as they finalized plans for their date the following night, Kara was already worried. She just couldn’t decide what concerned her more—the idea of Sam’s single-minded focus on Timmy...or on her.
Chapter Three
“Hey, Sam
!”
Pausing outside Rolly’s Diner after closing up his shop for the evening, Sam turned to see Billy Cummings climb from his truck. An old friend from grade school, the two of them had shared a friendship and rivalry for the past two decades.
“Someone said they saw a piece-of-crap ’Vette limping down the highway this morning. You didn’t get that pile of junk running, did you?” Challenge rose in the other man’s expression, and Sam knew the sheriff’s son was ready for anything—a hearty slap on the back or a sharp jab to his jaw.
Sam went with his first instinct and chuckled even though he hadn’t completely forgiven the other man. “If you knew a thing or two about cars, you would have realized what a prize that ‘piece of crap’ really is.”
The car’s original owner had first contacted Billy, knowing how Cummings liked fast cars, but Billy didn’t have the skills needed to get the Corvette back in prime condition and he knew it. When he passed on making an offer, the owner had called Sam. He’d jumped at the chance to buy the classic only to end up in a bidding war with Billy, who might not have wanted the car but didn’t want Sam to have it either. In the end, Sam bought the ’Vette, but thanks to Billy, at a much higher price.
“Have you decided what color to paint it?”
“I’m sticking with red.”
Billy shook his head. “You might as well paint it black now, since you’re gonna end up selling it to me.”
“Yeah, right.” Sam scoffed. He had bigger plans for the car than handing it over to his friend. The year and model were rare enough that he had a good idea what the restored car would draw at an auction. He wasn’t new to auctions or the kind of crowd and car enthusiasts they attracted. As much as he liked working at the garage, restoring classic cars was his true passion and his dream for the future.
Clearville was home, and he had no plans to leave, but the thought of traveling around to car shows throughout the state, buying “pieces of crap,” restoring them and then selling them for a small fortune...yeah, he liked that idea a lot.
“You missed your chance to own that car, my friend,” he told Billy. “You’ll be lucky if I even let you ride in it.”
Climbing back into the cab of his truck, Billy vowed, “Just wait.”
“For what? A cold day in hell?” Sam laughed as his friend pulled away with an obnoxious honk of his horn. He was still smiling as he pulled the door to the diner open and walked into the familiar scents of fried food and strong coffee.
A waitress greeted him and asked, “Your usual table, Sam?”
The back corner table at Rolly’s might not have had the Pirelli brothers’ names on it, but all the staff and locals knew it was theirs. The “newer” section of the restaurant, added on some twenty years ago, was filled with large-sized tables. And the Pirelli brothers were large-sized men. Guys who didn’t do booths.
It was one thing to be on a date, sitting close to a pretty girl, thigh touching thigh, holding hands beneath the privacy of the table. He had no trouble with the idea of sharing a booth with Kara.
But a couple of broad-shouldered guys crammed together like that? No way.
He started to nod to the waitress when a familiar face caught his eye. Nadine Gentry, Will’s mother, had worked at Rolly’s for almost as long as Sam could remember. “I’ll take one of the booths tonight, thanks.”
Will hadn’t said anything more about the fight, but Sam sensed something was on the kid’s mind. Sam had few rules, but keeping your mind on the job was one of them. Not paying attention was a surefire way to end up hurt.
Sam had promised he’d let Will handle his own problems, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t ask Nadine if she was worried about her son.
An older, feminine version of Will, Nadine’s black T-shirt and denim skirt hung from her slender frame, the dark color stark against her pallid complexion and fair hair. “Hey, Sam, what can I get you?” she asked, pulling out a small notepad from her red apron and fiddling with her pen instead of meeting his gaze.
Pretending to hesitate over the menu, he said, “I need just a minute. How are things going?”
She shrugged a narrow shoulder. “Busy. Tips have been good.”
“And Will?” Was it just his imagination or had the woman tensed at the mention of her son’s name?
“You’d know that better than I would, Sam. He’s at your place more than he’s at home.”
With school still out for another few weeks, Will had been spending a lot of time working. For the first time, though, Sam wondered if it wasn’t something other than a need for extra cash that had the teen spending so much time at the garage. “He didn’t get that black eye at my shop.”
Nadine paled slightly, but she defiantly held his gaze. “What are you saying, Sam?”
Sam didn’t pay much attention to Clearville gossip, but he had heard that Nadine had hooked up with a younger man. Sam had never liked Darrell Nelson, a grudge that went back to their days on the playground, when Darrell had taken pleasure in picking on anyone weaker than he was. Unease twisted inside Sam as he realized Will would make an easy target, but so too would Nadine. Throwing around accusations wasn’t going to help if the woman was trapped in an abusive relationship.
“I’m not saying anything, Nadine. I’m asking. Is everything okay at home? Do you need any help?”
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
“And Will?” Sam couldn’t resist asking.
“That was...an accident.”
“Nadine—”
“Please, Sam. Just leave it alone.” She rushed off before taking his order, but it was just as well. Sam had lost his appetite.
He wished there was something more he could do, but thanks to his friendship with Billy, Sam knew enough about law enforcement to realize the sheriff would need proof. More than that, he would need Nadine or Will to press charges.
He’d talk to Will again, he decided, and if that didn’t work, then maybe he’d have a talk with Darrell Nelson.
The bell over the diner’s door rang, and Sam looked up in time to see an already familiar blonde step inside. Kara slid her sunglasses up to the top of her head, pushing her straight hair back from her face. She glanced uncertainly around the crowded diner, and he had the feeling that holding Timmy’s hand was giving her as much reassurance as it gave the little boy.
Her nephew. Not her son. Single moms had always been off-limits, and even though something about Kara tempted him to break that rule, he was glad he wouldn’t have to. Glad he wouldn’t have to look too closely at the reason why he would have been so willing to cross that line.
A hint of weariness seemed to tug at her shoulders, something he hadn’t noticed before. She was tired after her trip from—
He frowned. Where, exactly? he wondered, as he realized she hadn’t told him where she was from. Or what had brought her to Clearville. Or how long she was staying. True, they hadn’t had much chance to talk, but weren’t those simple facts ones that normally came up right off the bat?
As Kara paid for a to-go order and reached for the bag, Sam was tempted to cross the diner and offer to carry it for her, like some kid with a crush on a pretty girl, willing to cart around an armload of books if that was what it took to have her smile at him.
She held out her free hand to her nephew, who’d wandered a few feet away to crawl into the booth closest to the front window, but Sam stayed put as the two of them left the diner. No need to push his luck when he could bide his time. After all, he already had a date with the lady the following night.
Thinking he might find out something about the woman who had him so intrigued, he made his way to the front counter. “Hey, Rolly, the blonde who came in for take-out, what did she order?”
“Why is that any of your business?” the other of the diners demanded.
“Give me a br
eak,” Sam said, familiar with the older man’s soft spot for young women. Kara must have quickly made an impression on Rolly, just as she had on him. “I’m just trying to get an idea of the lady’s tastes.”
The former army cook eyed Sam as if he’d never seen him before. “Not someone like you.”
“Is that right?”
“Sure is.”
Certainty rang in the older man’s voice, taking some of the fun out of the game. The attraction was mutual, Sam would stake his reputation on that. But even though he’d seen the spark of awareness in Kara’s gaze, the slight blush on her cheeks, he also sensed a wariness in her. A deer-in-the-headlights hesitation that warned him she’d be more likely to run away from him than rush into his arms.
“What makes you think a lady like that wouldn’t want to go out with me?” he asked Rolly.
“You are something else, Sam.” A familiar female voice had him turning to face Debbie Mattson. Judging by the smirk bringing out the dimples in her round cheeks, she’d been standing behind him all along. “All a woman has to do is cross the town line and you start sensing fresh meat.”
Annoyance flickered through Sam. Not so much at the baker’s pointed barb. That was the kind of relationship they had after knowing each since grade school. It was more the way Debbie had lumped Kara in with all the other women he—okay, he had to admit it—all the women he’d chased after.
He couldn’t come close to putting a finger on what made Kara different. But he’d long ago perfected the ability to hide his true feelings. “My radar must be working overtime, seeing as I met Kara even before she hit town.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope, met her when she ended up with a flat on the side of the road.”
Aware of the narrow mountain roads leading to town and the lack of cell coverage, Debbie’s smirk faded some. “She was lucky you happened by.”
Daddy Says, I Do! Page 4
