Second Chance (Cold Springs Series Book 1)

by Henderson, Nancy

  But how could he not think it? Furthermore, how could she not fall for him all over again? He still possessed that thing, that something about him that attracted her to him in the first place.

  He paid his dues. Burt’s words rang in her head.

  She stepped away. “I’m sorry. I made quite the mess.” Gingerly, she stepped around him and got a rag and bucket of bleach water. “I’ll get this cleaned up.”

  “I’ll get my tools.” He went outside and reappeared with a toolbox in hand. “Your orifice is probably plugged.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The pilot orifice.”

  “Oh. Right. Of course.” Oh, Lord! Sam felt her cheeks flush. Of course, he was talking about the stove! As he leaned over, she couldn’t help but stare.

  “Hey, I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For high school…everything. I was a bum kid. I didn’t—I heard later how upset you were that I never showed up that night.”

  “No.” She shrugged it off, suddenly feeling foolish for talking about a time so long ago. “It’s fine. I went anyway.”

  “I didn’t see you there,” he blurted then looked down. “Yeah, I was a jerk.”

  “Who’d you go with?”

  “Jane Benton,” he answered.

  Figured. Prettiest cheerleader in upstate New York.

  “If it matters, I had a lousy time. Jane left with Frank Hanes.”

  “Mom said they married a few years ago.” Sam crossed her arms and smiled. “Maybe you were their matchmaker.”

  “Maybe. So how did the contract look?”

  Right. The contract. “For the most part, I think it’s a good contract. However, I did find a couple of things. I flagged them with sticky notes. I don’t want to touch it until I wash my hands, but you’ll see the one I wrote where my suggestion would be to add mileage to your fee, assuming you’ll be traveling quite some distance for this work since there isn’t much opportunity here.”

  He seemed to think for a moment. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’d be driving just north of Watertown so I would want to be compensated for gas and wear and tear on my vehicle, assuming I’ll have a better truck soon anyway.”

  “Another point I thought worth mentioning was the clause in the third paragraph on the second page. I marked that as well. It says something about if you don’t answer every maintenance call within thirty minutes you’ll owe them a hundred dollars. That’s something I’d want to negotiate since you likely wouldn’t arrive before thirty minutes.”

  “That one did worry me.”

  She nodded, glad that he had noticed the clause. “You can always try to renegotiate. It can’t hurt to ask.”

  “I will. Thank you for looking it over.” His expression was sincere. “Not many people would take the time to help a stranger.”

  She smiled. Sam no longer considered him a stranger. Perhaps another strange enigma in this crazy small town and the bizarre turn her life had taken lately, but certainly not a stranger. What was even more bizarre was that she felt no sense of danger around Ian when all common sense told her that she probably should. Her gut told her she was perfectly fine.

  “Anyway, I’d like to make up for it and thank you for your business. It hasn’t been easy. I appreciate you taking a chance on my work. Do you like pizza?”

  “Yes.” A simple answer. The truth. Everyone liked pizza, didn’t they? It was one of the staples of America, but…

  She had no business going anywhere with him. She kept silent as she watched him work, tinkering with the little door on the front of the stove.

  He reached over the grill and fumbled with one of the shutoffs by the wall. “Here’s the problem.” He turned the knob and it lit. “The gas has to be turned on. Each one of the gas cocks has to be on.”

  He showed her the pipework on the back. Sam nodded, feeling both relieved and incredibly stupid. She didn’t even know enough to turn on the gas and she was trying to run a restaurant.

  “So you gonna let me buy you pizza, or what?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Sam fell into bed sometime after midnight. She should be used to these long days. Lord knew she’d spent enough sleepless nights reading manuscripts as a literary agent, but this was different. Working here was physical, as well as mental, which brought on an entirely new depth of exhaustion.

  She needed sleep. Without sleep, she’d be crap tomorrow, but she had too much on her mind. Lately there was always too much on her mind. Would it ever end? Or would worry and anxiety become a constant companion in this new life? Aunt Jean had never seemed burdened by worry, but with someone like Burt in her life, how could she? A partnership like that was once in a lifetime and not to everyone’s lifetime it seemed.

  Rolling on her side, she pressed her face into the soft flannel pillowcase and closed her eyes. Thoughts drifted to Ian Woods. She still couldn’t picture him being in prison. He had to have been jailed for something like cheating on his tax forms or something. Not that those things weren’t bad enough. They just seemed…less criminal somehow.

  Sam tried to recall the last time she’d been with a man. Too long. Not that any man hadn’t given her anything but grief. John had been a huge mistake, but she hadn’t listened to anyone’s advice or any of the writing on the wall. Never date a coworker, and certainly, never sleep with one. It wouldn’t work out because they were both workaholics, and when it went sour, things would be awkward, and it had been. Thankfully, John had left the firm a few months later. Sam still wondered if he’d left because he felt just as awkward as she had, but it didn’t really matter. It was all water under the bridge now, and they’d never see each other again.

  Then there was Chet. They still called each other often and it was…weird. Sam didn’t really miss him, per se. Not like someone was supposed to miss an ex. Or at least someone who they once thought was “The One.” She had simply stopped seeing him but still maintained contact with him by phone and text, but it was friendly, nothing more. Chet had given no hint of missing her and Sam, well, she was getting along fine without him. So what were they…really?

  Pizza with Ian. Where would he take her? Someplace in the city, no doubt, which meant a thirty mile drive alone with him. Time alone with an ex-convict who could possibly be dangerous. And if he was not dangerous, she’d still be alone with him and have to carry on a conversation with him when they had absolutely nothing in common. Bottom line: Ian was sexy as hell and possibly a threat to her safety. And she couldn’t wait to see him.

  She should call him and cancel, make up some lame excuse.

  She was just about to doze off when the phone rang, making her jump. She stared at the clock by the bed. Nearly 1 a.m. “Hello?”

  “Reservations please.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Is this the Easy Rest Inn?”

  Sam sat up in bed. “You have the wrong number.”

  The person at the other end of the line hung up. She lay back down, and the phone blasted again. “Hello?”

  “Is this the Easy Rest Inn?”

  “Wrong number again.” She hung up.

  She looked around the room, expecting the phone to ring again, but it did not. Too early to get up. Too late to make a cup of coffee.

  Irrational thoughts and worries gradually ebbed to stillness as she lay on the loveseat listening to the quiet, too quiet, of living in a tiny town. Now and then, a car would roll by, but other than that, complete silence.

  She was just about to drift off to sleep when she heard something fall downstairs. Or outside. Which was it?

  Another thump. It sounded like it came from the front of the building.

  Throwing the blankets aside, she got up, grabbed her baseball bat, and raced downstairs. She tripped her way through the storage room, not turning on the lights for fear of being spotted, and peered out the window.

  Burt. He stood by the door holding a large cardboard box. Sam watched as he looked over his shoulde
r. He put the box down on the sidewalk, picked it up, then set it back down again and peered over his shoulder. What was he looking for? Or was he making sure no one was watching him?

  Burt adjusted the box a few more times then stepped away. Leaving it directly in front of the door, he walked down the sidewalk and disappeared around the corner.

  Sam opened the door and peered out. She almost called to him but changed her mind. She looked down at the box. A funny noise came from inside. Scratching. Then mewing.

  Barefoot, Sam stepped out onto the sidewalk. She opened the lid to find exactly what she expected. Two orange ears were illuminated from the glow of the nearby streetlight. The kitten couldn’t be more than a couple of months old. The poor thing was probably scared to death, and here Burt was leaving it on her doorstep in the middle of the night like a crazy man. Maybe Alzheimer’s had finally set in. She should be angry. Correction: she should be royally pissed right now.

  She plucked the little ball of fur up into her arms, went back inside, and clicked on the lights. “Hi, little one.”

  The kitten started to purr.

  Warmth curled in the pit of her stomach. Sam had never owned a pet before. Part of her had always wanted one, but animal ownership never fit into her lifestyle. For a person who was always working, never home, it didn’t seem fair to leave a pet all alone most of the day.

  She and Theresa owned a cat when she was little. Cats required litter boxes and bowls and certainly food. Sam didn’t have any of those things, and it was the middle of the night.

  Still holding the kitten, she pulled the box inside, both surprised and delighted to find every item for kitten care complete with litter scoop, food, and manual Congratulations on the Purchase of Your New Kitten in the box.

  But now…she would still always be working, but now she worked from home. A kitten was the last thing she needed, and it was another responsibility in her life. She should really be angry with Burt, making the assumption that this was what she needed or wanted.

  She rubbed her face in the kitten’s fur. What was one more responsibility?

  ~ * ~

  “I can’t believe you let him in here!”

  Sam poured her mother a cup of coffee. Mother took a packet of artificial sweetener from the little stainless steel box by the glass sugar container and poured it into her cup.

  She sat at the counter, looking impeccable wearing black slacks and a turquoise colored silk jacket. She had an interview with a television station in Syracuse today. They were impressed that such a successful writer lived in the North Country. Sam was proud of Mother’s accomplishments, and she wished she could tag along, but she had too much work to do in preparation for opening day. Not that Mother had invited her to go anyway. Theresa, however, had been asked to come…obviously.

  “He didn’t even charge me anything.” Sam was surprised that she was so quick to defend Ian Woods. Tonight was pizza night, and she was a ball of nerves and anticipation.

  “You know what he’s done!”

  “Lower your voice, please,” Sam whispered and motioned toward the back room. Ian was in the back repairing one of the coolers. She’d called him early that morning after having a truckload of supplies delivered, and one of the coolers wasn’t working. She needed every cooler she had now. Sam was thankful he had time to squeeze her in.

  “He’s here?” Mother’s expression was incredulous. “He murdered someone.”

  Mother leaned forward. “Promise me that you’re done hiring him for anything. And stop listening to Burt. He’s a nut job.”

  “He’s fine, Mother.”

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about people in this town. I know you think you can take care of yourself what with living in New York all those years, but things are different here. I know you think you know everything coming from the city, but you’ve been gone a long time.” Mother gulped down the last of her coffee and glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go. Remember what I said about Ian Woods. I mean it.”

  “Good luck today, Mom.”

  “Thank you.” She waved her hand and was off.

  Mother wasn’t gone two seconds before Ian appeared from the back room. “Thanks.”

  “For what?” She hoped to God he hadn’t heard the entire conversation.

  “You didn’t buy into the gossip about me.”

  Sam shrugged, tried to hide her embarrassment that he’d heard her mother. Part of her did buy into it, and that part of her feared him just a little now. The other part, the rational side, knew she had a job to do and Ian Woods filled that need. “You’re a lot cheaper than most contractors out there.”

  “I need all the money I can get. Look, if you don’t want to hire me because of my past…”

  “It’s none of my business.”

  He nodded. “I appreciate that.”

  He was standing close, and Sam suddenly became very aware of him. She wanted to ask him if everything Mother said about his past was true. Prison for murder seemed very far-fetched, the stuff of novels, but if he did go up for murder, how come Burt said he could be trusted? Nothing about murder was trustworthy. “Burt says you’re not a danger.”

  “You can trust Burt.”

  Sam looked down at her shoes. Worn tennis sneakers stained in stove grease and spaghetti sauce. As if on cue, the door opened and Burt came in. “Mornin’.”

  Sam hurried to get Burt’s coffee, eager to get away from Ian. “Good morning, Burt.”

  Burt perched himself on one of the counter stools. “What’s for breakfast?”

  “Today’s special is cheese omelet, home fries, and coffee.” She winked. They weren’t open for business yet, but she was willing to cook him breakfast. It would be good practice.

  Burt gave a miserable look. “What kind of special is that? It’s on the menu.”

  “I’ll knocked fifty cents off.”

  “A special is something not ordinarily in the menu. It’s special. That’s why it’s called the special.”

  Ian put his tools away and headed toward the door without a word to anyone.

  “Ian, wait.” Sam quickly poured a cup of coffee into a Styrofoam cup. “Take this with you.”

  “Thanks.” He hesitated, holding her gaze. Sam’s heart skipped unexpectedly. His eyes were ice blue, almost as if he wore colored contacts which somehow she doubted.

  “Are we still on for pizza?”

  His smile was infectious. “Sure, if you want. I’ll give you a call.”

  Sam nodded, hoping Burt hadn’t caught any of the conversation. Not that he wouldn’t find out eventually anyway. When it came to gossip, Burt was about as prolific in it as her mother and sister.

  When she turned toward him, he was grinning, but to his credit he said nothing. “Thanks for the kitten, Burt.”

  Burt grinned from ear to ear. "I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Uh-huh.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and took a slow sip.

  ~ * ~

  Ian didn’t know if he should call Sam or just show up. He paced the small second-story studio apartment he called home. It was barely six hundred square feet, but it was perfectly fine for him, and he felt lucky to have a roof over his head.

  It was two rooms: one large space with a small row of cupboards and a countertop and sink to the left and a tiny bathroom with a small shower, toilet and sink. Burt allowed him to rent it for a hundred dollars a month. Ian knew the old man was cutting him a deal, and Ian vowed to make it up to him. Burt had been the only one to stand by him in this town. He was a friend when his family and those he thought were his friends had turned their backs on him. For that, Ian would be forever grateful to Burt.

  Ian checked his appearance in the mirror. For God’s sake, it was just pizza, but he had changed into the best jeans and T-shirt he owned. He didn’t own many clothes, just enough to get by every couple of days before he had to do laundry again.

  Running a comb through his hair again, he grabbed his keys and
headed out the door. He hurried down the steep flight of stairs that snaked up the side of Burt’s garage. Inside, he found Burt inspecting his truck.

  “Problems?”

  “This damn thing is making noise again.” Burt pushed himself out from under the truck.

  Ian grabbed his hand and hoisted him up. “I can look at it for you.”

  “No, I think I got it.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “I put some more oil in her.” Burt wiped his greasy hands on his shirt. “I put a quart in just about a day or two ago.”

  “Why don’t you let me take a look at it?”

  “Because you got things to do.” Burt stepped in front of him, preventing him from looking under the hood. “Where you off to?”

  Ian didn’t want to tell Burt. He didn’t like keeping things from him, but he didn’t want Burt taking the pizza night between himself and Sam as anything other than appreciation for her business. Still, he could lie to Burt no more than he could believe in Santa Claus. “I’m taking Sam Stone for pizza. She hired me for a couple of jobs. It’s the least I can do.”

  Burt’s expression told him more than he wanted to hear. “You two would make a good pair. Sam’s got a lot of Jean in her, and Jean was a good woman.”