by Rula Sinara
“Oh, so you’re a mind reader, are you?”
He ignored her surly tone. “No, but I’ve been at this long enough to pick up on the cues.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
“What is?”
“You’ve been teaching so long that you’re just going through the motions.”
“Says the only student who ever fell asleep in my class.”
“Is it my fault that your classes are boring?”
Sam zipped his bag.
She stamped her foot again. “I think you’re treating me this way, singling me out, because I’m a woman.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Epps bristled slightly under his hard stare. “Okay, maybe that was uncalled-for. But I’m desperate for your help. That isn’t a crime, is it?”
The crime, as Sam saw it, was twofold. He’d allowed himself to get so sidetracked by her childishness that he never saw it coming: she was about to hit him with the tutoring nonsense again.
“I’ve tried every way I could think of to get you to help me, to teach me, one on one.” She smirked. “So much for you being able to pick up on cues.”
Oh, he’d noticed the pitiful pouts. The flirty glances. Her tendency to laugh too long and too hard when he cracked a joke. And the snide, borderline-disrespectful remarks.
“Listen, Epps. I don’t have time for this right now.” Because I need to call Finn, let her know what time I’m picking her up tonight. “Can we talk later?” He slung the backpack over one shoulder, thinking maybe he’d just stop by the apartment.
“How much later? The longer you put it off, the behinder I get.”
If he’d been thinking straight, Sam would have suggested talking after their next class. When there were plenty of witnesses to back up his story that he’d turned her down gently, and with good reason. But Sam hadn’t been thinking straight since that kiss.
The mere memory of it stirred something deep in his chest. He cleared his throat.
“You know where The Frothy Monkey is?”
“It’s only one of my favorite cafés!”
“Meet me for coffee.” He didn’t know how late spoiled brats slept, so he said, “Tomorrow at nine, if that isn’t too early for you.”
“It isn’t.”
She grabbed her purse and backpack and hurried out the door without another word. If he had a lick of sense, he’d catch up with her and cancel.
“If you had a lick of sense, you would have nipped this in the bud by now.”
Tonight, after dinner and the show with Finn and Ciara, he needed to come up with two plans. One that would help Epps understand, once and for all, why the whole tutoring thing was a bad idea. And one that would secure his future in case that backfired and she decided to sic her big-shot relatives on him.
Sam climbed into his pickup. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if they fired him. He had a big, loving family back in Colorado, and if there wasn’t room for another volunteer at the fire department there, he’d help Nate and Zach run the Double M full time.
Two former students had climbed the department ranks, and either one could do the instructor’s job. Torry and Mark had managed The Meetinghouse for years without his help. And any day now, The Right Note would reopen and would get along fine without him.
But would he get along fine without Finn?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
IT WASN’T EASY keeping his eyes on the road. Not with Finn in the passenger seat looking like a cover model, anyway. Sam fiddled with the radio and made small talk about the weather, the I-40 bridge project, the latest politician caught with his hand in Joe Q. Public’s pocket. But that didn’t help him focus on driving, either.
He glanced in the rearview mirror. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, kiddo. You okay back there?”
“Yeah, just a little—just a little tired is all.”
Tired? Judging by Finn’s concerned expression, lack of sleep wasn’t the problem. Maybe Ciara had just picked up a bug. In the short time he’d known her, he’d started thinking of her as a little sister.
“Well,” he said, “tired or not, you look mighty pretty tonight. Did I tell you that?”
“Yes—yes, you did. Twice.”
Her smile eased his worries somewhat.
“This is—this is a new dress. Finn took me shopping just for tonight.” She leaned forward to pat her sister’s shoulder. “She’s the best sister ever.”
“She sure is.”
“Do you think Finn looks pretty? She bought herself a dress, too. And also shoes.”
It touched him that she’d bought a new outfit for their date. “No,” he said, chancing a peek in Finn’s direction, “I don’t think she looks pretty.”
Ciara gasped. “But, Sam!”
“Your sister looks beautiful tonight. More gorgeous than a model. Or a movie star.”
Finn fiddled with the hem of her skirt, then folded her hands in her lap. “Please, sit back, sweetie. Is your seat belt buckled?”
“But it’ll wrinkle my dress.”
“No, it won’t.”
He glanced into the rearview in time to see Ciara pouting. Unless he was mistaken, she wasn’t convinced.
“Is your seat belt buckled yet?” Finn insisted.
“No, but Sam is a good and safe driver. Why do I need to buckle it?”
“We’re definitely safe with Sam. It’s all the other crazy drivers I’m worried about. You know what a worrywart I am, so humor me, okay?”
His heart beat a little faster, hearing her admit that she felt safe with him. If only he could protect her from trees crashing into her diner, less-than-paternal parents...and whatever was going on with Ciara.
At some point tonight, he needed to tell them that circumstances might force him to move home. By his estimation, they had a good ten minutes before arriving at the steak house.
“I need your advice, ladies...”
Ciara giggled. “Hear that, Finn? Sam called me a lady!”
“You are a lady,” he said before continuing. “A very lovely lady, I might add.” He winked at her in the mirror and continued. “So I have this student, right, who comes from a long line of firefighters. She’s having a hard time with some of the lessons and asked me to tutor her. But I can’t do it. Wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the class. If I say no to her, though, that family of hers might—”
“I never saw a girl fireman, except on TV.”
Someday, he’d tell Ciara the difference between a fireman and a firefighter. “I’ve taught a couple dozen female students. They worked hard, real hard, and gave it their all.” Sam shrugged. “Some of them are firefighters today.”
“Why not all of them?”
“Well, let’s just say it’s not their fault women are built differently than men. They didn’t have the upper body strength or muscle mass to compete in some of the physical stuff.”
“Sometimes I have trouble with—with physical stuff, too.” Ciara paused. “Why can’t you make the test easier, the way Finn does for me?”
“First of all, I don’t have any control over what’s on the exam. But even if I did, I wouldn’t make it easier for women to pass it. That would only make it harder and more hazardous for them later, when they’re on the job. Not to mention how dangerous it would be for people who might need someone to carry them out of a burning building.”
“Oh. If the people get hurt, you mean. Or if they faint.”
“Exactly.”
“Is your student strong enough to carry a grown-up?”
“No, I’m afraid she isn’t. Not because she’s small, mind you, but because she hasn’t been willing to work hard, like so many other women who’ve become firefighters.”
Finn huffed, and Sam st
eeled himself. He hoped he hadn’t offended her, but it would make it a whole lot easier to forget that kiss.
“I agree with you,” she said, and he relaxed a fraction. “Women who can pass those tests have earned the right to do the job. If she expects preferential treatment, for any reason, well, that’s beyond foolish...it’s potentially dangerous!”
He wanted to stop the truck and kiss her again, right now. “Finn Leary, where have you been all my life?”
Her eyebrows rose slightly, and it took a concerted effort not to raise his own. What was it about her that made him blurt out stuff like that?
“What’s her name?” Ciara asked.
“Jasmine.”
“Finn bought me jasmine perfume once. It smelled real nice. It’s a very pretty name.”
“Y’know, you’re right.”
“Is your Jasmine pretty?”
“She’s okay, I guess. But, thankfully, she isn’t my Jasmine.”
“I’m excited, so excited to see Garth!”
He couldn’t help but appreciate how easily Ciara was distracted. But better than that, it was good to hear the familiar enthusiasm in her voice.
“And I’m excited to cut into a fat, juicy steak.”
“How ’bout you, Finn? Are you more excited about Garth? Or about steak?”
“I read a restaurant review recently that raved about the restaurant’s glazed chicken.”
“Chicken!” Ciara groaned. “I bet—I bet you’re just saying that because chicken is cheaper than steak. You’re trying to save—to save Sam money, aren’t you?”
Sam braked at the traffic light as Finn said, “Ciara, Ciara, Ciara...”
“What, what, what?”
Finn sighed and pointed at the windshield. “Light’s green, Sam.”
And so it was, as evidenced by the high-pitched toot from the sporty convertible behind him.
Ciara turned and yelled, “Aw, take it easy, bub!”
Finn’s laughter started slow and soft, then escalated until the pickup’s cab throbbed with the pleasant sound. Sam laughed, too.
“Hey. Are you guys laughing at me?”
“Not at you, Kee,” Finn said. “With you.”
“Oh. Well. In that case...” She cut loose with a gale of girlish giggles.
Was he seeing things, or had he spotted a shimmer of tears in Finn’s eyes? He didn’t know whether it was merely a side effect of sisterly affection, or something serious was going on with Ciara.
The former, Sam hoped, for her sake as well as Ciara’s.
* * *
SAM THOUGHT IT was sweet, the way Finn and Ciara held hands as the maître d’ led them to a table with a view of the atrium’s waterfall.
“Is this satisfactory, Captain Marshall?”
“It’s perfect.” He traded cash for three huge brown-leather menus. “Thanks, Buck.”
Buck lit the tiny brass lamp, adjusted its shade and tidied the heavy wood and brass-handled steak knives that formed a square around it. “I’ll send the wine steward right over—” he flapped a linen napkin onto Finn’s lap “—and check in with you later,” he said, performing the same service for Ciara.
When he was out of earshot, Finn said, “You’re on a first-name basis with the maître d’?”
“Former student. A lot of the guys moonlight to make ends meet.” He lowered his voice. “How do you think I got us in here on such short notice?”
“He’s cute,” Ciara said. “How old is he?”
“Twenty-nine? Thirty?” He aimed a forefinger at her. “Too old for you, young lady. Besides,” he said as the busboy filled their water goblets, “he’s married.”
“Oh. I want to see the waterfall close up.”
Finn shook her head. “Maybe later, sweetie.”
“But it’s right there.” Ciara pointed. “You could watch me the whole way.”
“I don’t want you walking that far alone. What if you feel light-headed?”
“I won’t—I won’t get dizzy. And I haven’t had a headache in a couple of days.”
So, Sam thought, it wasn’t a simple virus after all.
“I’m about to take a break,” the busboy told Finn. “I could walk her down there, stay with her a couple minutes and bring her right back.”
Finn smiled up at him. “Thank you, but—”
“I have an older brother who’s on the spectrum, so...”
Sam could almost see the wheels of indecision turning in Finn’s mind: explain that her sister’s halting gait and faltering speech pattern weren’t signs of autism, tell the kid to mind his own business or let him escort Ciara down the stairs.
“Can I, Finn? Can I, please?”
It was obvious that she hadn’t made a habit of telling the girl no. And just as obvious that Ciara wasn’t accustomed to hearing it. Finn might let him have it with both barrels later, but somebody had to say something.
“Five minutes,” he told the kid, “and if she seems the least bit unsteady, whistle.”
Ciara got up. “I already—already told you,” she said, frowning at Finn, “I haven’t been dizzy in a long time.” She stood behind Sam’s chair and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she said, kissing his cheek. “I love you!”
And there it was again...that peculiar sensation that made him want to protect her from illness and accidents and boys who filled water goblets at restaurants. He could only shake his head as she walked away on the arm of the busboy. If this was how he’d feel watching his daughter leave the house with a beau, Sam didn’t know if his heart could take it.
“I should have told you.”
“Told me what?” he asked, eyes still on Ciara.
“That I had to take her to Vanderbilt. You probably wouldn’t have sent her off with a stranger if you’d known.”
That got his attention. “Vanderbilt? As in hospital?”
Finn nodded. “In addition to the headaches and dizzy spells, she’s been seeing double. Her doctor ran a bunch of tests.”
As if life hadn’t already thrown enough at the poor kid! “And?”
“And we’ll know more when the labs and films come back.”
“Good grief, Finn.”
He started to get up, with every intention of going after Ciara and her companion, when Finn said, “It’s okay. He seems like a nice boy. And just look at her.”
Sam followed her gaze to where Ciara and the boy stood, smiling and chatting as the frothy water cascaded down a minimountain of boulders.
“Yeah, she seems happy.” He took a big gulp of water. “But I still wish I’d kept my nose out of your business.”
“Ciara has taken a real liking to you, and I’d have to be blind not to see that you care about her, too. I suppose that makes her your business, a little bit.” She sent him a slow, sad smile. “I’m touched that you made her your business.”
There were tears in her eyes, and Sam wasn’t sure what to make of them. But he was certain now that no matter how things turned out after his meeting with Epps, he couldn’t leave Nashville. Couldn’t leave Finn.
“Besides, it gave me time to fill you in. I didn’t know when I’d get a chance, now that Connor has moved in.”
“You mean, he doesn’t know?”
“Not yet.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Eventually. Probably. Maybe once we get the results.”
He knew a thing or two about Connor Leary, but from the sound of things, it was just the tip of the iceberg.
Brow furrowed and lips forming a taut line, Finn stared straight ahead. Thinking of all the unfatherly things Connor had done?
“Connor is, first and foremost, a showman,” she said. “The minute he finds out something’s wrong with
Ciara, he’ll give an Oscar-worthy performance—pacing, wringing his hands, crying...exactly what he did after the accident. Not out of concern for Ciara, mind you, but because he thinks that’s how a concerned father would behave. His act didn’t do her any good then, and it’s the last thing she’ll need if those tests reveal something...” She bit her lower lip. “If it isn’t good news.”
A hard knot burned in his gut at the mere thought of something bad happening to Ciara. How much more painful must it be for Finn?
A moment later, the kids returned to the table. “So was it everything you thought it would be?” Sam asked.
“It was noisy, wasn’t it, Andy? And—and we could feel the mist bouncing off and hitting our faces.”
Finn looked up at the boy. “Thank you so much. You made her day.”
Sam opened his wallet, thinking to slip Andy a few dollars.
But he held up a hand. “No need for that, sir. It was a nice break. And Ciara is great.”
“I gave Andy my cell phone number. He’s going to call me to see what Dr. Peterson found out from all those—all those stupid tests.” She was still smiling when a gold-vested waiter stepped up.
“Ready to order?”
“We haven’t even looked at the menu,” Sam admitted. “Can you give us a few minutes?”
“Of course. Take your time.”
Andy held his hand up again, this time to wave goodbye to Ciara. Then, facing Finn, he said, “It’s okay if I call her in a couple days, then?”
She smiled at her sister’s wide, hopeful expression. “I don’t see why not.”
He’d better be as nice as he seems, Sam thought as that fatherly feeling rose up in him again, because he didn’t know what he might be capable of if the kid broke his promise to call.
Since Pete’s death, the Leary sisters had no one watching out for them. They hadn’t asked for a protector. Might even have called him to task if he volunteered for the job. But it was a risk he needed to take.
Sam hid behind his menu, watching and listening as Finn and Ciara discussed entrée options. You’ve already gone boots over Stetson for her, Sophie had said. And he’d denied it.
