Harlequin Heartwarming May 2016 Box Set: Through the StormHome for KeepsThe Firefighter's RefrainTo Catch a Wife

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Harlequin Heartwarming May 2016 Box Set: Through the StormHome for KeepsThe Firefighter's RefrainTo Catch a Wife Page 71

by Rula Sinara


  For a minute there, Sam thought Rowdy might burst into tears. But he quickly collected himself. “So let’s hear this big plan of yours, Sam.”

  Although he made it up as he went along, it was easy to see that they liked the idea. All he needed now was a big boost from Lady Luck to make it all come together.

  “So it’s agreed, then? We’ll run it past Finn after dinner on Thanksgiving?”

  “Oh, I can hardly wait!” Ciara said. “Finn will be distracted, baking my birthday cake and getting things ready for the big dinner. She’ll never see it coming!”

  Sam agreed. “Do you think she’ll say yes?”

  Rowdy looked worried, and Ciara said, “I’m going to tell her I invited you. She has never been able to say no to me.”

  Rowdy’s robust laughter echoed in the stainless-steel-and-tile kitchen. “Oh, this will be a Thanksgiving to remember!”

  “Yes, yes it will.”

  Ciara looked so pleased with herself that Sam didn’t have the heart to point out that Finn might consider his appearance at dinner an intrusion.

  And that it was just as likely she’d hate his idea.

  * * *

  “THAT WAS PROBABLY the best meal I’ve had in years,” Torry said, shoving back from the table.

  Mark patted his belly. “I won’t need to eat for a week.”

  “You can’t quit yet. You haven’t had a slice of my birthday cake,” Ciara protested.

  Finn propped a fist on her hip. “Hey...how did you know I baked you a cake? I sneaked down here in the middle of the night so you wouldn’t find out!”

  Ciara feigned a bored look. “You have never forgotten my birthday. Ever.” She looked at Sam. “Mom was a terrible cook, and I didn’t like store-bought cakes. Finn learned to bake, just for me.”

  Laughing softly, Finn said, “Those first couple weren’t exactly prizewinners, were they?”

  “Oh, they were a little lopsided, but they tasted good. I would have eaten them even if they were awful, because you went to all that trouble just for me.”

  Finn dabbed a napkin to the corners of her eyes. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to make a person cry on Thanksgiving?”

  “Speaking of Thanksgiving,” Sam said, “I wonder if you guys would mind indulging me. It’s a Marshall family tradition to take turns sharing what we’re thankful for, so...”

  “What a great idea!” Ciara said. “But can I go first? I have so much to say!”

  He understood the “can’t say no to Ciara” thing.

  “’Course you can.”

  She took a sip of water. “I’m thankful for Dr. Peterson and the surgery that fixed...everything that was wrong inside my head. And to Finn, for...” She sighed. “If I made a list of everything I’m grateful to her for, we’d be here until Christmas.” She locked eyes with Sam across the table. “And I’m thankful for Sam...”

  She wouldn’t give away his surprise, would she?

  “...and that’s all I can say about that for now.” Turning to Mark, seated beside her, she said, “You’re next!”

  “Well, I’m thankful for this wacky, weird, wild bunch, because you make me feel like family.”

  Torry smirked. “Ditto.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Mark grumbled. “You’re not getting away with that!”

  “Okay, all right.” One eye narrowed, he drummed his fingers on the table. “There are good ships, and wood ships and ships that sail the sea, but the best ships are friendships, and may they always be.” He lifted his goblet and toasted those gathered. “I’m thankful to call each of you friends.”

  Ciara said, “I love that one, Torry!”

  He chuckled. “So do I.”

  “Your turn, Dad...”

  “Now, how am I supposed to follow a poem, of all things?”

  Sam was glad he’d run his idea past Finn’s father. Connor had come a long way in a short time, and Sam believed the changes—if they happened—would be good for him, too.

  Connor cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “Okay, here goes... We live in a great country—hardly perfect, but still one the best in the world. I’m in good health, there’s a roof over my head and I can’t remember the last time I went hungry. There’s money in my bank account... A real good thing, because until recently, I didn’t even have a bank account! I have the best job in the world, good friends and the most perfect, beautiful daughters a man ever had.”

  Bean spoke up next, followed by the rest of The Right Note staff, then The Meetinghouse band and employees.

  That left Rowdy, Sam and Finn.

  “Ladies first,” Rowdy said.

  Finn took a deep breath. “I’m thankful for good vision, so I can see all the people who’ve come to mean so much to me, and for the gift of hearing that lets me hear your beautiful voices. I’m grateful for time spent with friends and family—” she smiled at Ciara “—especially my sweet sister, whose big, gentle heart has taught me more about life and love—and me—than I could ever have learned on my own.”

  When she met his eyes, Sam thought his heart might beat hard enough to pop the buttons on his shirt. Under the table, where no one could see, he crossed the fingers of both hands. It had worked when he was a kid; maybe it would work now, and she’d say something like—

  “And you, Sam, for...well, just for being you.”

  That was as close as he’d get to hearing she loved him. But he believed she did. It sparkled in her eyes and glowed from that little slanted smile. She hadn’t said a word about the lawsuit, or that Misty had drained her bank account, leaving her no way to hire a lawyer to defend herself. Did she think no one knew how much trouble she was in, thanks to her mother? Oh, how he wanted to run to her side of the table and smother her with kisses, and promise that if he had anything to say about it, she’d never have to worry about money again.

  All in good time...

  “Guess that means it’s my turn,” he said on a gruff sigh, “so here goes. I’m thankful for everything that’s already been said—and said very well. So I’ll add that I’m thankful for a big, loving family, good friends, a fulfilling job and a future that’s bound to be better, simply because all of you will be part of it.”

  He fixed a steady gaze on Finn. “I came to Nashville with high hopes, believing I had a fair to middlin’ talent for stringing words together and putting tunes to them. But no matter how hard I worked at it, it seemed that was one dream that would never come true.”

  “Oh, good grief,” Rowdy said. “I’m growing older by the minute, and you’re talking about pipe dreams?”

  He was kidding, and everyone knew it. When the good-natured laughter ended, the chef continued, “I’m thankful that I had the good sense to squirrel away my money, so I could buy some stocks and make smart investments. As of January 1, I’m going to retire...”

  He made a big show of clearing his throat and built the tension by taking a long, slow sip of water. “Okay, semiretire. I’m tired of getting up before dawn every day, picking through produce and pork chops and whatnot down at the market, then hot-footing it back here to cook for a bunch of strangers. Well, mostly strangers.” He faced Finn. “Only one way that can happen, kiddo,” he said, “and that’s for you to sell me this place.”

  “Sell it? But, Rowdy! What would I do without the diner to—”

  “Save it. Anybody with one functioning brain cell knows that Misty left you holding a bag of debt that’ll take a lifetime to pay off. If you let me buy The Right Note, we’ll both be happier. I can work part-time, and you can walk away from all those bills and the bad memories that caused them. You can start over.”

  “I—I need some time to wrap my mind around all of this.”

  “That’s only fair,” Sam said, “so while you’re thinking, I’ll finish my list.” He
got up and dragged his chair to Finn’s side of the table and sat down beside her. “I’m thankful for my big clumsy leg, because if it hadn’t knocked you off your feet, I never would have met the most beautiful, big-hearted woman on earth.” He took her hands in his. “I know you aren’t crazy about musicians—”

  Every musician at the table complained at once:

  “Hey, what’s wrong with musicians?”

  “We’re beautiful souls!”

  “Without us, the world would be...musicless,” Mark said.

  Finn’s eyes grew big and round. “I never said I didn’t like musicians.”

  “Yes, you did,” Ciara put in. “You said they always put the next gig ahead of everything else because they’re egotistical attention hogs.”

  Finn hid behind her hands while everyone else chuckled.

  “Nice to know where we stand with you,” Mark said, and the others agreed.

  “As I was saying,” Sam continued, taking her hands again, “I’m crazy about you, Finn Leary, and if being with you the rest of my life means—”

  “I know what you’re going to say,” she interrupted. “But, please don’t. Don’t give up your dream for me. Go on the road. Make records. Be the guest star on talk shows.”

  “You can go with him if you want to,” Rowdy said, “because I’m going to buy The Right Note.” He leveled her with a serious stare. “Right?”

  She shook her head. “Let’s table that discussion for now, all right?”

  “If you insist.” He snickered, then whispered behind his hand, “She’s gonna say yes. I feel it in my bones!”

  “I’m hoping you’ll join me on the Double M. At least for a while...”

  She sat, blinking in wide-eyed, stunned silence. Hurry up, idiot...tell her you love her. Say “marry me,” right now, before you lose your nerve!

  “My folks have booked a world cruise,” he said instead, “to celebrate their fiftieth anniversary. They leave on Valentine’s Day and won’t be back for six months. Somebody has to feed the ranch hands in Mom’s absence. I know it’s a lot to ask, but are you interested in the job?”

  She shook her head. Don’t say no, Sam thought. Please don’t say no...

  “If I said yes—and I’m not saying yes—what about Ciara?”

  “Why, I’d go to the ranch, too, and help you with all your chores.” Giggling, she added, “Who knows? Maybe I’ll fall in love with a handsome cowboy like Sam and get married on the Double M!”

  Her left brow rose. “And Connor?”

  “The Double M foreman is retiring,” Sam said, “full-time retiring. After we shuffle the duty assignments and hand out some promotions, there’ll be an opening for a ranch hand.”

  “And you know I grew up on a ranch,” Connor put in. “I’ll be in my element.”

  “Yes, I remember. But what about your music? You’d leave Nashville, now that you have a regular job playing with these guys?”

  “In a heartbeat.” He looked Mark and the Marks Brothers. “Sorry, guys,” he said, shrugging.

  Finn looked and sounded suspicious, but at least she hadn’t shot down the idea. Yet.

  “And you,” she said, dark eyes blazing into his. “You expect me to believe you’re giving up music and leaving the fire department?”

  “What can I say? I got homesick for the Rockies,” he admitted.

  “And what about The Meetinghouse? You’re leaving Torry and Mark in a lurch?”

  “You know that old song,” Mark said. “Got along without him before we met him...”

  Torry snorted. “Anybody can plug in amps and go around tapping mics saying, ‘Testing...testing?’”

  “Hey,” Sam said. “If it wasn’t for me, you guys would trip or strangle yourselves on the cords.”

  “Oh, yeah. We shouldn’t forget that.” Torry leaned around Mark and said to Finn, “Trust us, we’re okay without him. Spare us the rest of this lovesick fool’s speech and just say yes, will ya?”

  “Yeah,” Torry agreed. “You have to say yes.”

  “I do?”

  The comedian held up one hand. “No, no, no...save that for the wedding. Say yes now, so we’ll all have a place to stay when we come visit you in Denver.”

  “Why would we go to Denver?” Mark asked.

  “Why, to see us, of course!” Ciara rolled her eyes.

  Finn’s silence and furrowed brow worried Sam. He could almost see the wheels whirring in her pretty head, trying to think up a valid reason to stay in Nashville.

  “What about the homeless shelter? It’s barely off the ground. If Connor is in Denver, who will—”

  “The mayor put his youngest boy in charge of it,” Connor said. “The kid just earned a degree in...I forget what...but he already has a budget and a staff, all ready for when headquarters is renovated.”

  “Headquarters?” she asked.

  “Oh.” Rowdy chuckled. “Did I forget to mention? I donated another rental property. Your contractor? He’s donating man-hours and materials.”

  Finn shook her head. “I can’t believe all of this,” she said, mostly to herself.

  When she met his eyes, Sam’s stomach lurched.

  “And you seriously expect me to believe you’ll be happy giving up the department and music to saddle up and run the Marshall spread?”

  Y’gotta love her, he thought. And he meant it.

  “I’ve done it before.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes’m.”

  She sighed. Had she finally thrown in the towel?

  “You’ll have a vested interest in the ranch, if...”

  “If...?”

  “Well, folks out there are old-fashioned.”

  She bit her lip, and he continued, “You’ll have all the ladies in the beauty parlor’s tongues wagging.”

  Now she frowned.

  “You’ll need a ring on your finger.”

  Her eyes widened and her lips formed a tiny O.

  “My family hasn’t been to Nashville in a couple of years. They can come out for the fund-raiser. If you’ll say yes—”

  “Yes to—”

  “Date’s set, performers signed, posters printed, media’s on board,” Torry said. “We’re good to go.”

  “Good to go...”

  Sam stuck a forefinger in his ear, wiggled it a few times. “Funny, but I never noticed before that there’s an echo in here.”

  Finn was smiling—not much, but it beat that frown!—and he hoped it was because she’d remembered a similar conversation between them. He felt a little guilty, springing it on her this way, in front of everyone. But she’d shut him out, and he still wasn’t sure why. He’d ask her forgiveness later...if she let him.

  “What about the contract?”

  “What about it?”

  “You signed it, right?”

  If he answered that, he’d blow the entire surprise.

  “I don’t need a record deal to write music. And I can do it anywhere.”

  “Songwriting. You mean to say you gave up on your dream of performing, just like that, to write songs?”

  Sam withdrew an envelope from his pocket and slid it to her.

  “What’s this? A Thanksgiving card?”

  “Oh. Sorry. My mistake.” He took it back and handed it to Ciara. “Happy birthday, kiddo.”

  “Thanks, Sam! I think I’ll wait to open it—” grinning, she wiggled her eyebrows “—until we slice my cake. And stuff.”

  Sam extended another envelope.

  “Well, don’t just sit there,” Rowdy said. “Open it!”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’ve all seen what’s inside?”

  “They haven’t,” Sam assured her. “Everyone will be as surprised as y
ou. I promise.”

  She got to her feet, then stood behind her chair.

  “First, we need to get a few things straight.”

  Sam’s heart sank. He should have known she’d resent being ganged up on this way. Should have found another way to make her talk...to make her see how you feel.

  “I think I fell in love with you that first night—no, I’m sure of it—when that long leg of yours tripped me. I tried to deny it. Made excuses. Tried to convince myself it was something else I was feeling.

  “The reason I avoided you last week? Because I couldn’t bear the thought of you finding out that, as happy as I am that you earned a contract, I was terrified of what might happen if you went on the road.”

  Sam started to interrupt, but she held up a hand and silenced him.

  “You can’t just show up here with your gorgeous eyes and your sweet smile and your fancy speech and expect I’ll turn to goo and fall into your lap!”

  “Finn, I don’t expect that. You’ve got my word.”

  Did she believe it? Not if that furrow on her brow was any indicator. You blew it, idiot. So just shut up, and maybe you can leave here with some of your dignity intact.

  But wait...

  “You...you love me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, what’s left to talk about? I love you, too!”

  “There’s this crazy deal to talk about, for starters, where I have to give up the business I’ve put everything into! Then this whole go-to-Colorado scheme! Honestly, Sam. Do you really expect me to drop everything and...and...and marry you?”

  “At the risk of sounding like a heel, yeah. I want you to marry me. Nothing else is as important. Nothing.”

  She stared at the ceiling for a long, silent moment, then returned to her chair.

  Ciara slid an arm across Finn’s shoulders. “Aren’t you curious about what’s in the envelope?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” She rested her head on Ciara’s. “A little.”

  Finn unsealed the flap and peeked inside, then upended the envelope and sent four squares of paper fluttering to the table. Her hands fluttered, too, as she arranged them in front of her plate.

  “Look, Finn,” Ciara said, leaning closer. “There’s a word written on each square. It’s a puzzle or something.” She reached across the space between her and Finn and slid the squares round, moved them again. “I was right. It is a puzzle! And, Finn! Look what it says!”

 

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