“Sam. I know you’re mad at me for leaving.” He hooked a finger under her chin and turned her head. One look and something in her softened. How could she help it when he looked at her like that?
“I’m only leaving for college. I’ll be back, I promise.”
He’d been there when her dad died. He’d been there when her mom left. Who would be there when Landon left? A cool wind passed over Sam’s skin, chilling her.
“I’ll write. We can talk on the phone too.” But he wouldn’t be there to see the flashlight in the window. She hadn’t thought about that in years, the way he worried about her. Especially after her mom left.
“Sam.” Landon leaned closer until she could feel his breath on her cheek.
She wanted to throw her hands over her ears, because she knew what he was about to say would change everything. And she didn’t want anything to change. Especially not now, when he was leaving. But her muscles refused to move.
His eyes had turned jungle green in the dimness, and a deep furrow separated his brows. “You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember. I used to pull your ponytail and hunt for worms so we could fish off the pier. I know what you’re thinking before you say it, and I know who you are deep inside, where you’re afraid to let anyone go.”
Sam’s heart kicked into third gear.
“You’re more than my best friend. You’re my soul mate. I’m not sure when it happened.” He looked down, then back up. “But I love you, Sam. Not the way a brother loves a sister, but the way a man loves a woman.”
Her throat clogged up with a big knot, and she sat, unable to move.
“I love the way you brush your hair back from your face, I love the way you don’t care what anybody else thinks, I love your strength and your vulnerability and your brutal honesty.”
He leaned back a bit as if to read her face. She wasn’t sure what he’d find.
Her emotions wrestled on the surface, a dangerous place for them. She loved Landon, there was no doubt about that. At the moment, she was terribly afraid she loved him the same way he loved her. She was even more afraid he’d see it in her eyes. She looked away.
“You’re scaring me,” he said.
“I don’t know what to say.” She whispered the words over the wind. She couldn’t tell him she loved him, even if it were true. She’d never said those words to anyone, except maybe her mom and dad when she was small, but she didn’t remember for sure.
“I guess that says it all.”
Sam felt him withdraw and breathed again. She could hear the pain in his voice, and she hurt for him. She glanced at him in time to see his Adam’s apple bob. Why did he have to go and tell her he loved her? Why change things when he was about to leave? Last year she might have reveled in his admission, but he’d just proven he was like everyone else. All he cared about was his own goals. He didn’t love her any more than her mom had. It made her angry, a feeling she was much more comfortable with.
“Let’s just leave things as they are.” It’s what he should have done to begin with.
Five
“Miss Biddle.” Sam’s neighbor stood on the porch in a flowing leopard print tunic, black pants, and earrings that dangled halfway to her shoulders. Time had hollowed her cheekbones and aged her parchment skin.
Sam stepped out the door and let the woman embrace her. Miss Biddle’s short jet-black hair spiked out at the nape like the tail feathers of a duck.
“Samantha Owens, just look at you.” Her wrinkled hands held Sam’s as she leaned back for a better look. “My word, you’re a grownup, aren’t you?”
“With all the responsibilities that come with it.” The last time Sam had seen her, Miss Biddle was stuffing a wad of cash in her palm and telling her to take care of herself. “Come in. Meet my daughter,” Sam said loudly, remembering Miss Biddle’s hearing impairment—a residual effect of her days playing guitar in a traveling band.
“Caden, this is Miss Biddle. She lives next door.”
“Hi,” Caden said, curling on the sofa in her pj’s.
“Hi, honey.” Miss Biddle turned, the tails of her tunic swaying. “She has your beautiful hair and your mom’s petite size.” She tsked.
They caught up over a cup of coffee, and Miss Biddle filled Sam in on the details of Emmett’s death, something she could have done without. She told Sam that Emmett sold his car not long ago and had taken to riding his bike again. Sam was beginning to get antsy, when Miss Biddle announced she was late for a luncheon.
After she left, Sam cleaned up the yard, putting the old Adirondack chairs out back until she could paint them, then taking down the rose trellis in preparation to paint the house.
Later that afternoon, she found her old bike in the shed. The dark building was missing a lightbulb and had a broken doorknob—two more things for her to-do list. She repaired her old bike, pumped up the tires on Emmett’s, and rode with Caden to the grocery. Sam had cleaned out the fridge the day before, tossing the spoiled milk and moldy leftover pizza.
After they shopped, she slipped three plastic grocery bags into the bike basket and one around each of the handlebars. “You ready?” she asked Caden.
Her daughter had already hopped onto her old bike and began peddling.
“Stay on the side,” Sam called. She imagined Caden rolling her eyes. They pedaled past Cap’n Tully’s Tavern, and she wished she could pull over and lose herself in a few beers. Being back in her old house was stirring up things she’d rather forget. A few cars dotted the tavern’s parking lot, but later there would be a large Friday night crowd.
After what she’d just spent at the grocery, she had no business throwing away money on beer. They’d have to watch their pennies if they were going to stay long enough to finish the house. She’d hoped Emmett’s bank account would provide her with some fast cash, but a few calls proved him to be broke as he’d always been.
“Turn here!” Sam hollered loud enough to be heard over the wind rushing in their ears.
“I know, Mom.” Caden tossed the words over her shoulder, and Sam ignored her snippy tone. They didn’t have much time before the Realtor arrived, and she needed to get the groceries put away.
Her legs strained the last couple of miles, and she realized riding a bike involved a different set of muscles than cleaning. When they got back to the cottage, Caden helped put away the groceries, and as Sam shoved the last can of soup into the cabinet, a knock sounded on the door.
Sam swung it open, and a familiar face smiled back. In high school, everyone had liked Melanie; it was impossible not to. “Melanie Walker?”
She drew in a breath. “Samantha Owens! Oh my goodness, how wonderful to see you.” Her voice still held a Southern twang, a curiosity, as she’d been born on Nantucket, same as Sam. Melanie embraced her in the doorway.
When she pulled back, Sam invited her in and introduced her to Caden.
“I have a daughter about your age, Caden,” Melanie said. “Her name’s Amber. Maybe you can come over and visit sometime.”
Caden looked at Sam for approval.
“It would be nice for Caden to have a friend on the island.”
After her daughter went outside, Sam and Melanie turned their attention to the house.
“So you’re putting the old place up on the market, huh?” Melanie scanned the room. “The housing market is good right now, so you’re in luck.” She smiled, showing her dimples. “What have you been up to since graduation?”
Sam shrugged and smiled. “Not much really. We live in Boston. I’ve only been in town a couple of days.”
“You know, it seems like just yesterday we were all in high school, doesn’t it?” Melanie sighed, clearly favoring the good old days. Sam wouldn’t go back for anything. But Melanie always had it all together. Good grades, good girl. Not exceptionally popular, but definitely well liked. She’d dated Landon’s brother briefly during high school. She was a cheerleader then, and Bailey was the school mascot, a whaler. They only went out a
couple of months, and Sam always thought they’d been too much alike to be a couple.
Melanie told her she’d been married and divorced. After they caught up, she looked around the cottage, giving Sam suggestions on fixing the place up. She noted the weathered shingles, and Sam told her painting was already on tomorrow’s to-do list. They filled out paperwork, and Melanie said she’d wait to hear from Sam before listing the house.
By the time she left, Sam had filled both sides of a sheet of paper with repair and maintenance projects. Her funds were going to be stretched, but she had some wiggle room on her credit card. If she could get the cottage into top-notch shape, it would fetch a good price, and she could pay off her card in a heartbeat. She just had to buckle down and get these projects done.
Sam looked around the quiet cottage. The sooner, the better.
Landon tossed his keys on the coffee table and poured fresh water into Max’s dish. His thoughts had been fastened on Sam all day, and the previous night he’d tossed about like a fish in the hull of a boat.
“Here you go, buddy.” Max began noisily lapping water.
Landon paced the living room. She was back on the island, two doors down, one hundred yards away. Even with twenty-four hours to absorb the shock, his mind still reeled. He thought of all the times he’d tried to find her. And she’d been only hours away. In Boston.
The phone rang, and he answered. His friend Scott greeted him.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Landon asked.
Scott told him about a show he’d watched a few nights before on common foods and plants that were toxic to house pets.
While Landon listened, he sat on the sofa and pulled the curtain back, looking toward Sam’s house. All was still. He wondered if she was home. It was Friday night, so maybe she’d gone out to eat. He was the only one with no life.
“I taped it for you,” Scott was saying. “Maybe you can run it in your lobby for your clients or something.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“Are you all right?” Scott asked. “You seem distracted.”
Landon weighed whether to say anything about Sam. She and Scott had a long, complicated history. But no one knew his feelings for Sam better than Scott.
“Sam’s back on the island.” The connection crackled quietly in his ear before he heard Scott’s muffled curse.
“What the—?”
Landon let the curtain fall back in place. “Emmett left the house to her. She came back to get it ready to sell.”
“Did she mention why she disappeared without a trace?”
It was only natural for Scott to be defensive. He’d helped Landon pick up the pieces when Sam left. “She’s been in Boston.” He decided not to mention Sam’s daughter.
“Is she married?” Landon wondered why Scott asked.
He stood and paced the room again. “I don’t know. I didn’t talk to her long.” Max looked at him, licking his chops.
“Whatever you do, don’t get involved with her again. You know she’s nothing but trouble.”
Landon wished he’d never mentioned Sam. Scott was incapable of being objective about her.
When Scott said he needed to go, Landon hung up and made a roast beef sandwich from the deli meat in the fridge. After that, he went outside and stood on the tiny back porch, casting glances at Sam’s house. It was hard to tell if anyone was home. The sun still shone, and the curtains in her room blocked his view, though they fluttered lightly in the breeze.
Should I stay or should I go? What if Sam was married? How would it feel to find her wrapped in another man’s arms? The thought carved a hole in the middle of his gut. She never mentioned a husband,Reed. But she hadn’t said anything about a daughter either, until Caden came running around the house.
He went back in the house and washed the utensils he’d dirtied making his sandwich. “What do you think, Max?”
The Labrador stared up at him, questioning.
Landon set the dish towel on the counter and ruffled Max’s ears. “You think I should wait until tomorrow, don’t you?”
Did Sam want him to come over? He’d tried all day to analyze her response to him the night before. Maybe he’d caught her off guard. Of course, it wasn’t like she didn’t know where to find him. Besides, he’d waited eleven long years to see her again. One more night wouldn’t kill him.
Six
Sam dipped the wide paintbrush into the five-gallon bucket, letting it soak up the white paint, then slathered it on a thirsty shaker shingle. Caden had been eager to help and enthusiastically applied herself to the job—for about thirty minutes. Now she was somewhere in the backyard, probably turning back handsprings. Hopefully not down the pier, as Sam used to do.
Though most of the island’s homeowners let their shingles turn to weathered gray because of the unrelenting abrasion from the wind and sand, she knew a freshly painted cottage made for curb appeal. Melanie had agreed. Unfortunately, the shingles soaked up the paint like a sponge. She would need more paint than she had estimated, and one coat wasn’t going to do the job. It was going to take twice the time she’d figured on, and she considered making Caden come back to help. Just as quickly, she scratched the idea.
Already the air was warm, and there wasn’t a fresh breeze in sight. She set her brush down and pushed up her sleeves.
“’Morning.”
Sam turned and saw Landon. He wore khaki shorts that revealed lean, sinewy legs, and a white T-shirt that showed off his tan.
Her heart tore off, and she blamed it on his sudden appearance. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” His grin proved otherwise. “I came to see if you needed help.”
She heard a bark from the backyard and Caden laughing.
“I brought Max over. Hope you don’t mind.”
She shrugged and wet her brush. “It’s fine.”
She could feel him staring at her, and a film of sweat broke out on the back of her neck. Didn’t he have a family to get back to?
“Do you have an extra brush?”
A drip of paint ran off the edge of the shingle, and she caught it with the wet bristles. “I’m fine. I’m sure you have other things to do.”
He must have spied Caden’s brush sitting on the lid behind her, because she heard him grab it. He dipped it into the bucket. “I don’t mind. I’m not doing anything else today.”
“Don’t you want to change?”
He shrugged. “These are work clothes.”
They painted side by side quietly for a few minutes. When they reached down to fill their brushes simultaneously, she glanced at his left hand. His wide, tapered fingers were bare.
The way that revelation lifted her spirits was completely irrational. She heard Caden squeal happily and Max bark.
“Sounds like they’re having a good time,” he said.
From the corner of her eye, she watched his tanned arm make small swipes. He was bulkier than he used to be. Taller, too, it seemed. She was no shrimp at five-seven, and he was a good six inches taller.
Sam realized it was her turn to say something. “She’s never had a pet.” The apartments they’d lived in had no-pet policies, not that it stopped Caden from begging. Besides, all pets eventually died, just like Freckles had, and loss was something she longed to shield Caden from.
“Max likes her. I can tell from his bark.”
Freckles had liked Sam too. When her dad brought him home, she thought she was the luckiest girl in the world. Then her dad died, and Emmett came. Freckles didn’t stand a chance. She pushed the memory away.
Landon began humming a Phil Collins tune, one she hadn’t heard since she hung around his house in her youth. She wondered what his life was like now. He probably wondered the same about her. Once, they knew nearly everything about each other. Now they knew virtually nothing.
He seemed to read her mind. “I have a vet business in town, did you know that?”
“I could’ve guessed. It’s what you always wanted.” Landon had always poss
essed clear vision and goals. So had she, but life got in the way.
“I still love it. But what about you?” He glanced at her hand. Her left one. “What have you been up to?” The unspoken question hung in the air.
Paint ran down her wrist, and she wiped it on her shirt. Well, Igot pregnant, then Emmett kicked me out, then I lived in a homelessshelter in Boston while I waitressed at a bar until Caden was born.
“Not much,” she said. “I clean office buildings and take care of Caden. I don’t have time for much else.”
They painted in silence for a few minutes, long enough for her to think she was free and clear.
“What about Caden’s father?”
If it had been anyone else, she would have told him to mind his own business. “He’s gone.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask her to elaborate. Some things she couldn’t tell even Landon. Especially not Landon.
“Did you ever marry?”
Sam jabbed her brush at the shingle, filling in the crevices. “Nope.” Let him think Caden’s father hadn’t wanted her and no one else had either. Why should she explain?
“Me neither,” he said.
A weight lifted from her shoulders. She wondered why Landon hadn’t been snatched up by some woman yet. He’d had no trouble attracting girls in high school, and she had to admit, he’d only gotten better with age. Even Caden had commented on his looks.
They painted side by side, using the rickety ladder to reach the gable, and when they finished the front of the house, it was lunchtime. Landon invited them over for sandwiches and chips, then they worked the rest of the afternoon.
Sam was amazed at the way they fell back into their old friendship so quickly. He had a way of getting around her defenses. When the sun sank low in the sky, Landon asked them over for supper. She was about to reject the offer, afraid they’d make pests of themselves, but Landon promised a game of Scrabble, and she couldn’t say no to Caden’s excitement.
Nantucket Romance 3-in-1 Bundle Page 4
