by Olivia Dade
He loved her directness. Her humor. Her liberal use of profanity. Her completely whacked grasp on figurative language. Her pragmatic brand of caring. Her loyalty to her friends and family. Her work ethic. Even her damn steel-toed boots, which had come to represent Con to him, their hard edges concealing something breakable inside.
If he let himself, he suspected he could love her. Full stop.
But until he knew loving her—and possibly losing her—wouldn’t cost him Penny, it wasn’t going to happen. He’d risk his own heartbreak, but he wouldn’t risk losing the only family he had left.
Which meant he needed to grow a pair of man-sized testicles at long last, find the contact information his sister had sent him for her honeymoon, and undoubtedly interrupt some sort of horrifying Jane Eyre-related sexual shenanigans by calling her.
It was time to remove the last barrier keeping him from a full-out pursuit of Constance Marie Chen. And if that barrier disappeared, she’d better marshal all her defenses against him and fast, because he was coming for her. With patience. With stealth. And with the full power of his intelligence, his will, and his heart driving him onward.
***
The next morning, Penny answered the hotel phone on the fourth ring, a millisecond before Sam was going to give up and try calling again later.
“Hello?” She sounded breathless and giggly, which he didn’t consider a good sign.
“Hey, Pen. It’s Sam. Is this a bad time?”
“Not at all.” Her voice immediately sharpened. “Are you okay? Is someone hurt? Because I could get on the next plane home.”
“No, no, no.” He sat on the edge of his bed, warmed by her concern. “I just needed to talk with you. About something personal.”
“Oh.” A long pause, during which he could hear some muffled conversation. “Give me a minute to get dr—I mean, comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
There was a little thump when she apparently set aside the phone.
“This is the last time I play St. John.” Jack sounded grumpy, as he so often did. “I know you like occasional variety, and I know you think his name is sexy, but it’s not working for me.”
Penny drew out the syllables lovingly. “Siiiiinjiiiiinnn. My entire opinion of that man changed after I realized it wasn’t pronounced ‘Saint John.’”
“I’m not inviting you to do missionary work in India again. Period.”
“Why not?” Fabric rustled near the phone.
“I’m getting jealous of myself. Because I’m an idiot.” Jack’s voice had shifted from irritated to amused, which didn’t surprise Sam. His sister’s husband, for all his introverted crankiness, had a good sense of humor.
Penny laughed. “Poor baby. You’ve identified a little too closely with Rochester, haven’t you? Maybe I should find someone else to play St. John in our little game?”
Jack harrumphed, and the sound of a scuffle came over the line. Penny squeaked.
“I’m talking to my brother!” she scolded her husband. “Behave yourself.”
She cleared her throat, and then she evidently picked up the phone again. “Sam? I’m back. And very sorry if you heard anything that embarrassed you. If so, blame Jack. He’s incorrigible.” Another squeak. “And apparently possesses a death wish.”
Sam sighed. “I’m going to pretend that conversation never happened. But it’s fine. I’m glad you’re having fun on your honeymoon. One more week left, huh?”
“Yes. And I picked up a few souvenirs for my beloved brother along the way. You’ll see those soon enough, though. Tell me what’s going on. Are you all right?”
“Fine.”
A pause. “Okay.”
Now that the moment had arrived, he didn’t know how to begin. But maybe he should tackle this the way Con would. Directly. Without hedging or half truths.
“How would you feel if I started dating Con?” he blurted out. “Like, seriously dating her?”
After another pause, Penny said, “I told you so. You owe me a night in the fortune-teller’s costume.”
“Huh?” Putting his cell on speaker, he laid it on the bed in front of him and stared at it.
“Sorry. That was directed at Jack.” Penny suddenly sounded very cheerful. “Well, what took you so long?”
Sam shook his head, befuddled by the conversation. “Excuse me? Were you talking to Jack again?”
“Nope. I’m asking you, Sam Wolcott, why you took so long to pursue the woman you’ve been loudly and argumentatively pining over for months now. Especially after I seated you two together for the wedding reception. I’ve been trying not to interfere, but how much more of a hint did you need?”
“I…” His vocal cords failed to provide any further sounds. When he’d envisioned this conversation, he’d never, ever imagined it proceeding quite like this.
“I knew Con would be a tough nut to crack. Even though she’s interested in you, she’s stubborn as hell and totally convinced she doesn’t want love. But I have no idea what’s been holding you back,” Penny said. “I thought you’d get off your ass and go after her well before now. What gives?”
“Let me be sure I have this right.” He gripped the back of his neck with one hand, leaning close to the phone. “You’re on board with my dating one of your best friends?”
“Of course.” She made a scoffing noise. “I love both of you. Why wouldn’t I want you to be happy together?”
Warmth bloomed in his chest at her unhesitating declaration of love and her support for a relationship with Con. But before he could relax completely, he still needed to lay out his gravest concern. The fear that had stolen his sleep and kept him apart from Con for months and months.
“What if we break up?” He took a hitching breath. “I don’t want to make things awkward between you and Con. You two are so close.”
Her voice was as comforting and gentle as a blanket settling over him. “And?”
“If you felt like you had to choose sides, I…” His eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t want to lose you. I love you, Pen. You’re my family. My only family.”
For a moment, he heard nothing but dead silence on the phone. Then she spoke again, her words hoarse and tight. “I’m not our mother, Sam.”
“What?” He sat up straight. “Of course you’re not.”
“I wouldn’t dismiss our relationship if it got awkward or difficult. I wouldn’t abandon you. I swear I wouldn’t.”
Oh, God. He’d fucked up everything. His sister sounded hurt. Close to tears. And if he wasn’t mistaken, he could hear Jack murmuring softly to her.
“I know.” His heart aching, Sam rushed to reassure her. “I know you’re incredibly loyal. But you’ve been friends with Con for a long time, and we’ve really only known each other for a few months.”
“M-my fault.” Penny sniffled. “Even before you moved to Niceville, I should have called you more. Visited you. Hell, I should have agreed to see you more often when we were kids. You’re my younger brother, Sam. My only brother. I should have taken care of you. M-made sure you didn’t feel alone.”
“I had Dad.” God, he hated hearing her weep. “It’s okay, Pen. Please don’t cry.”
“I was…” She blew her nose. “I don’t like admitting this. It doesn’t speak well of me. But I was so jealous of you and your father, Sam. So angry for so many years. Mom left my dad and me for you two, and I had a hard time getting past that.”
A grim smile stretched his lips. “If it’s any consolation, she didn’t stay for long.”
“Yeah.” The word emerged in a raw whisper. “But that didn’t seem to make a difference in how I felt.”
“Is that why…” He trailed off, unsure whether he actually wanted to know. Maybe he should let the past stay buried.
After taking a shaky breath, she answered the question he hadn’t dared to ask. “When I turned thirteen, it was the first year Mom didn’t even call on my birthday. I’d just—” She hesitated.
“I’d just gotten my period. And I had my first crush on a boy. The day of my birthday, I found out he was only spending time with me so he could copy my homework. I was heartbroken, and I wanted a mother so badly, Sam. So badly.”
He looked down at the bedspread and blinked hard.
She heaved a sigh. “Then, during that last visit to Salisbury, you told me she’d called you. To chat. Not for any special occasion.”
“I can count on one hand the number of times she did that,” he interjected quickly.
She gave a rusty laugh. “I’m not surprised. But back then, all I could see was my own pain and anger. So I said I didn’t want to visit you anymore. My dad argued with me about it, but eventually gave up and told your father I was too busy with friends and school for a visit.”
“I always wondered.” He licked dry lips, remembering how abandoned and hurt he’d felt. “I figured I’d said or done something wrong, but Dad wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“No, Sam. No.” Her words turned shaky again. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I did. I should have been there for you while you were growing up. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he repeated. “Of course you resented me. You were a kid who’d lost her mom, Pen. Please don’t blame yourself for being angry.”
Another bark of bitter laughter. “That was over twenty years ago. I should have gotten over it long before I did.”
“Don’t worry about it. Once I was older, I could have called or visited more too.” What else could he say? He didn’t fault her for their years of estrangement. He just didn’t want those years to repeat themselves.
“I’m still sorry, Sam. But my point is this.” After one last sniffle, her voice turned fierce. “I will never abandon you again, just like I’ll never abandon Jack or Con or Angie or any of the people I love. I don’t care if you and Con break up. I don’t care if you two end up hating each other and arguing every time you meet.”
She laughed again, this time with genuine amusement. “Which is pretty much what you did for months, incidentally.”
He pressed his lips together, silently conceding her point.
“I’ll love you both, no matter what happens. I’ll always be your family and Con’s family. Forever and ever. Understood?”
He bowed his head, near tears himself. But somehow, a smothering weight—one he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying—lifted in that moment, and he could breathe more easily.
“Sam? Do you understand? Because I’m your big sister, and I’ll fly back to Maryland to kick your ass if necessary. And maybe even give you a noogie at long last.” A muffled conversation. “Jack also suggests something called a purple nurple.”
His hands rose to cover his nipples protectively. “I understand. No need for nurples, purple or otherwise.”
“Good.” Penny sounded like herself again. “That issue is settled. So let’s discuss Con. When did she decide she was willing to date you?”
“About that…” He shifted on the bed.
After a short silence, Penny filled in the blanks as tactfully as possible. “I take it she remains unaware of her desire for a real relationship with you? At least for now?”
“That’s right,” he admitted. “We’ve been, um…casually involved since your wedding, but I haven’t suggested anything more long-term. I needed to talk with you first.” He squared his shoulders, renewed determination rushing through every nerve in his body. “Now that I know you’re on board, though, I’m gunning for her. With everything I have.”
“Should be one hell of a show,” his sister said. “Quick question. Is this a secret, or can I tell Angie about it?”
“Hmm.” He contemplated the issue. “For the time being, let’s keep it private. I don’t want Con to feel like I’ve recruited outside people to pressure her. And if she turns me down, I wouldn’t mind sparing myself the extra humiliation.”
“Got it. I promise not to say a word about your Con Campaign.”
His brow furrowed in thought. “Any battle strategies to share? You’ve known her longer than I have.”
Penny thought for a moment before answering. “Con loves gardening and home repair. Which you probably already figured out. And she’s really into the Nudist Construction Worker, or whatever he calls himself.”
He snorted.
“Her tastes are pretty straightforward. Beer, subs, sports. And she works so hard taking care of her family, her friends, and her Bookmobile patrons that she needs a certain amount of alone time. But maybe if you helped shoulder her responsibilities, she might decide to spend that time with you instead.”
“Understood.”
“If she perceives you as a burden…” Penny hesitated. “I hate to say this, because it makes her sound callous, and she’s not. But she can’t handle any more problems or obligations. Not after how she grew up, and not with all the people she cares for now. So if she begins to consider you just another item on her to-do list, you’re in trouble.”
Although Penny couldn’t see him, he nodded. “Exactly what I suspected. My strategy is to show her how I could make her life better and easier, not harder.”
“Sounds like you’re already making her life better in at least one way. That is, if I’m interpreting the term ‘casually involved’ correctly.” Penny made a little sound of disgust. “Although I don’t want to think very hard about the implications.”
He grinned. “Welcome to the club. I know far too much about your Jane Eyre-related proclivities at this point.”
In the background, Jack announced, “This is humiliating. What happened to my existence as a reclusive author who valued his privacy?”
“Suck it up, Williamson.” Penny’s voice got louder as she returned to Sam. “Sorry ’bout that. We’ll try to be more discreet in the future.”
“Appreciated,” Sam said.
A comfortable silence ensued.
“Is your brother paying international calling rates for you two to sit and not talk to one another?” Jack grumbled. “Because that’s wasteful. Not to mention absurd.”
“All right, all right, you crotchety hermit.” Penny must have pinched or otherwise tormented Jack, because the man grunted. “Sam, I’d better go. Unless there’s something else you want to discuss?”
“I’m good.” And he was, for the first time since his father’s death.
“Love you. And good luck with Con.” Her voice softened. “It won’t be easy, you know.”
“I know. I love you too.”
When he disconnected the call, he surveyed his world with new eyes. He had a family, no matter what. Penny had told him so, and he believed her. Which meant the last real barrier standing between him and Con had fallen during a single ten-minute phone conversation.
The green quilt covering his bed—a gift from his sister—seemed to glow in the winter sunlight. The apple scent Con had left on his pillow wafted to his nose, sharp and sweet. Gravity had diminished, to the point where he thought his limbs might float away. At the same time, though, he felt strong. Strong enough to shift boulders and part seas. Certainly strong enough to take on a stubborn woman in steel-toed boots and win.
Maybe he was just the latest in a long string of men who’d fallen for her despite her clear and repeated warnings. And maybe a real relationship with him didn’t interest her, not even in the most hidden, protected corner of her stalwart heart. But somehow he didn’t think so.
When they spent time together, in bed or out, she relaxed. She laughed. He could see the reluctance in her eyes every time she left his arms, and he was certain he could make her happy if she’d only give him the opportunity. And God help him, he wanted and adored her enough to fight for her happiness, as well as his own.
The walls around Con were coming down. He was taking them down.
She simply didn’t know it yet.
14
Con didn’t get it. At all.
How the hell had Sam managed to inf
iltrate Big Bertha overnight? Con had traveled straight from work to his bed yesterday, and he’d appeared near-comatose when she’d departed in the early hours of the morning. And she knew she’d locked the Bookmobile before leaving it inside the library garage at quitting time.
Sam didn’t have a key. At least, he shouldn’t have a key. Couldn’t have a key, according to library rules about such things.
Fuck it, he obviously did have a key. Because right now, she was staring at a cedar planter full of her favorite things on the driver’s seat of the Bookmobile. A roast beef sub with horseradish cheese and mayo—hold the lettuce, tomato, and anything else healthy—wrapped in wax paper with ice packs tucked around it. A huge bag of kettle-cooked potato chips with sea salt. A six-pack of Coke, the cans still cold and misted with condensation. A handful of extra pencils. And if she wasn’t mistaken…
She squinted at them in the overhead light. Yup. He’d somehow gotten those pencils printed with the phrase “I ♥ Con’s Buns.” Funny.
Two tickets to the upcoming Wizards game poked out of the planter, right next to the little pot of violets. A new hammer rested nearby, no doubt purchased because she’d been complaining about the heft and balance of hers the other day.
Jesus. If she didn’t know better—if she didn’t remember the very clear, very matter-of-fact conversation they’d had weeks ago about keeping their relationship sex-only—she’d have said Sam Wolcott was trying to woo her.
She’d received gifts from lovers before, usually offered in the vain hope of converting a casual relationship into something more permanent. But they gave her cut flowers, when she enjoyed vegetation that wouldn’t wither and die in a matter of days. Necklaces, when she rarely even bothered to wear earrings. Lacquered or engraved chopsticks to hold her buns in place, when she had deliberately avoided that particular stereotype her entire life. Chocolates, when she preferred savory food to sweets. Occasionally men even presented a pair of expensive stilettos to her with great fanfare, as if she were Cinderella waiting for her prince. As if she chose her boots only because she lacked other options.
