by Leger, Lori
A wide smile spread across her face as she looked at the stuffed gator. “How adorable. Thank you, Sam. I love it.” She turned around and gave him a hug. “Now, it’s your turn,” she told him as she handed him the box and card.
He read the card first and thanked her, then opened the boxed ‘Facts for Fun’ note block, each sheet bordered with interesting facts and statements.
“So you never run out of useless information,” she explained.
“Man, I love reading stuff like this.” Thank You, Carrie.”
He leaned toward her, and brushed her lips lightly with a kiss, then backed away. His gaze locked onto hers like a beacon, and within moments he’d pulled Carrie into his arms for another kiss; this one deep, penetrating, and perfect. Sam knew he got it right when she shivered and arched her back like a cat. Tongues softly explored, lips molded, heads tilted ever so slightly to achieve just the right angle for optimum contact, he felt her arms loop around his neck to cling as tightly as he did. He hadn’t experienced a kiss like that in too damn long.
He ended it slowly, pulling away, going back for just one more, then another, then one last taste of softness. Finally, backing off, separating himself from her, denying the contact his body longed for.
A single sigh escaped her lips as she stepped away, squeezing her eyes closed for a moment longer. When she finally met his gaze, he saw his own feelings of need reflecting back. He knew she also felt unsure of him, terrified to take another chance. He stared down at her, feeling lucky, and curious. What does life have in store for the two of us?
She backed away from him and cleared her throat nervously. “So, what’s the plan for this evening?” She walked slowly to the tree, her booted footsteps echoing on the bare wooden floor.
“I thought I’d take you to a restaurant first, then a movie.”
“I haven’t been on a dinner and a movie date since the twins were in first grade. Is there a theater around here?”
“No, but it’s only thirty minutes to Lake Coburn,” he answered. “Do you feel like getting back on the road?”
“As long as I don’t have to drive. Do you have the internet to check the schedule?”
Sam pulled out a pad he’d written on. “No internet, no computer, but I got the list of movies as well as the times they start.” He placed it on the counter top and they bent their heads to study it.
Carrie tapped the paper with her forefinger. “I heard the one with George Clooney was really good.”
Sam pointed to the comedy. “I heard the same thing about this one.” He laughed at the face she made. “We can see something else.”
“How about this one?” she asked, pointing to the last on the list.
Sam sucked in his stomach and puffed out his chest. “You’re not going to be comparing me to Val Kilmer all night, are you?”
“Of course not.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “No comparison,” she added.
Sam beamed down at her. “Thanks, I feel better now.”
“I love me some Val Kilmer. I can still see him playing volleyball in Top Gun.” Sam groaned as he deflated in utter dejection.
Carrie laughed and placed her hand on his chest. “But then, again, I’m not on a date with Val, am I? Relax, Big Boy.” She looked down at the paper again. “There’s a feature at eight o’clock and it’s a quarter to six. I don’t have a problem with fast food for supper.”
Sam pushed away from the counter and shook his head. “My momma would slap me good if I took my first date in nearly twenty-five years to a burger joint. You want steak or seafood?”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “Mmm…steak…definitely.”
“Beef…It’s what’s fer supper,” he said, putting his own twist on Sam Elliot’s advertisement. He placed a light kiss on her fingers. “Let’s go.”
***
Less than five minutes later, Carrie stepped down from Sam’s truck and gave him a tentative smile. “You know, if we were in Gardiner, tongues would be wagging already. You sure you want to do this?”
“I doubt anyone expects me to live the rest of my life like a monk. Besides, I want to show you off, pretty girl.” Sam paused at the door of the restaurant, his hand on the knob as he stared down at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, checking her reflection in the window pane self-consciously.
“Not a thing. Have I told you how happy I am you’re here with me tonight?”
She raised a hand to his face and smiled. “I think you just did.”
Inside the restaurant, she slipped off her coat and tried to relax. Sam placed a comforting hand on the small of her back as a waitress led them to a table in the corner of the room packed with curious diners. Once they seated themselves, Carrie leaned in close to whisper. “If I had toilet paper trailing from my shoe, you’d tell me, right?”
“It’s only a few squares.”
“That is so not funny right now.”
Sam grinned from behind his menu. “They’re just wondering where the hell I found someone as good-looking as you, that’s all.”
“Yeah, sure they are.” She picked up her own menu, glad to have some way to hide the blush she felt creeping up her neck. “So, what do you recommend?”
“I’m partial to the sirloin, but you can’t go wrong with a t-bone or rib-eye.”
A few minutes later, Sam smiled up at the approaching waitress. “How’re you doing, Lace?”
The young woman beamed down at him. “I’m good, Mr. Sam. How’s Amanda?”
“She’s doing great. Working at a bank here in town. Hey, Lacey, this is my date, Carrie Jeansonne. We work together in Lake Coburn.”
Carrie nodded politely and saw the waitress give Sam a quick nod of approval.
“Good for you, Mr. Sam.” She took their drink orders and left.
“Lacey is a childhood friend of my daughter’s,” he explained.
Carrie took a sip of water, fidgeting at the curious stares of other diners. “And so it begins…”
“Maybe we should stand up and introduce you.”
“Nah. Let’s keep `em all guessing awhile longer.”
A second waitress, this one closer to their age, brought salads to their table, talking fast and gushing over Sam with obvious gusto.
“Did we order salads yet?” Carrie asked, smiling through the server’s exaggerated twang, and overzealous attention to Sam’s needs. She listened, shocked as the woman attempted to engage Sam in small talk while sending not-so-covert glances in her direction. Sam gave her a polite nod of thanks and began preparing his salad. Instead of leaving, she loitered at their table.
Once Carrie realized Sam had no intention of introducing them, her curiosity took over. She offered her hand to the woman. “I’m Carrie Langley, and you are…”
“Bertie Miller,” the woman said, countering with what felt to Carrie like a reluctant handshake, before wiping her hands on her apron.
Knowing a snub when she got one, Carrie couldn’t resist egging her on. “Birdie? Like a bird?”
“Uh, no, that’s with a T.”
Carrie stared in disbelief as the woman turned her back on her and picked up her one-sided conversation with Sam. Snubbed again.
“Like I was sayin’, Sammy, if you need anythin’ at a-all, Sugar, you just let me kna-ow—”
“Oh, Burtie. Like a man,” Carrie interrupted. “Your parents must have been expecting a son, then. Your father must be a Burt or Robert.”
The woman turned to stare at her. “Nooooaah…” she drawled. “B-E-R-T-I-E…as in short for Roberta? Oh, and by the way, I’m a friend of Linda’s. You know, Sammy’s ex-wa-af? You must not be from around here, you havin’ such a thick Cajun accent an all.”
Carrie gave the woman a thousand-watt smile as she rested her chin on her clasped hands. “Nooooah, but I lived in East Texas fuh six years of my laf, an’ when I get the yearnin’… I can tawlk jus as good country hick as you can. Sugar.” She batted her eyelashes dramatically at Berti
e before continuing. “It’s been a pleasure, Burt, but I see our real waitress is back to take care of my and Sammy’s needs. Thanks so much for everything.”
When Lacey stepped up, effectively cutting off the older woman’s contact with Sam, Bertie sulked away.
Lacey gave Carrie a look of pure mortification. “I’m so sorry—I turned my back for a minute, and she was out here. She knows this is my section.”
Carrie pointed to the two vegetable filled plates. “These are someone else’s, aren’t they, Lacey?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Sam looked up from cutting a cherry tomato in half. “They are?”
“Did we put in our orders, yet, Sam?”
“No, but…”
Carrie cocked her head to the side and raised her hands, palm side up.
He gazed mournfully at his salad. “Do I have to give it back?
Lacey giggled and shook her head. “Of course not. Are y’all ready to order?”
Sam ordered a sirloin, well-done, with a side of grilled vegetables, and then turned to Carrie.
“I think I’ll just have a salad.”
“I thought you wanted steak?”
“Not if Bertie is going to be within twenty feet of my food, I don’t.”
Lacey grinned. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t go near it, I promise.”
Carrie handed her the menu. “Okay, then. But just to be safe, I’ll have what he’s having, with the same grilled veggies.”
“How do you want that cooked?”
“Exactly the same as his,” she answered, pointing to Sam. “And could you bring a dish of extra lemon for Sam’s iced tea, please?”
Once Lacey left with their order, Sam wiped his mouth on his napkin. “How’d you know I liked extra lemon?”
“You ordered it the day we all went to eat at McKinley’s Grill.”
“That was less than a month after you came to work with us,” he said.
“It was the day after my divorce finalized.”
“You paid attention to what I said that long ago?”
Carrie ignored the question and changed the subject.
“That Bertie chick may know your ex-waaf, but she was no friend of hers, was she?”
He grabbed his fork and attacked his salad again. “Used to be, but not for several years.”
“What happened? Did Linda figure out that Bertie wanted to sweeten your tea for you, Sammy?”
Sam pulled on the collar of his shirt. “Damn, it’s hot in here.”
“Y’awnt me to call Bertie over here, Saaa-mmy? Bet she can make ya even hotter.”
Sam stabbed at a piece of lettuce. “Shut up,” he murmured.
Carrie leaned in closer to tease him. “What happened, Sugar? Did the scary lady make a pass at Sammy Wammy?”
Sam gulped at his tea before answering. “She grabbed my ass when I wasn’t looking. Linda saw it all and went over to confront her.”
“Oh-oh, did she threaten her?”
“She wouldn’t say at first, but a couple of weeks later, during one of our too-frequent arguments, Linda admitted to me what she’d told her.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “She told Bertie if she wanted that part of me, she had to promise to take the whole G.D. package. But, it’d cost me half of my retirement, everything we owned, and she’d have to take her son-pampering motherin-law, too.”
Carrie’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my God, she really told her that?”
Sam puffed out one cheek before answering. “I don’t doubt it for a minute.” He watched as Carrie brought her straw to her mouth for a drink then pursed her lips.
“That’s pretty good,” she admitted.
“This time I’m the one asking to change the subject,” Sam said, clearing his throat. “How’d you get into drafting, anyway? Last night you said something about almost becoming a paralegal?”
“Okay, but only because I owe you one,” she said, using her fork as a pointer. “My two girlfriends, Sharon and Sandy, and I were on our way to a technical college in Lafayette to test for paralegal studies. About halfway there, I had a meltdown, and told them I couldn’t work for a lawyer. I was drawn to the drafting technology section in the catalog, but the required math scared the hell out of me. My friends gave me the boost in confidence I needed, and convinced me to go for it. I scored in the top three percentile.”
“Not bad for someone who’d been out of school for awhile.”
“I guess I remembered more than I gave myself credit for.”
“Why drafting?”
“All my life I’d seen this funny looking, three sided ruler hanging around our home. I remember holding it, examining it, and never being able to figure out how to use two sides of it.”
“A scale?” Sam asked her.
“That’s right. I remember looking for a straight edge to draw a line and I asked if anyone knew where that three sided ruler was.” She laughed at the memory. “My dad said, ‘I keep telling y’all, it’s not a ruler, dammit, it’s a scale!’ At the time the only scale I knew about was the kind that weighed things. I didn’t know anything about drafting arms, templates or CAD programs. But my dad could draw anything to scale. I think he’d be proud I chose this career.”
“What does your mom do?” he asked.
“She retired as a teacher’s aide, but since Dad’s death, any damn thing she wants to.” Carrie dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “She loves to work in her garden. I swear that woman could grow a rose bush from a rock. She’s the president of the Garden Club, and involved in all kinds of things.”
“Do you like gardening, too?”
She raised her thumb. “Does this digit look green to you?”
“I enjoy gardening,” Sam said, stacking their empty salad plates as Lacey arrived with their entrees.
“I hate it. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
“It’s the differences that make life interesting. What’s wrong?” Carrie’s eyes were riveted toward the entrance of the restaurant, her brows creased curiously .
“I think those women are talking about us over there.”
Sam waved her off. “It’s a small town. Tomorrow they’ll be talking about someone else.”
Carrie leaned over to look around him. “I think this is different.”
Sam turned toward the trio of women at the doorway. “Aw, hell, damn, and double damn,” he muttered, as one woman walked toward them.
“Who is that?”
Sam sighed, picked up his napkin from his lap and threw it on the table. “My ex.”
CHAPTER 11
“Hey Sam,” the pretty, full figured woman told him. “Don’t get up,” she said, placing a hand familiarly on his shoulder. “I’m having supper with Deb and Margaret, and wanted to come over and say hello.”
Carrie watched as Sam clenched and released his jaw several times during her dialogue before he nodded then answered in a low growl.
“There’s a first time for everything, I guess,” he muttered, sending Carrie an apology-filled plea for patience. “Carrie, this is Linda.”
The woman reached over the table to extend her hand.
In Carrie’s mind, Linda’s bold act of walking over to their table in front of everyone in the dining room implied one of three things: First, Linda considered this to be her territory, and Carrie the interloper; second, Sam’s ex-wife was an extremely friendly person; or third, Linda was just nosey as hell.
Linda’s insincere smile hinted at a mixture of territorial and flat-out-nosiness. Carrie chose to stand as she clasped hands with the much shorter woman. She watched Linda’s smile falter, obviously shocked at the sight of her ex-husband’s date smiling down at her. “Carrie Jeansonne. Hello, Linda. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Carrie. I didn’t realize Sam was seeing anyone…and so young, too.”
Carrie intercepted the smug look Linda directed at a tight-lipped Sam. The woman had nerve, for sure, but absolutely no idea who she
was messing with. Carrie cocked her head slightly to the side. “People always tell me I look much younger than my age, Linda, but thank you so much for the compliment.”
“How long have you two been dating?” Linda asked.
Sam rested his elbows on the table, his fingers interlaced tightly together. “Since when do you give a damn what I do?”
Carrie reseated herself, leaving Sam’s ex standing alone, and covered Sam’s tightly laced fingers with her own relaxed hand. He latched onto her fingers with both hands, as though he were a drowning man reaching for a buoy. She answered his questioning gaze with a warm smile. “This is only our first date, but Sam and I work together, and we’ve been friends for a few months.”
Linda blinked once and furrowed her brow. “I thought the company frowned upon co-workers dating.”
Carrie gave the woman a bright smile. “Oh, Sam’s not my boss. I’m a road designer, so it’s okay.”
“You must be new. Roxie’s been the only woman in that office for years.”
“I’ve been there for—has it been over four months already, Sam?”
“On the eleventh.”
“You remember the day?” she asked, her look of surprise more for the sake of his ex than anything else.
“Uh huh,” he murmured, never taking his eyes from her.
Under the circumstances, Carrie decided she could afford to be gracious. “I’ve seen pictures of your beautiful kids, Linda. Amanda and Nick look a lot like you.”
“Oh…uh…thank you. Well, I don’t want to keep the two of you from your meal.”
Carrie watched as Linda turned abruptly and walked back to her friends. Several other heads watched the woman’s hasty retreat back to her own corner of the ring.
Carrie raised her hand to ring an imaginary bell. “Ding! Ding! First round goes to the contender.”
Sam grinned at her and nodded. “I believe it did.”
She settled back into her chair to slice a section of her tender rib eye. “Do you think she got what she was looking for?”
Sam’s chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “Yep, and so much more.” He raised his fork to his mouth and paused. “You know, that’s the first time she’s initiated a conversation since we split. We normally repel each other like two magnets with the same pole.
