Heat rose to Samantha’s face. “He definitely is.” She hesitated. “Are you...interested in him?”
“No way!” Hannah laughed. “To me, he’ll always be my fellow nerd, good old Corbin.”
“He’s just a friend to me, too,” Samantha said quickly.
“Uh-huh,” Hannah said. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” Because that’s how it has to be.
* * *
That evening, Corbin trotted up his porch steps with his mind still on the comparative physiology course he’d taught that afternoon. The advanced students had been full of questions, clearly engaged in the material. They hadn’t wanted to leave when the class was over.
He walked into his house to the sound of Samantha and Mikey laughing together. He followed the smell of hot dogs and baked beans and something else, rich and cinnamony, to the kitchen.
Samantha was at the counter cutting up fruit, the afternoon sun shining on her hair. Mikey stood on a chair beside her, rolling pieces of Play-Doh on a paper plate.
He cleared his throat. “Hi everybody,” he said.
Samantha looked over and smiled at him, a little shyly.
Mikey jumped off the chair. “Corbin! Come see!”
“Careful, buddy. What are you doing?”
“Makin’ fruit.” He handed Corbin a red sphere. “See, apple!”
Samantha scraped a small heap of chopped-up pineapple into a bowl that already held grapes and strawberries. Then she rinsed off the cutting board, speaking over her shoulder to Corbin. “Make sure he eats his fruit before he has a cookie,” she said.
Corbin sniffed appreciatively. “Cookies! So that’s the good smell.”
“Oatmeal raisin,” Mikey said, only he pronounced it “waysin.”
Samantha was already at the hook by the back door where her coat and purse were hanging.
Corbin didn’t know what to make of the squeeze in his heart. “You’re not going to stay?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I wasn’t planning to.”
Mikey climbed into a kitchen chair. “C’mon, errbody. Time to eat!”
“Please stay,” Corbin said to Samantha. “I’ll take you home after.” He’d noticed she didn’t drive today, and he certainly didn’t want her walking all the way home after a day of caring for Mikey.
She bit her lip, and then a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I always did like hot dogs,” she said.
“Great.” His heart lightened, and he smiled at her.
She smiled back, then seemed to suck in her breath. She rubbed her hands together and looked out the window. “But I think we should eat out in the backyard,” she said briskly. “Kind of a picnic.”
“Yeah!” Mikey pumped his fist into the air.
“Good idea.” Corbin couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a picnic.
So they made plates and carried them outside. Samantha spread a blanket and Corbin passed out napkins and they all sat down. They held hands and prayed, and then dug in.
“How’d you manage to make such a good meal out of nothing?” he asked between bites.
She laughed, a sound as sweet and natural as a rushing stream. “It’s just hot dogs and beans,” she said. “And before you get worried, I cut up Mikey’s hot dog so there’s no chance he’ll choke on it.”
“I wasn’t worried.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Whatcha lookin’ at, Corbin?” Mikey asked. “Cookie now?”
Corbin thanked the child, in his head, for providing a distraction.
“Eat your fruit first, honey,” Samantha said.
Trying to distract himself from the strange feelings he was having toward Samantha, Corbin looked around the yard. Last year’s leaves still clustered behind bushes, and weeds sprouted freely throughout the unkempt flower gardens. “I, um, I’m not the best at lawn care. I mow the grass and that’s about it.”
She shrugged. “You have a fence. It can’t bother anybody but you.”
“It pretty!” Mikey jumped up and ran toward a small section of garden, now neatly weeded and tilled. “Look, Corbin!”
Corbin lifted an eyebrow at Samantha and then stood to look more closely. “Did you two do that?”
“Yes. Mikey and I worked hard today, didn’t we, buddy?”
He ran to her, and she put an arm around him and smiled up at Corbin. “Mikey had a great time digging in the dirt. He even pulled up some weeds.”
“I got dirty,” Mikey announced with apparent pride. “Had to take a bath!”
Corbin hadn’t even considered the fact that a child would need to be bathed. “I hope you found what you needed for that,” he said to Samantha.
“I rummaged,” she said with a grin. “And we had fun. It’s good for kids to play in the dirt.”
They talked a little longer, and then Mikey leaned against Samantha, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. She glanced over at Corbin. “I think one cookie, and then it’ll be bedtime. It’s been a long day for this one.”
They carried the dishes in and Corbin insisted that she leave them for him to do later. He already felt like she had waited on them enough.
As soon as he finished his cookie, Mikey yawned hugely.
“Come see what I did to his bed,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
They went into the guest bedroom, Corbin carrying Mikey. Two dressers had been arranged to make little walls around the bed. “Good idea,” he said. It hadn’t even occurred to him that a little boy like Mikey wouldn’t be comfortable in a big bed.
“I think he’ll feel safer this way. Be safer. It doesn’t look the greatest, but it’s just temporary.”
They leaned together over the bed and talked a little bit to Mikey, and within minutes his eyes fluttered closed.
As they walked out of the room, Samantha clapped a hand to her forehead and reached into her pocket. “I forgot to tell you. I found this letter in the door.”
He took it and studied it. When he saw the single handwritten line, “For Corbin,” his heart pounded harder. “It’s from Mom.”
He tore into it, scanned the words quickly, and then let out a huge sigh. He’d feared this very thing. “She wants to make this arrangement with Mikey permanent.”
Chapter Four
“You’re sure about this?” Hannah pulled up in front of Corbin’s house and looked over at Samantha, her brow crinkling. “You know you’re welcome to stay at my place as long as you want.”
“No,” Samantha said, “I think Corbin’s right. It’s easier if I stay here.”
“Probably so.” Hannah opened the car door. “I just noticed you seemed a little anxious.”
“I’m not anxious.” Of course, she was, but she’d tried not to show it.
“Your nails,” Hannah said as she pulled Samantha’s suitcase out of the back seat.
Samantha looked down at her hands and realized she’d picked the polish off her nails. “Oh.”
“Do you want me to go in with you?” Hannah offered.
She didn’t need her cousin taking care of her to that extent, and she didn’t want to impose any more than she already had. She’d left her car at her cousin’s already, waiting until she could afford to get it worked on, and Hannah had driven her here. “No, no, I’m fine. I know you have to get to work.”
Hannah glanced at her phone. “Oh, boy, I sure do. Anyway, don’t be a stranger!” She put down the suitcase and opened her arms, and Samantha went in for a hug. “It’s been so much fun having you around. I get a little lonely in my house by myself.”
Samantha studied her cousin. Hannah was the nicest person in the world, and really pretty, but she hid that fact behind completely tomboyish clothing. She’d tried, subtly, to find out what was behind Hannah’s withdrawal, but so far, she hadn’t been able to pierce Hannah’s che
ery facade.
If Samantha ever got her own life together, she’d find a way to help Hannah be less lonely.
The front door opened, and Corbin came out as Hannah waved goodbye and drove off. His glasses were in his hands and his hair was rumpled. He wore jeans and a T-shirt that fit tight around his biceps. Where did he get those biceps? Did he work out or was it from lifting animals and carrying boxes around his research lab at the university?
Whatever had made him so muscular, she needed to stop staring. “I’m here,” she said briskly. “Sure you haven’t changed your mind?”
“Have you changed yours?” Corbin came out and picked up her heavy suitcase. “Believe me, I need your help with Mikey. He’s scared of the dark and so I didn’t get any sleep. With you living in, maybe he’ll feel more secure. I’m glad you’re willing.”
Not just willing, but amazed at how perfectly everything had worked out. When Samantha had called Mikey’s mom and told her that Corbin had hired her as a live-in nanny the moment he’d read the letter, Cheryl had been thrilled. And relieved; Samantha had heard it in Cheryl’s voice, the release from fear about her son.
Looking at Corbin’s kind face, Samantha felt her stomach twist, just a little. He didn’t deserve to be lied to and deceived.
But when she’d suggested—again—that they tell Corbin the truth, Cheryl had been vehement. “He hates his father, and me, too, for the way we raised him. If he knew that you and I were friends, he’d suspect a setup and turn you away in a minute, and I’d have no way of keeping track of Mikey.” Her voice had wavered a little. “Please, Samantha. I don’t think I can survive, nurse my husband, if I don’t know my son is safe.”
So she’d reluctantly agreed, for Mikey’s sake. Now, she stepped over a red plastic trike made to look like a motorcycle. “Where’d you get this?”
“We went to the toy outlet last night, and he wanted it,” Corbin said as if he’d buy the child anything he wanted. Typical guy, he probably hadn’t bought the practical supplies you actually needed for a toddler. But the trike was sweet. “Where is Mikey?” she asked Corbin as she followed him into the house and up the stairs.
“At Gabby and Reese’s,” he said over his shoulder. “She offered to keep him for the morning and bring him back when they come to town later. It seemed like it might be good for you to move in without him running around and getting into all your things. Although,” he added as he led the way into a little suite and put the suitcase down, “it doesn’t look like you have much.”
Knowing she was alone with Corbin made Samantha feel inexplicably shy. But the feeling dissolved in wonder as she looked around the bedroom. “Oh, Corbin, this is lovely! It’s like living in a treehouse!” She went from the bedroom to the small sitting room. Both had slanted roofs and exposed beams, and triple dormer windows looking out into newly budding trees.
“It’s a little dark,” he said apologetically, “but you get early morning and late afternoon sun.”
She sniffed in a lemony smell. “You’ve been cleaning.”
“I’m pretty good at that, but it doesn’t have a woman’s touch. Or is that sexist to say? Anyhow, feel free to change whatever you want, make it your own.”
Something in his tone made her look at him, and she realized he was sweating. Why was he sweating? Why was he talking so much?
“It’s a little warm up here,” he said, “but the windows open.” He stepped past her and demonstrated, and a cool, damp breeze blew in. “Do you think this will be okay?”
“Corbin.” She touched his arm, and the feel of his skin beneath her fingertips made her want to linger. She pulled her hand away quickly. “Do you remember how we lived when I was growing up? This is a palace compared to our house.”
“I remember your place was small,” he said, “but I never had the chance to come inside.”
“Be glad.” She thought of the tiny one bedroom house they’d rented for most of her growing up years. “No shade on my mom. She did the best she could.” In fact, when Samantha had been a hormonal teenager, Mom had given her the bedroom to herself, had slept on the couch. Every morning when Samantha had gotten up, there had been a neat stack of blankets on one arm of the couch, and Mom had been in the kitchen, fixing oatmeal or eggs.
I never told her how much I appreciated her. Had never even understood the sacrifices Mom had made. Now, thanks to cancer, it was too late.
“I would have liked to come inside,” he said, so quietly she thought she’d imagined it.
“You would?” She stared at him blankly. “Why?”
“I had a major crush on you.” Corbin’s cheeks flushed but he looked directly into her eyes. “Didn’t you know?”
She stared at him, all too aware of his broad shoulders, his steady brown eyes. “No, I didn’t. You were a senior, an honors student, way out of my league. I...no.”
Their gazes tangled for a moment too long as Samantha thought about what she’d been like back then. Even as early as ninth grade, she’d hung with the druggie kids, stayed out late, dated the boys who had fast cars...how would she have known that nerdy, intelligent Corbin was looking her way?
“Not anymore,” he said hastily. “I mean, I like you and everything, but...” He trailed off and looked away.
“It’s understood.” But she felt deflated. Now that Corbin was successful, and she was anything but, he wasn’t interested.
Even if he had been, nothing could have gone forward between them. Samantha was hiding information about herself and Cheryl and Mikey. She’d had a bad lifestyle, done a lot of things she regretted. She didn’t deserve the admiration of a man like Corbin.
“If you don’t need anything else, I’ll head downstairs,” he said, backing away as if Samantha were radioactive. “I don’t expect you to work all the time. Mikey and I will stay out of your suite. See, it locks.” He pointed at the door latch as he slipped out.
“You don’t have to...” she said to his retreating back, but he didn’t turn to hear what she was going to say. He seemed bent on escaping.
And that was fine. Good, even.
The fact that it left her feeling desolate, well, it didn’t signify.
* * *
Corbin banged a hand on his desk. He’d made a complete idiot of himself with Samantha. It would be a wonder if she didn’t move out.
He sat down at his home computer and logged in to his online class, then got back up again two minutes later. He couldn’t focus, and Corbin could always focus. And he needed to, now more than ever. He needed to use every spare second when Mikey wasn’t here to get his work done.
He looked down at the “Ready to Grade” icon staring at him from his university’s Learning Management System. Two sets of exams needed his attention, ideally before tomorrow. The students deserved the feedback. But instead of thinking about his students and their work, Samantha’s confused face kept flashing before him.
Why had he told her about his high school crush? She hadn’t known, and had never needed to know. High school was a long time ago.
Since then, she’d lost a child and developed a drinking problem. He didn’t know which came first. She’d liked to party in high school, but hadn’t seemed like one of the truly troubled kids, starting early with an addiction problem. Most likely, then, she’d started drinking too much after she’d lost her baby.
Sympathy tugged at his heart, but he shut it away. He’d vowed never to get involved with someone who had a drinking problem. A counselor at the church had warned him that he might well be extra susceptible to a relationship with an alcoholic, since he’d grown up seeing that type of unhealthy bond as the norm. For that reason, he’d looked carefully at the drinking habits of the few women he’d dated. Maybe he’d even been a little rigid about it. He’d wait for her to order first; if she ordered a drink, it was a red flag to him. If she ordered another to go with dinner, their first da
te was also their last.
Not that anyone had really clamored for him to change his mind. He wasn’t the most popular man in the dating field, once women realized that he spent most of his time working, didn’t follow the latest TV shows and could barely remember the names of the local sports teams. To find a partner who liked him despite his esoteric interests had started to look more and more unlikely, especially living in a smaller town. Being judgmental about a woman’s desire for a glass of wine didn’t help matters any. He didn’t like that quality in himself, particularly, but he didn’t seem able to change it.
Restless, he walked into the kitchen and got a drink of water, then leaned back against the sink and looked out the window into the green tree-lined backyard.
Now that he had responsibility for Mikey, there was no way on earth he’d jump into a relationship with a woman who’d struggled with alcoholism, even if she claimed to be over it. He couldn’t subject a child to that kind of misery. He knew it too well, from the inside out.
Corbin trusted that God had a plan for him, and if that plan was for him to stay single, he would stay single. But following God’s will wasn’t easy. He got lonely, just like anyone else. Having Samantha—beautiful, lively Samantha—living in his house was going to be tough.
He’d never felt like this about any other woman. His attraction had been strong in high school, but it was even stronger now that Samantha was grown up, nurturing and thoughtful and kind. From the moment she’d walked into the coffee shop and helped him handle Mikey, there hadn’t been a day—or a night—when he didn’t think of her.
“Corbin?” Her husky voice sounded from the door to the kitchen, and he took a deep breath before turning around.
She’d changed from the flowery, flowy shirt she’d been wearing into a soft, faded T-shirt. She looked even more stunning.
“Mind if I look through the fridge?” she asked.
“Go for it.” He had to get himself together, remember that she was just a nanny.
Child on His Doorstep Page 4
