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The New Guy In Town
Teresa Southwick
He’s turning her town upside down!It’s a dirty job, but someone has to be Blackwater Lake’s most eligible bachelor. Sexy newcomer Sam Hart goes through women like water. Florist Faith Connelly should know – she delivers the millionaire banker’s first-date rose, followed by the inevitable date number two break-up bouquet. But when Sam gallantly offers her temporary shelter after a fire sweeps through town, it’s the single mother who could end up burned again.The sassy town sweetheart, her adorable daughter and Sam all together under one roof? The divorced businessman even has the perfect flower for a third date with Faith – the one that could tempt him to risk his heart again.


He’s turning her town upside down!
It’s a dirty job, but someone has to be Blackwater Lake’s most eligible bachelor. Sexy newcomer Sam Hart goes through women like water. Florist Faith Connelly should know—she delivers the millionaire banker’s first-date rose, followed by the inevitable date number two break-up bouquet. But when Sam gallantly offers temporary shelter after a fire sweeps through town, it’s the single mother who could end up burned again.
The sassy town sweetheart, her adorable daughter and Sam all together under one roof? The divorced businessman even has the perfect flower for a third date with Faith—the one that could tempt him to risk his heart again. Could love be this money man’s bottom line after all?
He cupped her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers.
The touch was meant to be sweet and tender but quickly turned hot and demanding. Sam traced her lips with his tongue and Faith opened to him. She settled her hands on his chest, pressing closer, and he slid an arm around her waist, holding her tighter.
The sound of their breathing filled his ears, drowning out the night sounds. He wanted her and she wanted him right back. But… There was that damn word again.
He lifted his head. “Faith, we can’t— There’s a—”
“Wedding reception,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“Yeah.” He stepped away from temptation and willed her to believe what he was going to say. “You should know this isn’t sudden—kissing you, I mean.”
“I know. It wasn’t for me either.”
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”
“I can’t say I haven’t wanted you to.”
“Okay, then.” He blew out a long breath. “Fair warning. At an appropriate time, there will be more kissing. And stuff. Unless you’re not interested. I’ll back off. Just say the word and—”
She shook her head. “I’m all in favor of…stuff.”
“Good.”
“It’s love I have a problem with.”
So did he. How perfect was that?
The Bachelors Of Blackwater Lake: They won’t be single for long!
The New Guy in Town
Teresa Southwick


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
TERESA SOUTHWICK lives with her husband in Las Vegas, the city that reinvents itself every day. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Mills & Boon.
To my father, Frank Boyle.
I learned to love reading and writing from you, and the lessons were priceless.
Miss you, Dad.
Contents
Cover (#u98ea678e-f086-5d37-9d0e-62f534d5c98f)
Back Cover Text (#u62d90302-a867-55a4-8ddb-371867ab2a1f)
Introduction (#u776c010c-1443-50db-83a4-4ee271d44e02)
Title Page (#u13b0418f-bb3a-5c3b-a9df-df84d8cfbec0)
About the Author (#ub36dcce3-114c-52a2-85bf-f9f743777965)
Dedication (#u6366d607-2b97-5998-92c7-0d4c26d3179f)
Chapter One (#ud388cafd-fff9-532e-b327-6b12adeef3a6)
Chapter Two (#u1a453213-a0c2-5546-a313-34393ae5fa5b)
Chapter Three (#ub5ca7bdb-f863-5ae6-9e72-51de2485e442)
Chapter Four (#ud6e124d8-3d24-5938-ae8b-2fffbb87e142)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ue5bca3b3-68b7-5b47-b9d2-dd34c7ed68d4)
Just because she’d sworn off men didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a gorgeous one. That explained Faith Connelly’s little heart flutter as Sam Hart walked briskly across the elegant lobby of his financial building before stopping in front of her flower cart.
“Don’t tell me,” she said to him. “You need to order a breakup bouquet. I can tell by the look on your face that date number two tanked.”
“That’s harsh.” But Sam smiled a slow, sexy smile that said she was right and the date from hell was completely his fault. He wore his willingness to own the blame like a badge of honor. “And how can you know that? Maybe I’m here to tell you that it was love at first sight.”
“Right.” She made a scoffing sound. “And I kissed a frog into a handsome prince. Seriously, Sam, do you want the usual sentiment on the card? ‘You’re fantastic, but this isn’t going to work.’ Or there’s the ever-popular ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ I can get more creative with the message if you’d like.”
He slid his fingers into the pockets of his jeans. He could wear jeans to work because he owned a multimillion-dollar financial company and set the dress code. Sometimes he wore a suit and that was a swoon-worthy look, too. “Give me a for instance.”
She thought for a moment then met his skeptical gaze. “How about this? It’s short, sweet, to the point and kind of poetic really. ‘Roses are red. Violets are blue. This won’t work because you’re a shrew.’”
His mouth twitched, then he shook his head and laughed. When he did that he was so handsome it should be illegal. His brown hair was cut short, but there were hints that it would be curly if allowed to grow. The straight nose and square jaw alone would have women throwing their panties at him, but it was his eyes that sealed the deal. They were dark blue and full of glitter and sin and danger—if a girl wasn’t careful.
“Don’t give up your day job to write inspirational verses for greeting cards,” he said.
“The thought never crossed my mind. I love working with the flowers. And another perk of my job is torturing you about your women.”
“My women?” He put on an innocent act, pretending indignation. “You make me sound like the pharaoh with forty-seven wives.”
“If the shoe fits...” She was teasing. Mostly.
Since he’d moved to Blackwater Lake, Montana a few months ago, Sam Hart had quickly become a hot topic of gossip. Because he was definitely hot, and that made the gossip juicier. His looks weren’t all women noticed, though that lean, athletic body made more than one female heart skip a beat. When you factored in his impressive net worth as a member of the wealthy Hart family, attention from the opposite sex looking for love—or just a wealthy husband—was a fact of life. It was a dirty job, but someone had to be the town’s most eligible bachelor.
His expression turned adorably self-effacing and wounded. “You have no faith in me, Faith.”
“Really?” She tsked. “How long have you been trying to work that into a conversation with me?”
“Probably since we met.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “But here’s the thing—I like women and they seem to like me. You’re judging, Miss Connelly, and not in a good way. I’m picking up shades of assumption from you. Why is that? I’m a swell guy.”
“If you’re trying to seduce me, Sam, I should probably tell you that it’s not working.” And never would.
“Darn.” He snapped his fingers. “How can you be so sure?”
Besides the fact that she believed love was a four-letter word, the bad kind, she knew he was a player. “Seriously? No one knows you better than the plant lady.”
“You do have a way with flowers,” he said, looking all meek and faux innocent.
“And you have a way with women. That makes you one of my best customers.” She held up her fingers to count the ways. “A single yellow rose on the first date to indicate sunny feelings, warmth and welcome. The color holds no overtones of romance and indicates purely platonic emotions.”
“So you told me.” There was amusement in those blue eyes. “And you were right. It’s a crowd-pleaser.”
“The second date you buy a mixed bouquet so there’s no hint of commitment. If things don’t go well, there will be a lovely and tasteful arrangement to let a lady know not to wait by the phone for a call that will never come.” She met his gaze. “FYI, I always use peonies in the arrangement to indicate their indignation and your shame.”
“Do you put that on the card?”
“It’s enough that I know the significance,” she said.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He frowned slightly. “And you see this flower fetish of mine as a flaw?”
“On the contrary. It’s a public service. A woman always knows where she stands with you.”
“Just out of curiosity, what’s the appropriate bloom to offer on a third date?” he asked.
“Good question. I’d have to do some research. But never, under any circumstances, go with lavender. It conveys enchantment, as in love at first sight.” Faith studied him again. “Why are you asking about a third date? Do you want to give me breaking news? Is there something I should know? Maybe someone who has snagged a cherished and sought-after third-time’s-the-charm date with the elusive Sam Hart? Do I need an inventory change? Possibly to get ready for a wedding?”
“God forbid. Why would you say that?”
“Because a third date with you almost never happens, Sam.”
“That can’t be true.” His expression turned thoughtful, obviously trying to come up with something to prove her wrong, and then he sighed. “Am I that predictable?”
“Sadly, yes,” she said smugly.
“Wow. Remind me to change things up.”
“Not on my account. If you ever settle down, my bottom line will seriously suffer. A money guy like you should understand that.” She leveled her index finger in his direction to emphasize her point. “And I can’t afford to jeopardize my revenue stream while saving to put Phoebe through college.”
“Your daughter is eight.” His voice was wry. “You’ve got ten years.”
“A single mom has to plan carefully.” Because thanks to her bastard ex-husband, who walked out on her when she got pregnant, she was raising her daughter alone.
“Well, never fear, plant lady. I’m not getting married.” His devil-may-care air slipped, a tell that he would only commit to dodging a trip down the aisle.
“That sounds fairly adamant.”
“Because it is,” he confirmed.
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep your secret. If the single women of Blackwater Lake found out they have no chance to win your affections, it could cramp your style.” Although women had a bad habit of believing they could be the one to change a man’s mind. Faith wasn’t one of them, however. “And your style is going to pad my daughter’s education fund.”
“It’s good to know that professional confidentiality is for lawyers, doctors and florists.”
His blunt admission fertilized her curiosity about his aversion to matrimony but the whys of it were a conversation for another day. “So where should I deliver the breakup bouquet?”
“I haven’t confirmed I’m ordering one.” He stopped as something occurred to him. “Do you really call it that?”
“Of course. I could do a whole marketing campaign on it thanks to you.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m not making fun of you—”
“Yes,” he said. “You are.”
“Okay, I am.” She grinned. “But I do it with a great deal of affection.” And a fair amount of flirting.
Her inner flirt had been in permanent time-out until she’d met Sam Hart. He was a walking, talking warning about why she’d sworn off men. Lack of commitment. Flitting from one woman to the next. Pretty to look at but shallow as a cookie sheet. The silver lining was that the reminder came with built-in caution to never let her interaction with him be more than business. Hence, he was safe to flirt with.
“Okay, then, at the risk of making you even more insufferable than you already are, I’d like to send a lovely, tasteful bouquet. With peonies,” he added.
It was really hard not to gloat. But she was nothing if not a plant professional. “Where would you like it delivered? And what’s the name on the card?”
“Blackwater Lake Lodge—”
“Ah. A tourist.”
“Really?” His tone scolded her.
“Not judging,” she said quickly. “Just an observation. A name would be helpful.”
He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Kiki Daniels. And don’t you dare—”
“Never crossed my mind,” she lied, pressing her lips together to suppress a smile or any words that might try to slip out.
“I don’t believe you.” He gave her the room number and instructed her to put it on the credit card she had on file for him. “You’re dying to say something so spit it out before you explode.”
“Okay. Does she look like a Kiki? I mean perky and—” she held her hands out in front of her chest “—lots of personality? Long blond hair and flaky as a French pastry?”
“Wow,” he said. “Stereotype much?”
“It’s just that I know you so it’s not exactly stereotyping.” She had an order pad and pen ready. “What do you want the card to say?”
He thought for a moment. “‘It’s been fun. Best of luck.’ Sign it Sam.”
“Past tense and positive. Got it.” She jotted down the words. “I’ll take care of this for you. Anything else?”
“Yes, actually. My parents are in town and it’s my mother’s birthday. I’ve put off shopping because the woman has everything.” He dragged his fingers through his hair.
“I can do a beautiful arrangement. What’s her favorite color?”
He stared at her for several moments. “I didn’t know there would be a pop quiz. And don’t even think about asking what her favorite flower is.”
“What kind of a son are you? How can you not know your mother’s favorite color?” She was teasing.
“Hold that thought.” He pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial. A moment later he said, “Ellie, I need some information. Okay. You’re right. That was abrupt. Hi, how are you?” There was an impatient look on his face as he listened. “Glad to hear it. What’s mom’s favorite color and flower?” He nodded. “Got it. Thanks. See you tonight at dinner.” He met her gaze. “Star lilies. And pink.”
“Excellent. Pink ribbon it is.” She wrote down his sister’s address which was where his parents were staying. “I’ll go back to the store and put together something very special for her and deliver it on my way home.”
“Thanks, Faith.”
“Anything else?” she asked.
“That should do it.” He smiled. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Anytime. Enjoy your evening.”
Faith watched him walk out the building’s double glass doors and objectively analyzed the man’s butt. On a scale of one to ten his was an eleven and a half, which made her sigh. There was no denying she loved owning her business and working with flowers. The colors and scent of the blooms. Putting different ones together for a colorful and creative effect. Everything.
Then Sam Hart had moved to town and turned into a lucrative account. Work became a lot more interesting, not just from teasing him, but because it gave her a chance to deliver flowers and get a look at the women he rejected. Somehow it was comforting to know that perfectly pretty women didn’t have perfect lives any more than she did.
But it also made her curious. Every woman she’d met so far had been both beautiful and nice, which made her wonder why not even one of them had earned date number three. Someday she was going to find out what was up with that. So sue her—she was female and liked gossip as much as any other female in Blackwater Lake.
* * *
A week after his mother’s birthday, Sam Hart was talking to his sister on the phone. He leaned back in his office chair and glanced at the paperwork on his desk. The sheer volume was a measure of his success, which should make him happy. Should being the operative word. He thought moving closer to Ellie and her family and his brother Linc, who’d recently relocated, would make his restlessness go away. It hadn’t.
He loved his work, assessing risk and evaluating financial products for banking customers. Handling commercial and real estate loans. Managing grants for enterprising small business owners. A vision of Faith Connelly popped into his mind and her flower shop—Every Bloomin’ Thing.
The pretty plant lady had approached him on his first day in this new building—Hart Financial, LLC. She’d negotiated a price to lease space in the lobby for her flower cart, making the case that his clients might benefit from the convenience. Just limited hours at first because she had to cover her main store in downtown Blackwater Lake.
As office occupancy in the building increased and foot traffic grew, she would hire another employee to work the cart while she took care of the shop. Until then customers would have to deal with her. He smiled, recalling her rhyming blue with shrew. Not only was she pretty, but she always made him laugh. Since his protracted and ugly divorce he hadn’t laughed all that much, so it was noteworthy.
“Sam? Are you listening to me?” The pitch of Ellie’s voice sharpened.
“Of course.” He hoped there wasn’t a test. “You were telling me how much mom liked the birthday flowers.”
“‘Liked’ is an understatement. You get the son-of-the-year award. Possibly a lifetime achievement plaque. Cal sent a gift card and Linc took her to dinner. But she said the star lilies in that bouquet made her day. The scent was magical. In fact, I can still smell them a whole week later.”
Sam wasn’t about to mention Faith and share the credit. He planned to ride this hero thing as long as it would run. “I’m glad she liked them.”
“Not to change the subject, but...have you heard about the fire on Crawford’s Crest?”
“Yeah.” Sam swiveled his chair and looked out his office window. Clouds of red-tinged black smoke rose from the tree line to the west and curved up the hill. Fortunately it was moving away from town. “Any news on containment?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” she admitted. “And this wind is going to make it tough on the firefighters. The last I heard they’re calling in reinforcements from all over Montana. Quite a few homes are threatened.”
“Looks like it’s pretty far away from your place.”
“It is,” she confirmed. “We’re close to the lake and the fire is out near isolated cabins and neighborhoods of older homes at the foot of the mountain.”
Sam’s new place wasn’t far from his sister’s so it was safe, too. “Do they know how it started?”
“Lightning ignited dry brush. It’s August and there hasn’t been much rain. This is a problem every summer.”
“The price we pay for the beautiful scenery. And Mother Nature can be a wicked mistress.”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “Didn’t mean to keep you. I just wanted you to know how much Mom enjoyed the flowers while she was here. She asked me to tell you goodbye and that she’ll be back to visit soon.”
“Thanks for letting me know. I’m glad she liked her birthday gift. Talk to you later, Ellie.”
“Love you. Bye.”
He hit the end call button and took a last look at the smoke. It was unsettling. Another way one’s life could be turned upside down in an instant.
He looked at the paperwork on his desk and sighed. There wasn’t anything here that couldn’t wait until tomorrow. After shutting down his computer, he left his office on the building’s top floor and rode the elevator to the lobby. Faith’s cart, with its cheerful sign, Every Bloomin’ Thing, and the fragrance of flowers always lifted his spirits.
She was there and he walked over. It looked as if she was packing up for the day. Her long strawberry blond hair was pulled into a messy side bun and long bangs touched her thick eyelashes. Warm brown eyes made her coloring unique and the sprinkle of freckles across her straight nose was pretty cute. She was smart, sassy and every guy’s little sister.
Today he didn’t have a date and wasn’t breaking up with anyone so his only excuse for stopping was to thank her again for her efforts and let her know the bouquet she’d arranged had been a big hit with his mother.
“Hi,” he said.
She glanced over her shoulder, then set down the long-stemmed flowers she’d been about to move for transport. “Hi, yourself. Got a hot date tonight?”
“No. Despite what you seem to think, my social life isn’t all that active.”
“I noticed you’ve been slacking since your mom came to visit.” She nodded knowingly. “You’re smarter than you look.”
“Do you talk this way to all your customers?”
“No, actually. Just you.”
“Should I feel special?” he asked, not in the least offended.
“If you’re not, I didn’t do it right.”
“So you admit to deliberately provoking me?”
“It’s the best part of my day.” The words were teasing, but her eyes didn’t have their customary impertinence. “Is there something you need?”
“No. I just wanted to let you know my mother loved the birthday arrangement.”
“Good.” She transferred the flowers to a small hand cart used for moving her inventory from her van to the lobby stand.
“I wanted to thank you. It was a last-minute order and meant keeping you late. The effort is much appreciated.”
“You’re welcome. If you could give me a Facebook like and say something about my exemplary customer service that would be great.”
It flashed through his mind to offer to buy her a drink or dinner as a thank-you but his internal warning system flagged and shut down that thought. He knew the difference between good and bad risk, and an invitation to dinner fell into the really bad column. As the newcomer to Blackwater Lake he was trying to fit in and, as Faith had pointed out more than once, his romantic record was abysmal. Dating and dropping the town sweetheart would not win him the hearts and minds of the locals.
“Are you in a hurry?” It seemed to him that she was distracted while she packed up to go. Now that he thought about it, he was leaving work earlier than usual and normally she was here as he walked out the door, so this was really early for her. “Do you have a date?”
“Oh, please...”
He noted the blush that slid into her cheeks. The color reminded him of a pink rose. He recalled the first time he’d bought one and her warning him away from pink or red because the shade symbolized a deepening of feeling. “It’s a reasonable question. You’re not bad-looking for a smartass.”
“Be still, my heart.” She rested her hands on the counter between them. “Careful, Sam. Words like that could turn a girl’s head.”
“That was nothing more than a simple statement of fact. Let me use the rose metaphor to explain.”
“Please do.” A brief flash of amusement crossed her face.
“Just like you, a rose is beautiful. And then you open your mouth and out come the thorns to jab a guy.”
“And yet you keep coming back. Maybe you’re a glutton for punishment.” Her inner smartass couldn’t be silenced for long. “Maybe I should leave the thorns on the first-date roses for you. No pain, no gain. It could work in your favor to get you a third date.”
“That twisted logic presupposes I want one.”
“That is an intriguing clue into the mystery of Sam Hart. You have no idea how it pains me not to pursue it.” She glanced past him to wicked, billowing smoke clearly visible from the tall glass lobby windows. “But you’re right. I’m in a hurry, and not because I have a date.”
“Then what’s so urgent? Is your daughter okay?”
“The fire isn’t far from my house. I need to go pack some things for Phoebe and me, just in case we have to evacuate. She’s fine,” Faith added.
“Good.” There was a splash of apprehension in her expression that touched him because it was so different from her usually brazen, audacious behavior. She was every guy’s sister and if Ellie’s house was in the fire’s path he would do anything to keep her safe. “Can I do something to help?”
“Thanks, Sam.” She smiled a little. “But I’ve got it covered.”
“What about your daughter?”
“She’s at summer camp. Cabot Dixon’s ranch. The wind is blowing the fire away from them. He and his wife will keep her until I can pick her up.”
“Okay. Then at least let me help you move the flowers back to your store in town. It will be faster,” he pointed out.
She wanted to say no. Even a spreadsheet nerd who crunched numbers for a living could see that. But she nodded and said, “Thanks.”
Together they got all the flowers on the flat hand cart, then locked up ribbons, tissue paper, cellophane and all the other supplies she kept here. She secured the credit card receipts and cash in her purse, then gave him a nod to head for the exit. Before they took a step, Blackwater Lake’s mayor walked into the lobby and straight over to Faith.
Mayor Loretta Goodson-McKnight was an attractive brunette somewhere in her late fifties, but it was asking for trouble to put even a ballpark number on a woman’s age. Today she looked a little older and that probably had something to do with the natural disaster she was dealing with. It was her job to coordinate resources and the emergency response. Judging by the expression on her face, whatever she had to say wasn’t good.
“Faith, I’ve got some bad news.” The mayor got straight to the point. “We just received word that there’s an evacuation order for everyone who lives near Crawford’s Crest.”
“That’s where my house is.”
“I know.” The woman’s voice softened and her expression was sympathetic. “I’m on my way to the staging area right now for an update from the fire captain and wanted to let you know myself.”
“And I appreciate it more than you know. I’ll just go to the house and grab a few things for us.”
The mayor shook her head. “They won’t let you through. The sheriff has blocked off the road. You can’t go home, honey.”
Faith blinked as the meaning of it all sank in and shock took over. “Oh my God. You mean I could really lose it—”
The woman started talking, telling her about everything being done—tankers dropping fire-retardant chemicals and water on the blaze. Firefighters were clearing the brush, trying to deprive the fire of fuel to burn and slow it down so they could surround it. But Sam saw the worry on her face and what she was leaving out. No one could control the wind that was fanning the flames, limiting the ability of ordinary men to save the structures in the fire’s path.
“All your neighbors are getting out. That’s a lot of people to find shelter for.”
Sam watched the color drain from Faith’s face and had the most absurd desire to pull her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be fine.
“Faith, honey, we’d rather keep evacuees in private homes as opposed to setting up temporary quarters in the high school gym. You know how people in this town pull together when there’s a crisis. My office has lined up volunteers and we’ve almost got everyone covered. You and Phoebe can stay at my house. It’s pretty full, but we have air mattresses and floor space in the living room.”
Apparently Sam’s male chromosomes, the ones that made him want to fix a problem rather than just stand by and listen, kicked into gear. That was the only explanation for what came out of his mouth. That and the fact that there was no way he would let them sleep on air mattresses, even if it was in the mayor’s living room.
He touched Faith’s arm. “You and Phoebe can stay with me.”
Chapter Two (#ue5bca3b3-68b7-5b47-b9d2-dd34c7ed68d4)
Faith’s sassy inner flirt went absolutely silent and all she could do was stare at Sam for several moments. Then her mind just went numb. “I’m sorry. You want Phoebe and me to do what now?”
“Stay with me.” His concern seemed genuine but that didn’t mean it was.
Although the look was another winner for him. And the fact that she could even think that in a time of crisis was reason enough to decline the offer. “That’s very nice of you. But I wouldn’t want to cramp your style.”
“What style would that be?”
“You know.” She glanced at the mayor, not wanting to discuss his personal life in front of her. Plant lady–client privilege should be as sacred as the confessional.
“No, I don’t know.” He folded his arms over an impressive chest. The stance oozed challenge, daring her to elaborate.
“Okay then, I’ll spell it out. You’re a bachelor and you date a lot. I have a young daughter. It might not be the best arrangement for us.”
“As you know, I don’t have many third dates, which is the threshold, according to what I’ve heard, for connecting in a—” He looked at the mayor, who was taking in this conversation with more than a little interest. “More physical way.”
“So you’re saying you didn’t ‘connect’ with Kiki? Hard to believe since you had her room number at the lodge.” Hey, he opened that door by stretching the boundaries of discretion.
“A gentleman always respects a lady’s privacy. Especially about connecting—”
“Look, I’m not Phoebe,” Mayor Loretta said. “I’ve heard the word sex. In fact, believe it or not, I’ve actually experienced it a time or two.”
“Right. Because you’re married.” Faith’s cheeks were burning with embarrassment. “Here’s the thing—Phoebe is young and impressionable. Witnessing a parade of women going in and out of Sam’s house would raise a lot of questions that I’m not prepared to answer right now.”
“I think I can survive without female companionship while the evacuation order is in effect. We’re only talking a day or two. Right?”
The mayor nodded. “That’s the best guess right now. But fire is unpredictable.”
“I’m grateful for the offer, Sam. Really. But it would probably be best if we stay with Loretta and Tom.”
“Even though I have multiple bedrooms with actual beds? Not air mattresses on the floor.”
The mayor looked puzzled. “Of course you’re welcome, Faith, but it sounds as if you’d be more comfortable at Sam’s until the danger is over.”
Faith was comfortable teasing and tormenting him when he bought flowers from her. Being in his house didn’t sound comfortable at all. “Phoebe has to be my first priority so—”
“Look, Faith, your aunt Cathy was my best friend,” Loretta said. “When she was losing her cancer battle she made me promise to watch over you and Phoebe for her. And I swore I would make sure you were being taken care of. In this situation I have to say the best place for you is with Sam.”
“Selfishly,” he said, “you’d be doing me a favor.”
“Really?” She didn’t actually buy into that and was humoring him.
“I’m new in town and trying to fit in. Folks here take care of their own. It’s a hallmark of Blackwater Lake. So let me be neighborly in order to win them over.”
“He’s got a point,” the mayor agreed.
“And it’s not an inconvenience.” Sam gave her a look that probably melted female resistance like a Popsicle in the summer sun. “I’m sure the firefighters will get things under control pretty fast.”
“And I really need to get an update on their progress.” Loretta looked at her watch.
Faith felt ganged up on and wanted to dig in but there was no mistaking the worry and weariness in the other woman’s face. She wouldn’t add to it. “All right. If you think it’s best, Loretta. Sam can earn points for being a good citizen.”
“Good. That’s settled.” Loretta looked relieved. “I have to run.”
Faith deliberately watched the mayor hurry to the lobby’s double glass doors and quickly leave the building. She would have watched anything to put off having to face being alone with Sam Hart. It shouldn’t feel different from all the other times she’d talked to him, but it did. Because she was going to move in with him.
Would Kiki be jealous? It was easier to think about that than the nerves she was currently rocking. Activity was the best defense so she went back to shutting down the flower cart.
“Okay, then,” she said. “I’m going to load up the van and take all this stuff back to my shop. Then I’ll pick up Phoebe from summer camp.”
“Do you want me to pick her up? Save time?” Sam asked.
“She’s going to be scared so it would be best if I do it. Besides, you’re a stranger and not on the list of people authorized to get her. She doesn’t know you and that could cause more anxiety.”
“Of course.” He nodded and took a business card from his wallet. After writing something on the back he handed it over. “This is my address. I’ll follow you to the shop and help unload the van.”
“But—”
He held up a finger to stop her words. “I’m not sure what your deal is—whether you don’t want help or just not from me. But this is about being neighborly so don’t compromise my image.”
“Okay. When you put it like that...”
After locking down the cart, Faith wheeled the flowers to her van parked in the lot behind the Hart financial building. She opened the vehicle’s sliding door and stepped inside, then let Sam hand the vases and flowers in so she could secure them.
With his hands on the portable cart, he said, “I’ll put this back inside, then meet you at the shop.”
Part of her wanted to be snarky about him taking charge. The other part was glad he did. Because she probably wasn’t thinking all that clearly, what with her house in danger of going up in flames.
So all she said was “Thanks.”
Faith drove to downtown Blackwater Lake as fast as the speed limit allowed and pulled the van into the parking area behind her primary shop on Main Street. She hopped out of the driver’s side and by the time the rear door of Every Bloomin’ Thing was propped open, Sam had driven into the lot and was getting out of his pricey luxury SUV. That was fast. Had he observed the speed limit?
At this moment she was too happy help had arrived to care. It meant she could get to her daughter faster. She reached into the van and started to grab a vase of flowers.
“Let me unload and you can put everything away. Since you know where it all goes that will probably be faster,” he said.
He was right and she nodded. A short time later everything was secured inside. They walked out the back door of the shop then she turned the key in the deadbolt to lock it up.
“I’m going to get Phoebe now,” she told him.
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“No.”
The negative was automatic. If Loretta or almost anyone else in town had offered she would have accepted the moral support without question. But today she was afraid. Her home was in danger. That was bad enough, but she’d flirted with a different kind of danger when she’d flirted with Sam. It never occurred to her that she would ever be living with him, even for a short time. Damage control started right now.
“You’ve already done enough, Sam. Besides, I need to talk to her alone, prepare her before she meets you.”
“Why? Do you think I scare small children?” He put his hands on his hips. “I have a niece who’s not quite three and she isn’t afraid of me.”
“It’s not that. I don’t think it’s a good idea to hit her with too much all at once.” She shrugged. “Bad enough I have to break the news that her house could go up in flames, but then she meets a strange man and is going to stay in his house...”
His gaze narrowed. “Are you talking about Phoebe being nervous? Or you?”
“I’m an adult. I understand what’s happening. She’s just a kid and I want to reassure her that everything’s all right.”
“You know best,” he said. “And you’ve got my card and cell number. Call if you need anything at all.”
“Thanks.”
Faith put a foot on the van’s running board and slid inside, then closed the door. She turned her key in the ignition and drove slowly away, glancing quickly in her rearview mirror. Sam was standing there, almost protectively, watching her leave. Her heart did that fluttering thing, which didn’t make her feel any better about accepting his offer of shelter.
Evacuating to the mayor’s house or with old Brewster Smith and his wife, Aggie, would feel comfortable and normal. But Sam Hart was a bachelor. Even worse, she was attracted to him.
* * *
Sam had been watching out the front window for Faith so he opened the door before she could ring the doorbell. The little girl standing on the front porch beside her had to be Phoebe. Her Mini-Me had the same blond hair and freckles on her nose.
“Hi,” he said to both of them, then smiled down at the little girl. “You must be Phoebe.”
Long straight bangs caught in the thick eyelashes framing big, brown eyes that were wide with apprehension. “How did you know?”
“Your mother told me about you.” Poor kid. No matter how the truth had been censored, she had to know that her home was in danger. That was scary for an adult let alone a child. “Come on in.”
Sam pulled the door open wider and stepped back to let them pass. The little girl clutched her mother’s hand tightly as she looked around wide-eyed.
“Wow. This is big.” She was looking up at the chandelier in the two-story entryway. For the moment, awe distracted her from fear and worry.
He could keep the distraction going for a while because this was a big house. Glancing at Faith, he saw that she looked the tiniest bit impressed, too, and that didn’t bother him a bit. “Would you like to see the rest of the place?”
Faith looked at her daughter who nodded eagerly. “Okay.”
“Follow me.” Sam noticed she was carrying a couple of bulging bags.
“Since we couldn’t go home, I had to pick up some clothes and toiletries for us,” Faith explained.
He held out his hand. “Let me take those for you.”
“That’s okay. I’ve got it.”
“I can see that. But guys are supposed to carry things for girls.”
“Why?” Phoebe asked. “Is that a rule?”
“No. But boys are usually bigger and stronger and it’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”
“Oh.” The little girl thought about that and frowned. “At summer camp the girls carry stuff and the boys let us.”
“Girls have to be able to take care of themselves,” Faith explained. “It’s called being self-reliant.”
“And that’s a good thing,” Sam allowed. “But in certain situations, like now for instance, what with you being guests in my home, it’s appropriate for a man to help a lady.”
“And sometimes a lady just wants to tell a man to take a flying leap because she’s perfectly capable of carrying her own things.”
“Can I look at your house?” Phoebe was staring up at them, clearly impatient and not the least bit interested in the undercurrents of the adult standoff.
“We can,” he said. “Follow me.”
“You can carry this if you want.” Phoebe held out a pink backpack with two female cartoon characters on it, one in a sparkly turquoise dress.
“It would be my pleasure,” he said, taking it from her. “This way.”
He led them straight ahead to the kitchen and family room, with its leather corner group and two-story river rock fireplace.
“That’s the biggest TV I ever saw,” Phoebe said.
Sam looked down at her and realized that when you were small, everything must look gigantic. “I’ll show you how to turn it on later.”
Faith cleared her throat loudly and, when she had his attention, shook her head. “Sensitive electronic remote controls and an eight-year-old are not a good combination.”
“She thinks I’m still a baby.” The little girl made a face. “I’m not.”
“I can see that. Maybe your mom would be okay with it if there’s an orientation.”
Phoebe frowned. “What’s that?”
“I’ll show you how to use it and you can practice for a while with me supervising. Your mom might be okay with that.”
“I don’t think so. Mom doesn’t let me do very much. She’s a little overprotective.”
“Hey,” Faith said. “I’m standing right here. And I’m not overprotective. Where did you hear that?”
“I don’t know. Around. And anyway, in the car you told me not to touch anything in his house,” the child said. “And that’s kind of hard unless I stand in the corner.”
Sam looked from one to the other and said, “I’ve never been the rose between two thorns.”
“How long have you been waiting to drop that into a conversation with me?” One corner of Faith’s beautiful mouth quirked up.
“I thought you’d like that one, plant lady. And, moving on—”
He showed them the rest of the downstairs, with its spacious home office and media room. On the second floor he took them past the master where he slept to the wing with three other bedrooms and a large open space set up as another entertainment area.
“How big is this house?” Faith asked.
“A little over five thousand square feet.”
“No one else lives here with you?” Phoebe asked, wonder in her voice.
“You do now.” He looked at her mom. “Told you I had lots of space. Do you want to pick out a room?”
“Yes!” Phoebe raced down the hall and disappeared around a corner.
Faith went after her and Sam realized he’d never had the opportunity to look at her from the back. She was always facing him with a counter in between them. She had quite a superior rear view and now he knew what he’d been missing all this time.
He caught up with them in the room that overlooked the front lawn with a spectacular view of Blackwater Lake beyond it. There was a queen-size bed, walk-in closet and bathroom.
“There’s a bed in here even though no one lives here?” Phoebe asked.
“Yes.” He’d never thought about that. Furnishing the whole house seemed like a good idea when you didn’t want it to be a big, empty shell.
“I think you and I can share this room, Phoebs,” her mother said.
“But no one is using that other room. The green one. Sam said so.”
“I know, sweetie. But I know you. It seems like a good idea right now but when the sun goes down you’re not going to want to be in there by yourself.”
“I promise I will,” Phoebe begged.
“I have an idea.” Sam looked at Faith. “Not taking sides here, but how about if she tries sleeping in the green room. If you change your mind, you can always crawl in with your mom.”
“You’re okay with that?” Faith asked.
“Of course. There are five bedrooms in this house. I have one. The other four are up for grabs.”
Faith was wearing an uncertain expression as she nodded. “I promise when we’re able to go home, we’ll leave the rooms in the same condition we found them.”
“Don’t sweat it. I have a cleaning service.” He set the pink backpack just inside the door of the green room.
“Okay.” She smiled. “I’m grateful for your hospitality.”
“Don’t do that,” he said.
“What? Thank you? It’s the polite thing to do.”
“Mommy always tells me to say thank you,” Phoebe chimed in, then disappeared.
“I meant don’t be nice to me,” he told Faith. “It’s just weird.”
She laughed and for a few moments the tension in her expression disappeared. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Mommy! There’s a pool!”
“Phoebe?” She set her bags inside the doorway then called out, “Where are you?”
“In the big family room upstairs.” The reply was muffled because she was around a corner and down the hall.
Sam put his palm to the small of Faith’s back as they walked in the direction the little girl had gone. Touching her wasn’t the dumbest thing he’d ever done, but it ranked fairly high up on the list. Awareness tingled in his fingers and crackled through his entire body. The whole point of opening his home to evacuees was to be neighborly. But touching her opened up something else, too. What had she called it? Oh, yes. Connecting in a physical way. The idea of that was entirely too appealing.
They found the little girl looking out the window at the backyard. The pool was big, one could say proportional to the rest of the property. He’d put it in for swimming laps and staying in shape. Also for summer parties and entertaining. And he was particularly proud of the built-in barbecue area and outdoor kitchen. There was also a covered patio and the yard was meticulously landscaped.
“Do you want to go outside?” Sam asked.
“Yes!” Phoebe didn’t wait for further invitation. She took off ahead of them.
“Does she always speak in exclamation points?” he asked.
“Only when she gets her choice of bedroom and there’s a pool outside.”
Shoulder to shoulder, he and Faith followed, but this time Sam made it a point not to touch her. No one could say he didn’t learn from his mistakes.
They met Phoebe at the family room’s French doors, where she waited impatiently for him to unlock and open them. Outside, he watched the little girl stop and stare, taking everything in. It wasn’t long before she moved closer to the water.
“Don’t fall in,” Faith warned.
Sam positioned himself close enough to pluck her out if necessary. “I have arm floaties for my niece if you want them.”
“I can swim,” Phoebe informed him. “My camp is at the lake and they taught me how.”
“Good.”
“Can I go swimming?” she asked.
“That’s up to your mom.”
“As long as there’s an adult outside with you.” Faith held up a hand, obviously aware protest was coming. “I know you’re not a baby and can swim but water safety starts with never swimming alone.”
“Your mom is right,” Sam agreed.
“Okay. They told us that at camp, too.” The little girl moved closer to him and looked up. “I like you, Sam.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Squirt.”
“None of my friends have a pool,” she continued.
“What am I? Chopped liver? I thought I was your friend,” he protested.
“You are. So,” she continued, “does that mean I can go swimming anytime I want? As long as there’s an adult there with me?”
“Whoa, kiddo,” Faith said. “Remember we’re only here temporarily. One day. Maybe two. Just until the fire is contained and it’s safe to go home.”
“You told me that a million times, Mom.” She went over to explore the outdoor kitchen.
“You know, Faith, she’s welcome to come swimming anytime,” Sam offered.
Faith glanced at her daughter, who was opening drawers and the outdoor refrigerator and too far away to hear. “Please don’t make promises to my child that you don’t intend to keep.”
“I have every intention of keeping that promise.”
“Maybe right this minute,” she said. “But life will go back to normal and there will be female visitors. Two strikes and out. Breakup bouquets and peonies. A promise to a little girl could get in the way of that lifestyle and your women.”
“So much for you being nice to me.”
“I wasn’t being mean. Just stating a fact.” She looked past him and frowned. “Phoebe Catherine, I told you not to touch anything. Stop right now.”
Sam watched her walk away and realized several things, starting with the fact that Phoebe’s father didn’t seem to be in the picture. One could presume that Faith had been let down big-time by a man. The self-reliant message was a big clue, as was the warning to keep his promise to her child or she’d come after him like a pack of wolves. She hadn’t actually said that but the expression in her eyes had conveyed the message loud and clear.
But she needed to realize a few things, too. There weren’t as many women in his life as she thought and he made sure none of them had expectations. He wasn’t a bad guy and wanted Faith to know it. He was very careful not to make promises he couldn’t keep. Starting with commitment.
Very soon he was going to set her straight about all of the above.
Chapter Three (#ue5bca3b3-68b7-5b47-b9d2-dd34c7ed68d4)
Faith left work early the next day and headed to the fire staging area for a volunteer shift. At the base of the mountain she saw auxiliary fire trucks parked, and soot-covered, exhausted men slumped against them. Not far away there was a tarp, and underneath it were picnic benches and a propane steam table where food was being kept warm. After parking her van she got out and instantly was hit by a gust of hot wind that whipped her hair around. She slid a scrunchie from the pocket of her jeans and pulled the strands off her face into a ponytail, then walked over to the food area.
Delanie Carlson, who owned the local pub, Bar None, transferred a case of water bottles to a large insulated chest then poured a bag of ice in to cool them down quickly. At a stove stirring food she saw Lucy Bishop, chef and co-owner of the Harvest Café. Both women were good friends.
“It’s really windy.” That was stating the obvious and there was no point in doing that. They all knew what could happen and worry clawed at her. But she was here to do her part and take her mind off the fact that she could lose her home.
“What can I do?” she asked Lucy.
“Organize the paper plates and utensils for an assembly line. The firefighters are on a regular rotating schedule,” the blue-eyed blonde said. “They need the breaks to cool off, eat and rest. Otherwise someone could make a deadly mistake.”
“That sounds like Desmond Parker’s doing. Everyone says he’s a really good fire captain,” Faith said.
“That’s the rumor. I’ve seen for myself that he’s hard-core about enforcing breaks.” Lucy’s tone said she respected him for doing a great job, but in other areas he was not deserving of her high opinion.
“Ice is really cold.” Delanie joined them, shaking water off her hands.
“That’s kind of the point.” Faith smiled.
The auburn-haired woman returned it. “But I wish someone could invent ice that didn’t give you frostbite.”
“Get ready, ladies. We’re almost up.” Lucy pointed to a group of men who had just disembarked from a truck that’d pulled into the staging area. They were wearing thick coats and pants plus heavy boots and other firefighting gear. Their first stop was a comfort station, where they poured water over their heads. Then the grimy jackets were shucked before they lined up at the food station.
Faith handed the first guy a plate and plastic utensils wrapped in a paper napkin. “How are you?”
“Hot. Hungry. Beat.”
There was nothing else to say. Clearly he didn’t have the energy to make small talk. She couldn’t imagine how difficult the working conditions were.
Lucy piled the man’s plate with food. It wasn’t fancy but there was plenty. “Is there progress?”
“Hard to tell.”
“There’s a table over there with cookies,” Delanie said, handing him an icy-cold water bottle. “And thanks for what you’re doing.”
“It’s my job,” he said simply.
“I know. But thanks. When this is over there’s a round of drinks waiting for you guys at Bar None.”
“Then we better get it over.” His smile was weary.
For the next hour they served food, distributed water, accepted and organized food donations dropped off by concerned townspeople—and tried to lighten the load of every exhausted man and woman who was taking a break from the fight to save other people’s homes and property from the fire.
Faith handed Desmond Parker a plate. He was the last man in this group, having waited until each of his guys had been taken care of. “Hi, Des.”
“Hey, Faith.”
“You look terrible.” Her heart went out to him, but she hadn’t meant to be so blunt. “I mean that in the nicest possible way. No offense.”
He laughed. “None taken. I get it.”
The man was in his thirties and had dark hair and blue eyes. Suspenders from his insulated pants seemed to highlight his broad shoulders, and his black T-shirt with BLFD—Blackwater Lake Fire Department—in bold white letters stretched tightly across his impressive chest. He was really handsome, even with the grime all over him. But Faith didn’t feel a single flutter in the vicinity of her heart. Not like she did with Sam.
“How’s it going?” she asked him.
“This is a tough one.” Worry etched in the soot on his face told her it was worse than he would say. “Wind speeds pick up late in the afternoon and the fire jumps from hill to hill. That stretches our resources even thinner.”
“So no containment yet.”
“Maybe ten percent.” His eyes darkened. “Don’t you live somewhere near Crawford’s Crest?”
“Yeah. Phoebe and I had to evacuate yesterday.” A vision of Sam Hart pouring her coffee that morning flashed before her eyes. He was a very good host, but with all the women in his life he’d probably had a lot of practice. “Do you have any information about the area?”
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “Got my hands full on the fire line.”
“My bad. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Don’t worry about it. Of course you want news about your property. Wish I had something for you.” His expression was sympathetic. “Well, I better get some food.”
“Right. Sorry. Didn’t mean to hold you up.”
Faith watched Lucy fill his plate without saying a word to him. That was weird since she’d chatted with the other guys who came through—teased and talked and lifted their spirits. But not a syllable or a smile for Des Parker. What was up with that?
When the rush was over the three of them replenished supplies at their respective stations, then looked at each other.
Delanie glanced at the plume of red-tinged smoke that just seemed to expand and obscure any blue in the sky. “I wish there was more I could do to help.”
“You’ve already taken people into your home,” Lucy pointed out.
“So have you.”
“The families you gave shelter to are pretty lucky,” Faith pointed out. “There are worse places to stay than with the proprietors of Bar None and the Harvest Café.”
“Yup.” Delanie nodded. “Except for the part where they could lose their homes and all their worldly possessions.”
“Oh my God, Faithie.” Lucy pressed a hand to her forehead. “I forgot. Your house is in the evacuation zone, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She kept trying to tell herself that as long as she and Phoebe were healthy and safe nothing else mattered, that worry wouldn’t do any good. But sometimes it slipped past her defenses.
“How are you?” Delanie’s voice was full of concern. “Where did you and Phoebe go? You should have called me.”
“Or me,” Lucy said.
“The mayor came to tell me personally and as it happened Sam Hart was there. Loretta had something to do with him opening his home to us.” He’d actually been very gracious about the whole thing and she wasn’t sure why that was so surprising.
“I’ve seen him in Bar None.”
“And the café.” There was a “hmm” in Lucy’s voice. “He doesn’t seem the sort to be pushed around. Not even by Madam Mayor.”
Delanie nodded her agreement. “I know what you mean. The man owns a successful financial company with a lot of employees. It’s highly unlikely she could intimidate him into something he didn’t want to do.”
“You’re both right. And obviously observant,” Faith said. “I didn’t mean to imply that the mayor shamed him into volunteering. Like I said, she came by my cart in the lobby of Sam’s building to tell me I couldn’t go home. She said she had a full house but could find floor space and air mattresses for Phoebe and me.”
“So he was shamed,” Lucy said.
“Maybe. I don’t know. He spontaneously offered because he has a big house. And Loretta said it would be a relief not to have to worry about us, what with all the problems she was handling.” Then Sam had made his case to talk her into staying with him.
“So you were there last night,” Delanie commented. “How was it?”
“He didn’t lie about it being big. And beautiful.” And the man had gone out of his way to make sure they were comfortable and had everything they needed. He’d even cooked dinner.
“What’s he like?” Lucy asked, as if reading her mind. “I mean, obviously he’s nice looking.”
“Nice?” Delanie shook her head. “You can do better than that, Luce.”
“You’re absolutely right.” The blonde looked appropriately chastised. “This whole fire crisis has thrown me off my game. Sam Hart is so hot he could melt a lesser woman than me into a pathetic puddle at his feet.”
Faith would admit, if only to herself, that she’d dipped a toe into that puddle. “And what’s your point?”
“We want details. What is it like living with him?” Delanie folded her arms over her chest. “Did you see him naked this morning?”
“Of course not.” But wouldn’t that have been something. “And I’d hardly call it living together—”
“Don’t split hairs. You both spent the night under the same roof. By any definition that is living together.”
“Temporarily. That’s quite a different dynamic.”
“Don’t rain on our parade,” Lucy begged. “We’re doing our best to live vicariously. And if there’s a little matchmaking behind it, where’s the harm? The least you can do is meet us halfway.”
“This is where I tell you guys to get a life.”
Delanie grinned. “I have all the life I want, thanks. And right now yours has gotten exciting. In an interesting way, not the part where your house is in danger. And, for the record, we’re trying to take your mind off that. So, when life gives you lemons...”
“What she’s trying to say,” Lucy interrupted, “is that details would be most appreciated.”
“I love you guys for trying to take my mind off things, but I still don’t know what you want me to say.” Faith looked from one woman to the other. “Is he handsome? Check. Does he have money? Judging by his house that gets a big check mark, too.”
“How’s Phoebe doing with it?” Lucy asked.
“Pretty well, all things considered. She’s distracted by the house and pool. He even let her use the TV remote.” She couldn’t help smiling at the memory of him explaining what each button meant and letting her daughter push them, even though that meant jumping through hoops to restore settings. “She’s Team Sam.”
“He sounds like a good guy,” Lucy summed up and Delanie nodded her agreement.
Faith gave them a warning look. “He and I are just friends. I’ve gotten to know him because he buys a lot of flowers for women.”
“Sounds romantic to me.” Lucy stirred the beans on the steam table.
“Trust me. It’s not. Just a gimmick. A smoke screen. An elaborate ruse in which he appears to participate but really doesn’t at all.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me. I asked him, as a flower professional, whether or not I should look forward to the revenue a wedding could generate.”
“You didn’t.” Delanie’s expression oozed admiration. “Look at you going all TMZ on him.”
“What did he say?” The other woman stopped stirring. Apparently that revelation had the persnickety chef’s rapt attention.
“It was a definite no on walking down the aisle.”
“Oh, pooh. That’s not what I wanted to hear. So I shouldn’t count on a wedding reception catering contract from him.”
“Sad but true, ladies. Commitment is not on his to-do list.”
Her friends looked disappointed, but Faith was fine with it. Better than fine, actually. This conversation had put things into perspective. The fact that neither she nor Sam was open to romance was tremendously freeing. She could be herself around him because there was no chance of any weird man/woman stuff.
* * *
Sam was trying to decide whether or not to worry.
At breakfast Faith had told him she was going to volunteer at the fire staging area after work, do what she could for the firefighters. Her lobby cart had been locked up several hours ago when he’d left work for the day.
Was it time to do something stupid and go look for her?
Before he could make up his mind, he heard the front door open and female voices in the entry. He’d given her a key and moments later Faith and Phoebe joined him in the kitchen.
“Hi, Sam.” Phoebe gave him a wave.
“Hey, Squirt.” He looked at Faith. “Long day?”
“Yeah.” She looked tired, dirty and worried.
Again, Sam had the most absurd urge to pull her into his arms and tell her that everything would be all right. “Any news on your house?”
“No. And the evacuation order is still in effect.” She shrugged. “The guys have been too busy saving houses to keep track of the ones lost.”
Were the black streaks on her cheeks and chin soot? He frowned. “How close were you to the fire?”
“A couple of miles, I think. Why?”
“Because you smell like smoke.”
“You should have been in the car.” Phoebe wrinkled her cute freckled nose. “Stinks in there now.”
Humor relaxed the tension on Faith’s features. “You do realize that I was doing a good thing? Serving food to firefighters who are working very hard to save our home. And your toys.”
“Uh-huh.” Phoebe looked unrepentant. “You still smell like smoke.”
“The wind is brutal.”
Sam thought about that. “If it was blowing smoke in your direction, doesn’t that mean the fire was headed toward where you were?”
“Are you asking whether it was safe?”
“Was it?”
“Of course.”
He hadn’t given in to stupid and gone to look for her, but now it was coming out of his mouth, this unreasonable concern for her safety. He was going to stop now. “Okay.”
“The problem is the wind keeps changing direction. It’s one of the reasons they’re having such a hard time getting a handle on containment.”
“I see.”
“Until the crisis is over, there’s a volunteer schedule,” Faith said.
“So you’ll be going back into the fire area?” He glanced at Phoebe, keeping his voice conversational so as not to alarm her. But for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely, he needed reassurance. And yes, he was aware that the stupid was continuing in spite of his effort to suppress it.
“Everyone is pitching in.” She shrugged as if that explained everything.
“Can’t you just make a casserole? Or cookies?”
She glanced at her daughter now. Phoebe was staring up wide-eyed. “The firefighters have safety protocols in place. That’s one of the few things they can control. It’s the variables like wind and thick, dry underbrush that are giving them fits.”
“Mommy, you don’t get too close, do you?”
“No, absolutely not.” She thought for a moment. “Do you remember Des Parker?”
Phoebe’s forehead furrowed in thought. “Is he the rancher who took you to the Grizzly Bear Diner?”
“No. That was Logan Hunt.”
“He’s my cousin,” Sam volunteered. Estranged, but still family. Although that distinction didn’t ease the feeling of disapproval sliding through him.
“Really?” Faith’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know that.”
“Long story,” he said. “So who’s Des Parker?”
“The fire captain.”
“I remember,” Phoebe said. “He let me sit in the fire truck on the Fourth of July and bought us ice cream. And Valerie Harris babysat me and you went out to dinner with him.”
“Yes.”
“I like him,” her daughter said.
Funny, Sam thought, he didn’t. “So he’s not going to let anything happen to his girlfriend.”
“It’s not like that. And in case you’re wondering, there was no breakup bouquet. Come to think of it, that would be awkward. Making it for myself.” Faith laughed. “No, my point is that he’s cautious and wouldn’t let anything happen to anyone on his watch.”
Sam didn’t miss the look she gave him that said he was being weird, but he already knew.
Phoebe wrinkled her nose again, apparently satisfied that her mother was in good hands. “You still stink.”
“It’s not that bad.” She looked at Sam.
“I wasn’t going to say anything...” He rested his hands on the granite-topped island between them. “However, I strongly suggest you soak in a hot bath while Phoebe and I cook dinner.”
“You cook? I thought last night was a fluke.”
“No.” Sam took a little satisfaction from her obvious surprise. “I’m a bachelor.”
“And yet I, the plant lady, know that—” she glanced at her child, obviously trying to figure out how to give her comment a G-rated delivery “—from time to time you have visitors who can cook.”
“That is blatant gender profiling.” He smiled at her unease. “Some of the world’s best chefs are men. And I actually like to cook.”
“I can help, Mommy. Please let me do it.” The eight-year-old was quivering with excitement. “And Sam is right. You need a bath.”
“And the child becomes the parent.” Faith tenderly traced a finger down her daughter’s cheek. “Two against one. Fortunately for both of you I’m in the mood to get rid of this grime. I won’t be long.”
Sam watched until her slender shoulders and excellent backside disappeared from sight. She was a smart, beautiful woman raising a child on her own. As far as he could tell there was no father in the picture. Why? For that matter, it was clear from what Phoebe had said that she dated. His cousin had inherited the Hart good looks and his mother’s integrity. His father, Sam’s uncle, had the morals of an alley cat and Logan had distanced himself from the Harts a long time ago. He was a very successful rancher and from a woman’s perspective would be a good catch.
Des Parker was a question mark because Sam had never met him. What was Faith’s relationship with the two men? He really didn’t like that he was acutely curious, which was only a small step up from jealousy.
“Sam?” A small, firm voice interrupted his thoughts. “Are you listening?”
He looked at the little girl. “Yes.”
“I want to help. But Mommy won’t let me touch sharp stuff.”
“That leaves out knives, then.” He thought for a moment. “How about setting the table?”
“Okay.”
Since plates and glasses were too high for her, he ended up getting everything down then backed off and let her put it all on the round oak table in the nook.
When she finished, she came to stand by the counter where he was working. “Whatcha doing?”
“I’m making fried chicken the easy way. After I dip the pieces in this stuff, it goes on a cookie sheet and into the oven.”
“Are you making vegetables?” she asked suspiciously.
There was a loaded question. More data was required before answering. “Do you like them?”
“No.”
“Hmm. Does your mom make you eat them?”
“Yes.” It didn’t seem possible for such a small, sweet face to hold that much loathing and hostility.
“They have vitamins and minerals that make you strong and healthy.”
“That’s what my mom says. They still make me want to throw up.”
“I feel your pain.” He thought about what he’d planned for tonight. “What’s your opinion of corn on the cob?”
“I like that. We have these things that go in the ends so you can hold it better. But they’re in my house.” Phoebe’s anxiety that her house might be gone was easy to read in her expression.
Sam wanted to fix things so this little girl didn’t have to worry about whether or not all of her worldly possessions were gone. But he wasn’t God. All he could do was fix this moment for her.
“I have corn holders. In that drawer.” He pointed out the one closest to the table. “Why don’t you put them by the plates?”
She opened the drawer and spotted them. “They’re sharp.”
“Technically, but you’re not going to cut anything with them. I think you’re big enough to do the job without hurting yourself.”
“Hurt yourself on what?” Faith walked into the kitchen. Her blond hair was a shade darker because it was still wet and the store tags were still hanging from her T-shirt and sweatpants.
The jeans he’d always seen her in were a good look but what she was wearing now hugged every curve in soft, clingy material. His fingers ached to find out for himself if she felt as good as he thought she would.
“Mommy.” Phoebe proudly held up the sharp objects. “Sam has corn-on-the-cob holders. They’re animals, see? It’s a cow. This one is the head and here’s the tail.”
“Very cute.” She met his gaze. “Something so whimsical seems out of character for a high-powered businessman like you.”
“I’ve got layers,” he said.
“Apparently.” She looked at Phoebe. “You’re not supposed to touch anything sharp and pointy.”
“Sam said I could. And I didn’t hurt myself.” She held up her boo-boo-free hands. “See?”
“I did give her permission,” Sam said. “It was actually the lesser of two evils. I wanted to give her a moratorium from vegetables while she’s here.”
“I see what you mean.” She smiled at her daughter. “Good job, Phoebs.”
“Can I watch TV now?”
Sam put the chicken in the oven. “Dinner won’t be ready for about forty minutes.”
“Okay, then, kiddo.”
“Yay!” She ran into the family room and carefully picked up the remote, handling it as he’d shown her.
When they were alone, Sam said, “Speaking of sharp things, you could use scissors.”
Faith looked down at her hastily purchased clothes. “I forgot to pull them off.”
He grabbed a pair from a drawer and moved close. “Let me.”
The sweet scent of her freshly washed hair filled his head and twisted his senses into knots. Without thinking it through, he grabbed the tag that was just inside the neckline of the shirt to cut it off and his fingers brushed her skin. Her eyes darkened and her lips parted slightly. He was almost sure her breath caught for a moment. He knew for a fact that his did.
She swallowed once and glanced at the tag on the waist of her pants. “I’ll get that one.”
“Okay.”
She took the scissors, careful not to touch him, and quickly did the job. It was time for him to break the spell so he opened a bottle of red wine, letting it breathe normally, which was more than he could say for himself. Then he took three glasses from a cupboard, one of them a champagne flute, and poured clear soda into it.
“For Phoebe,” he explained. “Just this once. Because she’s evacuated.”
Before Faith could say no, he brought it to the little girl on the leather sofa in the family room. “Tonight is a special occasion.”
“What?” She took the glass he held out.
“I get to have the pleasure of your company for dinner.”
“Wow.” Carefully she took a sip. “I promise I won’t spill.”
“I know you won’t.”
He walked back into the kitchen where Faith stood with her back braced against the island. She was giving him a look. “What?”
“You’re very good at this,” she said.
The tone didn’t make her words sound like a compliment so he decided to clarify his actions in a positive way. “If you mean taking care of friends going through a rough time, then yes I am.”
“I actually meant you’re quite practiced at charming women.”
There was a whole lot of subtext in those words. “Charm isn’t a bad thing.”
“It is if it’s not sincere.” She folded her arms over her chest.
“Look, as far as I’m concerned we’ve become friends. So if what you see in my behavior is charm in a bad way, then I’m not sure what I can do about that.”
“Just stop it.”
“I can’t be what I’m not,” he pointed out.
“Neither can I.”
“Okay.” Sam dragged his fingers through his hair. He was going to say this and let the chips fall wherever. “You don’t have to tell me I’m right, but I think there’s a better-than-even chance some guy did you wrong.”
“You don’t—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “You’re right. I don’t know for sure. But the fact that defensiveness is your default position makes it a very good possibility.”
She didn’t respond to that.
“I assure you that I have no ulterior motives. I value your friendship and don’t want things to get awkward between us. There’s nothing to worry about from me and you can take that promise to the bank.” He smiled. “No pun intended.”
Her lips curved up slightly. “Okay.”
Sam’s word was important to him and he didn’t give it lightly. He’d drawn a line in the sand and wouldn’t cross it, even though the idea of kissing her had occurred to him. But he was sure there was a jerk in her past and he wouldn’t be another one who played her.
When she could go back to her house in a day or two, this feeling would pass. There was no doubt in his mind that he could resist her for that short a time.
Chapter Four (#ue5bca3b3-68b7-5b47-b9d2-dd34c7ed68d4)
“You didn’t have to come with me and volunteer to help feed the firefighters.” Faith glanced at Sam in the driver’s seat, which was appropriate since this was his car. Although she was pretty sure that’s where he sat in every part of his life.
“This is my town now and I want to pitch in.” He slid her a look but the expression in his eyes was hidden by the dark aviator sunglasses. Very sexy glasses that amped up his appeal by a lot. “I want to make sure the firefighters’ staging area is a safe distance from the fire line.”
“You don’t trust Des Parker?”
“I don’t know him.” There was a hint of disapproval in his voice.
That was an interesting negative reaction to someone he’d never met. “He’s a good guy.”
“Jury’s out on that. All I know is you were pretty smoky when you got home last night.”
“That would sound so much better if you’d said I was smokin’ hot.”
Sam didn’t look at her but the corners of his mouth curved up. “You’ll do. And I’m here to make sure you’re not literally smokin’.”
He navigated the winding two-lane road in a confidently masculine way that made her stomach quiver in that feminine way it did when fascinated by a guy. Admittedly that reaction was just plain stupid, but, sadly, too real. The best thing she could say about the inconvenient feeling was that it took her mind off worrying about what condition her home was in.
But as they got closer to the staging area, visibility was reduced because of smoke hanging in the air and it got noticeably thicker every mile. The wind wasn’t as bad, but it was still a factor in battling the blaze.
“I heard firefighters are coming from as far away as California and Oregon to help put this thing out.” Sam glanced over.
“That’s the rumor.”
“They’ll get it contained.”
“Sure doesn’t feel that way right now,” she said.
“It won’t burn forever.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Wow.” Sam glanced over again. “I didn’t take you for a glass-half-empty kind of person.”
“It’s hard to be chipper and perky and optimistic when everything you have in the world might be gone.”
“I know. But you have to stay strong.”
“Says who?” She was feeling angry and resentful and looking to take it out on someone. It was his bad luck that he was in the line of fire, no pun intended. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to face the possibility of losing everything? Even with insurance there will be out-of-pocket expenses that I can’t afford. You would only have to write a check. Chump change.”
“I admit that having access to more resources makes the prospect less daunting.”
Well, pickles. She’d expected him to be all sunshine and unicorns, not agree with her. Now what was she going to argue with him about?
“So, I met Kiki.”
“Did you?” The corners of his mouth curved up.
“Yes. When I delivered the breakup bouquet.”
“I see.”
Faith wanted more of a reaction so she could push back on something because she was really in the mood to push back. “Don’t you want to know what my impression of her was?”
He shrugged. “Since I won’t be seeing her again, discussing it is like shutting the barn door after the horse got out.”
“I can see why you’d think that, but you could look at it like a debrief. Analyze what went wrong in order to not make the same mistake.”
He nodded slowly. “That logic would be sound if I considered her a mistake.”
“And you don’t?”
“Look at it this way.” He thought for a moment. “When you buy a dress, you try it on. See if it fits and that you like how it feels. That’s how I think of dating.”
“Like trying on a pair of jeans?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Yes.”
“So Kiki was nothing more than a fitting?”
“In a way.” His tone was unrepentant.
“I found her to be very pretty and nice. It seems so wrong to categorize her like that.”
“How else are you going to know what works?” he defended.
“Give someone a chance. Two dates is like making a decision on pants when you only try on one leg.”
“Why risk trying on the other leg and becoming emotionally attached?”
“Oh. You’re one of those,” she said, nodding knowingly.
“What?” He glanced over, obviously fighting a grin. “You make me sound like a nonorganic vegetable at a health food convention.”
Faith laughed, something that had seemed a long shot a few minutes ago. “I’ll put a finer point on it. You’re one of those men who is afraid of commitment.”
“On the contrary. I’m not afraid, just choosing not to participate.”
“That’s just spin.” Her words challenged even though she remembered his adamant admission that marriage wasn’t for him. “You’re afraid. Admit it.”
“No.” He made a left turn into an open area with heavy equipment, fire trucks and cars. “And we’re here. Not a moment too soon.”
Faith was jolted back to reality. Thanks to Sam, for a few minutes she’d managed to put aside the crisis hanging over her.
They exited his luxury SUV and headed for the volunteer area. She was put to work serving food again. Sam unloaded cases of bottled water from a truck and stacked them. Another truck arrived with ice and he unloaded bags, then filled insulated chests and tubs with it to cool down the water.
When Faith could sneak a glance at him she took full advantage. Watching Sam Hart work up a sweat was pure cotton candy for the eyes. And as distractions went, the sight of him was effective and exactly what a worried girl needed. She imagined he looked all CEO powerful behind his office desk in the building he owned. After today, she knew for a fact that he was pretty darn drool-worthy doing manual labor. And speaking of eye candy, a peek at him without a shirt might satisfy her sweet tooth.
When there was a break in the action, he grabbed two bottles of cold water and wandered over. He opened one and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She took a long drink then pressed her lips together, blotting the excess moisture. She noticed a muscle in his jaw jerk as he watched her and wondered about that but decided to ignore it. “I needed this. It’s hot.”
“There’s an understatement.” His voice was hoarse, probably from the smoky air. “And those guys fighting the fire have on all that heavy gear.”
“I can’t even imagine how they do it,” she agreed. “So you think Des picked a safe place for the volunteers to be?”
“Yes.” He shrugged. “It’s a major fire and there’s a lot of smoke. Phoebe is going to have a lot to say to both of us.”
“She might not call you out. Right now you’re her hero. Speaking of that—” Faith spotted a familiar firefighter walking toward them “—here comes one of our bravest now. Hi, Des.”
“Hey, Faith.”
Sam frowned at the man who stopped beside them. But he held out his hand. “We haven’t met, but I’ve heard good things about you. I’m Sam Hart.”
The other man took the offered hand. “Desmond Parker. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard about you, too. Welcome to Blackwater Lake. That new office building of yours is impressive.”
“Can’t complain. Pretty boring compared to what you do. You’ve got a tough gig right now, though. How’s it going?”
“Frustrating.” He took off his helmet and dragged his fingers through his sweaty, matted dark hair. “The wind is still making it a challenge to keep up with the fire. It keeps jumping around. The conditions are unpredictable.” An expression slid into his eyes when his gaze met hers and it looked an awful lot like pity.

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