by A. J. Pine
“Oh?” Delaney said. “So you are from Meadow Valley?” She didn’t remember the woman or the store from the last time she was here.
“Born and raised,” Ivy said. “But there was college. And then my older brother moved out east for a job. And a girl. They had a kid, and my parents flocked to where the grandbaby was, as grandparents tend to do.” She laughed, but Delaney detected a note of sadness in the woman’s eyes. “My brother was a firefighter. Lost his life in the line of duty. I stayed in Boston for a while after that with my family, but I always knew I’d come back home when the time was right.” She swiped a tear from under her eye.
Delaney’s throat tightened. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
Ivy pressed her lips into a smile. “Thank you. I didn’t expect Sam to tell you. He’s private enough about his own life, which means he’s not one to go gossiping about others.” She blew out a breath. “Want to come inside for a few? I can grab you something cold to drink.”
A drink sounded heavenly, but before she could say yes, she saw something glinting in the sun out of the corner of her eye—a silver truck parked around the corner from the firehouse.
“Thank you, but I think I need to take a rain check,” she said, curiosity winning out over her thirst.
Ivy followed her gaze and grinned. “How about I get you that drink to go, then?”
She was in and out of her shop in a flash, returning with two perspiring bottles of cold water. “There’s a recycling bin at the fire station,” she said.
“Thanks.” Delaney took the offering before the rest of Ivy’s words registered. “I mean, I wasn’t going—” She sighed. “Am I that obvious?”
Ivy shrugged. “I meant what I said. Sam’s one of the best. But odds are if he’s at the fire station—and his truck’s been there awhile—he’s dealing with something, and either the speed bag or one of the guys on call is paying the price.” She laughed. “Might even be Carter if they’re done saving that tree.”
Delaney’s cheeks burned. She hoped her reaction was hidden by the fact that she was also flushed from her walk. She understood that what happened this morning was rough on Sam, probably more so because she was there to witness it. But they’d connected over the incident, too, hadn’t they? Enough so that the least he could have done was give her some notice that he wasn’t coming back for lunch—or likely any part of the day.
Delaney took a swig from her water and smiled at Ivy. “Thank you for this and the clothes and understanding why I can’t stay.”
Ivy beamed. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the festival opening, right?”
Delaney nodded as she backed away from the canopy. “Can’t wait.”
Then she spun on her heel and crossed the street, making a beeline for the Meadow Valley fire station.
People waved at Delaney as she passed, and she smiled and waved right back, wondering if those who looked familiar thought the same of her.
Her destination was situated on the corner of the street, offering two easy exits for emergency vehicles. She made a right turn where she saw Sam’s truck, expecting to hear loud, thumping music or something reminiscent of a gym in use, but the air around her seemed to grow quieter instead, stiller than all the activity on the town’s main street.
Just like he’d told her, there was a small outdoor gym under a carport-type roof. She unlatched the waist-high gate and stepped through, the ring straight ahead. But Sam wasn’t there. Behind it, though, she caught a glimpse of a dark swath of hair, bare shoulders, and a speed bag being given no mercy by the gloves beating against it.
“Hey,” she said as she rounded the boxing ring. She was only a few feet from him, but he didn’t turn around, didn’t even acknowledge her presence. She should have been angry, even indignant, but she couldn’t take her eyes off his back, off the sculpted muscles that seemed to move with a quiet grace that juxtaposed the violence of each fist pounding against the bag. All he wore were a pair of basketball shorts and his gloves.
Delaney’s throat went dry, and she had to swallow more than once to regain the ability to speak.
“Sam,” she finally said, louder this time. “I know you’re upset, but we were supposed to have lunch. Your dog needed to be walked and fed, and I had no idea where you were.”
Still nothing. Just his incessant pounding.
She took a step to the right, ready to give him hell, and saw the wireless earbuds.
She blew out a breath. Okay. Not ignoring her.
With another careful step, she moved into his peripheral vision.
He glanced at her for a fraction of a second, then returned his intense gaze to the speed bag. Several seconds later—though it felt like hours—he finally slowed to a stop. He used his teeth to tear one glove from his wrist, tucked it under his arm, and pulled his phone from the pocket of his shorts.
He pressed Stop on whatever song had drowned out her voice and, likely, the rest of Sam’s world.
Sweat trickled down the sides of his face. His hair was drenched.
Delaney was having a hard time remembering why she was angry.
“What are you doing here?” he asked coolly.
She crossed her arms, her indignation returning.
“I know I’m not technically a guest at the ranch and that the work I’m doing for you is to pay off a room that I know you offered me for free. You don’t owe me anything, Sam Callahan. But I’m stranded in a town where I’m basically a stranger. You are my only connection right now. And it’s obvious after this morning that you’re dealing with a heck of a lot more than just some woman coming to town to claim her land.” She paused and took a steadying breath. He didn’t deserve her anger, but she also didn’t deserve being left stranded. “We’re all dealing with something, aren’t we? And I get it if you needed some time to yourself. But my experience has been that when someone disappears without so much as a heads-up, something’s wrong.”
They stared at each other for several long seconds. “Look,” she finally said. “I know there’s no label on whatever this is or isn’t.” She motioned between them. “But I was worried.”
There. She’d said it. Because when the anger and indignation melted away, the root of it all was that like it or not, Delaney cared what happened to Sam Callahan.
He glanced down at the phone still in his palm, then back at her. “Guess I lost track of time.”
That was it? He guessed he lost track of time?
“That’s all you have for me? Come on, Sam. Beating the crap out of that bag obviously hasn’t helped much. Maybe if you talk about it—”
“I’m not a talker,” he interrupted. “I just need to work it out of me and I’ll be fine.”
Yeah, he sounded really convincing.
“Fine,” she said. “Work it out on me.”
His brows rose.
She groaned. “I didn’t mean…Where can I get a pair of those?” She nodded at his gloves.
“In the bin against the building, but—”
She rotated in the direction he was looking, marched over to the bin marked Equipment, and rummaged for a pair of gloves that might fit her smaller hands.
“Jackpot!” she whispered.
Maybe he didn’t want to talk, but hours out here alone weren’t doing the trick. She could be here. She could help him without the words. Sometimes all it took was knowing someone was on your side. She could be on his—or on the opposing end of his gloves.
Delaney tossed her jacket, bag, and bottle of water on the ground and pulled on one glove, then used her teeth to tug on the other. She smacked her fists together to make sure the gloves were on securely.
“Let’s go,” she said, nodding toward the ring. She didn’t wait for him to respond as she climbed between the ropes, positioned herself in the center, and began bouncing on her toes, readying herself to spar.
Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m not fighting you, Delaney.”
“What’s the matter?” she asked, rolling her shoulders one at a ti
me. “Afraid of a little friendly competition?”
He approached the ring carefully and stood against the ropes, but didn’t enter. “Look, it’s not a man-woman thing. I’m not sexist or anti-feminist, or whatever you want to call it. But I’m bigger than you, faster than you, and I’ve been at this a long time. I could hurt you.”
She moved toward him, gloves at the ready. “Bigger and faster, huh? Because you’re a man? Hate to break it to you, Sam, but that is some sexist BS right there. I told you I train. I may be smaller, but that doesn’t mean I’m weaker. It doesn’t mean you have better moves. I’ll make you a deal though. I’ll get out of this ring if you talk to me about why you’ve been here, probably for hours, beating that poor bag to smithereens.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Well, I’m not going away, so…” She punched him lightly in the ribs.
He narrowed his eyes. “Is that one of your moves? Breaking the rules of the sport?”
“What’s it gonna be?” She opened her arms wide. “Work off some steam or tell me why today is getting the best of you.” His eyes darkened. “I know what happened with your dad this morning was hard on you, but I also know it’s probably not the first time. So talk to me.”
“You’re wearing a dress,” he said matter-of-factly.
She shrugged. “And tennis shoes. And gloves. I’m good to go. Besides, what’s wardrobe got to do with how good I am?”
Instead of answering her, he climbed into the ring and slipped his other glove back on.
“I’m not going to hit you, Delaney.”
She bumped her gloved fists together. “Okay. Let’s see how fast those reflexes of yours really are.”
She threw an uppercut to his chin without so much as the ding of a bell.
He pivoted to the right so that all she hit was air.
He was fast.
She threw a flurry of jabs at his torso, and he blocked them with ease. And was that—was Sam Callahan smiling?
“Are you laughing at me?” she asked.
Sam shook his head as he blocked another jab, then another.
“I just think it’s important to point out that weight classes in boxing exist for a reason. There has to be some way to level the playing field so that the sport is more about skill and dedication than who is bigger than whom.”
Delaney threw her hands in the air. “It’s also not a fair fight if only one person is fighting. Come on, Sam. Fight.”
She feinted left, then hooked right—and nailed him in the ribs.
Sam’s eyes widened, and he rubbed his side with his glove. “Maybe you do know what you’re doing, Vegas.” He grinned. Then he tossed a jab her way.
She could tell he used little force, but he moved with swift precision—and she pivoted out of his reach as if she’d known the whole time which punch he would throw.
He raised his brows.
She jabbed right back.
For several minutes they danced like this. Maybe they weren’t talking out his issues, but he also wasn’t alone. She cared and he knew it, and she hoped she’d thrown him some semblance of a lifeline, just like he’d done for her the second she got stranded in town.
True, he was being careful not to actually hit her, but she had a couple of close calls, so she allowed herself to believe that her own skill was part of the reason she was still in the ring—until she rolled her ankle during a pivot.
“Ow!” she yelped. Sam’s hook grazed her side as her knee buckled, but she righted herself before she went down, planting her good foot firm as she retaliated with a right cross.
Only she hadn’t realized Sam had dropped his hands or that he was stepping toward her, and her glove connected firmly with his face.
“Oh my God!” she cried as blood trickled from his perfect nose.
Sam stood there for several seconds, eyes wide. Then he shook his head and stumbled a few steps back before righting himself.
“Did you just break my nose?” he asked calmly.
“Oh my God,” Delaney said again, unable to think of any other words.
All she’d wanted was to be there for him, to maybe distract him from what was weighing him down, but all she’d done was make it worse. She was pretty sure breaking someone’s nose was never the way to say, Hey. Just want you to know I’m here for you.
She tore off her gloves and moved toward him, the pain in her ankle having already subsided.
“I’ll drive you to the hospital,” she said, pulling his gloves from his hands.
He was still just standing there, stunned and bleeding, and, oh God, she did this to him.
“No,” he said, swiping his arm across his face, blood smearing. “Carter is inside. All the firefighters here are paramedics. He’ll know what to do.”
She tried to grab hold of his arm, to help him out of the ring, but he shook her off.
“I’m fine,” he insisted as he climbed through the ropes, but once on solid ground, he stumbled backward again, the base of the ring stopping him before he fell.
“You’re dizzy,” she said, climbing down beside him.
He groaned. “I might be.”
She wrapped an arm around his waist, and this time he didn’t object. Instead he rested an arm over her shoulder.
They walked toward the sliding door that led into the back of the firehouse.
“You really don’t like accepting help, do you?” she asked.
“Help is fine,” he said. “What I don’t like is getting punched in the face. There’s a difference.”
Delaney bit back a grin. She still felt bad for hitting him, but she couldn’t help her amusement. He was charming and funny even when he was mad at her.
She slid the door open with her free hand, and they entered the firehouse’s kitchen. A man with auburn hair stood rinsing a dish at the sink. He was dressed in a short-sleeved black firefighter uniform. When he made eye contact with Sam, he dropped the plate in the sink and rushed over.
“What the hell happened to you, Callahan? You piss off a speed bag?”
Sam nodded toward Delaney, who still hadn’t let go of him. “She happened. I tried to help her when it looked like she landed wrong on her ankle, and this was the thanks I got.”
“You must be Carter,” Delaney said. “I’m Delaney. We were only sparring. It was a total accident. Did I break his nose? He’s dizzy and bleeding, but it might only be a contusion, right? It’s starting to swell a little but doesn’t look crooked. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”
Carter and Delaney helped Sam into a chair at the kitchen table.
“You work in medicine?” Carter asked her.
Delaney shook her head. “I mean, not people medicine. I’m a veterinary technician. During one of my clinicals, the vet I was working with treated a dog who had some facial trauma from a car accident.”
“So I’m a dog now?” Sam asked, unamused.
“I wasn’t finished.” Delaney raised her brows and cleared her throat. “We discussed the difference between the canine facial bones and human bones.” She shrugged. “Guess I’ve learned a few things about humans by studying animals.”
Medically speaking, that was. She had great intuition when it came to dogs, cats, or horses. But with humans—more specifically men—she was still a novice.
“The bleeding’s not too heavy,” Carter said. He snagged a napkin from a holder on the table. “Use this for now. I need to get you cleaned up so I can take a closer look. Let me just grab a few supplies. In the meantime, Delaney, there should be some soft ice packs in the freezer. Never hurts to minimize swelling.”
“I’m on it!” She rushed toward the freezer as Carter slipped out of the room. She threw open the door and found the packs stored in a bin on the bottom shelf. “Figured there’d be more hustle and bustle in here,” she said, turning to face Sam.
“Folks are upstairs watching TV or supervising the fireworks setup for the festival,” Sam
said. “The fact that you already heard a siren today means Meadow Valley is full up on emergencies for at least another six months to a year.”
She held out the ice pack, and he took it.
“Thanks,” he said, but his voice was still tinged with irritation.
He placed the pack gingerly over the bridge of his nose, wincing at first, but then closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh.
Even though she knew the cold felt good, he looked so uncomfortable holding the napkin under his nose with one hand and the ice pack over it with the other.
She rounded the back of his chair and placed a hand gingerly over his.
“I’ll hold it,” she said.
She expected him to protest, but he nodded and slid his hand out from under hers, letting his head fall back against her torso.
On instinct, she skimmed her other hand over the hair at his temple, and his shoulders relaxed.
“You were really stopping to help me?” she asked. “That’s why you let your guard down?”
“I thought you were hurt,” he said. “But I guess it was a feint I hadn’t counted on.”
She laughed. “I don’t fight dirty. I did twist my ankle. But I was so determined to show you that even though I’m smaller I’m not weaker that I didn’t want to let my guard down, even for a second.” She blew out a breath. “I never wanted to hurt you, Sam. All I wanted was for you to talk to me instead of bottling up how much what happened with your dad got to you this morning.”
Sam’s shoulders tensed again, but he was saved from responding by Carter as he strode back into the room with a blue canvas medical bag.
“Okay, Callahan. Let’s see how good Delaney clocked you.”
Delaney lifted the ice from Sam’s face and winced. She wasn’t squeamish about the sight of blood—just at the sight of an injury she’d caused. She stepped away from him so as not to get in Carter’s way, but Sam reached back and grabbed her wrist.
“Stay,” he said. “If you don’t mind. I kind of like the headrest.”