Jesse's Brother

by Wendy Ely

  Once the door squeaked open, her mother padded out of the kitchen, no doubt ready to pick up where they’d left off. Samantha held up her hand, signaling she had no intentions of discussing the matter tonight.

  “Samantha, your father—”

  “I don’t want to talk.” She tried to walk away, hoping her mother would give up but she continued to forge ahead with the conversation.

  “What did you do out there?” Mom asked her.

  “Nothing.”

  “Samantha…”

  “I know Dad talked to you about what was said. It’s the same old story each time I’m here. Guess what? I don’t want to talk to you tonight.” She paused half-way up the stairs. “Oh, I met your handsome farm hand, Noah Combs. Daddy sure has wonderful taste in employees. He should’ve hired help long ago.”

  She couldn’t keep the singing from her voice when she spoke of him. She most definitely had the start of a school-girl crush. She rolled her eyes as she pictured herself drawing hearts with Noah’s name in them.

  Mom’s mouth dropped open but she didn’t say anything. Her suspicious stare burned in Samantha’s direction as she spun on her heel and ran up the stairs.

  Once the bedroom door clicked shut behind her, she heard footsteps below. Her mother had gone into the living room located directly beneath her bedroom. The raised voices implied Mom was angry about something. That something was Noah Combs.

  CHapter 4

  Noah stabbed the pitchfork into the hay, trying to get a head start on tomorrow’s chores and Samantha out of his thoughts.

  He always returned to his trailer once the sun went down. He’d had the same routine every night for the last year: work until dark, then home for dinner and a shower. Blue and a good book made great company as far as he was concerned.

  Martin didn’t care when Noah ended work for the day as long as he met the day’s goals and took care of the animals. Any night of the week, he could have hung around town meeting new people and scored a date or two. There was even talk about a few of the local women being interested in him. He, for sure, noticed the attention, sometimes even heard the whispers amongst the women as he walked by. Most men liked having their egos stroked, but it actually did the opposite for him. As a result, he stayed away from town as much as possible. It gave him an incentive to follow the same routine he’d stuck to for the past three hundred sixty-five nights.

  Not tonight, however. Tonight he had met Samantha Johns, and needed to work off the impact she had made on him. When he’d just finished feeding the animals earlier, he’d spotted her sitting up against the fence. Her tears had done him in when she raised her pretty blonde head to reveal the sadness in her beautiful blue eyes. She’d tried to push the tears away before he spotted them but it had been too late. Her tear-streaked face had been a spear to his heart. He wasn’t sure why, but he had to help rid her of the pain she’d carried around.

  After walking out of his family’s life, he’d avoided relationships of any kind. He’d loosened up a bit, working on the ranch. Martin had become a role model to him, but Noah didn’t want to care about anyone else. Not even Samantha. Now he knew her story and wanted to be in her life. It was terrible to be totally alone and Samantha didn’t deserve to be.

  “Damn it!” He threw a bale of hay onto the barn floor. “Why did she have to come here?”

  Frances, Samantha’s mother, had shown up in the barn a few days before to give him a subtle warning to stay away from her daughter. He didn’t pay any mind to the idea of Samantha being around the farm and hadn’t even asked any questions about her. He’d shrugged and turned back to his work. He was surprised she hadn’t been more like queen bee Frances, ready to sting anyone

  within arm’s length. Even though he’d heard stories about her childhood from Martin, he’d never once fathomed the idea that Samantha Johns would indeed be beautiful with those freckled cheeks and dimples. And the added bonus? She was equally sweet.

  Samantha’s presence could become a complication in his well maintained life. He didn’t need any extra hurdles. Lord knew he’d had enough of those along the way. Getting involved with someone was complicated enough, but with the boss’s daughter? Probably not a good idea. The fact that Frances hated the very air he breathed made the situation worse.

  “I never take the easy road,” he grumbled as he wiped the sweat trickling down his cheek.

  What was Samantha doing now? His eyes switched over to the door. It would be nice if she’d come down to the barn.

  * * * *

  The streets of Alban were busy with families and senior residents out for their weekly shopping. Samantha waved at the few people she recognized but didn’t stop to chat with anyone.

  She’d already become the current topic of gossip and didn’t feel the need to feed into it more. One of the joys of living in a small town.

  She pushed open the front door of Grocery General, remembering how much she and Jackie had loved going to the store as kids. The store had an ice cream parlor in the back. Wiley had been the server and the girls tried to visit there every day after school. She missed those days.

  When she and Jackie were sixteen, the owner had closed the parlor. Without a spot in Alban for teens to hang out, the pasture between Samantha’s and Jackie’s farms became their only choice. They would read, do homework, or bring a portable stereo for dancing music.

  “Samantha, is that you?” a familiar voice called out, snapping her from the wistful memories.

  “Hi, Tonya,” Samantha said as Tonya brushed past her. Samantha’s idea of fun wasn’t to stand crammed between the cooler doors and the canned dog food to chat about old times.

  Samantha only wanted to buy an iced mocha to take back to the farm. Surely they would have iced mochas of some type by now. She searched the refrigerated section of the store. Beer, soda, juice, and even some gallons of milk sat inside but no bottled energy. But was finding the drink more important than chatting with an old friend? Did she want to make every person in Alban

  mad at her?

  She had fond memories of Tonya. They had known each other since fifth grade when Tonya had moved to Alban in the middle of the school year. Being the shortest in her class, Tonya had been teased a lot. The girl was one of the nicest people Samantha ever met and didn’t ever deserve to be treated like that even though Samantha had never really been friends with the petite blonde. It was as if Samantha and Jackie had lived in some kind of friendship bubble and wouldn’t let anyone else in except when Wiley entered the equation.

  Tonya walked by her again, and Samantha waved to stop her. “Hey,” Samantha said softly.

  “Yes?” Tonya’s voice had lost its friendliness.

  “I’m sorry for being rude to you a minute ago. I really need a coffee and my mom doesn’t believe in it, so I can’t make any there.”

  Tonya forced a laugh, which was no surprise. The excuse sounded dumb, even to her. “It’s okay.”

  “How are you?” asked Samantha.

  “Good. I work over at Tillman’s Bank. You know, same stuff different day.”

  “I hear that,” Samantha agreed.

  “How are you, anyway? You went off to college, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. Do you know where I can get some coffee in this town?”

  “Sure do. A bookstore opened down on the south side. I don’t know what it’s called exactly…something like The Bookshack, but they have a coffee shop.”

  “Great! Thank you. Maybe we can get together one of these days for lunch,” Samantha said, and meant it.

  Tonya scribbled her name and number on a scrap of paper, then handed it to Samantha, who shoved it into her jeans pocket. “It would be great to get together. Call me some time.”

  Samantha waved to the cashier, who she’d known from school, and headed out the door to find the coffee shop.

  As she drove to the bookstore, Samantha’s cheeks burned at the thought of how she’d treated Tonya. She hadn’t meant to be so rude and she pr
omised herself to call Tonya before going back to the university.

  Samantha walked into the bookstore and froze. A man sat at one of the front tables reading a novel while sipping on a coffee. He held a superior air as his face remained serious. His strong features almost made him look like a statue. He didn’t seem to notice anyone around him, not even her. He kept his eyes glued to his book.

  His hair was dark blond with lighter highlights. A touch of freckles spackled his cheeks. The fact that he wore his navy suit with comfort suggested he was a man of importance. What color were his eyes? She wished he would glance up so she could take a peek. Were they soft like the sky on a sunny day, or perhaps stormy like the ocean?

  She needed to talk to him. He’d fit perfectly in her life once she left Alban again because she would be leaving both the farm and Noah behind. She rushed over to the end of the line for her coffee, hoping to catch a closer look at him. A stack of books sat on a shelf near the register with some other odds and ends for people to purchase. She glanced back at the man, and then the books. She wanted something to read and tapped her foot with impatience.

  Couldn’t they move faster? Surely the man in front of her with the briefcase didn’t need the coffee. But maybe he would be quick enough. She scanned the seating area and realized there was

  only one table left.

  “Hurry up, people,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “Excuse me?” asked the suited man in front of her.

  “Oh, nothing,” she said, her cheeks heating up. Twirling a curl, she kept an eye on the man at the table, afraid he’d leave before she had her coffee. When it was her turn, she grabbed the first book with an interesting cover. Eyes Upon Us the cover read, below a big eyeball. No need to read the back.

  It took even longer for the young clerk to make her iced coffee. Finally, he placed the drink on the counter. Samantha dropped the money into the clerk’s hand and told him to keep the change.

  She turned toward the last empty table and almost knocked people over as she rushed to the table.

  Opening her book, she pretended to read but couldn’t concentrate on the page. She kept looking up trying to get his attention or see if he noticed her. He didn’t change his facial expression or even glance in her direction.

  “Excuse me,” she whispered and waited for him to look up at her. “Do you know what time it is?” Luckily she’d forgotten her watch.

  Those eyes of his caught her by surprise. She had expected them to be blue. She was wrong. Anyone else would have described his eyes as green, but she didn’t. Those amazing eyes were an intriguing shade of olive.

  He slid his sleeve up far enough to reveal a silver watch.

  “Eleven-thirty. What are you reading?” He smiled and nodded toward her book.

  She held up the book for him to see, since she’d already forgotten the title, and hoped the book was a good one.

  “Heard of it?”

  He dog-eared the page he’d been reading. “I read that a little while ago. It’s a fascinating story.”

  “I just started it.”

  “When you finish, we should discuss it. I don’t have many friends who actually read for pleasure. Is anyone sitting with you?”

  The guy put his book in his briefcase, then stood. “No.”

  “May I join you?”

  Her cheeks burned. “Sure.”

  He picked up his things and moved to the empty seat across from her.

  She’d wanted to get his attention, but hadn’t expected to get this. His smile caused her to go weak in the knees. Good thing she was sitting already.

  “Do you come here often? I’ve never seen you before.”

  “I grew up here but I’m visiting now. I’m glad to have found this place. What about you?”

  “I don’t live around here either. This is my favorite spot to stop whenever I come over to Alban.”

  “How often are you here?”

  “It depends, really. Sometimes I’m here several days a week. Other times, it’s months between visits. I tend to make excuses just to visit here. It’s so quiet and peaceful. I have a hectic life, so it’s nice to escape.”

  “Do you have family here?”

  “No. I’m an attorney. I come here when I have a meeting with a client or go to court.”

  “Sounds fun.” Could she sound more stupid?

  “It’s a blast.” He dug into his leather briefcase and handed her a business card. “I wish I could stay, but I have an appointment. Why don’t we do this again?”

  “I’m Samantha Johns, by the way,” she said softly as she stood.

  He slipped his hand into hers, then gently squeezed, before grabbing his briefcase to leave.

  As he walked out the door, chills swept through her.

  Realizing she didn’t even know this man’s name, she glanced down at the card in her hand. Jesse Lincoln.

  She slid the business card into her newly purchased book, grabbed her coffee off the table and headed out the door. Her heart warmed as she floated all the way to her car. She was opening the door when a strong hand landed on her shoulder. Was this Jesse? She turned. The penetrating dark eyes drew her in.

  Not Jesse, but just as good.

  Chapter 5

  “Noah.” Her rushed whisper was barely audible. Had he seen her with Jesse?

  “Samantha.” He grinned. “Sorry if I startled you.”

  He leaned against her car. His outfit was nearly the same as the night before—faded jeans and a black t-shirt with a foreign phrase scribbled in white across the chest. She couldn’t help but admire how handsome he looked. All thoughts of Jesse washed out of her mind like a sea in low tide. No matter how much she didn’t want the attraction to Noah, it was there. He had a hold on her just as the farm did.

  Samantha felt like she was glowing as her smile widened. The feeling came from one thing: Noah. She’d sat on the window seat in her bedroom for half the night. There was a perfect view of the barn, where Noah had been working late. The sounds of his labor filled the night air. Temptation to go down there and offer to help had eaten at her, but she couldn’t think of an excuse, so she’d sat in her room all night. But here he was now, no need for an excuse. She could just talk to him, and it would pass as being friendly.

  Tossing her book onto the passenger side of the car, then shutting the door, she turned and leaned against the car next to him. She took a drink of her coffee. Was he here for pleasure or business? If he was here for pleasure, would he like to have some with her? Wait a minute, hadn’t she just been flirting with Jesse trying to forget about Noah?

  “What are you doing in town?”

  “Came into town for the mail and livestock feed. What are you up to this fine morning?”

  She raised her coffee cup in the air. “Came for some of this addicting stuff and a good read. Did you finish your errands?”

  He stood up and shoved his hands into his back pockets. The simple action made his muscles flex. The way his t-shirt hugged his biceps did nothing to distract her from the urge to reach out and touch them.

  “No. Would you like to…” he began, then shrugged. “Never mind.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. You would probably be bored.” He blushed and looked away.

  “Come on. Tell me,” Samantha coaxed.

  “I thought maybe you could tag along to the feed store with me.” He blushed even more, which was adorable.

  “I used go to the feed store often with my dad. I don’t find it boring one tiny bit. I would love to come with you,” she said, pushing a curl from her face. “What does your shirt say?”

  “It says je ne regretted rien.”

  “That sounds beautiful.”

  “French is a beautiful language. It means ‘I regret nothing.’”

  “Did you spend any time in France, or just liked the shirt?” She took another sip of her coffee.

  “My best friend was French. When I was seventeen, I spent the summer with his family.
It was the best summer of my life. His grandmother would sing a song with the same phrase in it. I saw this shirt at a specialty shop.” He tapped his chest with his finger. “And I snagged it. Kind of like my motto now. So, separate cars or one?”

  “Hmm, we should take my car. We might need the extra room.”

  “Separate cars then, and I’ll meet you there.” He twirled the keychain around his index finger.

  She got into her small car and waited for him to pull out. She wouldn’t figure him being in any other type of vehicle other than the old blue Ford truck. With his rugged good looks, he was definitely a truck man.