by Lily Everett
“I’m your girl,” Caitlin repeated solemnly, like a vow, and Andie heard the unspoken “I love you, too.”
Pressing a tremulous kiss to Caitlin’s smooth forehead, Andie breathed through the moment and wondered if she was going to be able to get it together enough to drive them safely home.
But when she finally managed to straighten up and close the back passenger door, Sam was already in the driver’s seat. Good, he’d had a nap at the station. He could drop them off before heading back to Harrington House like he did every night.
Except, Andie decided as she slid into the front seat and fumbled with her seatbelt, she didn’t want Sam to drop them off and leave. Peering at him across the electronic lights of the dash, she decided to test the waters.
“I don’t want you to go back to your cousin’s place tonight,” she said. “I want you to stay with us.”
Andie blinked. That was blunt. Apparently her filters were down. But it was okay, because Sam gave her a look from under his lowered brows and said, “If you think I’m letting you out of my sight for the next twenty-four hours … hell, for the next year, you’re losing your fine little mind.”
“Does that mean you’re planning to stay on Sanctuary Island for a while?” Wow, she really needed to stop talking for a bit.
But Sam wasn’t looking for the ejector button or trying to bail out of the car. Instead, he took the turn toward her house and said, “Yeah. I think I am.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Sam had faced down plenty of bad in his life. His childhood was no picnic, before and after Child Protective Services removed him from his parents’ house. In prison, he’d been one of the youngest guys on his cellblock, and even foster care hadn’t prepared him for the things he saw inside. After he got out and dedicated his life to saving abused horses, he’d witnessed the worst of humanity’s selfishness, neglect, and easy cruelty.
But nothing in his life had filled him with fury and terror like seeing Andie fend off a man who outweighed her by at least fifty pounds. The fact that she’d wiped the floor with Trent Little did help. Still, Sam wasn’t sure how long it would take to erase the horrible image of that beefy arm around Andie’s throat as the guy tried to drag her off into the darkness. Sam hadn’t seen it in real life, but now he envisioned it every time he closed his eyes.
The only remedy was to keep his eyes open and to fill them with Andie, safe and sound and close enough to touch.
“That’s wonderful!” Elation brightened her smile until she was luminous enough to light the inside of the SUV. “But … I hope you’re not staying because you think I need protecting.”
Sam huffed out a laugh at the thought. “Not likely. I’ve literally been a witness to how well you defend yourself. And can I say, I have never found you sexier than when you beat that guy down?”
He didn’t need to look away from the road to know she was blushing. “Stop it. And … thank you, I guess. Some men I’ve known have been thrown off by the fact that I’m not your average damsel in distress.”
“Like the worthless sack of crap who turned out to be a mob guy,” Sam supplied. “Well, lucky for you, I’m not him. I look at you and I see a strong, resourceful woman who’s smart as hell and not looking to be rescued by anyone.”
“That’s right.” She nodded firmly, but when Sam glanced over, her mouth had taken on an unhappy curve.
“But that doesn’t mean you don’t want someone to stand by you,” Sam said, locking his hands around the wheel and concentrating on his driving rather than on how saying this felt like stepping off the roof of a ten-story building. “Someone who has your back and respects how capable you are—while giving you someplace to go where you don’t have to be strong every minute.”
In the moment of silence that followed, he could hear Andie swallow over the sound of the tires on the road. “Are you offering to be that place for me? Don’t say it unless you mean it. Because let me tell you right now—if you promised me that and then took it away, I’m not sure I could forgive you.”
That was his Andie, never backing down and taking no crap from anyone. Sam felt like he’d swallowed the sun, everything inside him going supernova in an instant of blinding recognition and affection and need. “I mean it,” he said gruffly, pulling into her driveway and cutting the engine. “I love you, Andie Shepard. And I’m not leaving Sanctuary Island.”
After a quick glance to the backseat, where Caitlin was snoring lightly, her head dropped onto her shoulder at a crazy angle, Andie launched herself across the gearshift. Sam speared his hands into her hair to tilt her head so he could kiss her smiling mouth. The kiss was salty with tears, and Sam was man enough to admit that a few of them might be his.
Andie drew back, gasping for air and sanity. “But, your job. The horse rescue operation, your business partner—”
“We’ll work it out,” Sam said. He had no idea how. It wouldn’t be easy. He’d made a mess of things here, and it could all blow up in his face, but he had to try.
Sam smoothed his hand across her forehead and down her satiny cheek. Andie turned her face into his palm and pressed a burning kiss to the center.
“Come on,” he murmured. “We’re home. Let’s get Caitlin inside and move this conversation to the bedroom.”
“We’re home,” Andie breathed, delight and contentment shining from her eyes.
I’m home, Sam thought as he followed Andie into the house with Caitlin a warm, sleepy weight against his shoulder. And I’m staying.
*
When Andie blinked the sleep out of her eyes the next morning, she was alone in the bed. A quick pass of her hand over Sam’s pillow showed his side of the bed was cool, but rumpled enough that she was sure he’d slept there for at least a while.
Struggling against her disappointment, she told herself this relationship had been two steps forward, one step back from the very beginning. Sam had opened up the night before in ways she hadn’t truly expected yet; it made sense that he might have felt the need to pull back, to rebuild some of the walls that had crumbled between them.
I’ll just have to get out my chisel and keep chipping away, Andie decided, swinging her legs out of bed and groping for her robe. At least I’ll see him at the graduation ceremony on Sunday.
And he’d promised to stay on the island. To give them time to find out what this thing between them could be, how this love could grow if they nurtured it. That ought to be enough for now.
But the moment she stepped onto the hooked rug runner that lined the hallway, Andie heard Caitlin’s high-pitched, rapid-fire babble interspersed with the deep rumble of Sam’s voice. Grinning, she hustled down to the kitchen to find her granite countertops, the square table, and much of the floor liberally dusted with white powder.
“I’m making pancakes,” Caitlin announced, holding up a wire whisk proudly, unaware that she was dripping bright yellow egg yolk all over her nightgown. “Sam is helping.”
“I can see that,” Andie said, biting the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. “And which one of us is going to help you clean up, I wonder?”
“That would be me,” Sam volunteered with a rueful twist to his mouth. “Sorry. We had a little too much fun with the flour sifter.”
Andie had to kiss that wry smile. She used her thumb to wipe a slash of white from his cheek and said, “Thanks for staying. And for helping Caitlin make breakfast. This is the best morning I’ve had in a while.”
Owen used to love pancakes. Sunday morning breakfasts were some of the few good times she remembered with her family—their father would make pancakes, they’d all go to church, then she and Owen would play touch football in the park until Dad called them inside.
Pulling her into his arms, Sam pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Hey, I bet I’ve got something that will cheer you up.”
“Sam!” Caitlin called from her perch on a kitchen chair by the counter to the right of the stove. “I scrambled the eggs. Help me pour the milk.”
Grateful for the chance to take a moment alone to get her emotions under control, Andie slipped out of the kitchen as Caitlin leaned precariously over her bowl of beaten eggs and dribbled the milk in with Sam’s supporting hand under the heaviest part of the jug.
That sight did more to restore Andie’s spirits than anything could … or so she thought, until she spotted the folded copy of today’s Sanctuary Gazette lying on the coffee table.
SHERIFF SHEPARD SINGLEHANDEDLY SAVES THE DAY!
Andie laughed out loud and settled on the sofa to read the rest of the article. By the time she looked up to see Sam holding out a deliciously fragrant mug full of milky coffee, she’d moved on to the announcement of today’s town-wide celebration down at the pier to welcome friends and far-flung family to the island for tomorrow’s graduation ceremony. The island got so few visitors, they tended to make a big deal of the few times a year that the ferry brought in big crowds. This afternoon would find almost the entire population of the town clustered down by the docks to greet the ferry. Andie was almost glad she was suspended—coordinating the details of the Graduation Ferry Party was a huge annual hassle.
“How did you like your latest appearance in the Gazette?” Sam wanted to know. “The reporter takes a slightly different tone with you this time.”
“You have to give it to Wyatt Hawkins,” she said cupping the mug thankfully and taking a blissful sip. “The man works tirelessly to make sure Sanctuary gets the scoop. He must have been up all night to get this into the morning paper.”
“He sent this one out as a special bulletin, too, so everyone in town got an email alert about the story. I especially liked the way he described what happened when he called on the city council members to get their reactions.”
She snickered into her mug. “Who would have guessed that Dabney Leeds wears basketball shorts and a white cotton undershirt to bed?”
“Or answers the door to his mansion himself,” Sam agreed. “But maybe his butler is off duty at two in the morning.”
“That actually makes me think a bit better of Leeds. The whole article is like that—I can’t believe how many people were willing to go on record to praise the woman they’d all but drummed out of office mere days before.”
“Last night reminded them what they have with you.” Sam shrugged, satisfaction in every strong line of his body. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you get a call from the council sometime today, letting you know their investigation is concluded and your suspension is over.”
“Well, after the way Wyatt basically demanded it on behalf of the whole town. And look, there’s a whole long section about you, too! I guess he finally dug a little deeper and found out about all the good you do for abused horses.”
“I saw that.” Sam seemed quietly pleased. “He even implied there must have been some injustice in my sentencing, since it didn’t make sense that a man who’d been convicted of animal cruelty would dedicate his life to rescuing animals from cruelty.”
“Which is exactly what I said at the time! But it’s nice for all of Sanctuary Island to see your devotion to protecting animals written down here in black and white.” Andie shook her head, bemused. “Yesterday, we were this close to being tarred and feathered. Today, we’re heroes. This is why I’ll never make a good politician. People are so fickle!”
“I prefer to think of it as them finally getting their heads out of their—” Sam broke off, a panicked look coming over his face. “Did you hear that? Just a minute.”
“Hear what?” Andie asked, but he’d already dashed back into the kitchen. There was a loud clatter, as if someone had upended the silverware drawer and scattered forks and spoons across the floor.
“Nothing!” he shouted from behind the closed kitchen door. “Everything’s cool. We’ve got it under control. Just … maybe don’t come back in here for a few minutes.”
Another bang surprised a laugh out of Andie. She immediately felt guilty for laughing and being even a little happy, when God only knew where her brother was and what might be happening to him, but one of her few memories of her mother shimmered through her mind.
The memory was scented lightly with the apples and cloves of the pies her mother had loved to bake. It was soft around the edges, like an old photograph that had been handled many times. “Be happy,” her mother had said. “As much as you can for as long as you can. And be grateful for every scrap of happiness life gifts you with. Happiness is precious, don’t squander it. You never know when you’ll have it again.”
Andie had clung to that after her mother died, without any real hope of ever feeling happy again. She’d tried, she really had. But it had taken Sanctuary Island, a surprise niece, and a handsome ex-con to get her there. And no matter what else life threw at her, she had to be grateful for Sam and Caitlin. To resist the happiness they brought wouldn’t do anything except turn Andie bitter.
Happiness is precious, don’t squander it.
“I won’t, Mama. I promise,” Andie whispered to the silent room.
With that vow fresh on her heart and a determined smile on her face, Andie rejoined the wonderful chaos of her kitchen. Her family.
*
When Sam’s phone rang just as he was sliding the maple-syrup-smeared plates into the sink, Andie narrowed her eyes at him in mock anger.
“I didn’t plan this, I swear,” Sam chortled, backing away from the sink. One look at the caller’s name was enough to turn humor into dread. “Leave them to soak if you want, I’ll wash them later. But I have to take this.”
Andie’s brows went up in question, but he didn’t give her time to voice it. Thumbing the answer button he said, “Brennan here.”
“We’ve got a problem.” Lucas’s tension radiated through the phone connection.
“Hold on.” Sam walked out of the kitchen as casually as he could, intensely aware of Andie’s shrug at Caitlin and the sudden hush from the little girl who’d been chattering basically nonstop for two hours. Sam couldn’t bear to hear whatever this bad news was while standing in the kitchen with the two of them.
Of course, as he let himself into Andie’s bedroom and sat on the bed where they’d held each other all night long, he realized this might not be any easier.
“Okay, I’m alone,” he told his business partner.
“There’s good news and bad news,” Lucas warned grimly. “Which do you want first?”
“Good news.”
“The cops aren’t doing much to find the lieutenant governor’s missing horse.”
Sam let out a breath. “That … does seem like good news. What’s the bad?”
“The Lieutenant Governor hired a posse of thugs to track you down and question you. They’re not constrained by having no jurisdiction in Sanctuary Island. They’re on their way there now.”
Sam’s blood ran cold. Having the cops run him to ground here would have been bad, but as little as he cared for organized law enforcement, at least he could’ve counted on them not to drag anyone else into this mess. But a band of hired guns? There was no telling what they’d do to earn the bounty Lt. Gov. Wallace had put on Sam’s head.
“Thanks for the warning,” he managed to grind out through a locked jaw.
“Don’t waste time thanking me,” Lucas snapped. “Just get the hell out of Dodge, and take that poor horse with you. These guys aren’t playing, Sam. Do not hang around waiting for them to find you.”
“I’ll do what I have to.” Sam hung up the phone without another word, his mind racing down various paths, testing scenarios, looking for a way out. Anything that would keep him from breaking his promise to Andie less than twenty-four hours after making it.
But every path circled back to the same truth: when he’d stolen Queenie, he’d assumed r
esponsibility for her welfare. If those men showed up on Sanctuary, they’d doubtless have pictures and identifying marks mapped out—they’d instantly recognize Queenie as the lieutenant governor’s stolen property.
They’d be within their rights to go to the local authorities with their proof and demand that Sam give Queenie to them. And by the time they got here, Sanctuary Island’s local authorities might well include Andie Shepard once more.
That’s what ultimately decided him. He couldn’t do that to Andie now, when she was getting her life back on track.
If he was going down, he damn sure wasn’t dragging Andie down with him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Taylor scowled out her window at the sunshine and chirping birds. They were offensively cheery when all she wanted was to burrow deeper into her bed and sleep through the next forty-eight hours.
“Tay, get up,” her father shouted up the staircase. “We’re heading out to meet the ferry in less than an hour.”
“I’m not going!” she yelled.
“You have to! Your Aunt Beatrice is coming.”
“Aunt Bea will understand,” Taylor protested, kicking back the covers and glaring at her bedroom door.
It was true. If there was anyone in this family who could relate to the pain of a broken heart, it was Aunt Beatrice. Of course, she’d done as much heart breaking as she had suffered being brokenhearted, but as she liked to say, that just meant she was well rounded.
“Aunt Beatrice might understand, but I don’t.” Harrison McNamara opened her door and stuck his head in with that characteristic paternal disregard for Taylor’s privacy. “What’s the matter, monkey?”
For some reason, the babyish nickname made something twist in Taylor’s chest. Pressing her lips together, she pulled her pillow over her face and spoke through it. “Nothing. I’m fine. Have fun at the party. Wake me up after graduation.”
She heard footsteps, but instead of retreating down the stairs they seemed to be coming closer. Her dad’s “oof” as he tripped over the backpack she’d tossed by her desk confirmed it.