by Ines Saint
“I’ll get a plastic bag out of my car before we leave and you pick it up.”
“Fine.” Cassie rolled her eyes and sighed.
Jessica grabbed her hand. “Come on. I want to get another good look at the inside before I head out. There are tons of thrift shops and antique stores in the area where I can find exactly what we need.”
“Cassidy McGillicuddy, is that you?” a voice called out before Cassie could turn the key.
A middle-aged woman was staring at her from the sidewalk. She squinted and half-smiled in recognition. The years had been kind to Mrs. Flannigan. Cassie remembered her as the young, newly minted second-grade teacher Dan, Sam, and Johnny each had a crush on. “Mrs. Flannigan?” The woman nodded and Cassie walked over to give her a hug.
“No one told me you were back in town,” Mrs. Flannigan exclaimed when they parted.
“Few people know it, but it’ll spread soon enough. I’m a Realtor now and I’m opening an office here. This is my associate, Jessica Carter. Jessica, this is Mrs. Flannigan. She used to teach second grade at the elementary school here.”
“I still do,” she said as she reached out to shake Jessica’s hand. “Will you be listing Sam’s properties?” she asked.
It was a logical deduction, but it reminded her that most people in town didn’t know the turn their relationship had taken in college. Or how badly it had ended. “Yes. I’ll be listing some.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she replied before turning to Jessica with a nostalgic look on her face. “She and the Amador boys used to be inseparable.”
Jessica smiled. “So I’ve heard.”
Mrs. Flannigan glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to get to school, but do you think you can stop by my class this Thursday? It’s career day and I don’t have a Realtor, or anyone in sales for that matter, booked. You can stay a little while afterward and we can get caught up.”
A career day chat to a room full of second-graders didn’t seem like it could hurt and it would be a new experience for her, so she agreed and quickly entered the cottage, before anyone else could stop them.
They toured the layout, decided where their main furniture would go, took a few measurements, and then were out the door, each driven by their own agenda.
Cassie ordered new marketing materials, carried out a more in-depth analysis of the regional market, and conducted a productive conference call with all three of her top Realtors in her car before meeting with Jessica again to make final decisions on furniture.
Sam’s plan had been simple. Leave the bike on the porch of the office Cassie had just leased, late in the afternoon, when she and Jessica would most likely be gone, and then leave.
But the moment he began climbing the steps, Marty and Johnny walked out the front door. When Johnny caught sight of the bike Sam was holding, a grin the size of Jupiter appeared on his face. Sam would like nothing better than to blast it off.
He left the bike on the porch and went back down the front steps, fully intending to ignore Marty and Johnny. The front door opened once again, and Sam looked back to see who else was in the office to witness what a fool he was.
Jessica and Cassie were standing on the porch, staring at the bike. He flexed his hand. The simple peace offering suddenly felt complicated.
Cassie’s eyes met his. The fleeting, touched look in her eyes made him regret it and feel it was worth it all at once. A contradiction that gave him heartburn. “Where’d you find it?” she asked.
“In the attic.” He cleared his throat, aware of Johnny and Marty’s amused expressions. “We got off to a bad start—it’s not good for business,” he said before turning to leave.
He climbed into his truck, shifted it into gear, and drove down the long, sloping road without looking back. When he got to the bottom of the hill, he remembered he’d left the tailgate down and pulled over to lift it.
He pulled back out, stopped at the red light, and flipped the signal to turn right when he felt something bump into his truck. The rearview mirror didn’t reveal anything, so he put his emergency lights on and shifted the gear to Park.
When he got out, he saw Johnny, Marty, and Jessica running down the hill. When he got to the back of the truck, Cassie was sprawled on the ground, blood drizzling down her knee.
“Cassie! Are you okay?”
She looked up, a little dazed. A moment later, she started to laugh. At first, it was a nervous laugh, but soon, it turned into one of those big belly laughs that shook her shoulders and made tears roll down her cheeks. Sam couldn’t join in. He knelt and tried to look at her knee, but she shielded it. “I forgot the hand brakes had never been attached!” she let out between laughs.
Sam ran a hand through his hair, feeling like a turd. “You always preferred the foot brake, but I forgot that was twenty years ago.” Why hadn’t he thought of buying the hand brakes? Because he’d offered to do it twenty years ago and she’d laughed in his face? Sam wanted to bash his head into the pavement. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” They looked into each other’s eyes then, and Cassie must’ve seen how angry he was at himself, because she stopped laughing. A small part of him was also angry at her. Riding full-speed down a hill at her age was a harebrained idea. Hadn’t she outgrown those?
Cassie stared into his eyes, the golden flecks around his pupils burning bright. The way his eyelids drooped over his eyes usually made it seem as if he were always looking from underneath his lashes, but they were wide open at the moment and looking intently into her own, trying to assess if she was really all right.
She swallowed hard and looked away. The look and the bike reminded her of her best friend. Of the freedom and safety that came from knowing someone so well.
But she couldn’t allow herself to fall for that false illusion. They no longer knew each other at all. He had a son, an ex-wife, a whole life she didn’t know about. “I’m okay. It was exhilarating.”
The gold flecks in his eyes flashed. “Exhilarating? You’re nearly thirty years old! What were you thinking?”
Cassie felt her eyes widen. “I was thinking you’d attached the brakes! And I wouldn’t have been going full-speed if they’d been there!” The nerve of him!
“Cassie! Cassie! Are you all right?” An out-of-breath Jessica called as she drew nearer. She’d outrun both Marty and Johnny.
Cassie looked up at her concerned friends and did her best to force a smile. “I’m fine.”
“You look dazed! Where’s my phone? Someone call an ambulance!”
“What the hell happened?” Johnny reached them, and he looked almost as miserable as Sam. “You said you were going to take it for a spin, not take it downhill at full speed like a hellion.”
“The hand brakes have been missing forever, but I tried those first, out of more recent habits. I was going too fast and I waited until the last moment, like I used to, but I’m okay. I promise.”
Before Cassie could react, Sam scooped her up and she felt strong arms and a hard chest. He pulled the tailgate down and set her on it. While she had felt fine before, her heart now started pounding at an alarming rate.
“Damn, Cassie, you’re going to need stitches on that, doesn’t it hurt?” Sam asked.
It did hurt, but too many body parts were out of control for her to zero in on her knee. The last thing she wanted was to physically react to Sam.
“I have a first-aid kit in the truck,” he said before moving away. “We’ll get you cleaned up and take you to the emergency room to get stitched up.”
“This is hardly an emergency,” she muttered, glad he’d left because she didn’t want him to see how much his nearness affected her. She didn’t dare look up at anyone.
“No, but private practices are closed, you have no choice, and they need to check your head,” Jessica argued.
Sam set the first-aid kit beside her and took wipes and an antiseptic spray out. “I can do it myself,” she said, not wanting to feel his touch.
“The more things change. .
. .” He looked at her and his lips twitched. But his smile was sad. And lonely.
When she was done cleaning herself up, Sam picked her up again without warning, and she had to grab on to him to steady herself. The man was solid. She let go and banged on his chest. “Set me down, now. I can drive myself.”
“How? Your right knee is banged up,” he pointed out.
“I’ll drive with my left foot.”
“No. You won’t,” he said with infuriating calmness as he carried her to the front seat and set her down. “I’m taking you.”
“Jessica can take me, or Johnny.”
Jessica looked remorseful. “Honey, I can take you, but I can’t stay the entire time. I have to pick Billy up from soccer in an hour.”
Sam slammed the door, walked to the other side, and got in. Cassie hissed out a sigh, feeling murderous.
“Calm down, Cass. I’m just the guy who’s giving you a ride. Someone has to. Ignore me.”
She’d ignore him, all right. Even though the car smelled like a more enhanced and acutely masculine version of twenty-year-old Sam. One whiff and she felt flushed. Why had she gotten on that bike? This was where feeling free had landed her. In a cage.
There were two Sams in her memory, and as she sat there, she did her best to remember the one who’d let her down. There was no way in seven hells she’d let him carry her in. She’d drag herself through the parking lot before that happened.
Sam parked right in front of the ER and tried to carry her in, but she pushed him away and hopped in on one leg. Hop hop hop. Rest. Hop hop hop. Rest. She looked back, feeling ridiculous. Sam was watching her, arms folded, lips drawn in a tight line. She hopped on.
The room was half-full and they were told it would be at least an hour. They handed her a clipboard with a few forms and she hopped over to the nearest seat. Sam left to move his truck.
By the time he came back, her knee had gone from stinging pain to throbbing ache. “I’ll see if I can get you something for it,” Sam said, as if he could read her mind.
When he came back with water and a little blue packet containing ibuprofen, she looked up and met his eyes with a cool gaze. “I’m sure you have plenty to do. You don’t have to stay.”
“It was my fault. I’ll stay.” He reached for a magazine, propped his foot up on the table in front of them, and began to read.
“The more things change . . .” Cassie muttered, her frustration mounting. But the moment the words were out of her mouth, memories of the Sam she wanted to forget flooded her, and she regretted saying anything at all.
Sam had always been one to shoulder blame. His mom always tried to blame Dan when the boys got into trouble, which was often, but Sam would always step up and accept responsibility. He’d do it privately, when his brothers weren’t around to deny it. He’d ask Cassie to back him up, and she’d do it, because it was what he really wanted.
Sam’s eyes were on her now, so she picked up the pen and began filling out the second form. Ignoring him had worked best. A moment later, he turned back to his magazine. “Don’t forget to write down you’re allergic to penicillin.”
Cassie ground her teeth. As if she’d forget.
“And remember local anesthesia doesn’t work well on you. You usually need a greater amount.”
Crap. She’d forgotten that. She hadn’t needed local anesthesia in over fifteen years, when she’d badly mangled a toenail when she’d tripped over Johnny’s drum set.
He turned a page in the magazine he was looking through. “I read an article once about how it’s a redhead thing. There’s this mutation or something in a gene responsible for fair skin and red hair. The same gene can also make local anesthetics less effective.”
She glowered at him but he didn’t look up. “Quit acting like you know me, Sam. It’s as adults that we grow. We’ve been apart our entire adult lives and kids don’t know a thing. You don’t know me and I don’t know you.”
“You’d think.”
“I didn’t even know you back then, remember?”
Finally he looked at her, and she knew. He’d been pushing her buttons and he had her right where he wanted her. So much for saying he didn’t know her.
“Don’t forget your appendectomy in the past surgeries section.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ve been wondering if that redheaded gene I was telling you about is responsible for temper tantrums, too. I’ll look it up now.”
It took all of Cassie’s inner strength to keep her mouth shut and the clipboard in her hand and off the top of his head. She was about to jot down her appendectomy when a sudden movement caught her attention. She looked up to see Jessica entering the ER, waving a pair of tweezers in the air. “Here you go. See? I didn’t forget.” She reached Cassie and handed her the package, looking triumphant. “How are you feeling?”
Cassie was dumbfounded. “Thank you, Jess! But I’m not going to be here overnight. It’s just a bruise and a scratch.”
“You landed on your head. You could have a concussion.” Much to Cassie’s annoyance, Jessica looked over at Sam and said, “Make sure they check her for a concussion,” before turning back to Cassie to squeeze her hand. “All right. My work here’s done. I’ve got to go pick up Billy. Call me, okay?”
Cassie stared at the tweezers in her hands. How on earth had she come upon such an efficient friend?
“Opposites attract,” Sam said.
“What the hell do you know?” Cassie muttered.
Two hours later she was back at her soon-to-be office, feeling completely spent. It had nothing to do with her knee. That was exactly what she’d told everyone it was: a bad scratch and an ugly bruise. She was used to both.
But ignoring a quiet person hell-bent on taking charge was exhausting. If he’d at least become talkative and annoying again, she could’ve vented by telling him to shut up. If he’d been hesitant or cautious around her, she could’ve told him to get lost. But after his initial shots at her, he’d been quiet and determined to see her through, all while radiating an appeal that had nothing to do with the past.
Feeling that appeal in her bones had been her one true setback that day, because she and Jessica had accomplished a lot.
But something had to be done about the adult physical attraction she felt for adult Sam. Maybe she needed to meet his ex-wife and son and find out his disgusting adult habits . . .
Maybe when the idea of meeting them didn’t make her feel sick to her stomach.
Chapter 5
The next day, Cassie limped down the school’s hallway and stopped just inside Mrs. Flannigan’s door, where other men and women were waiting. A person she guessed was a veterinarian was standing in front of the classroom holding a puppy and talking about the importance of spaying and neutering. She was doomed.
No way a mere person could be interesting to a bunch of seven-year-olds after that puppy. Maybe she’d just talk about her cool car.
“Cassidy? How are you? How are your parents doing? I saw them on the news the other day, arriving at the governor’s ball, talking about how it was their thirty-fifth anniversary,” a woman Cassie vaguely remembered started talking.
“They’re doing well,” Cassie managed. She hated talking about her parents and their perfect image. She didn’t have it in her to perpetuate the myth, but she couldn’t very well say, “Well, lady I don’t remember well, the day of their anniversary my mother told me their marriage felt like twenty-five years of her unappreciated hard work and ten years of shit, so you decide how they’re doing.”
One by one, everyone gave their little speech. The kids looked either dazed or fidgety. Cassie had been right. The puppy was a tough act to follow. Maybe she’d show them her ugly bruise. That always used to get kids’ attention.
Finally, Mrs. Flannigan introduced her to the class.
Cassie’s smile as she faced the classroom felt stiff. She gave her boring little speech and then it was time for questions. As had happened to quite a few before her, no one raised their han
d. Cassie cleared her throat and shifted from one foot to another, as eager as the kids to be dismissed.
And then, a little boy raised his hand.
Mrs. Flannigan smiled, nodded, and said, “Jake Amador.”
A rush of hard-to-define emotions came over Cassie the instant she heard the boy’s last name. She blinked over at him.
The little boy with the solemn face had Sam’s warm, chocolaty eyes.
It was like a punch to her gut. So much for thinking a career day chat to a room full of second-graders couldn’t hurt.
When Jake Amador caught her watching him, he tilted his head and grinned. “Do you wear nail polish? Because my uncle Johnny says that the only difference between a redhead and a barracuda is nail polish.”
A little girl with red hair threw a notebook at him. “Mrs. Flannigan! He’s saying that just to bother me!”
Cassie pursed her lips to keep from smiling. She turned to Mrs. Flannigan. “He’s an Amador, all right.”
Mrs. Flannigan smiled back.
Sam looked at his watch and dashed down the hallway. He’d started picking Jake up at his classroom so he could squeeze a little more quality time with him into his day, but he was a few minutes late.
When he got to the classroom, he stopped in his tracks.
Cassie was inside the classroom, talking to his son. Why it caused his stomach to clench in anxiety, he didn’t know.
Jake grinned at Cassie and asked, “How do you get a redhead’s mood to change?”
“You wait five seconds. I know them all, buddy. And your uncles taught me most of them.”
Sam had teased her just as much, and defended her even more when someone other than he and his brothers were doing the teasing, but she didn’t mention him. He remembered the one redhead joke she did like, though. “What’s black-and-blue and lies on the sidewalk?” he asked, walking toward them.
Startled, both Jake’s and Cassie’s heads swiveled to the door. Jake’s eyes brightened when he saw him and he jumped out of his chair to hug him, but Cassie’s expression didn’t reveal a thing. She turned to watch Jake, instead.