Mr. January

by Ann Roth

  “Will you bring your firefighter hat?” William asked.

  “You like the hat, huh?”

  The boy gave an enthusiastic nod that had Adam chuckling again. After Richard’s sour reception this morning, the lightheartedness felt good. “Sure, I’ll bring it.”

  Adam’s server, a twenty-something woman, brought the coffee pot over and refilled his mug with a flirty smile. She was cute, but he hadn’t been interested in her when she’d flirted earlier, and for damn sure wasn’t now.

  “I should feed my son, and you need to study.” Sam placed her hands on William’s narrow shoulders and propelled him toward a booth on the other side of the room.

  Adam reached for his textbook but ignored it to stare at Sam and her tight jeans tucked into flat-sole knee boots. Bending forward slightly, she guided William. Her unbuttoned coat hid the curve of her sweet behind.

  Between the boots and the bulky coat, she looked shapeless. All the same, she turned him on. He got hard, like when he’d been a hormone-crazed teen.

  Muttering and grateful for the table hiding his lap, he questioned himself for agreeing to the dinner. Even if he was doing it for William.

  And okay, he also wanted to be there.

  Refusing to think beyond that, he went back to studying.

  Chapter Seven

  ‡

  As soon as Samantha slid the casserole into the oven and made the salad, she headed for the living room. She found William on the floor, pushing his toy racecars around the oriental rug. Firelight from the crackling fire cast golden light across his adorable face.

  “When will Adam get here?” he asked for what had to be the hundredth time.

  He was so excited about this. Samantha refused to even wonder at her own anticipation. Tonight was about William, she reminded herself. Aside from little things, he didn’t ask for much. In his five years of life, he’d already suffered far too much disappointment. If eating dinner with Adam made him happy, then great.

  Provided Adam actually showed up.

  Before Jeff, such a thought would never have occurred to her. Now, the possibility filled her mind, making her anxious and cold inside.

  William’s brow furrowed. “Do you have a tummy ache?”

  Catching herself hugging her waist and frowning, Samantha dropped her hands to her sides. “I’m fine,” she replied, smiling.

  Adam wouldn’t let her son down. He said he’d be here, and he would. “Why don’t you wash up and help me set table? We’re eating in the dining room tonight.”

  William nodded and jumped up.

  Despite reassuring herself, apprehension stayed with her. As her son arranged napkins and silverware on the good placemats, she worried all over again Adam wouldn’t show up.

  Then the old doorbell chimed. Feeling silly for doubting him, she drew in a normal breath for the first time in hours.

  “He’s here!” William raced out of the dining room and headed for the entry, Samantha close behind him.

  “Do not unlock the door until I say so,” she ordered.

  In Guff’s Lake, people tended to leave their doors unlocked, but she didn’t feel comfortable doing that. Not with a young son to keep an eye on, at a house she was supposed to be taking care of.

  He pulled a long face. “But, Mom, we know it’s Adam.”

  “Let’s check anyway. He won’t mind.” She dragged over the child’s wood stepstool she’d bought at Second Hand Rose, one of her favorite places to shop.

  William climbed up and framed the peephole between his hands. “I see him!” He clambered down again.

  “That didn’t take any time at all, did it?” Samantha moved the step stool aside. “Go ahead and let him in, William.”

  Her son unlocked the deadbolt then, grunting with effort, pulled the heavy door open. “Hi, Adam!”

  “Hey, sport.”

  Clasping his firefighter hat under his arm and a large paper bag with handles, he wiped his feet on the welcome mat and stepped inside.

  The entry seemed smaller with him filling it. He shrugged out of his bomber jacket, and Samantha hung it in the closet. Tonight, he’d dressed up in wool pants, tassel loafers, and a long-sleeve, pressed shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders. Samantha’s wayward heart lifted on a sigh. Such a handsome man. But then, he looked just as great in jeans and a flannel shirt.

  “Nice fire,” he said, nodding at the hearth.

  “I helped Mom bring in the logs,” William announced proudly.

  Adam gave an approving nod. “It’s always good to help your mom.” He sniffed the air and rubbed his hands together. “Sure smells good in here. I’m hungry.”

  Samantha laughed, and the last of her anxiety faded away. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

  “We’re having chicken casserole and salad and coconut cream pie for dessert,” William said. “How come you aren’t wearing your hat?”

  “I don’t wear it unless I’m fighting a fire.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s part of my turnout gear. Remember what that is? The protective clothing I wear when I’m called to a fire.”

  While William seemed to consider this, Adam donned the hat. “How’s that?”

  “Good.” Her son nodded somberly. “There’s no fire to fight here. You can take it off now.”

  Adam did. “Where should I put this, Sam?”

  “How about in the living room?”

  He placed it on the floor, in the corner near the couch.

  William’s attention had strayed to the sack Adam had left in the entry. “What did you bring me?” he asked.

  “It’s not polite to ask,” Samantha scolded, but her own curiosity got the better of her. “That’s a pretty big bag for one little bottle of wine.”

  Adam’s mouth quirked. “There might be a few other things in here.” He scooped it up and pulled out a firefighter hat just the right size for William. “This is for you, sport.”

  “Thanks!” William beamed. “Wait till Douglas and Harper see this. Can I bring it to school, for show and tell, Mom?”

  “Of course.” Samantha’s heart melted. “This is so sweet, Adam.”

  The flush that climbed his neck and face charmed her.

  Looking very somber, William hugged the hat to his chest.

  “Aren’t you going to try it on?” Adam asked.

  “I can’t. We don’t have a fire, except in the fireplace.”

  “That rule is only for real firefighters,” Adam said. “It’s okay to wear yours anytime.”

  Her son’s face lit up. He placed the hat his head and laughed. “I’m a firefighter! Uh-oh, there’s a fire in the other room!” Wielding an imaginary fire hose and making water spraying noises, he raced through the dining room, into the kitchen and back.

  “I got you something, too.” Adam brought out a potted plant. “This is a philodendron. It likes light, but not direct sunlight, and should be watered once a week.”

  No man had ever given her a plant before. Samantha was touched. Tonight, Adam was doing everything right. She felt warm and happy—way too much of each—and knew she was in trouble. If only they’d eaten and William was ready for bed. Then Adam would leave and she could pull herself together. Unfortunately, dinner wasn’t ready yet, and William was nowhere near ready to go to sleep.

  “It’s pretty,” she said, fixing her attention on the leafy plant instead of the man who made her heart race. “I had no idea you were into plants.”

  “I’m not. My mom has one, and she seems to like it.”

  He hadn’t mentioned his mother before. “Does she live in town?”

  He shook his head. “She and her husband live in Carmel. They own a carpet cleaning business there.”

  “Too bad they aren’t in Guff’s Lake. These carpets are going to need a thorough cleaning before Lucy comes back.”

  By then, the entire house would need a good scrubbing. Nothing to worry about now. Tonight was all about the gorgeous man standing in Samantha’s
living room. He smelled of fresh air, spicy aftershave, and man, and she had a crazy urge to press up close and inhale that scent. She was definitely in trouble.

  Space, she needed space so she could talk some sense into herself. She set the plant on the end table beside the couch. “Make yourself comfortable while I toss the salad. Shall I open this wine?”

  “Let me.”

  Instead of sitting, Adam grabbed the bottle and moved beside her. So much for space.

  In the kitchen, she handed him the corkscrew and then pulled two wineglasses from the cabinet.

  While he worked at the cork, she dressed the salad. “Does that bother your wrist?” she asked.

  “Not much. When I remember to wear the bandage, it helps.”

  “You’re barely limping anymore,” she noted. “What does the doctor say about going back to work?”

  “I’ll find out at my checkup Monday. Cross your fingers.”

  “I will. Did you get your studying done?”

  “For now. I should’ve studied last night, too, but I played poker with some of the guys from the station instead. I won the whole kitty. Ten bucks.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot of money,” she teased.

  “Enough for coffee and a couple of your scones.”

  “At least you’re smart about what you spend it on.”

  The cork finally popped loose. Adam filled the glasses and passed her one.

  “To you,” he said, tipping his glass in salute.

  The warmth she saw in his eyes only bumped up her growing feelings. At the Rogue she’d explained this would be an early night, but for her sake, she needed to say it again. Right now, while running through the house distracted William.

  “Listen,” she said in a voice too low for her son’s ears. “I don’t think—”

  William raced into the kitchen. “Mom, can I wear my boots in the house?” Without waiting for her answer, he opened the back door off the kitchen and scooped his rubber boots from the stoop.

  “I don’t want those in here,” Samantha said. “They’re still muddy from when we brought in the wood this afternoon.”

  “But firefighters wear boots. And look, the mud is dry now.” William held them up to show her.

  “They’re still dirty. They need to be washed before you put them on in the house.”

  “I’ll wash them right now.” A messy job that was sure to take awhile.

  “It’s almost dinner time,” Samantha argued. “We’ll clean them tomorrow.”

  William set his jaw. “I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. I want to wash them now.”

  “We’ll do it tomorrow,” she repeated firmly.

  “No!” He stamped his foot.

  “Stop it, William. We have company.”

  “I don’t care.” Clutching the boots to his chest, he raised his chin in challenge.

  “Better listen to your mom, sport,” Adam said in a calm but commanding voice. “She’s the boss.”

  “No, I’m the boss,” William insisted.

  “Nope. Your mom is.”

  His little chin slanted. “Is your mom the boss of you?”

  “She was until I was a lot older than you are now. I did what she told me, even when I didn’t want to. You have to do the same with your mom.”

  “Oh, all right.” Grumbling, William returned the boots to the back step.

  Adam had saved the day. Samantha gave him a grateful smile.

  “Thank you, sweetie,” she said when her son shut the door. “Dinner’s almost ready. Go wash up.”

  “But I already did, before I set the table.”

  After glancing at Adam, he gave a meek nod and headed for the powder room.

  “He used to obey me without question,” she said. “But lately, it seems as if we’re always butting heads.”

  The corner of Adam’s mouth lifted. “My brother and I were the same way. Well, mostly me. A couple of licks from the old man’s belt, and I changed my tune. For a while.”

  “Your father smacked you with a belt?” Samantha was horrified.

  “Only when I made him extra mad. He mostly stuck with yelling.”

  “And your mom?”

  “She buried her head in the sand. She didn’t want to make things even worse.”

  “You mean, he hit her, too?”

  “Never, but he argued with her quite a bit.” Adam shook his head. “The last time I saw that belt, I’d just turned eleven. By then, Marcus was fourteen, and bigger than Pop. When he came at me, my brother stepped between us and threatened to punch him one.”

  And Samantha had thought her parents were mean for taking away phone and TV privileges when she got into trouble. Her heart went out to Adam and his brother for the fear they must have faced.

  “You’re lucky to have a brother to stick up for you,” she said.

  “Had. He died.”

  “Oh, Adam. I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah.” His expression shuttered closed. “You started to say something earlier.”

  Apparently, he didn’t want to talk about his brother. Samantha nodded. “Right. I just…. I’m not looking to get involved. It’s just not a good idea, and I don’t want you to assume that what happened the other day will happen tonight. Because it won’t.” No matter how badly she wanted to kiss him.

  “I’m right there with you on all counts, Sam. What I said came out of gratitude for the dinner invitation and because I think you’re a great mom.”

  She’d misinterpreted his warmth. Adam wasn’t interested in her, after all. Not in the way she was interested in him. A huge relief, really, because she’d meant what she said. Getting involved with him was risky at best, for both her and William.

  And yet, a part of her was disappointed.

  The timer pinged. “That little sound means dinner is ready.” She shut off the oven. “William can’t still be washing his hands. I’d better go see what he’s up to. Have a seat in the dining room.”

  *

  After polishing off a large wedge of pie and draining the last of his coffee before the dancing fire, Adam leaned back in his armchair, stretched out his legs and patted his belly. “Dinner was great, but. this pie…. The best ever.” He grinned. “You could sell these along with your other bakery goods and make a mint.”

  In a matching chair, Sam looked equally content. “Someday, when I open my bakery. There’s plenty left for seconds.”

  “I would, only there’s no room at the inn.”

  She laughed. “Are you finished with your pie, William?”

  The boy had settled down at last. Wearing his firefighter hat and sprawled on his belly on the oriental rug, he silently pushed a toy fire truck around.

  He slid the brim of the hat back so he could look up at her. “Can I save it for tomorrow?”

  “Sure.”

  Returning to his play, he yawned for the third time in a few minutes. Adam doubted he’d last much longer.

  A comfortable silence fell over the room, both Adam and Sam staring at the fire. He’d done his part, had put a smile on the little guy’s face tonight. And he’d kept his distance from Sam. Not so easy, even if neither of them wanted a repeat of the other day. Adam still desired her, and by the yearning expression he glimpsed on her face when she didn’t know he was looking, the feeling was mutual.

  Lucky thing they had a pint-size chaperone to make them behave. Because smart or dumb, Adam wanted a lot more than a replay.

  For that reason, he ought to say good night and walk away right now. But he was enjoying himself as he hadn’t in a long time. As soon as William headed upstairs for the night, he would leave, he told himself.

  Sam stretched lazily and broke the silence. “Sweetie, it’s time to get ready for bed.”

  “Do I have to?” The kid looked to Adam instead of his mother.

  “That’s what your mom said, so yes,” Adam replied.

  Sam rewarded him with an appreciative smile. “You heard the man.” When William still balked, she shrugged.
“I guess I’ll have to go up with you and help you get ready.”

  “No! I’m a big boy.”

  “Yes you are. Put your PJs on, wash your face, and brush your teeth. Then pick out a bedtime story and bring it down here.”

  With his hat still on his head and his fire truck in his arms, William made his way up the stairs.

  “He’s a great kid,” Adam said.

  “Except when he tries to fight me. Why can’t he be like me at his age?”

  “What were you like?” he asked, wanting to know.

  “Most of the time, I obeyed my parents. I don’t have any siblings so I got all their attention.” She made a face. “They were experts at playing the guilt card. ‘We’re so disappointed in you’ or ‘We thought you were mature enough to make a better choice,’” she mimicked.

  “An easy mark,” Adam teased.

  “Oh, I got away with a few things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Silly stuff, like going into the girls’ bathroom as soon as I got to school and trading the pants my mother made we wear for the tight jeans hidden in my backpack.”

  With her great legs and sweet curves, he could understand why her parents didn’t want her wearing those jeans. She’d probably turned on every boy in high school.

  “If I talked back to my parents, they grounded me,” she added. “Once, they found out I snuck out with a boy instead of studying at a girlfriend’s. I had to come directly from school to Everett’s, the general store my parents own and run, and either study or help out. At night, they allowed me to do homework and read books, but nothing else.”

  “You had it easy. By the time I started high school, my parents were too busy yelling at each other to notice what I did.” He brushed something from his pants. “To notice me, period.”

  “And they divorced because of all the yelling?”

  Adam shook his head. “Because Marcus died, and they didn’t know how to handle it.”

  Unable to sit still, he stood and moved the fireplace. After opening the mesh curtain, he squatted down in front of a brass pot filled with wood, pulled out a log, and added it to the fire. He closed the curtain but stayed put.

  “That must have been a terrible time for them,” Sam said. “If anything ever happened to William….” She shuddered. “How old was your brother when he passed away?”