by Nicole Smith
Now the blush was truly pronounced. "Of course, yes. I think I might need more coffee this morning."
"That reminds me, I'd like a large cup of coffee with cream if you have it."
"Sure. No problem." She turned to the counter running along the side wall and reached for a large cup.
"The coffee smells really rich. Do you use a dark roast?"
"Yes, plus this special machine we have makes unbelievably good coffee," she said as she gave him the coffee cup.
"Hmm, we'll see about that." He set down the box of goodies and took a sip of coffee. "Oh, well now, that is damn fine coffee. You're right, this might be the best coffee I've ever had."
"I see you're wearing one of the tourist t-shirts. Are you trying to fit in more?"
"It seemed like a good idea after hearing about the stories flying around about me."
She laughed. "Sam, I hate to tell you this, but wearing a Sully Point t-shirt isn't going to do much to stop the rumors. A small town like this thrives on rumors. Anyone with the least bit of mystery around them--well, let's just say fitting in isn't going to be easy."
His face looked thoughtful. "So--do you think of me as surrounded by mystery?"
"Me?" Oh yeah, she thought. "Of course not, you seem like a regular guy to me."
"Are you making fun of me now, Anna?" Sam asked with a widening grin on his face.
"Only a little." She laughed. "If you want to get to know people in town better, you should come by the Spaghetti Dinner tonight at St. Luke's Church. Most of the town turns out for it every year, even if they don't attend the church. We set up tables out on the lawn and then some of us dress up to be the peasant servers."
"Peasant servers?"
She grinned. "Basically it means we dress in peasant blouses and ruffled skirts. There's lots of visiting between tables and plenty of people to get to know."
"It sounds like fun and something I should do. If only to see you in a peasant girl outfit."
She didn't know what to say to that and smiled. "Oh, before I forget, I'm supposed to tell you Cody's friend just sold his pickup and he doesn't know of anyone else who might have one for sale." Her father had been sure to mention the information about the pickup truck to her when he called earlier. He seemed sure she would see Sam before he did.
"That's too bad. I'll wait a while and see if one comes up for sale in the paper."
"Do you need a pickup for your work?" Anna asked with a mischievous grin.
"Trying to trick me, aren't you? But I'm not saying. I could always need a truck to bring construction supplies out to the beach house."
"True, you could," she said with sparkling eyes. "Except, according to my father, you're almost finished fixing up the place."
"And it's back to me," he said with a smile. "So...you've been discussing me with your father?"
She searched frantically for a clever answer and came up with, "Yes."
He nodded and stood there as if waiting for more.
"Well, with all the rumors, of course you'd come up in conversation," she said rather defensively.
He laughed, then said, "I have a proposal. I won't bug you about your secret life and you agree to leave mine alone as well. How about it?"
She operated the cash register and took his twenty and made change before agreeing to his deal. As she handed the money to him, he said, "Hey, are you okay? What's that?"
Glancing down, she discovered a smudge of cobalt blue mixed with black on her left wrist. "It's nothing," she said quickly and covered her wrist with her right hand. How did I miss that in the shower?
"You're sure? If you're hurt or need any help--"
"No, I'm fine, really. Now you go on and have a good day. Enjoy your muffin and donut. Don't forget your coffee!"
He walked out, but turned back twice to look at her. She smiled brightly at him and he eventually left. Anna knew it was probably silly to hide the paint on her wrist, but she didn't want to go revealing personal parts of her life to him. Besides, his curiosity was already high enough. Anyway, no harm done.
* * * *
Sam walked to his car, got in and then sat there thinking. Had the mark he's seen been an injury on her wrist? What else could it have been? It looked like a dark bruise. Maybe that building she went to was actually a boyfriend's place. If so, the guy might not be so nice. He could have hurt her. Sam noticed he was suddenly quite angry at this guy he'd never even met. Maybe he was wrong. But the way she'd covered it up so quickly and she'd seemed so nervous. Plus, she had practically pushed him out the door at that point. No, something wasn't right. He wondered if he should go talk to Anna's father. Someone needed to know something was wrong. If she was being abused, it had to stop.
When Sam got home, he scarfed down the bakery confections and then took his phone outside. First he made a call to the packing company he was using to tell them to deliver the rest of his furniture, which they'd been keeping in storage. The second call went to Norman Crawford.
"Sam, what the heck are you doing out there? I haven't heard from you for three weeks!"
"Calm down, Norm. I bought the house, been fixing it up. I'm calling because I knew you'd be getting anxious about now."
"What can I do to speed things along?"
"Stay off my back like you've been doing. Have I been getting many calls at my old number? Anything I need to deal with?"
"Patrice has called a few times. I get the impression she can't quite believe you dumped her."
Sam sighed. "I broke it off, fair and square. If she didn't listen, that's not my problem. The woman has an ego the size of Montana. In her mind, she was supposed to be the one who dumped me. Anyway, she's unimportant now. Don't worry about her calls. She'll give up after a while."
Norm's voice took on an edge Sam could clearly hear. "I'm not so sure about that. She's been sounding more and more distraught and the last phone call was very threatening."
"What she wants is to be near the famous writer Tom Anders, again. She wouldn't care one bit about who I really am as Sam Carter. She loves the persona of my pen name, the glamour, the parties. There's nothing real about her."
"I think you need to take her seriously."
"Norm, what's she going to do besides chase after me? And she doesn't even know where I am right now. She's a manipulative, shallow woman. I'll just continue to avoid her."
"I hope you're right. Hold on now--did you just say she was unimportant now? Don't tell me you've fallen for someone there! You don't need the distraction."
"Never fear. I know what my job is and I'll get it done. There is someone...interesting here, but I'm not falling for her. She's just an intriguing character."
"Good. Keep me posted."
"Will do, Norm. And thanks. You're the best literary agent I've ever had."
"I'm the only one you've ever had," Norm said with a laugh and hung up.
Sam decided to work off the bakery items he'd been consuming lately with a run. As he ran down the beach, shirtless and wearing khaki shorts, he compared his memory of Patrice to Anna. Patrice was full of artifice--blue-eyed and ice blonde, beautiful, well-crafted, but ultimately manipulative and cold at heart. Seeing through the glitz to the inner core of the woman hadn't been a pleasant vision. It had finally dawned on him that Patrice maneuvered him into situations where they would be photographed together. She liked his celebrity, rubbing shoulders with the Hollywood crowd. She used people to get what she wanted.
Anna, on the other hand, was kind and thoughtful and seemed like the most real person he'd ever met. It felt like she was so present, a person without any pretense or guile--except for this morning and the mark on her wrist. That still disturbed him.
Sam knew he was good at research and tracking things down. Maybe he could find out what was going on with Anna on his own instead of mentioning his suspicions to her father. Yes, that would probably be best.
He completely forgot about Patrice.
That evening, Sam made his way to St. L
uke's in downtown Sully Point. There were quite a few people milling around or seated at the tables. He paid his five dollars and found a seat at the same table as Frank Grainger.
"Hey, Sam, how're you doing?" Frank asked. "Everybody know Sam? This is Sam Carter, he's bought old Wally's place at the beach and is fixing it up."
Sam saw people nod in acknowledgment and he smiled back at them. He was scanning the crowd looking for Anna and when he finally found her, his mouth fell open. She was most definitely not wearing a pastel uniform. Instead, she was dressed in a red, ruffled skirt and a white off-the-shoulder blouse revealing the tops of a well-endowed bosom and beautiful shoulders. Dark auburn hair framed her face and fell down her back in waves. She was...luscious-looking. He was suddenly hungry in a very different way than he had been. She turned her head as if sensing him and their eyes met. Something she saw in his made her glance down and then back up again, more boldly.
He wanted her.
"Sam? Did you hear what I said?" It was the woman sitting next to him, Maelynne Turner. "Is it true in Hollywood everyone rides around in limousines?"
"It does sometimes seem that way," he said distractedly.
Maelynne nodded knowingly. "I thought so."
Anna had made her way over to their table and was offering garlic bread to the people seated there. As she approached him, Sam felt the tension rising. She stopped beside his chair and said, "Can I get you anything?"
Then she blushed. And he knew she had noticed the sexual tension in their previous look.
"I can think of several things," he murmured so low only she could hear. More loudly he said, "Some of that bread would be great."
As she gave it to him, her hand touched his and he felt fire within. Gazing into her eyes, he saw surprise and then an awareness of what he felt. Their glance held for a moment longer, and she moved down the row and was gone.
* * * *
Anna dressed hurriedly the next morning. Anxious to get to work. More anxious to see if Sam would show up there. She'd been awake half the night thinking about the way he'd looked at her. At first she thought she'd misinterpreted the look, but then when he'd said, so quietly and suggestively, about what she could get him--it seemed unbelievable to her that he seemed to want her.
Maybe she was off in her perceptions about her looks. Holly was always telling her that she looked good. But that was Holly. It was true she never really tried very hard in terms of make-up or her clothes. Today, she'd decided, would be different. She put on makeup and took her time with the mascara. When she was done, she did have to admit her eyes looked great. She had long eyelashes. She still had to wear her hair up because it was an eating establishment. The uniform needed to go. Holly was going to hear about that.
By the time the muffins were out of the oven and the bread was cooling on racks, Anna was sure Sam wouldn't show up at all. She became more and more convinced she had misread everything last night. She left the kitchen to turn the sign on the door to 'Open' and saw Sam waiting. He smiled at her as she opened the door.
"Good morning, Anna," he said. His voice seemed deeper to her today. Like she could feel it in her belly.
"Hi, Sam. What are you in the mood for--uh, what can I do--damn."
He reached out and touched the side of her face quickly and gently. "Do you have any Danish?"
"Yes, cheese Danish. I'll get you some. Coffee?"
"Yes, please." He gave her the money for his food and then walked over to the little tables. He sat down and angled his chair to face the counter. "Did you have a good time last night?"
"Yes, I did. It's always fun to see everybody together."
"I noticed you didn't come back to my table again."
"We had so many people to get to, we only went around once."
"Anna..." He paused and stared at her. "Are you wearing makeup today?"
She looked down and then took a deep breath and looked back up at him. "Yes, yes I am," she said rather defiantly.
"I like it. Your eyes look more intriguing than ever."
"Oh. Well. Thank you."
"You know the blush you get in your cheeks is quite appealing."
She could feel herself turning redder with each passing second. "Uh, thank you?"
He laughed. "I get the feeling you aren't used to hearing compliments on your looks. I can't imagine why not, unless the men around town are blind."
She shrugged.
"You know, I think I'll make it part of my mission here to get you used to hearing compliments, from me. But I only give compliments that are the truth. For instance, I would never say anything nice about that pastel uniform."
She laughed. "It really is awful, isn't it? I'm going to talk to Holly about changing it to something else."
He nodded. "By the way, this Danish is great. Also, I need to buy one of those coffee machines to have out at the beach house."
"You can order one at the hardware store."
"What do you do in your spare time, Anna? What do you do for fun?"
"Fun?" She scrambled quickly, trying to think just what she did for fun besides painting. Her mind was a blank. "Hmm. I'm into art."
"Art? Like drawing?"
"Yeah, like that."
"You'll have to show me your drawings sometime."
"Uh, sure," she said. No freaking way! He'd probably think her stuff was amateur hour. Or wait--was that comment supposed to be a come-on? Like 'show me your etchings?'
"I guess I should head over to the hardware store. But I think we'll have to come up with something fun to do together--soon." He winked at her and left the shop.
She stared after him. Did he mean what she thought he meant? Wow.
As the day wore on, Anna decided to talk to her father over dinner about moving out. Cody had called and told her he'd be on a date, so she'd have Dad to herself. It was her night to cook and she planned to make her special chicken enchiladas. It might even be nice to mix up a batch of frozen margaritas.
She closed up the bakery and headed for the grocery store. She was grabbing cans of refried beans, green chilies and enchilada sauce when Maelynne Turner called her name.
"Anna! You won't believe what I heard."
Probably not, thought Anna. Maelynne could come up with stories about people faster than the blink of an eye. Anna stared at the shelf, debating between super-hot salsa and medium-hot when she gradually became aware that Maelynne had continued to chatter and was now talking about the bakery.
"...and then she said that Sam Carter was seen visiting you at the bakery three times in the past two days. Do you think that's wise?"
"Whoa, wait a minute. Sam came into the bakery to buy stuff, not to visit with me. Don't go spreading that rumor, Maelynne, because it's just not true." Anna was angry and she could tell Maelynne was surprised to hear her tone of voice.
"Well, I had no idea, Anna, that's just what I was told. I guess he likes the things you bake."
"Exactly. Anyone is entitled to come into the shop and buy cookies or bread or whatever they want without 'visiting' with me. And don't go telling anyone any different than that!"
Anna whirled back to her cart, dumped the cans she'd been holding into it, and sped off down the aisle, leaving Maelynne staring avidly behind her.
Seething the whole way home, she started to slam the bag of groceries on the counter in the kitchen, then stopped herself. She didn't want to break the bottle of margarita mix in the bag.
She pulled the blender out of the cabinet and ice trays from the freezer, muttering to herself the whole time. "Stupid gossipy interfering...Visiting me--ha! Like he would...Who on earth started this moronic rumor...if I only knew! Why do people have to gossip, anyway?"
All Anna really knew at this point in time was she didn't want to think about the whole confusing mess. She poured her frozen drink into a margarita glass and took a sip. "Yowza! Just a bit of a heavy hand there with the tequila," she said only to see her father open the door as she finished talking.
/> "Who ya talking to, kiddo?"
"And that's another thing! Dad, we have to talk--do you want a margarita first?" She took another large swallow of hers.
He stared at her for a moment. "I think I'd better have one."
She poured him one in a salt-rimmed glass. She didn't like salt on hers, but he always did.
"So what's this about kid--"
"No! Don't call me that! I'm not a kid anymore, Dad. I'm twenty-three years old. Every time you call me 'kiddo,' I end up feeling like I'm twelve. We have to face it...I'm a grown-up."
He blinked at her and took a gulp of his drink--then blinked more rapidly as his eyes watered. "What the--"
"Yeah, I know. I went a little crazy with the tequila. Here's the thing. I know you may not see me as a little kid anymore, but you don't see me as a grown-up, either. You're able to see Cody and Holly as adults, but not me. And it's time. I've been thinking a lot about this and I've come to a decision."
She paused to take another swallow and Frank said, "Wait a minute, just wait. I've always called you kiddo, but that doesn't mean I see you as a kid. I know you're twenty-three, Anna. I can see that you've grown up."
"Maybe so, maybe it's me being overly sensitive, but could you try to call me something different?"
"All right, I can do that. Now, what's this decision you're talking about?"
She straightened her shoulders and stood facing him. "Dad--I want to move into my loft, to live there, full time."
Frank took a careful sip of his drink. "You're sure about this?"
Anna nodded. "I really want it. I want to be on my own and I've always loved the loft. I can fix it up so it's not quite so industrial-feeling."
"It will need more than just decorating. There's barely a kitchen in the place. And as I recall, the bathroom isn't much, either. But you know, between Cody and me, we could give you an upgrade."
"That would be wonderful--but--wait, aren't you going to try and talk me out of it?"
"Why would I do that?"
"Because you think I'm still a kid!"
"Anna, I've been waiting for you to have this talk with me. I know it's time for you to be out making your own way. But you had to come to that realization on your own. I'm proud of you ki--uh, honey."