by Jillian Hart
Chapter Eight
Her first day at work had been a hard one. Good, but long. A strain of a virus with bronchitis was making its way through the local schools and communities. She made sure every patient who walked through the doors, appointment or not, was seen and treated before she locked up and headed home.
Her little bungalow had never looked so good as it did at the moment she pulled into her driveway. The bright sun welcomed her, dappling through the mature maple’s broad green leaves over her house, over her. The colorful blush of the first roses peered shyly up at her as she dragged her tired feet along the walkway. The walkway where she’d first seen Sam Gardner.
There’s no chance, Kirby. Forget it. Move on, she told herself, and it was merely the truth. So why did a tiny piece of her heart keep wanting to hope?
She had to stop thinking about him. Otherwise, all she’d do was set herself up for more heartache.
Her dog’s happy greeting went a long way toward reviving her dragging energy level. The balloons waved in the current from the heat register as she entered the kitchen. The bakery cake Kendra had brought over was on the corner of the island. Happy First Day was written in yellow icing on the half that remained.
It had been an excellent day. She felt satisfied, grateful for this job she knew she was going to love. Maybe she’d fire up the gas barbecue instead of cooking her hamburger inside. The evening was temperate, the warmest of the season so far. Inspired, Kirby grabbed a box of matches from the utility drawer and unlocked the back door.
“Howdy, neighbor. Did you two beautiful ladies have a good day?”
If she stood on her tiptoes she could see over the top of the fence. There he was, standing on his back deck, where a new gas grill gleamed in the warm sunshine. “All in all, no complaints. How about you two handsome guys?”
“Me and Leo had an excellent time. We flew up to the Blackfeet Reservation. There was a museum there I wanted to take a look at. Really enjoyed it.”
“Leo went with you?”
“Not in the museum, no, but he did love the ride.”
“In the helicopter?”
“Sure. He’s been up in the air with me since he was nine weeks old. He loves to fly. Unlike some people. Yeah, I noticed your white knuckles on our flight back from Seattle that day.”
“It was the storm.”
“Well, you should have said something. I would have told you how I’ve flown in dust storms, ice storms, blizzards, lightning, thunder, under heavy fire, through the middle of an enemy tank division and about in every other condition known to man. I’ve only crashed twice.”
“Twice? That’s not going to make me feel better.”
“Hey, I lived to tell about it. I’m a first-class crash pilot. They train you for that kind of thing, you know. They don’t give you a chopper worth millions just to wreck it.” He winked, trying to make light of it.
She saw the grief in his eyes. Hard times, Ruth had said. Well, Kirby knew it wasn’t any of her business, but she was curious. She couldn’t help it.
“Aren’t you supposed to be starting a new job or something? What did I hear?” Sam lifted the grill’s lid. “Oh, I see that grin. It was today, wasn’t it? How’d it go?”
“Great. It’s a lot of responsibility, but I’ll love it.” How did she tell him about it? About having her own clinic, with staff to run, decisions to make, patients to see, illnesses to diagnose? “I even got to put in five stitches.”
“Five whole stitches?”
“A little boy put his hand through a glass door. I stitched up his little palm very carefully, and he shouldn’t have much of a scar. He’ll be as good as new in a few weeks.”
“Let me guess. You give out lollipops, don’t you?”
“I do, and wait, stop laughing at me. It’s not funny.” Sam could imagine just how she’d comforted that little boy. He couldn’t help feeling a little envious.
Everybody needed comfort now and then. Well, except tough guys like him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Lighting my barbecue.”
That did it. His first night of barbecuing on his own back deck of his own house, something he’d wanted for a heck of a long time, and it wasn’t right, that’s what, to see her over there looking a little lonely on this big night. She was happy about her new job and wanting to celebrate her big day, and she was alone on her deck with her dog.
Neither of them had someone.
“Hold on a minute, will you?” He left his long-handled grill spatula on the deck rail beside the plate with the one hamburger patty he had thawed. He had a whole stack of them frozen solid in his freezer. He didn’t have a microwave yet—he was going to wait until his kitchen remodel was done—and that was a problem. “So, what were you going to cook on your grill?”
“A hamburger.”
“You got it thawed and ready to go?”
“Well, I have the hamburger package in my refrigerator. Did you need to borrow some? I’d be happy to—”
“No, Miss Good Samaritan.” Sam shook his head. Could she be any nicer? “Toss that package over here, and I’ll grill up your burger. It’s the least I can do, considering it’s your first day and you’ve been such a good neighbor. I really appreciate it when you have those sisters of yours over that you keep the drum playing and rock music down to a low rumble.”
“Are you saying you want to have supper together?”
“I could suffer through it. Can Leo come, too?”
“Leo is always welcome.”
Hearing his name, the dog looked up from his huge hunk of rawhide and barked.
“Looks like you’ve got a deal. Toss me the hamburger and I’ll get cookin’.”
“Toss it to you?”
“Sure. I know how to catch.”
The way he grinned made her heart leap. She knew this wasn’t a date—it wasn’t that kind of invitation. This was just two neighbors, two people alone, having supper together. She wasn’t going to start letting herself hope that this could be anything more than that.
While Jessie raced around the backyard stretching her legs, Kirby found the package of hamburger meat on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator and carried it out to the deck rail. She flung it.
Sam snatched the package out of the air like a major league shortstop. “You like your burger rare? Medium rare?”
“Well done, but not charred.”
“As the lady likes.” Sam saluted her.
Suddenly there was so much to do. She had to change out of her work clothes. Preheat the oven. Empty the dishwasher. Put the fries on to bake. Oh, make a salad for two. Happier than she’d felt in years, she scurried about, preparing for Sam’s invasion.
She took the trash out, but Sam wasn’t on his deck. The burgers were sizzling away and smelled delicious. As she raced Jessie to the gate, she heard Leo bark on the other side of the fence.
Her feet felt light and it was easy to unlatch the gate and keep running, the dog at her heels. They skidded to a stop at the back of the carport, where she tossed the small bag into the garbage can. Then she raced her dog back to the deck.
“I’m coming over in a few,” Sam called as he emerged from his back door, spatula and platter in hand. “Be prepared.”
“Is that supposed to scare me?”
“Sure. Leo and I are entering enemy territory. Women territory. I saw all those ruffled curtains and the lace tablecloth. I think I can survive it.”
“You’re a brave man, Sam Gardner.”
So she was laughing as she slipped out of her drab work clothes and into her favorite pair of jeans and a cheerful long-sleeved T-shirt, one with a row of daisies imprinted on the front, smiling up at the sun. That’s how she felt.
Happy. Not hopeful.
When he walked into her house, he looked rugged in his faded army T-shirt and paint-streaked denims. Leo didn’t look right or left, but loped straight through the living room to the kitchen. Jessie came running in from the backyard, delighte
d to see her new friend. The two sniffed noses, then ran off together in search of the dog biscuit box.
“Done to perfection,” he said of the steaming beef patties on the platter he held. He clutched two bottles in his other hand. “Steak and barbecue sauces. I didn’t know what you liked, so I brought both.”
“That’s great. I’ve got cheese slices and fresh buns. It’ll take me just a second to slice tomatoes and onions—”
The thud of something heavy hitting the linoleum was followed by the skid and scatter of dog biscuits tumbling across the floor.
“Leo! That’s no way to behave in a lady’s house.” Sam shook his head. “That boy has no manners. Leo, you’re about as suave as I am. Sit. I mean it.”
The rambunctious dog wasn’t intimidated, and the warmth in Sam’s voice said that he was always kind, even when he was correcting the dog’s behavior.
Sam shoved the bottles and the platter of meat onto the edge of the island and knelt to both dogs. “Hey, Jess. What a good girl you are, eating only one. Unlike my Leo. Scarfing as many biscuits as you can. That’s uncouth, boy. It’s no way to impress the ladies.”
Sam ran one big hand over his dog’s broad head. When Jessie waggled, begging politely for the same, Sam laid his other hand on her round head, stroking gently, and the spaniel sighed with happiness.
Kind to animals. Wasn’t that on her Mr. Perfect list?
Kirby’s knees went weak. Her heart stood still and peace filled her, reaching her soul.
A peace that felt like sunlight touching the earth for the first time, chasing away all the dark places with the promise of the first spring.
It took all her strength of character to sit down at the table as though nothing had happened. As though she hadn’t fallen in love with Sam Gardner.
A man who didn’t love her.
The stars winked, bright and perfect, in a foreign sky. Not the constellations Sam had grown up with. No moon to help him out, either. Deep in enemy territory, with a squad of tired SEALs waiting for him in the jungle, his navigator—his best friend—unconscious and in shock and his copilot bleeding to death.
He felt ancient, as if he’d lived too long, seen too much, been here before. He had enough medical training to wrap the wounds and stabilize Mark’s broken femur. Needing to stabilize Chris’s neck, he dragged a board from the back of the smoking chopper.
Pain galvanized him. He worked, and worked fast, knowing he didn’t have much time to find cover for his men. He hoped the PJs coming to get him would be here but quick.
Pain wasn’t the only thing that motivated him. His wedding ring burned like a reminder of all that was important in his life—
Sam woke up, sweat rolling down his face.
Dreaming again. The memories stayed with him as he made his way to the kitchen. The past felt close tonight, closer than it had been in a long while.
He grabbed a soda from the fridge and saw a flash of muted light in the window of the house next door. Kirby’s house. Judging from the faint glow in the living room window, she had the television on. At 1: 43 a.m. He didn’t believe his eyes.
Miss Good Samaritan had trouble sleeping, did she?
Well, she wasn’t alone on that score. He stood sucking down the cold cola and debated for a good twenty minutes. There were a thousand reasons he shouldn’t go knock on her door.
The late hour. It was inappropriate to visit her in his pajamas. She’d probably think he was a burglar sneaking around in her yard. It would probably look as if he cared about her in a special way.
There was only one reason that mattered. He wanted to make sure she was all right. He pulled on a pair of sweats, left Leo sound asleep in the bedroom and made one stop in the kitchen before grabbing his keys and locking the back door behind him.
Leaves waved in the pleasant night air as he marched down the walk, hopped over the fence and circled around the side of her house. No lights were on, just the TV. He stomped up the front steps, taking care to make some noise so he wouldn’t startle her. He raised his hand to knock.
The door swung open to reveal Kirby in the faint light cast by the TV screen. With her hair tied back in a ponytail and wearing an oversize blue fluffy sleeper with feet, she looked to be about the cutest thing he’d ever seen.
“You nearly scared me to death, Sam Gardner.”
Cute, but mad. He held out his peace offering. “I saw your TV on and I got worried. Am I pardoned?”
“All right, but only because you brought chocolate ice cream.”
“Not just chocolate. The kind with fudge swirls and marshmallows.”
“Now I’ll invite you in, as long as you promise to be on your best behavior.”
“Sweetheart, I can’t promise you that.” He stalked past her, shut the door.
He looked athletic and fit and wonderfully masculine with his tousled hair and unshaven jaw.
What did she look like at two in the morning? Disaster. Her hair had been pulled back without benefit of a mirror. Since she’d washed her face before bedtime, she had no cover-up on to disguise the freckles on her nose and what was the start of a blemish on her forehead above her right brow. It had only been a small smudge earlier, but it probably looked like a bull’s eye by now.
She’d pulled the one-piece sleeper on over her nightshirt because it was cozy and comfy. But the bulky fleece made her look at least twenty pounds heavier than usual. See what a good thing it was that Sam wasn’t interested in her?
Because if he was, and he saw her like this, he’d change his mind.
By the time she’d caught up with him, he’d taken command of her kitchen. He had located the ice cream scoop and already had the lid off the ice cream carton. “What are we watching?”
“An Alfred Hitchcock thriller is on the classic movie channel.” Kirby stole two clean cereal bowls from the top rack of her dishwasher.
“I love Hitchcock.” Sam began scooping huge hunks of rich chocolate ice cream into both bowls.
“Why were you awake to see that my TV was on?” she asked, grabbing spoons out of the drawer.
“I couldn’t sleep.” He secured the lid on the carton and tucked it into the freezer for safekeeping. He turned around, spotted the spaniel waddling down the hall and into the dimly lit kitchen.
“Look who woke up.” Sam knelt and held out his hand in greeting. “Hi, Jess. Are you going to let me stay and watch a movie with you two beautiful girls?”
Did Sam Gardner have to be so perfect? “Jess, be careful of this man. He thinks he can flatter us so we won’t mind his brash and uncivilized behavior, barging into our house at this time of night. Compromising our reputations.”
“Everybody has a gift, and that’s mine.”
“Oh, so you think you can just help yourself to whatever is in my fridge?”
“We men who tarnish reputations take what we want. Isn’t that right, Jess?”
The dog sighed happily, surrendering the underside of her chin for Sam’s gentle fingertips.
See? Even her dog thought he was perfect.
“Fetch me the milk, would you?” Sam asked as he switched from chin to ear and made the spaniel sigh with appreciation.
“First you invite yourself into my house and then you start bossing me around.”
“I take orders, too, but I don’t see you giving any.”
She grabbed the milk, but while she was trying to think of a snappy comeback, he’d already commandeered one of her saucepans and was turning on the controls to the stove.
She pushed him out of the way with her hip. “Give me that. I can’t believe you know what you’re doing.”
It was like trying to move a mountain, but he gave a little, so she could at least reach the temperature knobs. She adjusted the heat, took the carton back and poured the right amount for two into the pan.
“I usually rely on chamomile tea, but warmed milk sounds good tonight.” She wasn’t going to let him know she’d been thinking about making some cocoa.
&
nbsp; “Cocoa should never be savored alone. It gains something with good company.” Sam dug the tin out of his grocery sack. “My own homemade mix. Actually, a military buddy of mine got the recipe from his grandmother. Sweet chocolate, sugar and more powdered chocolate. Trust me. This will heal what troubles you.”
“Oh, it’s miracle cocoa, is it?”
“Yep. The secret ingredients are the minimarshmallows. Give me your two biggest mugs. Wait, don’t tell me you only have those dainty china ones with flowers on them and those itty-bitty handles?”
“That’s the kind of thing you register for a wedding. Notice I’m not married?” Kirby opened the cabinets.
“Nothing is stopping you from buying cups and plates. Unless you’re upset about the not being married thing.”
Embarrassed, she snatched the popcorn packets from him, yanked open the microwave door and didn’t answer.
“Why should you feel bad about not being married? I see a woman who hasn’t settled. Wait until you find true love, that’s my advice, because marriage is forever. Trust me. That ceremony is more than a dress and getting the engraved napkins just right. It’s a tie that will forever bind you, and it’s best not done in haste or for the wrong reasons.”
“You’re being serious, huh?”
“I can be.”
“It becomes you. Do it more often.”
“Now who’s bossy?”
“Me, and I like it. Get the mugs, would you?”
While the milk warmed, Sam stirred in the miracle cocoa mix in slow sprinkles, his head bent to the task, his dark shock of hair falling forward to hide his face.
Wait until you find true love, he’d said. It sounded as though he knew what he was talking about.
Had his wife been that for him, his true love? “Thanks for your advice. Are you glad you didn’t settle?”
“Oh, I settled.” He didn’t look at her as he snatched one of the mugs out of her hand. Then the other.
The grief was back, the sadness.
“Why can’t you sleep?” he asked as he poured the steaming milk. “There isn’t a rock band next door rehearsing.”
“I am blessed to have you for my neighbor. You’re wonderfully quiet at night.”