by Heather Gray
Sam’s laughter quieted to a rumble in his voice. “Too much caffeine makes me jittery. I love coffee. Cream, no sugar. Feel free to bring me a cup anytime, as long as it’s decaf.”
“I didn’t mean…”
He cut her off. “Don’t ever apologize for saying it like it is. In private. When talking to the men, a little tact can go a long way. With me, though, you can speak your mind. I prefer honesty, even when it’s awkward.”
Skye took a deep breath, and the air was sweet. Boise air hadn’t tasted this exquisite, not once in all the years she’d lived there. “I’ll try.”
Sam pushed open the little half-door that separated the foyer area from the actual office. “The place is a mess. I don’t know what half this stuff is. I had an admin assistant who insisted we needed all these things, but when my budget got slashed, I had to make cuts, and… I’ve never caught back up.”
She eyed the mess — a generous word by far — then gave her attention back to Sam. “Are you asking me to organize this chaos?”
Sam’s eyebrows lifted and drew together. “Would you mind?”
This might not be the best time to tell him he looked like a puppy dog. “I think I can manage that. Is there anything I should know? Anything I can’t toss?”
He reached for some papers on his desk. “This is the volunteer application. Fill it out so I can talk to your references and run the criminal check. If we can knock that out this morning, then I’ll be able to give you access to our files and the computer. Until then, you can work on the physical mess in here, but I can’t let you near the virtual one.”
“Hm. I’m not sure if I should be thankful for the reprieve or worried about what’s to come.”
He handed the application to her. “In the spirit of transparency, a little of both would be appropriate.”
Skye set her coffee on the counter between the two rooms, plucked the papers from his hand, pulled a pen from her purse, and began filling out the forms.
Name, Date of Birth, Aliases, Social Security Number, Address…
The questions were all basic, as was the authorization for the background check.
Sam took the forms from her when she was done. “We also do random drug testing. Employees, volunteers, and residents.”
“I saw that on there.”
He gave her a quick look as he booted up his computer. “People don’t always read the fine print.”
She couldn’t argue. The years at her grandparents’ company had taught her that and many other valuable lessons.
Sam waved in the general direction of the back wall. “Feel free to start wherever you’d like. Hopefully I can wrap this up pretty quick.”
Skye turned her attention to the back wall. It was hideous. The boxes were bad enough. The pressboard bookshelf with pealing wood-grain-colored paper on it was worse. The faded gold lamé wallpaper with a balding red velvet design, though? It had to go. Period. “Your wallpaper belongs in a fifty-year-old brothel.”
Sam glanced up from the computer and grimaced. “I want to take it down and paint, but a hundred other things keep getting in the way.”
“Can I grab some of the men and get them to help me move the boxes out of the way and strip the wallpaper?”
“Residents aren’t allowed behind the counter unless one of the staff is back here, and today that’s me and Lance. Or you, once I’ve talked to your references.”
“Background check done that quick?”
“Yep. Modern technology at its best.”
“How should I go about collecting some men?”
“Grab Franco or Gideon — whichever one you see first — and tell them to pick one other person. I think two’s the most you’ll fit in here.”
Skye walked around the counter to the foyer and peeked out the front door. Gideon was nowhere to be seen, but Franco sat in a chair outside one of the rooms.
She pushed the door open and marched right up to him. Granted, she kind of thought of Franco as her protector, so it was a relatively safe march, but still.
Her words were sure, steady. “I need help in the office. Can you grab another person and come on over?”
He flexed his large fingers. “What kind of help? I’m no good at typing.”
And just like that, she smiled. Skye didn’t smile around people she didn’t know well. In fact, prior to her return to Rainbow Falls, she hadn’t been in the practice of smiling much at all. So why did someone who looked like the cross between a heavyweight champion and a bouncer make her smile as she stood in the middle of a faded former parking lot peppered with weeds?
Huh. Why care about the why? Some gifts didn’t need to be examined too closely.
“You’ll be moving boxes and taking down wallpaper.”
“Seriously? The boss is gonna do away with that classy wallpaper in the office?”
Maybe it wasn’t too late to find Gideon instead. “Um, classy?”
Franco laughed. “I’m just joshin’ ya. We’ll all be glad to see that stuff go. Makes us feel like we should be puffing on cigars and playing poker whenever we walk into the office.”
Thank goodness. She might be brave enough to cross the parking lot and talk to Franco, but she wasn’t ready to go toe-to-toe with him over wallpaper.
“Getting the paper down might take more than a day.”
She rested her hands on her hips and flared her elbows out. “It’s not a very big wall.”
“Yeah, but that stuff looks like it’s been up there since the Kennedy administration. I think it’s petrified.”
Skye shook her head. “So, are you going to help or not?”
“Lemme grab someone. We’ll be there in a minute.”
“Alright then.” She headed back to the office and, even though it didn’t make a bit of sense, she could have sworn she’d just grown an inch.
Skye took in the disaster in the office. It could be worse.
Sam came through the glass door in the foyer behind her and let out a low whistle. “I thought you were supposed to make things better.”
“It’s always darkest before the sunrise.”
“You’re not quoting song lyrics at me, are you?”
Skye looked over her shoulder at him. “Only if it helps.”
He shook his head as he stepped through the half-door into the office. “So, what’s your plan for fixing this?”
“You’ve been working in this pig sty so far. A few more days won’t hurt you.”
“What’s going to happen in a few days?”
“Paint.”
She caught his wince in the reflection on the computer monitor where she’d temporarily moved it. “About that…”
Skye ignored him. “One gallon ought to do it. Maybe a quart for some of the trim work.”
“Listen…”
“A tarp or two. Brushes. Some of that painter tape, right? Anything else?”
“Skye, we can’t afford it.” He wasn’t going to drop it gracefully.
“It’s on me. I should be able to buy everything for around fifty dollars. Give or take. The labor will be free. Franco said he’s lousy with a paint brush, but he thinks Alan worked as a painter sometime in the past.”
Sam frowned at her. “I can’t be in the office. I need to be out there facilitating the classes and other things we’re doing with the men.”
“I understand.”
“You won’t be comfortable in here alone with Alan.”
“What about Lance?”
“No can do. He’s on driver duty the rest of this week. We have some men with appointments over in Peterman Falls.”
“Appointments?”
He shrugged. “A couple for the doctor, one for social security, a financial aid visit to the community college. The basics, but it’ll take up his whole week.”
Skye took a step back, put her hands on her hips, and straightened her spine. “Well, as it happens, you don’t get to tell me what I am and am not comfortable with. Nobody gets to tell me that.”
Her breath came faster, and her midsection wobbled like a too-warm gelatin mold. She almost backed down. It was so temping. She couldn’t do it, though. She couldn’t give up the ground she’d gained. “Comfortable or not, I’m a volunteer at Samaritan’s Reach, and I have a job to do. If you don’t think a resident should be in here alone with me, then you should make that clear and apply the same rule to all the residents.”
A look flashed through Sam’s eyes, gone faster than a bolt of lightning. Skye wasn’t a pro at deciphering enigmatic men, but if she wasn’t mistaken, that look had been admiration.
He gave her a nod. “You should read our Operations Manual when you get a chance. A female volunteer is never to be alone with a resident.”
“That day I folded laundry?”
“I didn’t know you were in the laundry room that day, not until it was too late. The door was open the whole time, though, and the room has windows in it. Even if you were in the room with a resident, you were never alone.”
That made sense, but… “If a female volunteer can’t be alone with a resident, what good are they?”
Laughter lit his eyes. “You really need to read the OM. As long as a third party is present, you’re good.”
“Like another volunteer?”
“Or resident. It just needs to be a third party.”
“How are two residents safer for a female volunteer than one resident?”
Color climbed his neck. “It’s the state’s rule, and the way it was explained to me, it’s the same rule that applies to a gynecologist. If he’s a guy, you need a third party in the room. Doesn’t matter who or what gender.”
Her cheeks heated. She couldn’t very well question him further on the subject. He might use the world ‘gynecologist’ again, and she couldn’t very well have that. Not if she wanted to avoid a fire-engine-red blush. “So… Alan and somebody else for the painting.”
Sam nodded. “I’ll talk to Franco. He’ll either be able to recommend someone, or I’ll ask for a volunteer.”
“Okay. I can live with that.”
“Excellent, because you don’t have a choice. You’ll need to keep the blinds open, too.”
She glanced to the vertical blinds pulled wide to let sun stream into the office space. They weren’t open for the light, though. “That’s why you always open them whenever I come into the office. Because I can’t be alone with a resident… Or with you.”
“Can’t very well ask the men to follow rules I’m not willing to follow, now can I?”
She gave him her best frown. “Makes sense. But why did you even ask if I’d be comfortable? With Alan, I mean.”
He gave a half-shrug. “I was trying to let you reach the right decision on your own.”
“That doesn’t seem to match your honesty policy very well.”
Sam winced. “You have a point. I’ll try not to do that again.”
Good. See that you don’t. She stopped the words before they came out. She might be brave enough to call him on it, but giving orders to the man who had terrified her at first sight not too many months ago? She wasn’t there.
Yet.
CHAPTER 16
Sam thrived on high-pressure situations. A worthwhile challenge got his adrenaline pumping.
Skye was a whole new kind of challenge, though.
He understood vets. He worked with them. He could interpret the shell-shocked look in their eyes. He knew how to counsel them. Move slowly, talk softly, and call it like it was. Until the situation demanded something else, which it sometimes did.
“Do you mind what colors I choose?”
Sam looked at the wall. It shouldn’t have been possible, but it was just as ugly without the wallpaper. “Not red. Not gold. No bodily fluid colors.”
Skye made a choking sound. “I was thinking soft and soothing. Blue that looks like the morning sky over the ocean. And a shimmery wet-cement grey.”
Wet cement made him think of a mafia hit, not something calm and relaxing. “Blue for the wall or the trim?”
“Walls.”
“I can live with that.”
Skye collected her purse from behind a box. “I didn’t want to pick colors that might agitate any of the residents or cause them to…”
The light bulb went off. “Ah. That’s why you thought I’d have an opinion about color. So… Avoid black and red, and soft colors are generally better than dark, bright, or loud colors. I’d skip anything in the beige family, too. Just a personal preference there, but some of the men might share it. I’d be hard-pressed not to go crazy if I had to stare at walls that reminded me of the Middle East sandscape.”
She started for the door, and Sam had every intention of letting her go. The words slipped out, though, despite his best effort to hold them back. “I didn’t think you’d come today.”
“I didn’t think I would, either.”
“What changed your mind?”
Skye pursed her lips and waggled her head back and forth.
Sam tried to interpret. “Not sure?”
“I would have stayed away because of how Tawny forced me into volunteering, not because of how I felt about it. I guess that’s what it came down to. I realized I actually wanted to see if I could do some good here.” She took another step toward the door before she stopped again. “The truth?”
“It’s always my preference.”
“I wanted to see if I could learn not to be scared.”
“Of?”
“You, this place, these men, all those tattoos, the unknown, and maybe my own success or failure, too.”
Sam tucked his hands into his pockets. “Tattoos aren’t so scary.”
“One of yours is a skull with a knife through its eye socket.”
He chuckled. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. But it’s just ink. It can’t hurt you.”
“It’s ink that tells me who you are.”
He shook his head the smallest bit. “It’s ink that tells you who I used to be.”
“I know, and I know most of these men are tattooed, too. It’s funny. Gideon has some, but his don’t bother me. Maybe you’re the problem more than the tattoos.”
Now he was getting somewhere with her. “How so?”
“If you were some scrawny little five-foot-six guy with skull tattoos, I wouldn’t give it a second thought.”
“There’s not a lot I can do about my height.”
“You should go on a hunger strike and drop about forty pounds of muscle. Three or four inches, too, if you don’t mind.” Her eyes glinted in the glare coming through the foyer’s glass door.
“That might be a little tough.”
The hint of a smile touched her mouth. “Then I guess I’ll have to adjust to you, your tattoos, and those ridiculously muscled arms.”
Sam held his arms out in front of him. “Ridiculous?”
Color stained her cheeks. “Now you’re fishing for compliments, and I have better things to do than feed your ego.”
In the blink of an eye, she was gone, and Sam was left staring at the door as it meandered its way closed behind her.
Skye was different than the men he worked with, sure. She was also different than any woman he’d ever met, too. Until today, every time he’d spoken to her, her eyes had shown him the fractures in her soul. He could move slowly. He could talk softly. He could tuck his hands into his pockets so she wouldn’t feel threatened. He could do those things — but he couldn’t talk to her the way he would a man. He couldn’t just call her out. The straight talk that served him well with the men would only push Skye away.
He didn’t know much about how women thought, and when it came down to it, he had no idea what she’d been through. He identified with the vets. He’d been there. Whatever haunted her, though, remained a mystery. It might not be anythin
g he could relate to, and he wasn’t prepared to step out into that minefield when a misstep might mean blowing her world to kingdom come.
Sam had all the certifications. He was licensed. He had worked himself nearly into the ground taking graduate classes while still serving with the Marines. He’d been forced to leave his doctorate until after he’d left the service. Practicums and all that. Sitting in an office and working with patients under the supervision of a psychology professor was a little tough to accomplish when you were eating dust in Afghanistan. So he’d had to leave the job he loved to finish the education he needed in order to launch a new career to which he was called.
And he had zero regrets.
Patience. It was a lesson he’d learned in his military career that also served him well at Samaritan’s Reach.
“Hey, Boss!” Gideon stood in the doorway.
“What?”
“I only called your name like three times.”
He ignored the jibe. “What do you need, Gideon?”
“You said something about helping some lady from the church. The doughnut lady?”
Sam nodded. “She’s laid up with a broken hip and needs some yardwork done, among other things.”
“How many men are you taking?”
“Four, I think. I was still deciding. Why?”
“You said Thursday?”
“Yeah. While Skye’s here to hold down the fort.”
Gideon frowned. “I’d normally jump at the chance to do something outdoors. Yardwork, anything. I’d rather be outside than inside anytime. You know that.”
“Sure.”
“I gave this some thought, though. It might not the best idea to leave Alan here with Miss Skye unsupervised.”
Sam looked over at the man with the spectacles. “Can you paint?”
Gideon shrugged. “Never done it professionally. I don’t have to be in the office. I just think I should be nearby.”
“Franco’s going to keep an eye on things.”
Gideon grunted. “Don’t trust me around Alan, huh?”
Sam cast a sideways glance at him. The man was in a mood about something. “It’s not that. I know you like the outdoor work, so I’d already planned on you being part of my crew.”