by Caroline Lee
Violet just shrugged a third time.
“What if they knew you wanted to be their friend? Do you think they might, then?”
“I guess so. But…” The little girl looked up and looked around their home. She made a gesture which managed to convey embarrassment, and hopelessness, and acceptance all at one.
And Sadie understood. The RV was a cozy little home for Shawn and his daughter, but not exactly someplace Violet could bring her friends home to. And judging from the sadness in Shawn’s expression, he knew that too.
Inspiration struck.
“How about your birthday?”
“My what?” Violet perked up a little.
“Your birthday’s next week. Are you going to have a party?”
Shawn jumped into the conversation, probably to cut off his daughter getting high hopes. “We don’t make a big deal out of birthdays, Sadie. Violet always requests McDonald’s, so that’s where we’ll go. Right, Sprout?”
If Sadie didn’t miss her guess, Violet looked a little disappointed when she nodded, agreeing with her father. But that didn’t discourage Sadie; in fact, it made her more determined.
“Would you like a party this year?”
The little girl’s eyes lit up at the same time Shawn growled—there really wasn’t another word for it—“Sadie.”
But when Sadie turned to him, he just shook his head. She knew he wasn’t going to say it, not in front of his daughter, but he was warning her not to get Violet’s hopes up. Money was tight for the little family, and he was trying to tell Sadie he couldn’t afford a party.
Sadie knew all this and didn’t care. One corner of her lip pulled up as she twirled the spaghetti on her fork, holding his gaze the entire time. “Yes, Shawn?” She was daring him to say something. To tell her to butt out.
He called her bluff. “We can’t have a party here.”
Violet sighed, resigned, and Sadie became more determined to give her some kind of party. “But I can.”
Violet’s head snapped up, and Shawn raised a dark-blonde eyebrow, his lips pulled down into a frown that Sadie wanted to kiss away. “You can what?”
“I can have a party.” Without dropping her fork, she leaned forward as if imparting a deep secret. “I’m not sure if you knew this, but I have my own ice cream shop. I make really, really good ice cream. I know it’s winter, but ice cream is still yummy.”
She knew better than to ask Violet what she thought, because Shawn could see that as manipulating the little girl. So she kept her attention firmly on him, and saw him wince slightly when his daughter let out an ear-piercing squeal.
“Oh, can we, Daddy? Could I have ice cream for my birthday?”
Sadie prayed he’d say yes, that he’d let her do this for Violet. That he wouldn’t take it as some kind of challenge. She wouldn’t have guessed it of him, even a few hours ago…but seeing his scars, and hearing the brief explanation he was willing to give, had proven there was a whole bunch of stuff she didn’t know about Shawn McAllister.
Trying to second-guess him might be silly.
Instead, she tried to pour all of her feelings into her gaze, willing him to understand. She wasn’t offering because she pitied Violet, or because she thought less of Shawn’s fathering abilities. She was doing this because she could. She could help make Violet’s seventh birthday memorable.
Maybe it worked, because after a long moment Shawn let out a little breath. It could’ve been a sigh, could’ve been just natural, but she took it as a good sign. “You’re sure, Sadie? You’d do that for her? For us?”
She finally dropped her eyes to her food, focusing on twirling the pasta around her fork. “Sure,” she said, trying to sound flippant. Trying to sound like it wasn’t a big deal. “That’s what friends are for.”
When she popped the spaghetti into her mouth, she happened to catch the glance Shawn and Violet shared. He looked resigned; his daughter looked thrilled.
“Then, thank you,” he said. “We can discuss the details.”
Violet squealed again, and launched herself across the bench seat towards her father. After giving him a hug, the little girl scrambled out from around the table to wrap her arms around Sadie. The hug was sweet and perfect and felt…
It felt right. Like sitting here at dinner with Shawn and his daughter, being hugged by Violet, was where Sadie belonged. It took all of her willpower not to drop a kiss on top of the girl’s dark-brown hair.
But when she looked up at Shawn, something in his expression told her he’d seen how close she’d come to giving into the natural urge. What wasn’t obvious was his feeling about it.
“Violet.” His voice was rough when he switched his attention to his daughter. “You’d better finish up dinner. You’re in charge of clearing.”
Conversation turned mundane then, as both adults searched about for topics of conversation. Sadie found out he’d been scheduled for a Thursday afternoon time-slot to meet with the Chamber of Commerce committee.
“And do you know what you’re going to do with them?”
“Uh…yeah.” Shawn had finished his meal and now lounged against the back of dinette bench. Sadie felt his booted feet brush against hers when he shifted. It was hard to look natural when all she wanted to do was peel off her own boots and run her toes up his blue-jeaned legs.
When he didn’t continue, she shoved her own last bite of spaghetti into her mouth and gestured at him with the fork to go on. He seemed to understand, but didn’t look pleased with the idea.
Staring intently at the water glass he was twisting between his fingers, Shawn took a deep breath. “I figure I’ll bring them into Jace’s office, and the two of us can sit them down and explain all about the program. Jace is pretty passionate about it, and his wife has given him some suggestions on what to say.”
He still hadn’t looked up, and Sadie could tell he was uncomfortable. Why? Was it because they were competing for the prize? Did he see her as competition suddenly, instead of an interested friend?
“So…” He finally picked up the glass and took a deep swallow of water, still not looking at her. “I figure that between the two of us, we could make a pretty good case for the camps getting the extra funding…and the publicity.”
“That’s awesome!”
Shawn didn’t seem to notice the enthusiasm she’d tried to force into her words. “Yeah,” was all he said.
It was obvious that he was holding his cards close to his chest, unwilling to tell her—the competition—more than what was necessary. Which is what made it a little surprising when he did look up to meet her eyes. “So, you’ve entered this contest before?”
“Yep.” Part of her instinctively wanted to play her own cards close, to stay wary…but this was Shawn. Her friend. She couldn’t do that. “This is my third year entering. Julia—she’s my best friend—has a sister who works for the Chamber of Commerce. She heard that the shop was ranked pretty highly last year, but ultimately lost to a cute little boutique shop on Main Street.”
“Well, that money would come in handy, I’m sure.” The pained look on his face told her he was just making polite conversation, so she shrugged.
“Honestly, I’m more interested in the other prize.”
He sat up suddenly enough that Violet jumped a little. “The carousel? You actually want that thing?”
She smiled. “I’ve been trying to get old Dr. Gast to sell me that thing for the last two years. He said he had other plans for it, but I had no idea what he meant.”
“Wait, you knew about it before the contest?”
“Shawn, that’s an Allan Herschell carousel, from 1927.” She could tell he didn’t have any idea what she was talking about. Oh well. Maybe other people didn’t get excited over antique kids’ rides, but to Sadie, it was almost as good as a new box of scented markers!
She grinned. “He was one of the biggest manufacturers of traveling wooden carousels—machines that could be broken down and carried from town to town. But they�
�re really rare these days—there’s only four wooden carousels in the entire state of Idaho.”
When Shawn raised his brows, she knew he understood how special this “prize” really was.
“Can you imagine that here in the Old West Town?” she asked, tapping the fork against the empty plate. “It would fit in so well. Think of how much publicity that thing would draw from tourists and antique-lovers! Do you know what we could do with something like that?”
“Do you know how much it’ll cost to build the shelter to protect it?”
He’d obviously expected to surprise her, but she just laughed. “I applied for the loan two years ago, to prove to Dr. Gast that I was serious. I’ve already had an architect design the addition to the Saloon, so that the carousel can be displayed and used for all four seasons, as part of Old West Town. My shop would be in charge of collecting fees, of course, but man…” She propped her chin up on her hand, already lost in the daydream she’d been having for the last two years. “That would be so much fun. The kids would love it. The adults would love it, honestly. A real Allan Herschell carousel, here at River’s End Ranch.”
The silence from the other side of the dinette finally drew her attention. Shawn was staring at her in bemusement, with a little something extra she couldn’t identify in his eyes. She straightened quickly, embarrassed to be caught staring off into space. “What?”
One corner of his lips pulled up into a wry smile which showed off his crooked teeth. “Nothing. I’m just…I’m glad that you’ve got a plan. I hope you win.”
Her eyes widened. “Don’t say that. You winning is more important, in the long run.”
But he just shrugged. “When I heard about that carousal, I thought it was ridiculous. Just a burden. But it’s neat to see how much thought you’ve put into it. And I gotta admit; it would go really well with the theme of your place. Just like the Estey does.”
Grateful for a change in the topic, Sadie grasped it. “Say, speaking of which, how about you stopping by to tune that thing?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “When?”
“Whenever you can. Next time you have an afternoon free works fine; I know our customers wouldn’t mind hearing you tinkering with it, as long as you play a few songs too.”
He flashed her his crooked grin again. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been desperate to get my hands on that thing.”
Laughing at the enthusiasm she saw in his expression, Sadie nodded. “I’m glad that it’ll get a little extra love. I can’t wait to hear what you can do with it! I’m an okay player, but you’re an expert.”
He played piano and protected his daughter from life’s harshness and fought for his country. Was there anything Shawn McAllister couldn’t do?
As the conversation turned easy again, and the three of them slipped back into friendly banter, Sadie suspected the answer was no: Shawn was pretty perfect. She watched him tease Violet, then roll up his sleeves to wash the dishes, and couldn’t help admiring his impressive forearms. Who knew she’d find forearms so attractive? Maybe only when they belonged to super-dreamy stud-muffin hotties up to their elbows in soap suds. Or when they belonged to loving fathers with mysterious scars and crooked grins that made her weak-kneed.
Yep, there was no doubt about it. She was somehow accidentally, totally against-her-will, falling in love with her friend.
CHAPTER SIX
The old Estey was in surprisingly good shape; its tone was fairly clear, and not too far off-tune. Sadie had told him she wheeled it out of the Saloon and next door to the chapel for big events, like Jace’s publicity-stunt wedding last month. In spite of all the excitement, the antique upright had held up pretty well. Either it was sturdier than Shawn had thought, or Sadie had tuned it recently.
Still, Shawn had spent an enjoyable hour tuning the wires, and was impressed with the music the old instrument could make. He’d played a few classical pieces, and then taken requests from Sadie’s patrons. After a particularly impressive—at least, he thought so—extemporaneous version of one of the latest Top-Ten hits, he received a standing ovation from the few guests lingering over their coffees.
That was the song that had Sadie laughing and sliding onto the piano bench beside him. “That was brilliant! You just happened to have that memorized?”
“No.” He was pleased he’d impressed her, but hid his smile modestly by bending back over the keys and plucking out one of the easy-learner pieces which he could play in his sleep. Against the soft background music, he confessed, “I’ve always been pretty good at being able to translate songs to piano on the go. In college my buddies used to try to stump me, but I managed pretty well.” His smile grew as he remembered some particularly hard-fought battles. “The rap songs were the hardest, but they were like puzzles, really.”
He could feel her eyes on his face; her gaze made him itchy in the best kind of way. “You went to college?”
Why did she sound so surprised? “Yeah, for theater education. That’s what I’d always wanted to do.”
“So why didn’t you?” She bumped him lightly with her shoulder.
He missed a note, but it was more because of the shame her question caused than the jostle.
After another few moments of soft playing, Shawn took a deep breath. She deserved an answer. “Because part-time theater teachers don’t make enough to support a family.” No, but enlisted army personnel did.
“Ah.” She was quiet for a while, too, but he could see her lightly tracing one of the F-sharp keys.
Finally, she confessed, “I didn’t go to college.”
“Really?” That bit of insight into her world had his chin jerking up to meet her lovely brown eyes. “I assumed anyone who owned and ran a successful business…”
She smiled and shook her head, then shrugged slightly. “No need, really. I’ve taken business and marketing courses here and there, and the University of Idaho lets me take some correspondence courses, but there wasn’t any need for me to study history or geology or whatever liberal arts stuff is being offered these days, since I’ve always known what I wanted to do.”
The song reached its end, and rather than beginning a new one, Shawn lifted his hands off the keys. It seemed natural to cover one of her hands with his now-free one, entwining their fingers on her thigh. She didn’t pull away he felt that amazing electricity buzz up his arm, and wondered yet again what it would be like to kiss her. “What’s that? What have you always wanted to do?”
“Make ice cream, of course!” Her whole face lit up when she smiled, and Shawn realized he was falling in love with her smile. With her enthusiasm and love of life. With her.
But maybe the stunning realization hadn’t shown on his face, because she continued like nothing major had just occurred.
“My mother was a wonderful baker, and Daddy was a chemist. I always liked the thrill of combining ingredients to make new things, but ice cream was the most interesting. Daddy always says it’s the state-change that made it so exciting to me, but I’ve been making—and eating!—my own ice cream since I was tiny. I’ve always known that I wanted to own my own ice cream parlor. Once I signed the contract with the Westons to work out of the Old West Town, I decided to expand to specialty sodas and coffee, to make this place financially viable.”
There wasn’t a darn thing he could do, not in the face of her cheer, except squeeze her fingers and try to pretend like his world hadn’t just been rocked by understanding his feeling for her. “I really admire your dedication and commitment, you know. You’re here all hours.”
Blowing a little raspberry that made him smile, she waved her free hand dismissively. “Julia is the assistant manager, and luckily doesn’t mind early mornings. She comes in for opening, and we’ve got two gals—sometimes more—who trade shifts so there’s always at least two employees on staff.”
“That doesn’t seem like very much help.”
She shrugged and he felt it shift their connected hands against her thigh. “It’s eno
ugh, and if I had to pay more wages, it would cut into my profits. I’m walking a fine line, but it’s totally worth it, to do what I love.”
Walking a fine line. He could understand that—he’d been living that way for years. “I can see where the cash prize the Chamber of Commerce is offering would come in handy.”
Hearing her commitment to this place, and how it was the fulfillment of her childhood dreams, made Shawn even more reluctant to compete against her. He thought the summer camps made a pretty good case for deserving to win the prize, with the benefit they’d bring to the local kids, but he didn’t want to take away from her chance at winning either.
But she just shrugged again and bumped his shoulder once more. “I told you, I’m in it for the carousel. I’ve wanted to get my hands on that thing for years. Think of what it could do for a place like this, already old-fashioned! It would fit right in and be pretty perfect.”
“I think you’re pretty perfect.”
What the heck, McAllister? The stupid compliment just sort of slipped out. And he knew she’d heard it when he felt her stiffen beside him, her eyes slamming back to his. Frantic to distract her, he lifted their clasped hands and dropped them down on the keys together.
“I mean, why don’t you show me what you can play?”
She held his gaze for a moment longer, and he saw the shock and confusion in her eyes, before she turned them to the keys. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she unlaced her fingers from his and placed them in proper position.
Her rendition of the “Happy Birthday” song was sweet and short and entirely amateurish. When she glanced up at him, he couldn’t read her expression, but he lifted one brow arrogantly. “From what you said, I thought you could play real music.”
That’s when her eyes softened and her lips quirked a little, and he could tell that she’d been teasing him. “I can’t play nearly as well as you.”
“I’m not the best.”
“You’re better than anything we’ve seen around here!” She nudged him. “But I can handle some hymns and a few classical pieces.”