by Leger, Lori
Sam hit the building’s back exit with an inward groan as chilled air from the early cold front surrounded him. He made it to the rear of the survey truck and collapsed against the rear bumper. His breath rushed out in a low grunt as the cold metal penetrated through his jeans to shrink his boys into oblivion.
He leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees and shook his head in an effort to deal with the sudden awareness of his feelings. He stood and leaned over, far enough to get a glimpse through the window by her desk. There she was, a perfectly framed scene from a movie projecting through the window out into the dreariness of the overcast morning. He sucked in his breath as Carrie laughed at something else J.C. told her, then groaned out loud at the ache brought on by a woman he used to think was a huge pain in the ass.
Sam stood suddenly and jerked open the work van’s rear doors, determined to find something to keep his mind occupied. He thumbed through the stack of survey books, collected the trash, and rearranged the equipment.
He replayed their conversation in his mind…her fear of ending up alone.
“Not if I can help it.”
Why would she want you?
“I’m better than what she had.”
Hell, that doesn’t take much.
He rearranged the stack of survey books filled with his own neat, hand-written field notes and precisely drawn details. Once more, he tossed them back into the box he kept them in, and slammed the truck door harder than he’d meant to.
He tried not to stare up at the window, but the sight of her profile lured him. He was a big fat robin and she was a live cricket. Her laughter exposed her pronounced dimples. Dimples, along with the two different colored eyes that she claimed were “—really just a birth defect.” Birth defect or not, they sure added to the package. Those luminous eyes that sparkled green one moment, blue the next, accompanied by hair that shimmered with golden-red highlights in the afternoon sun. All of those luscious curves that accompanied the full bodied woman, damned well-proportioned on her five foot and seven inch frame, just right for a man of his height. The sudden tightening in his groin area made him grimace with need, again.
You want that.
“Not too surprising for a guy who’s as horny as a three-balled tomcat,” he muttered.
You want HER.
“She’s too freaking complicated,” he continued, trying to convince the other. Sam gazed up at her profile and watched her lean back in her chair and stretch in an alluring arch.
He forced himself to turn away from her, wanting to avoid the tried and true method of ass on an ice cold bumper to diffuse his single man’s affliction. Try as he might, he couldn’t get the image of her out of his mind. A minute later, he returned to the dreaded bumper and plopped down on the frigid metal. He searched the area, praying nobody had seen his one man performance, stellar enough to earn him a one-way trip to the psyche ward.
“You see?” he groaned. “Women are just good to make you crazy.” Crazy, or not, he couldn’t talk himself out of wanting to explore every inch of her body at his leisure. He stood and turned back toward the window.
Once more, his inner voice spoke to him. You want that.
Sam watched for a moment longer more before turning away, determined to put her out of his mind. He didn’t have anything to offer someone like her. More importantly, if he went out on that limb and she rejected him…Holy crap, how much was one man supposed to take?
CHAPTER 4
The first half of November flew by for Sam, highlighted by one special day. On the sixteenth, he’d answered a call from Carrie’s mom. After telling her Carrie was off taking a certification test, the friendly and talkative woman had divulged it was her daughter’s birthday.
By the time the newly turned thirty-six-year old returned from testing, her co-workers had a small party waiting for her, complete with birthday cake, courtesy of Sam and a local bakery. Once Carrie learned Sam was responsible, she’d given him a look of appreciation so stellar, he knew his act had been well worth the effort.
With November came a steady supply of cold fronts. The Monday before the Thanksgiving holidays rolled around with the morning temperature hovering around forty degrees as the humidity dropped drastically.
Sam locked his truck and zipped up the all-weather work jacket while waiting patiently at the car pool’s pick-up spot. His heart pumped furiously as he watched the approach of Carrie’s gray sedan. Sam wiped his hands on his jeans, hands as clammy as a twelve year old boy playing touchy feely with the preacher’s daughter. “You big dumbass,” he mumbled to himself as she pulled up in front of him.
His heart dropped to his toes when he saw Cory, the youngest member of his survey crew, sleeping comfortably in the front bucket seat next to the driver. Sam’s only option was to crawl into the Escort’s cramped back seat.
“Pull up that seat, Cory,” Sam groaned, trying to stretch his long legs to a less cramped position. “My knees are touching my chin back here. You know,” he added, thinking he had nothing to lose. “If you really wanted to score points with your boss, you’d switch seats with me.”
Cory gave a sleepy groan and moved to open the car door, until Carrie placed a restraining hand on his forearm.
“Don’t you dare,” she commanded then shot a glare in Sam’s direction. “It won’t kill you to sit back there for a change.”
“But my legs are a lot longer than hi…”
“You need your diaper changed too, you big baby?” she asked, throwing gravel as she peeled out of the parking lot to get back onto the highway.
“You offering?” Expecting a comeback, he glanced in her direction. One look told him she wasn’t in a mood for jokes. Instead of a grin and dimples, he encountered furrowed brow and a frown. She steered with her right hand in a white knuckled grip while the left supported her forehead. Only a fool would ignore those crystal clear signs of a woman on the verge of a blowup. Make that a major “open-your-mouth-and-I’ll-tear-you-a-new-one” meltdown. He settled into the back seat without another word.
Sam stalked out of his crew’s darkened office. “Where the hell are Craig and Dan today?”
“Called in sick,” Dale told him from across the room. “They got the flu…out the rest of the week.”
Sam slapped his cap against his thigh. “That’s just great. How am I supposed to work with half a crew when you need that survey finished by the end of this week?”
“It’s kinda slow right now. I guess we can spare somebody from the office,” Dale suggested.
J.C. jumped out of his seat. “I’ll go!” he volunteered then sent a hopeful look in Carrie’s direction.
“What?” she asked, her brows lifted in confusion.
“You want to come with us today? We need two people to work da chain.”
Carrie gave J.C. a look that would have scared the crap out of a lesser man. “I swear to God, if that’s ‘man-code’ for something disgusting, I may have to kill you.”
J.C. shook his head and clucked his tongue in disapproval. “Listen to you, wit your mind in da gutter. It takes two people to work the hundred foot chain for stationing the roadway.”
Sam chuckled. “We’ll show you how. Come on, you’ll have a chance to go outside and get some fresh air and sunshine. It’s gonna be a nice day.” He turned to their supervisor. “How about it Dale, can we borrow these two today?”
Dale lifted his gaze from the letter size set of plans cluttering his desk. “Get her a vest and a hard hat.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll pick ‘em up on the way out,” Sam told him before heading to his office.
Carrie met Roxie’s look of amusement and made a face. “I don’t know what to do out there.”
Roxie gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “It’s easy. I started out with the crew, you know. Once I got to be seven months pregnant with my last daughter, Sam wouldn’t take me out anymore. He said none of them could stomach delivering my baby in the back of that old van we used to drive.”
Carrie smiled, in spite of her determination not to. “You’re not very convincing as Butterfly McQueen,” she told Sam, whose eyes sparkled with laughter.
“Now wouldn’t it be sad if I had been?” he said, bending his hand at the wrist in a distinctly feminine gesture.
“All right,” she agreed. “What do I need to bring?”
“Did you bring a lunch today?” Sam asked her.
“Nope, I was rushed and forgot it in my fridge.”
“There are some fast food places in the area. I’ll treat you to lunch today,” he told her.
She grabbed her purse and turned toward the exit. “That’s not necessary.” She walked outside to meet everyone in the van.
James drove, with Sam occupying the front passenger seat, while Cory, Carrie, and J.C. sat in the back.
During the thirty minute drive up to Allen Parish, Carrie reflected on the previous night’s argument with Dave. After she’d turned down his magnanimous phone proposal for a round of mercy sex, he’d told her, again, how he wanted her out of the house. Again, she ignored him, knowing it was only an idle threat. Despite the fact that their divorce had been as cheap and easy as Dave’s other women, the settlement conditions were clear. She could stay in that house up to a year until she was ready to move out. Once she did, he’d have to pay her car note and school loan.
The sound of a loud fart drew Carrie’s attention. She whipped her head around toward the other occupants. “Oh, come on!” she cried, frantic at being stuck in a moving vehicle with four gas-passing men.
Three of the men snickered with laughter as Sam stared straight ahead, a smug look on his face.
“Sam, you didn’t.”
He looked straight at her and made an identical noise using his mouth. “You’re right for a change. I didn’t.”
She laughed, despite her previously morose mood. “It figures that you’d master something so totally useless.”
“Ah, but if it made you laugh, it’s not useless,” he said. “Besides, I wanted to get your attention to let you know we’re in God’s country now.”
“Oh? Are there a lot of fire and brimstone bible thumpers around here?”
“A few, but mostly there’s me,” he said, pointing a thumb to his chest. “I live just up the road a ways.”
“The job’s in Kenton today?”
Sam turned to her and winked. “It’s just north, but you’ll be close enough to bask in its sanctified glow.”
“You are so full of it, I’m amazed your eyes aren’t brown,” she said, before turning toward the window to conceal the smile she couldn’t hold back.
When the group arrived at the job site, Carrie laughed as J.C. bounced out of the truck into the fresh air. “You act like our Chesapeake when we let him out after he’s been kenneled all night.”
The country boy from Cameron Parish slapped his chest with both hands. “I love being out wit’ de crew in all dis fresh air.” He cocked his head toward Sam and whispered so only Carrie could hear him. “I bet you like it too, yeah?”
She frowned at his teasing insinuation before shoving playfully at her friend. “Shut up, Julian.” Turning her back on his laughter, she focused on a loud clattering noise.
Sam shook a can of spray paint then aimed it toward the asphalt shoulder of the road. Once he’d painted 0+00 on the surface in bright orange paint, he handed her the can and fiddled with the electronic distance meter in the work truck. “I need this roadway marked just like that every hundred foot all the way to the intersection? You want to drive while I paint?”
Carrie nodded in understanding. “Just paint a couple of stations and I’ll take over from there.” By the third station, she took over the painting so Sam could drive. “Where’s that chain J.C. was talking about?” she asked Sam after a quarter of a mile.
“We used to use a hundred foot cable before we got the distance meter. Still have to go back to it every now and then. The chain never breaks down or needs to be calibrated like electronics do.”
In the process of painting stations Carrie discovered the crisp, cold air and exercise lifted her spirits as much as the conversation with Sam. Before long, a full hour had passed, and they’d stationed all the way to the intersection.
“Good job,” he told her as she climbed into the front seat next to him. “You need a bathroom break?” When she said she did, he nodded. “There’s a convenience store a mile up the road.”
“None of the guys need a bathroom break?”
“Not one they can’t take when you’re not around.”
Carrie took off her borrowed hardhat to fluff her hair. “I’ve always envied you guys the ability to just ‘go’ anywhere.”
“Don’t blame us for God’s design.”
Carrie dug around in her purse for a compact to check out the fresh air damages to hair and make-up. “I still think God has a twisted sense of humor,” she answered. “But then, it’s a miniscule price to pay for what we women got instead of penises.”
“What’s that? PMS?” he asked.
She tapped her head with one finger. “Brains,” she said, as Sam laughed.
She removed her sunglasses and pressed both palms to her eyes then tried to stifle a yawn.
“You all right?”
She pushed up her sleeves and crossed her arms. “Tired.”
“You don’t look like you got much sleep. Maybe I should have left you at the office today.”
She whipped her head around. “No, I’m glad I’m out. It’s good to know what you guys do out here. Besides,” she paused. “It keeps my mind off things.”
He steered the truck into the gas station’s parking lot and pulled up to the glass doors. “What things?”
“Nothing time won’t take care of, I hope,” she added.
Carrie walked inside the store and clasped her hands together. “Inside His and Her restrooms.” She gave him a wink. “I feel so special.”
He pushed her playfully. “Go potty, smart ass.”
Carrie gave one snort then giggled all the way to the restroom door.
Her third day working with Sam’s crew started with a light fog and damp chill in the air. By the time they piled into a burger joint for lunch, the sun’s appearance had transformed the unpleasant morning to a beautiful day. Sam suggested getting their meals to go and eating in the town’s park.
“Sounds good to me,” Carrie responded before stepping to the counter to give her order.
“Since this is your last day to work with us this week, how about if I buy you lunch,” Sam suggested, hoping she’d let him. He knew she’d order the ninety-nine cent sandwich to save money.
“That’s not necessary.”
“I know, but I want to.”
She shook her head. “I pay my own way.”
“Come on. Let me buy you a real burger.”
“The junior burger is only half the calories.” She placed one hand on her rear end. “Believe me, I didn’t get this big butt from starving myself.”
Sam refrained from saying her butt was just the right size, and used every ounce of restraint to keep from checking it out. All he needed was an uncomfortable condition that couldn’t be explained in the middle of a fast food restaurant. Carrie paid for her lunch then walked off toward the survey truck to wait for the others.
Sam lumbered over to the back of the line to wait his turn as J.C. jerked his head in Carrie’s direction. “You should ask her out.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yep, you’re both tall, with blue eyes. Or she has one, anyway.”
Sam gave J.C. a look of feigned shock. “She only has one eye?”
“One blue eye—de other is green, Jackass.” J.C. shook his head as Sam grinned down at him.
“All I�
�m saying is dat you two would look damn good together.”
“That so?” Sam asked as he watched Carrie’s progress toward the truck.
“Yep. And don’t act like you hadn’t thought about dat already, no. ‘Cause I’ve seen you watching her. You look like a man who’s starvin’ to death in a face off wit a big bowl of seafood gumbo.”
Sam considered J.C.’s comments as he watched Carrie lean up against the suburban, waiting for the rest of them. She looked good every day, but working with the crew seemed to agree with her. With her cheeks pink from the combination of exercise and sunshine, she looked better, happier even, being outside and away from her troubles. He could think of a couple of more places she’d look damn good. In his arms. In his bed. In his life?
He gave a slow nod as he watched Carrie interacting with another member of the crew. Thoughts of her had steadily infiltrated his mind, betraying him, breaking down his resistance until he could barely think of anything else whether she was near, or not. He knew he was in serious trouble as the thoughts gradually turned from plain old man-in-need, to wanting nothing more than to care for her, protect her, be in her presence.
In three months he’d transformed from ‘Oscar the Grouch’ to his former ‘Office Clown’ glory. If his crew was grateful to have him back, he was downright ecstatic to be back. It felt good to want to get out of bed in the morning. It felt extraordinary to be able to see her at the office five days a week. His world had turned ass-backwards as he’d grown to hate Fridays and long for Monday mornings.
Sam knew that Carrie was responsible for the new/old him, and he also knew what that meant. It was time to pull the pork off the pit…He was done. He couldn’t deny his feelings for her any longer. He was head over heels crazy about the lady.
Carrie balled up the bag from her lunch and sunk it into the trash can about eight feet away from their picnic table. “How long are we going to be here?”