by Leger, Lori
She slipped her socked feet into her shoes. “I can forgive anything if my feet are warm and dry.”
Sam gazed down at her shoes. “I’ve got an extra pair of work boots, too, if you need `em. They’re only a size thirteen,” he added.
“Thirteen, huh?”
“Yep, and you know what they say about men who wear big shoes, don’t you?”
Carrie swallowed, silently waiting to hear his answer.
“They have big feet.”
She laughed and stood up. “You’re so bad.”
He chuckled as she walked out of the door. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Carrie.”
Around noon, Dale stood to stretch. “Roxie and I are going to lunch. Anybody else coming with us?” he asked loud enough for the rest of the skeleton crew to hear.
“I guess I’ll have to go,” Sam answered.
“Me too,” J.C. told Dale.
Carrie shook her head. “Not me, I brought leftovers. I have enough for two if anyone else wants chicken gumbo.”
J.C. stood to get his cap and jacket. “I’ll pass. I had gumbo last night, but I bet Sam wants some.”
“I sure do, if you don’t mind,” Sam admitted, as Carrie entered the kitchen.
“I wouldn’t have offered, otherwise.” After heating the food, she sensed Sam’s presence in the kitchen before he spoke.
“God that smells good.”
“I know,” she said, trying not to fidget at his nearness. “Hard to beat it in weather like this,” she said, doling out two portions of steaming gumbo into bowls of reheated rice.
“The gumbo smells good too, but what is that perfume you wear?”
“Ob…Obsession,” she stammered.
“Obsession,” he repeated, so close his breath stirred the tendrils of hair at the back of her neck.
She pulled her shoulders back and turned, raising the dish to form a barrier of stoneware. Swirling ribbons of steam rose from the bowl to heat the air between them…Or was it their close proximity raising the temperature in the room?
Carrie’s breath caught in her throat as Sam reached out to cover her hands with his own. Her pulse quickened as he lowered the bowl, allowing her to pull her hands back. The clean, masculine scent emanating from the man before her caused her stomach to flutter. She lifted her gaze to his broad chest, reached out a shaky hand, overcome by the urge to touch the silky, golden chest hair just visible above his collar. Carrie’s hand hovered below his top button for several moments before she pulled it back toward her.
She turned away to pick up her own bowl of gumbo then walked to the kitchen’s exit.
“Carrie.”
Frozen in place at the sound of his voice, she remained silent.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She let her head fall forward. “I’m not upset. Not with you.”
“At what, then?”
“Me, I guess.” She wiped one sweaty palm on the front of her jeans. “I’m as terrified to pass up a chance with you, as I am of rushing into something too soon.”
“You’ll have to explain that one to me,” he said, wearing a puzzled expression.
“I don’t want to send you the wrong signals.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but I’m a big boy, and I can handle myself.”
I’ve noticed. She released a low burst of nervous laughter. “Like I told Christie last night, my biggest concern is losing my children’s respect.”
“You told your sister about me?”
Carrie squeezed her eyes shut. “I may have mentioned you, in passing.” Scowling at Sam’s smug expression, she escaped the kitchen with her food to sit at her desk. Thankfully, Sam didn’t follow, but ate his meal at the small dining table.
After awhile, she heard running water and the clatter of dishes in the sink. Several minutes later, he walked past her desk at a leisurely pace.
“Give my compliments to the chef,” he said, his voice dipping to a low, sexy rumble that made Carrie wish she’d been the chef.
She spoke quietly, keeping her eyes lowered. “I will, and thanks for washing the dishes.”
“Yes, ma’am. My daughter has this magnet on her fridge: Love a man with dishpan hands. See?”
Carrie glanced over at his large hands, wondering what else they could do besides wash dishes.
“Now, I want you to take notice of the fact that I’m going into my office now. You can study to your heart’s content,” he said, giving her a boyish grin.
She kept her silence as she watched him remove files from a cabinet. At last, he settled in his squeaky desk chair, thankfully out of her range of vision.
Carrie tried to concentrate on her study manual. Instead, she envisioned a broad chest, covered with a fine dusting of silky gold hair. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the vision of Sam and his healthy display of chest hair, something she’d always admired in men. Even though she knew one had nothing to do with the other, she’d always equated Dave’s bare chest to his immature actions, and the Peter-Pan-Persona he glorified. What would it be like to be with a man with the physical traits she’d always associated with a real man? She wasn’t talking Grizzly Adams, here, but someone who could grow a beard that didn’t make him look like he had a serious case of mange. A man willing to stay home where he belonged, one who knew how to keep a job, and dedicate his life to his family?
Like Sam?
She released a sigh and stared out the window as the rain increased to a deafening roar. It’s going to be a long day.
Sam sat at his desk and gloated. She told her sister about me. He understood her uneasiness with the timing, but he had to wonder how many chances he had left in this life. He tried to concentrate on anything other than the woman in the next room, but finally got up and walked to the door of his office.
“Hey.” He spoke loud enough to be heard over the din of rain beating down on the building’s metal awning. “I always take two weeks off between Christmas and New Year’s.”
“Oh, yeah?”
He nodded. Was that a tinge of disappointment he heard in her voice? God, I hope so. “Would you want to catch a movie sometime during my time off? As friends…nothing else.”
She looked him squarely in the eyes. “With you?”
Sam blinked once. “Well, yeah, that was the general idea.”
Carrie blushed and gave him a half hearted laugh. “Sorry, I’m not handling this very well. The truth is I’ll have to get back to you on that.”
“It’s okay.”
She must have sensed his disappointment, because she rushed to explain. “My daughter is still in counseling over the divorce. I don’t want to do anything to screw it up.”
“Oh, I see. I thought maybe I could call you during our time off to see if you’re okay, or just to talk, if that’s okay with you?” He waited for her answer, thinking his heart would explode in the time it took her to accept and smile.
“I think that would be a good way to learn more about each other.”
“And, if something happens, and you’re able to move into your rent house a little early, I’d be available to help you out with that.” He raised his hands, to defend his suggestion. “Just as a friend, of course.”
“You’d do that?”
He gave her a quick nod. “We do things like that for each other around here.” He pulled a business card from his wallet and met her at her desk. “I wrote my home number on the back.” As she reached for it he pulled it back. “You’re not going to tear it up are you?”
He watched Carrie smile and held it in one hand as she scribbled something on a note pad. She tore the page from the pad and slipped it into his shirt pocket before returning to her studies.
Sam waited until he was reseated at his own desk before reaching for the paper. Not only had she given him Christie’s number, but her mom’s phone number, as well.
He tucked the paper into his wallet. “Yesirree, that’ll do,” he said, under his breath.
Sam glanced up from the stack of field books on his desk as J.C. entered his office. “Did you get wet out there?”
“Yeah, but that shrimp platter was worth it.” He leaned over and added in a whisper. “We stayed away as long as we could to give y’all some time to talk.”
“I asked her out, but I’ll have to settle for a phone call, instead, not that I’m complaining.”
“You never know, Sam. Baby Jesus might send you something—or somebody—special for Christmas this year.”
“De ta joule a le orrais du le Bon Dieu,” Sam recited.
J.C. stared blankly down at him. “I didn’t get any of that.”
“From your mouth to the good Lord’s ears,” he translated.
By three-thirty, everyone else had cleared out of the office except for Carrie and Sam. She gathered her things as he approached. “Thanks again for the socks. I’ll get them back to you after the holidays.”
He ducked his head sheepishly. “I’ll let you keep `em if I can call you tonight.”
“Tube socks as a bribe…that’s original.”
“You want me to go get you some boiled crawfish?”
“Not in season.”
“Chocolate? I know you like your chocolate.”
Carrie looped her purse strap over her shoulder, and laughed at his offer. “I don’t accept bribes, but you can call me anyway. My kids will be gone for the next two days.”
Sam’s face twisted as though he were in pain. “Mine, too. That house of mine feels too empty without my son around.”
“What do you do, Sam? Where do you go when Nick’s not around?”
“My folks live one street over and I usually end up there for a visit and a meal. Pop keeps a running tab on things they need help with around the house. They’re both closing in on eighty years old,” he explained. “Anything beats being alone.”
She scraped her teeth on her lower lip at his comment. “I used to think that…then I learned better.”
“So, you’ll be alone?”
“Yeah, Christie and Max, my nephew, are spending the night at her ex-mother-in-law’s place.”
Sam inched closer. “Is eight o’clock a good time to call?”
Carrie’s curiosity ran wild as she inhaled his clean, masculine scent. Her lids drooped as her thoughts wandered. What would it feel like to be wrapped in his arms? The deep timbre of his voice broke into her reflections.
“Eight?” he repeated.
She blinked then lifted her lids in one languid motion. “Eight is good.”
They stood awkwardly, both needing to leave, neither wanting to walk out first.
Sam cleared his throat. “Well, I guess this is it, then. Merry Christmas, Carrie.”
“Merry Christmas to you too, Sam—and I hope you have a wonderful New Year.” No Sam until after New Years.
“It will be if you’re a part of it.”
Her heart pounded. “What did you say?”
Sam took a step closer and rested his hands upon her upper arms. “At some point, I’d like you to become a major part of my life in the next year. Do you see that happening?”
Carrie struggled to answer. “Maybe,” she squeaked, her voice hoarse and full of nervous energy.
Sam leaned over slowly and kissed her on the cheek, lingering beside her long after the kiss was over.
Just as he began to pull away, Carrie turned toward him until her cheek made a gentle, but electrifying contact with his. She lowered her lids and lifted her chin, strengthening the skin to skin connection. She heard the low moan, realizing too late it came from her own parted lips. Powerless to move, she felt him pull away before caressing her face in his large hands.
“Open your eyes, Carrie,” he whispered.
Her lids opened heavily as she focused on his lips, mere inches away, and lifted her hands to cover his.
“I’ll apologize for this later,” he murmured. “But I want you to remember me over the next two weeks.” He lowered his mouth gently onto hers.
The first kiss was to taste, light and teasing, a little unsure. Carrie felt him draw away but stayed, hoping he’d get the message.
I want more.
He got it. The second kiss was firmer, more confident, from a self-assured man who knew what he wanted. By the time he pulled away, Carrie could barely stand on her own two legs. She leaned into him for support, her hands spread out against his broad chest until she regained her balance.
“I’m sorry, but I had to know.” He kissed her lightly again, “How you tasted. I’ve wanted to do that ever since the first time I made you laugh,” he admitted. “If that’s all it takes to keep you happy, I might have a shot at you.”
She gazed up at him, slightly dazed. Her head tilted forward, then back in a distracted nod.
Sam grinned. “So, all I have to do is be my charming, funny self to earn your undying love?”
She repeated the nod once more before straightening, coming to her senses. “No.”
He laughed. “I thought I was getting off too easy.” He reached out and ran his forefinger gently along her jaw line. “Focus now, Carrie. What else?”
It was difficult to breathe, to concentrate, with him so near and touching her that way.
He smiled down at her as he brushed a lock of her soft curls away from her face. “What else would it take to make you mine?”
Carrie shivered at his touch and covered his hand with her own. She attempted to clear her throat, as well as her head. “I can’t take being hurt again.”
“I won’t hurt you.”
“Just words—how do I know I can trust you?”
“I’m nothing like your ex—”
“How do I know that?”
“Because I’m telling you I’m not,” he insisted. “But feel free to ask anyone.”
She studied him, watching for signs of discomfort. Fear of secrets being revealed. She saw nothing.
“Lots of people thought Dave was a ‘good ole’ boy’. They didn’t know what he was doing behind my back.” Sam raised his hands, as though his patience was at an end.
“Okay, then. You tell me what you want in a man.”
“I don’t know what I want in a man,” she said. “But thanks to Dave, I damn sure know what I don’t want.”
“Then tell me. What don’t you want in a man?”
She took two steps toward the door then turned back toward him. “I don’t want a man I can’t trust, or one who’ll push me or my kids around. I don’t want someone I’m afraid to relax around.” Her gaze locked on his. “I can’t live like that again.”
She held her breath as he walked over to brush a light kiss upon her lips.
“In twenty-one years of marriage, I was never unfaithful, and I never laid a hand on her.” He pulled her closer for another light kiss. “I’ve been with the same company for twenty years, lived in the same house for the same amount of time. I’m steady as a slab of granite. I love kids, and I promise that neither you, nor your kids will ever have to be afraid of me.”
Carrie sighed as Sam left a trail of gentle kisses along her jaw line.
“I’m no stud. My hair is thinning, my midsection isn’t. I live a dull life and I don’t have a lot of money to spare.” He shifted and continued kissing the other side of her jaw. “If you’re looking for non-stop excitement and someone to buy you a lot of gifts, I’m not your man, but I’d find other ways to spoil you.”
One side of his lip curled adorably alongside his dimple as she lifted one curious brow.
“Ah, the lady wants to know how I’d spoil her,” he mused. “Okay…let’s negotiate.”
Sam rattled off a list she’d never again have to do for herself, from car maintenance to yard work, to bringing her coffee in bed and letting her have control of the remote. “I’ll buy your favorite perfume for your birthdays, and never give you silk bikinis rolled up like a rose for Valentine’s Day.”
“It was nylon, not even silk.”
“Neither,
then.” He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her even closer. “Besides,” he added, “J.C. says we look good together.”
Carrie gazed up into his eyes. “He does?”
“Yep,” he said, lowering his head for another kiss.
She placed both hands on his chest and gave him a gentle push. “Have you been talking to people about me?”
“J.C. spoke up one day and told me I should ask you out because we make a good-looking pair,” he explained. “That’s all.”
I always said I wanted someone tall. She thought how wonderful it would be to have a life without worry, without the constant existence of stress and strain on a relationship. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to trust again? It would be so easy to tell him she wanted him in her life. But not quite yet. She stepped away and stared out at the compound’s rain soaked parking lot. “I need to go before the skies open up again.”
“You be careful going home, Carrie.”
She adjusted her shoulder strap as he pushed the door open for her. “You too, Sam.”
Sam reached out and gently took hold of her arm to stop her before she walked through the door. “Listen, if you have to see your ex, make sure you’re never alone with him.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Don’t let him talk you into anything.”
Carrie froze in her tracks as a low rumble of thunder echoed ominously in the distance. She gazed out at the gathering of black clouds and suddenly felt the dreariness of the rain sodden surroundings creep into her soul. “What kind of anything are you talking about?”
Sam closed his eyes and sighed. “Never mind.”
Carrie turned slowly to face him. “Are you afraid I’ll sleep with him?”
Sam’s tone turned defensive. “I only meant that he might try to talk you into taking him back. You said he could be persuasive.”
Carrie tried to remain calm, told herself not to overreact. “Dave could persuade the old me to do a lot of stupid things, Sam. But I’m stronger now. I can handle him.”
“I sure as hell hope so. I just don’t want anything like that to happen before—”
“Before what?”
“Well, before you, before we…” Sam stammered then clammed up.
“You mean before I’ve slept with you?” Carried waited for him to correct her…hoped…prayed she’d assumed wrong. Her heart sank when he remained silent. Unable to speak past the lump in her throat, she turned and ran out into the rain.