by Leger, Lori
Carrie slipped her mechanical pencil inside the book and slammed it shut. She stood up to stretch her back and legs, then grabbed her coffee cup. “Looks like I’ll be hauling clothes to my sister’s place in the rain this afternoon.”
“You have someone to help you?” Roxie said.
“I don’t need help. I told the kids to bring enough to last for the rest of the week. We’ll get more this weekend.”
Roxie followed her into the kitchen. “I bet you’re looking forward to moving into your own place.”
“I can’t wait. I moved straight out of my parent’s home and into a house with Dave when I was eighteen. This will be my place, with my rules.” She washed her coffee mug and dropped it into the drain rack, turning as she heard a noise behind her.
Sam leaned against the doorway and cleared his throat. “Hey.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. He was nervous about something.
“Hello again. What’s on your mind, Langley?”
“Maybe you’re looking at the wrong town to relocate to. Have you thought about moving closer to work? Fuel costs will only get worse.”
“My kids go to school in Gardiner, Sam. I can’t ask them to move if I don’t have to.”
“It makes more sense than being on the road two hours a day.”
“Is your ex living in the same town as you?”
“No, she’s about forty-five miles away.”
“And where’s Nick?”
“He’s with me.”
“So he stayed with you because he didn’t want to switch schools, right?”
“Well, yeah. I guess.”
“Then I don’t see why you’d be so shocked that I’d want to stay in the same town as my kids. The last thing I’d want is for them to live with their dad without me around to supervise.”
“Because it’s twice the distance,” he blurted out.
“It’s twice the distance as what?” Carrie watched, fascinated by the slow flush infusing Sam’s face. Her gaze trailed him as he spun around and left the room. What the hell?
Carrie left the kitchen to check out the office’s huge wall map of Louisiana. With her fingertip, she traced the highway leading north up to Kenton, Sam’s hometown. She measured the difference between Kenton and Gardiner, and smiled when she put it together. The drive from Gardiner to Lake Coburn was twice the distance as it was from Kenton.
She turned toward the double glass doors and rested both arms on the push-bar to stare out at the heaviest rainfall of the year. Rainwater splashed from the overtaxed gutter system onto the paved parking lot. A woman tiptoed in a ludicrous dance through water six inches deep to get from her car to the front door of the neighboring business.
Headlights glowed eerily through the frigid, sogginess of the winter afternoon. The dreary, saturated day should have been reason enough to depress Carrie. Instead, a lovely feeling of warmth radiated throughout her chest, filling her with something she hadn’t felt in years.
Hope.
Before she could soak in the glow, the reality of her situation hit her: three kids, school in Gardiner, work in Lake Coburn, an ex-husband, the almost certain disapproval from Lauren if she even looked at another man, not enough money, and never enough time. No way could she throw in a relationship with a co-worker. No amount of re-calculating could solve this formula.
Carrie turned away from the door with a heavy sigh, resigned to the fact that nothing would change anytime soon.
Sam plopped down in his rickety desk chair and dropped his forehead into his hands.
“Something got you down, Sambo?”
The query from Jeff, his office mate, had him shaking his head. “Nope, not me.” He pulled a stack of survey books from his desk drawer and slammed the drawer shut with his knee. He opened the top book, stared blindly at the pages, unable to see anything but the confused look on Carrie’s face as she’d asked, “It’s twice the distance as what?” Sam snorted and shook his head, drawing a curious sideways look from Jeff. He pretended to look for something as he busily flipped pages in the book, all the while silently cursing himself for the idiot he was. He’d made a complete fool of himself with his comment. Then he’d topped it off by reddening like a school boy in front of the first and only woman who’d turned his head since Linda left.
“Way to go, dumbass.” His low mutter of self-accusation had Jeff grumbling from his desk.
“What the hell did I do to you?”
Sam closed one book and opened another. “I’m not talking to you.”
Carrie loaded the last of the suitcases and shut the trunk. Rain fell in heavy gray sheets, drenching everything it touched, obliterating the landscape. The yellow glow of the carport barely pierced the darkness surrounding them.
She leaned over to look inside the car. “Y’all ready to get wet?” she yelled over the sound of water splashing out of the gutters onto the sidewalks.
“Sure.” Gretchen’s answer came from the backseat while Lauren remained silent in the front passenger side.
Carrie straightened and pulled Grant close for a hug.
“Be careful driving in this stuff, Mom.”
Carrie bit her lower lip hard to keep from crying. “I will, son. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”
“Naw, I’ll be fine. I don’t want him to be alone. Besides—” He shot a look at his sisters. “It’ll be nice to get the bathroom all to myself for a change.”
She kissed her son soundly on the cheek. “Listen, if he gives you any grief, you call me and I’ll come get you right away.” Carrie climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled up. “Love you.” She blew him a kiss as she started the car and backed into the storm.
Miraculously, the rain let up just long enough to unload their suitcases into Christie’s small home. As soon as they’d emptied the car, the deluge started again.
Christie lugged a large duffle into her son Max’s room. “I emptied out this chest of drawers so you won’t have to live out of a suitcase for the next several days.”
Carrie started unpacking the duffle to place items into drawers. “I really hate to put you and poor Max out like this, even for a short while.”
“No problem, sis. I know what it’s like to be displaced, thanks to my ex.”
“I know, but he sure helped you make a good-looking little boy, didn’t he?” She grabbed the towheaded two-year-old and lifted him, making the toddler squeal with delight. “Hey, little man, is it okay if Aunt Carrie sleeps in your bed?”
“Yeth!” he lisped through his big, cheesy grin.
“You’re a man of few words, Max—just what Aunt Carrie likes.” Max ran off and Carrie sat down on the edge of the bed to nest empty suitcases as Christie pushed them under the bed.
“Yeah, and uh, speaking of what Aunt Carrie likes, how are things at work?” Christie asked her older sister.
“Things are great at work. I’m almost finished with the training to get my second certification.”
“That is not what I’m talking about and you know it.”
Carrie shook her head. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you about him last night.” She checked to see if her daughters were near.
“They’re in the living room with Max,” Christie answered her unspoken question as she got up to close the bedroom door for more privacy. “Now, what’s going on in that office of yours with Mr. Six Foot Two, Eyes of Blue?”
Carrie rolled her eyes. “He’s closer to six three, but you need to stop, okay? I’ve only been divorced a few months. If anyone gets wind of this, I’ll go from divorcee to tramp in one night.”
Christie waved off her comment. “That’s crazy.”
Carrie placed her hair supplies and make up in the drawer of the nightstand. “You know how people around here will twist this like an old dishrag until they’ve wrung out the last microbe of truth. When they’re done, I’ll be the old dishrag.”
She sighed and dropped onto the bed, emotionally drained. “It’s not fair, Chris. As nice as it
is to feel wanted by another man, the timing is so unbelievably off. Lauren would freak if I started dating now.”
“Are you thinking about it?”
Carrie flopped back on the bed and threw her arm over her eyes. “I try not to, but I can’t help thinking about him. Some of the things he’s said to me—”
“Give it up, girl!” Chris plopped down on the bed next to her sister. “What kind of things?”
Carrie ran her hands through her dampened hair, her curls tightened from the rain. As she related Sam’s comment about her being worth the wait, and Kenton’s proximity to Lake Coburn, a smile spread across her sister’s face.
“Oh, God, that’s so sweet. And he wants you to be closer to him,” she whispered. “You should think about it.”
Carrie raised herself to one elbow. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? We all know how two hours on the road every day is eating you up. Mom’s worried sick you’ll get in a wreck. If this is what you want as a career, it’s craziness to face that drive for the rest of your life.”
Carrie traced a finger around the robot-shaped figure on Max’s quilt. “I can’t ask the kids to switch schools.”
“Mom and Dad moved us to another state, and we adjusted.”
Carried sat up to rub her eyes and face, as a wave of exhaustion washed over her. “Sometimes I wonder if any of us will adjust.” She dropped her hands and stared at them. “This whole situation with Sam scares the crap out of me.”
“Really? Hell, I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”
“I’m afraid of everything. Of moving too fast with Sam or anyone else, or not moving fast enough. Of losing my kids or their respect and losing my family’s respect.” She fell back against the mattress. “Then again, I’m getting older. How many chances at this will I get in one lifetime?” She gazed over at her sister. “You know, the last time I went on a date, I didn’t have stretch marks from carrying a set of twins.”
“I hear that,” Christie agreed.
“Whatever I decide to do, I need to be careful, Chris. My kids need at least one of their parents to act like an adult.”
December 22nd
The skies opened up the next day, drenching the city of Lake Coburn with another day of rain. The local weatherman spouted more bad news from the country radio station blasting from Carrie’s car speakers.
“Well, folks, the weather doesn’t care that it’s the last work day before your Christmas holidays. It’s more rain throughout the weekend.”
“Great.” She pulled up to the building. Since the carpool was down to her and Sam, she’d decided it would be better to drive their own vehicles until everyone else returned after the holidays. She regretted it now, remembering how Sam had dropped her off at the front door one day last week so she wouldn’t get wet. She stepped out of her car, right into a puddle of ankle deep water, immediately soaking her shoes, socks, and hem of her jeans. Carrie hurried inside to her desk, cursing with every squish of her saturated footwear.
“Take your socks and shoes off,” Roxie suggested.
Carrie squished over to her locker and pulled out the leather work shoes she kept there in case the crew needed an extra hand. She walked into the kitchen and propped one foot on the plastic chair seat to try to loosen her knotted laces. As she struggled with the tangled mass of cold, wet strings, she heard a low groan from the doorway. She peered up to catch Sam standing in the doorway, his gaze lowered to her neckline. She looked down at her cleavage, visible due to the gaping neck of her wet shirt and her awkward position. Carrie raised her gaze to Sam, who still stared, seemingly mesmerized by the sight of her bosom.
“Like what you see, Sam?”
Startled, he turned to leave the kitchen.
She stopped him with one word. “Hey!”
He turned back, his gaze on his boots. “Yes?”
“Think you could help me with these wet laces?”
“Guess I could try. Can you slip your shoes off?”
“I tried that already. My socks are wet, and I laced my shoes really tight this morning.” She waved her long nails, recently polished. “I don’t want to break a nail, but I can’t stand my feet wet.”
After a slight adjustment to his jeans, Sam sat down on the chair across from her. He tapped the seat, signaling her to put one shoe up on the seat between his legs.
Carrie propped her right foot on the chair seat and settled back to watch him fight the laces.
Sam grunted as he worked at the tangle. “These damn things get hard to manipulate once they’re wet. They swell.”
Carrie kept her silence, pursing her lips as she waited for him to ponder his comment. His hands froze mid-air when the double entendre finally hit him.
He lifted his gaze to meet her amused expression, then went back to his task, jerking hard on her strings. “Look, I’ve lived like a freaking monk for over a year now. Cut me some slack, okay?”
“My momma taught me it was rude to stare. All you had to do was look away.”
Sam met her gaze head on. “Now why would I want to deprive myself of the best thing I’ve laid eyes on in ages?”
His hands kept working, as their gazes remained locked for several seconds. He looked away, finally loosened the lace enough to remove her shoe.
Carrie held her breath as he slowly peeled off her wet sock. When he rubbed the arch of her foot with his work-roughened thumb, the skin-to-skin contact broke her trance.
He stopped her when she tried to pull her foot out of his hands. “Hold on, now.” His devilish grin exposed that one adorable dimple. “What’s this?” He bent to examine her polished hot pink toenails.
She jerked her foot out of his grip and placed the other shoed foot on the chair between them. “My girls practiced on mine and Christie’s toes last night.”
He got the next one untied with no trouble and removed her shoe, along with the second sock. “You have nice feet.” He lightly caressed her foot.
“I have big feet. None of the other women in my family have feet as big as mine. I’m a size nine and a half in a family of size sevens.”
Carrie pulled her foot away and slipped her feet into her dry work shoes. She shivered as her bare skin touched the cold leather.
Sam rose, unfolding his long body from the chair. “Wait here. I have something I think you’ll appreciate.”
Carrie appreciated the sight of his rear end exiting the room. In less than a minute, he came back with a pair of new tube socks.
“I always keep a couple of extra pair in my work bag. You never know what’s going to happen when you work like we do.”
“Oh, yeah,” Carrie purred, as she slid the comfortably dry tube socks onto her ice cold feet. “That feels delicious.”
“Have I redeemed myself?”
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.”
“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 mid out of the gutter, Carrie.”
Around noon, Dale stood and stretched before addressing the skeleton crew. “Roxie and I are going to lunch. Anybody else coming with us?”
Sam loomed in his office doorway. “I guess I’ll have to go.”
“Me too,” J.C. told Dale.
Carrie shook her head. “Not me, I brought leftovers. I have enough gumbo for two heating in the kitchen if anyone else wants some.”
J.C. stood to get his cap and jacket. “I’ll pass. I had gumbo last night, but I bet Sam wants some.”
“Hell yeah, if you’re sure you don’t mind,�
� Sam admitted.
Carrie headed for the kitchen. “I wouldn’t have offered, otherwise.” She stirred the pot containing the steaming brew and sensed Sam’s presence in the kitchen before he spoke. He approached her from behind and she tried not to fidget at his close proximity.
“God that smells good.”
“Gumbo’s always better the next day.” She doled out portions of freshly cooked rice into two bowls.
“The food smells good too, but what is that perfume you wear?”
She struggled to keep her hands from shaking as she ladled hot gumbo over the rice. “Um, it’s Ob-Obsession.”
“Obsession.” He whispered the word, so close his breath stirred the tendrils of hair at the back of her neck.
She pulled her shoulders back and turned, lifting one bowl to form a barrier of stoneware. Swirling ribbons of steam rose from the gumbo to heat the air between them. Or was it Sam’s nearness raising the temperature in the room?
Carrie’s breath caught in her throat as he reached out to cover her hands with his own. Her pulse quickened as he lowered the bowl, allowing her to pull her hands back. Her stomach fluttered at the clean, masculine scent rolling off of the man before her. 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 scooted around him 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.”
Her head fell forward. “I’m not upset. Not with you.”
“At what, then?”
“Myself, 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 sounded puzzled.
“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.”