“Clearly not father-of-the-year material,” Lorelei murmured. Was this one of the reasons Sam chose not to commit to a single steady job or work nine to five in an office somewhere, because he couldn’t stomach the thought of fulfilling his father’s prediction?
“In answer to your question this morning, I don’t have anything against actuaries,” Sam said ruefully. “Just a chip on my shoulder about people who seem married to their jobs. Which is no excuse for being a jackass to you.”
It might not have been the most eloquent apology ever, but it had been incredibly personal. She didn’t know how to respond. Part of her wanted to hug him, which startled her. Lorelei was so not a hugger. If she had been a gambling woman, she would have bet the farm Sam wasn’t, either.
His lips quirked in a sardonic smile that never fully materialized. “Guess we both have some lingering anger toward our dads to work through.”
She blinked, trying to make the transition from the unanticipated tenderness she’d been feeling to his bizarre assessment. She had memories of her father telling her long bedtime stories and tickling her until she shrieked—he’d been nothing like the cold businessman who made a child feel worthless. “I’m not angry with mine.”
Rocking back on his heels, Sam shot her an incredulous look. “I was with you at dinner, remember? It’s okay to be bitter about what happened.”
“A good man got sick and died too young.” She kept her voice level as she recounted the facts. It had been so long ago; bursting into tears now wouldn’t change a damn thing. “I suppose I am bitter about the unfairness of the situation. But I’m not mad at him. My dad loved me.”
“Just not enough to seek medical attention?” Sam asked softly.
Her entire body jerked. “How dare you? That’s a horrible—”
“I’m not suggesting it’s true,” he said with exaggerated patience. “Just acknowledging how a daughter could feel that way.”
Lorelei dug her fingernails into her palm. She’d agreed to stay for the festival—letting the world’s least likely shrink psychoanalyze her in the meantime hadn’t been part of the deal. Didn’t he know she was having a difficult enough time with losing her mom this week? To drag up the past and relive losing her father on top of it…
She tried to numb the grief that threatened, her tone cool. “Even with treatment, there was no guarantee he would have made it. Second-guessing his decisions two decades after the fact would be completely irrational.”
For some reason, her words seemed to rankle him. “I’m talking about emotions, not quantitative algebra.”
“Like you know so much about quantitative algebra?” she snapped. What she really meant was, Like you know so much about me?
His body went still as his eyes narrowed. “Right. Because you’re the Ivy League grad and I’m the dumb hick cowboy?”
“That’s not—”
He took a step back, in the direction of the door behind him. “Changed my mind ’bout that TV. Think I’ll shoot some pool in town. Don’t wait up.”
Lorelei gnashed her teeth as he disappeared into the dark. The man might claim his specialty was taming ornery livestock, but as far as she could tell, his true expertise was in abrupt exits. She revised her earlier opinion about his dating life. Thank heavens he wasn’t interested in a relationship. Any woman foolish enough to fall for Sam Travis would develop shin splints and bad knees from constantly having to run after him.
SINCE THE TWO POOL TABLES in the small bar were both in use and Sam had no interest in drinking, he ended up at the dartboard, playing Oh-One with a stranger who’d introduced himself as Ty. Sam wasn’t sure whether Ty was a local, hired help for the festival or a tourist just passing through—the dark-haired man showed as little inclination toward small talk as Sam.
I’ve learned my lesson. Sam threw the first dart of his turn. He’d done too much yapping for the night already and planned to keep his trap shut going forward. Whatever uncharacteristic impulse had motivated him to share another piece of his past with Lorelei…well, that urge was long gone now. He was surprised he’d given in to it in the first place.
Wanda had always tried to coax him into “bonding” with other people. “Or at least smile more,” she’d say. “If you’re not careful, Sam, you’re gonna scare away all my other guests.”
Tonight was the second time he’d let himself get suckered into a false sense of connection with Lorelei, only to have his misreading of the situation turn around to bite him on the ass. He’d seen the pain in her face over dinner as she talked about her father’s death, the guilt and hurt that she’d never been able to join in her parents’ optimism. Even though he thought she’d been blessed to have Wanda as a mom, Sam did know what it was like to feel outside your own family. He’d always fallen a distant second in his parents’ priorities. While Sam hadn’t enjoyed talking about his father, he’d stammered through it. For a heartbeat of time, he’d felt he and Lorelei had found a patch of common ground.
Then the pity in her eyes—already galling—turned to annoyance and she haughtily informed him that her father had loved her. Then she’d become condescending and he’d had to leave before he lost his temper. It was ironic, really. He’d briefly dated a woman or two who’d tried their best to get him to open up, but he’d never been tempted to do so. Until Lorelei, who, wasn’t interested.
Won’t happen again. Hell, he’d give in and date Barbara Biggins—a blue-eyed piranha in a miniskirt—before he made himself vulnerable to Lorelei again. He flung his third dart, and it went wide, bouncing off the rim of the board before falling to the ground. A growling noise sounded low in his throat, and Ty raised his eyebrows but said nothing as he walked to the throw line.
Several more rounds passed as each of them, lost in his own musings, whittled his score down to zero. Despite a few lucky throws along the way, Sam couldn’t find the precision to hit the exact numbers needed. Could be worse. At least they weren’t playing for money. He heard Lorelei’s disapproving tone in his head as she’d informed him, “I don’t gamble.”
Of course she didn’t. She also didn’t relax, didn’t visit her only family when she’d still had the chance, didn’t let herself feel.
But even as he mentally listed those faults, he knew they weren’t true. Not entirely. If she were as cold as she sometimes appeared, she never would have gotten under his skin like this. It was those moments when the veneer cracked and he witnessed the emotion beneath…
“I’m gonna go out on a limb here.” Ty broke the silence, his tone more resigned than curious. “Woman troubles?”
Sam dipped his head in a curt nod.
“Know the feeling.” Ty tossed a dart and missed by a mile. “Good luck.”
He didn’t need luck. He needed Lorelei to sell the inn and go back where she belonged. But, somehow, looking forward to that didn’t give him quite as much peace of mind as it should.
“OH, AVA.” LORELEI tossed the pamphlet she was supposed to be folding onto Ava’s dining room table. Her creases were completely crooked, the tri-fold uneven. “I’m a bad person.”
Coming into the room with a pitcher of lemonade, Ava paused in the doorway. “Is this about drinking wine in the middle of the day again? Because those tasting sizes are tiny. It’s not like you had twelve actual glasses.”
“I wasn’t talking about wine.” Lorelei would have laughed if she weren’t plagued by the look she’d glimpsed in Sam’s eyes last night.
After he’d first stomped out of the inn, it had been easy to hold on to her anger. But as she’d tried to settle into her work, she kept recalling that split second just before he’d announced he was going into town. When his green eyes had flashed with insecurity. That I caused. Until this trip, she’d firmly believed that the reason she didn’t have a serious—and therefore time-consuming—romantic relationshi
p was because she wasn’t looking for one. Could it possibly be because she didn’t deserve one?
Ava set the lemonade down next to the glasses she’d already placed on the side table. “So what heinous crime did you commit?”
Lorelei bit her lip. She knew Ava cared about Sam, even though she didn’t know him as well as Wanda had, and Lorelei hated to admit that she’d insulted him. “Well, after you and Clinton dropped me off yest—”
The doorbell pealed, and Ava held up her finger. “Hold that thought, dear. Those must be the girls.”
Lorelei heard female voices at the front door and greetings being exchanged. Then Ava returned with four other women. Ava’s definition of girls applied to multiple generations. Gertrude Hirsch, Ava’s mother-in-law, was in her mid-seventies. There were two middle-aged women, both of whom Lorelei recognized from the memorial service although she couldn’t recall their names, followed by a round-faced redhead who probably still got carded when she bought a beer.
As soon as Ava had helped her mother-in-law into a chair, she pointed to the redhead. “Lorelei, you remember Tess Fitzpatrick? I believe the two of you were in the same graduating class.”
Tess smiled brightly, her brown eyes warm. “Lorelei is the reason I passed geometry!”
“I was?” She was embarrassed not to remember, but then, Lorelei had spent most of her teen years preoccupied with getting away, counting down the days and weeks until college.
The redhead nodded. “Mrs. Sumner asked you to tutor me when I was in jeopardy of failing. You were a hard taskmaster, but you certainly got me straightened out!”
At the behest of the math department, Lorelei had tutored multiple students during her four years in high school, and she suspected “hard taskmaster” was among the nicer things they’d said about her. She frowned inwardly, chiding herself for the knee-jerk negativity. Maybe there were others who, if not as instantly friendly as Tess, bore her no ill will. Not all of her former classmates had been as spiteful as Babs Biggins and her clique of friends, quick to label Lorelei a misfit math nerd and laugh about her zany mother.
“So should we work first and take a break for refreshments later,” Ava asked, “or start with the snacks? I made a fresh batch of peach-pecan cornbread this morning.”
The women were all here to help with various projects for the festival. Gertrude had originally founded a dance school in town called “The Hirsch Hoofers.” It had undergone a name change and several shifts in management and Tess now worked there, teaching little girls tap and ballet. Ava and Tess had some last-minute sewing to do on costumes, as several of the classes would be performing this weekend.
“Lorelei came over with her brochures printed and needs some help folding them,” Ava said. “She also needs some suggestions for decorating. No offense, dear, but you don’t quite have your mother’s imagination.”
Lorelei couldn’t help but chuckle at the colossal understatement. “Don’t you think I should keep it low-key, though? After all, I’m not really trying to promote the inn. We’re not even accepting reservations right now. I just want to do this as a goodbye to Mom.” Maybe she’d first agreed to man the booth because it was an expedient way to get the inn, but attending the festival felt right. Even before Wanda had become a local business owner with her own booth, she’d always attended. Lorelei couldn’t remember a year her mother wasn’t there. This’ll be the first.
Tears burned the back of her eyes as she pictured Wanda, her clothes smeared with powdered sugar from a warm funnel cake. Or Wanda cajoling her daughter to try on silly souvenir hats with her.
“Lorelei, dear?” Ava’s voice was gentle. “Why don’t you help me in the kitchen? Ladies, glasses are right there. Help yourselves to some lemonade.”
“Thank you,” Lorelei said once they were alone in the kitchen. She took a deep breath to regain her composure. “I appreciate the excuse to get away from an audience.”
“Certainly.” Ava reached up into a cabinet to pull out small dessert plates. She set them on the counter then stood there for a moment as if weighing her words. “But Lorelei? You know that no one in that room would think less of you for missing your mama or showing your emotions. Feelings aren’t weaknesses.”
“You sound like Sam.” At Ava’s questioning glance, Lorelei added, “He gave me similar advice last night.” He may have been a bit more sarcastic about it once goaded, but the sentiment boiled down to the same thing.
“Then, he’s a smart man.”
Lorelei flinched, recalling his dead tone. I’m the dumb hick cowboy. That wasn’t remotely how she saw him. She found him exasperating, even infuriating on occasion, but not unintelligent. If anything, he discomfited her sometimes because he seemed too perceptive.
Suddenly, she was eager to get through the festival preparations with the other women. As soon as they were finished, she had a cowboy to find.
Chapter Nine
The wind whipped fiercely around Sam and the other workers dotting the Marktplatz, a landscaped public area that was home to the historic Vereins Kirche and considered by many to be the heart of town. Although there was already a permanent pavilion, along with many picnic tables, other tents and temporary stages needed to be erected. Tomorrow, sound systems would be wired and checked. The festival would host performances that ranged from dog-training demonstrations to four-year-old ballerinas to the live music of Praha Polka Party.
Sam was currently hammering in stakes along with Andy Schubert, one of the coaches at the middle school who’d come to help after classes were done for the day.
Andy eyed the sky, overcast with ominous clouds. Weathermen had been predicting another big storm. “Hope this holds off until we’re finished up here.”
“Holds off ’til tonight and blows over before this weekend,” Sam added. He didn’t think bad weather would kill attendance completely, but it could certainly make the festival muddier and less cheerful.
Andy grunted in agreement. “I’m guessing the Battlin’ Billies Marching Band and everyone who’s been building parade floats— Whoa. Who is she and why don’t I know her?”
Sam wiped a hand on his jeans and looked up to follow Andy’s gaze. Lorelei? He frowned, surprised to see her striding toward them across the lawn. Her long hair was loose today, swirling around her face and shoulders with each gust of wind. She had on a pale pink sundress with another one of those see-through blouses—this one the color of strawberries, with shiny collar and cuffs—buttoned over it. Her skirt kept flaring out around her calves and twisting between her legs. He found himself staring as if mesmerized by the motion. Or maybe just by her shapely legs.
Sam jerked his gaze away from her and back to Andy, who wasn’t nearly as much fun to look at. “That’s, ah, Lorelei. Keller. Wanda’s daughter.”
“Think she has any interest in being the future Mrs. Andy Schubert?”
“She’s seeing a guy back in Philadelphia, where she lives.” And if Lorelei had already explained that she and that attorney guy only dated casually…well, Andy didn’t need to know all the nitty-gritty details of her life.
“Bummer,” Andy said.
Sam stood. “I should go make sure everything’s okay. Be right back.” He walked off without waiting for an answer, wondering what was important enough for Lorelei to track him down. Had something happened at the inn?
She stopped, trying unsuccessfully to keep her hair from tangling about her face, and offered him a tremulous smile. “H-hi. I took you away from what you were working on.”
“They won’t fire me if I take a five-minute break. What’s up?”
“I…” She broke their locked gazes, staring intently at the ground. “For the record, you made this look a lot easier last night.”
He stiffened at the mention of the previous night, recalling his resolution at th
e bar to keep his distance from her. “Made what look easy?”
“Apologizing.” She raised her eyes then, genuine regret clear in their coffee-rich depths. “Sam, I’m sorry about how I spoke to you. How I might have made you feel.”
He was shocked by this overture but experience with Lorelei had taught him not to let his guard down. “Don’t mention it. It’s forgotten.”
She reached out to clutch his arm, as if she was afraid he’d walk away from her. “Will you be done here soon? I’d like to buy you a drink. Or maybe something from one of the chocolatiers?” She swiped a thumb across her cheek. “I think that was a raindrop.”
Had the rain begun already? All he felt was her grip on him. “You should get back to the inn, stay dry.”
“Uh…I actually had a friend of Ava’s drop me off on Main Street on the way to one of her errands. I was kind of hoping to get a ride back with you.” She bit her lip. “No car, remember?”
He sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to be able to shake her loose. “Wait over under the pavilion. I should be finished up soon.”
“Anything I can do to help?” she asked, her voice tentative and very un-Lorelei.
He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and block out the earnestness in her gaze. Just as he’d acknowledged last night, it was these chinks in her normal armor that got to him. “Thanks, but Andy and I have it covered.” If the skies truly opened up in the next few minutes and the scattered drops became a torrent, the flimsy material of Lorelei’s blouse and thin cotton dress would be plastered to her body. “Please stay here.”
She nodded. “Whatever you say, Sam.”
He’d seen Lorelei coldly remote before and spitting mad, but like this—cheerfully accommodating and eager to please? This, he realized, was the woman at her most dangerous. I am so screwed.
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