Sam stared at her, uncomprehending. “Okay. See, that sounds like a sad statement. Missing her put you in a good mood?”
“No. I just…I feel close to her here. I’m really grateful you convinced me to do this.”
“Grateful enough to help me fake my own death and get into some kind of witness protection program? Ava has lost her ever lovin’ mind.”
Lorelei smothered a laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the oh-so-scary retired lady and her pretty niece.”
Instead of acting offended by her mild ridicule, Sam surprised her by dropping a kiss on top of her head. “Thanks, darlin’. I knew I could count on you.”
AFTER ACCEPTING A RIDE from Tess, Lorelei arrived at the inn shortly after sundown. Oberon met her at the door with his best woe-is-the-neglected-cat impression. She’d sorted through the mail and was filling a glass of ice water when Sam came through the back door.
He hefted a brown paper sack. “I hit a few stalls on the way to my truck—figured both of us would be too tired to cook tonight.”
Lorelei groaned. “No more food. Ever.” But a moment later, she heard herself ask, “Just out of curiosity, though, what did you bring?”
Laughing, he carried his bounty over to the table and began pulling out various cartons. Lorelei took a seat to better inspect the offerings, but she doubted she could eat anytime soon. This afternoon, Ava had worked a couple of hours at Wanda’s table so that Emily could “hang around someone her own age,” leaving Lorelei and the quiet blonde free to sample lots of festival snacks. After a few stymied attempts at conversation that went nowhere, they seemed to have reached a mutual unspoken agreement that as long as they were eating, they weren’t required to speak.
Lorelei grinned at a sudden memory, thinking there was one person out there tonight who should feel even more stuffed than she was. “I kept spotting this same family throughout the day,” she told Sam. “They had the cutest little boy, probably around three years or four years old, and you wouldn’t believe this kid’s appetite! I swear every time I saw him, he was devouring something almost as big as he was—an entire sausage on a stick, a ginormous ice cream cone. Tess and I passed them on our way out. The kid had a pear in one hand and a bag of gourmet nuts in the other. God help those parents and their grocery bill when he hits his teen years!”
Rampant appetite and ice cream smears around his mouth aside, he really had been an adorable little boy. Lorelei didn’t normally think of herself as a “kid person,” but she’d found herself smiling at quite a few in the crowd.
“I might want to have a baby,” she said, testing out how the words sounded and felt—more an exploratory statement than a declaration.
Sam shot back in his seat so hard the chair skidded on the tile. “Uh…”
She rolled her eyes. He acted as if she’d just suggested getting pregnant tonight. “Get a grip. That wasn’t my bizarre attempt at a come on. I was just realizing for the first time I might actually want kids someday in the far flung future. Unclench.” Did he have any idea how panicked his expression was?
“Right. I knew that. Congratulations. In advance,” he said weakly.
“You know, up until now, I’ve thought it was kind of funny how you avoid women and, by extension, commitment, but this is starting to seem a little pathological. Does the thought of having a family really rattle you that much?”
Instead of shrugging off her question with a macho denial that he could be scared, he shrugged. “There was a small barn at the edge of property where JD and I worked, more like a shed, really, and we cornered the occasional copperhead inside. Whenever I had to go in there for some reason, I’d get this nauseous kind of dread. I got nothing against the institution of marriage in the abstract but pondering myself with an actual wife and kids? Well. I have a venom extractor in the first-aid kit in the truck, should I ever need it, but family’s a permanent condition.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t buy it, the whole desperado loner vibe. You had a soft spot for Mom and you were annoyed I didn’t visit her more. You do have a sense of family obligation.”
“Wanda was a good woman, good to me, and I liked her. But I saw how much she missed you, how wounded she was that you weren’t closer. And now that I’ve gotten to know you better, I see that you’ve got wounds of your own. Family does that. Why create more obligation for yourself and the potential for hurting one another?”
“I know your parents disappointed you,” she said, softening her tone when she imagined the one-two punch of losing a father only to be abandoned by his mom. “But you got along with your uncle, right?”
“Sure. JD did his best by me. He’s dead now.” Sam said it simply, without a trace of self-pity, but his point was made. JD was just one more loss he’d suffered. The actuary in her completely identified with Sam’s position; deeper entanglements equaled more risk. Wasn’t she a believer in safeguarding oneself however possible?
Lorelei felt guilty for even pursuing the argument. What business was it of hers if Sam preferred to stay a bachelor? Yet once again, she thought of that laughing, pink-cheeked preschooler she’d seen today who’d looked so much like his own adoring father. It took shockingly little imagination for her to imagine an equally cute boy riding Sam’s tall shoulders, mischievous eyes shining the way Sam’s had this morning when he’d razzed her about not wearing the right shade of green.
She shook herself out of her reverie. Maybe this was just her heretofore unknown biological clock buzzing at her—next time she’d smack the snooze button and ignore the damn thing. “So I’m out of fortune cookies,” she said, clumsily changing the subject. “I was surprised by how many people asked me about fortune-telling or reading their auras or whatever. One woman came by the table to specifically invite me to her house for a Ouija board attempt at getting in touch with Mom. I’m going to have to come up with something for tomorrow.”
“What, you mean like taking a crystal ball to the booth with you?” he asked, an unmaterialized grin flirting around the corners of his mouth.
“I was thinking more along the lines of printing out tomorrow’s horoscopes and reading the pertinent signs to anyone interested.”
“Guess that’s technically more interactive than the fortune cookies,” he said dubiously. “But it lacks showmanship.”
“Sorry. We weren’t all born with your inherent skill for hamming it up in front of crowds, Mr. In-The-Center-Ring.” Despite her teasing tone, she’d been impressed when she and Emily had caught one of Sam’s lasso demonstrations this afternoon.
His talent and focus were…sexy, she admitted to herself. He’d shown intense concentration on what he was doing but at the same time a total awareness of the crowd, playing to them with his smiles and his tricks. After that display and Ava’s earlier remarks about him telling stories around a campfire, Lorelei was starting to look forward to their trail ride. She and Sam spent so much time alone together, it was a revelation of sorts to watch him relate to an audience. Then again, was it really a surprise that Monosyllable Man could charm folks when he wanted? After all, it wasn’t the general population that spooked him, it was one-on-one connections.
“I could give you tips,” he offered in a lazy drawl.
“Thanks, but no matter how good you are, I don’t think you can teach me roping by tomorrow.”
“Not what I had in mind. You should try your hand at palm reading.” He emphasized his pun by waggling his fingers at her.
“Ugh,” she complained. “That was beneath you.”
“You didn’t like the joke?”
“It’s only a ‘joke’ if it’s funny, Travis.”
In response, she got the full-on grin this time instead of just the hint of one. Her toes curled inside her black ankle boots.
“For palm reading,” he told her,
“you don’t need any of the props. Wanda had fun with her mystical cards and stuff, but you’d just be uncomfortable.”
“I’ll be uncomfortable anyway,” she groused. “I am not holding hands with strangers all day and pretending to see the future in the wrinkles of their skin.”
“It’s not that bad.” He held out his hand. “Here.”
“You want me to pretend to read your palm?”
“Other way around. I was going to demonstrate.”
She extended her arm, feeling dumb but playing along. The sights and sounds of the festival had invigorated her; the idea of retreating alone to her room wasn’t nearly as enticing as sharing this lighthearted moment with Sam.
He traced light circles over her wrist with his thumb, and pleasure rippled through her. What is wrong with you? Hands were not erogenous zones. Or maybe they were—it had been so long since she’d had sex, she probably wouldn’t remember. Then he smoothed his thumb over her palm, peering at her with mock intensity. A lock of hair fell across his face, making him boyishly enticing. For a second, she could forget that he was a jaded man who seemed to think poisonous snake bites were preferable to letting someone get close to him.
His touch feather-light, he followed a line on her palm. Her eyes closed involuntarily.
“This is your wealth line,” he told her quietly.
She played along. “And do you see lots of money in my future?”
“Is money the kind of wealth that’s important to you? I see you rich in other areas—rich in intelligence, the respect of your peers, the affection of your friends. And the total devotion of your husband.”
Her eyes popped open. “There’s a husband?”
“Definitely. Your wealth line intersects with your love line. You’ll meet him soon after your return to Philadelphia. At a coffee shop. He’ll bump into you and spill hot espresso down your skirt—”
“Be still my beating heart,” she said drily.
“—and you, of course, will rip his head off for not watching where he was going. Luckily, he has a thing for passionate brunettes and he buys you dinner to make up for his clumsiness. A great new Italian place, where he tells you that he works for the IRS, which intimidates most women but not you. You’re married within a year and have three brown-eyed children who are all able to ace the math portion of the SAT by the time they’re twelve.”
She drew her hand back. “Very informative. Thank you.” Aside from the three kids—she was just starting to adjust to the idea of one or two—the fantasy would have sounded pretty good a week ago.
She found herself unenthusiastic about the Italian restaurant. Because she was so full, or because she suddenly had a newfound appreciation for hole-in-the-wall Mexican fusion restaurants? And the IRS agent didn’t sound as appealing as he once would have, either. In fact, Sam’s entire silly prediction left her feeling a bit depressed.
Or maybe that was just the hormonal letdown after being inexplicably aroused while he was touching her hands.
“Now you have to do me.” He flopped his hand down on the table. “What do you see?”
A man who had a lot to offer but who wasn’t going to let himself believe that.
She slid her fingers around his and stared down, then rubbed her temple with her free hand as if she were receiving a psychic message. “Oh! Well…this is a surprise. To the shock of pretty much everyone, Barbara Biggins wears you down. You fall madly in love and have eight children. You meant to stop with five, but then came the triplets,” she said sweetly.
He snatched his hand away, recoiling in horror. “Throw some salt over your shoulder or something, woman!”
“I didn’t want it to sound too on-the-nose,” she said, defending herself. “I thought I’d go for the unexpected.”
“Sheesh.” His green eyes were reproving. “If you don’t want to marry the IRS guy, just say no when he proposes. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
She gave a hollow laugh as she stood. “You are a nut. And I…think I’m going to turn in early. Good night, Sam.”
“Sweet dreams,” he called after her.
His words bothered her because, with her skin still tingling from his simple caresses, she feared her dreams would be very enjoyable, indeed. And Lorelei eschewed dreams in favor of reality. She always felt better after taking stock of the situation and assessing the bare facts.
So, reality check. You will be gone within a week and even if you were staying, Sam wouldn’t want you.
Oh, yeah. Now she felt much better.
ALTHOUGH FREDERICK-FEST ran all week—and tourists kept coming each day—the hours for general booths weren’t as long once the weekend was over. And after all, it wasn’t as if Lorelei was trying to drum up business for the inn. So by midweek, she’d pretty much packed up shop and was using her time to either make plans with her newly hired real estate agent or enjoy the festival.
On Wednesday, there was a public cooking demonstration featuring the four finalists in the televised chef competition. Lorelei spent a few minutes beforehand chatting with Grace Torres, but could tell the chef was frazzled by the pressures of trying to win this contest. As Lorelei watched from the crowd of onlookers, someone lightly grasped her elbow.
“Got a minute?” Ava whispered.
Not wanting to distract the chefs, Lorelei ambled off to the side, motioning for Ava to follow.
“What can I do for you?” Lorelei asked.
The older woman fiddled with her glasses, looking sheepish. “It’s not for me, it’s for Em.”
Lorelei heaved a sigh at the mention of Ava’s niece. “Oh, honestly. You’re not still trying—”
“No! Definitely not. Sam’s been avoiding me for days, and Emily gave me quite an earful Sunday night. I suppose I shouldn’t have meddled. It was a long shot that they’d take to each other. It’s just difficult, to love someone and see them squander their potential for happiness. It’s like, ever since she ended things with that pig of an ex-fiancé, she’s afraid to even try.”
Despite herself, Lorelei sympathized. She recalled the look on Sam’s face when he’d maintained he was better off alone. Didn’t he have any idea how happy he could make the right woman—how happy said woman might make him?
“It’s okay, Ava. I understand why you were behaving like a lunatic.”
Grinning, the woman thumped Lorelei on the shoulder. “Smart aleck.”
“So if you’re not trying to foist Emily on Sam and vice versa, what is it that you need?”
“Today’s her last day of vacation. She’s going back to San Marcos after lunch tomorrow. And I’m not sure she’s had a very good time, which is partly my fault. I thought maybe people closer to her age could take her out, show her some of the nightlife.”
Recalling the blonde’s expression when she mentioned her two left feet, Lorelei decided dancing was out of the question.
“Did you already have plans tonight?” Ava asked. “I know you and Sam have been getting ready for that camping trip.” She’d agreed to come by and take care of the cat for the two days they’d be gone.
“I’m free tonight. But are you sure Emily will want to do something with me?” Lorelei didn’t want to mention how awkward the girl had been while they toured the festival Saturday and again during the chili tastings on Sunday. But surely Ava must know how painfully shy her niece was? Frankly, Lorelei was a bit surprised Emily had managed to get engaged to someone in the first place.
“If you extend the invitation, I think she’ll accept.” Ava’s cheeks reddened. “I don’t want her to feel like I put you up to this.”
“Got it.”
In the past two weeks, Ava had been there for Lorelei in countless little ways, and Lorelei was actually glad to have an opportunity to return the kindness. It occurred to her th
at, assuming all went smoothly with the sale of the inn, Lorelei might not see her mother’s friend after this week. Oh, they’d exchange Christmas cards and maybe the occasional email. But Lorelei’s entire goal had been to put her past in Fredericksburg behind her. She had no plans to visit. And as far as she knew, Ava hadn’t set foot in Philadelphia a single time since the fall Lorelei had gone away to college.
A knot of emotion rose in Lorelei’s throat. Acting on impulse, she threw her arms around Ava and hugged her tight.
“Uh…Lorelei?” A second passed, then Ava returned the hug, patting her lightly on the back.
“I’ll miss you when I leave,” Lorelei mumbled. “I hope Emily visits you a lot. Someone needs to check on you and keep you out of trouble.”
Ava laughed. “That might be a bigger job than one person can handle, dear.”
Releasing her hold on the other woman, Lorelei promised, “I’ll come up with something for tonight and give Emily a call.” Ava had passed along her niece’s cell phone number a couple of days ago.
Lorelei decided that Tess would be a valuable resource to consult. After all, Tess knew a lot more about the local “nightlife” than Lorelei did. Hopefully the cheerful redhead could come with them. There wasn’t a single intimidating thing about Tess; maybe she could help coax Emily from her paralyzing shyness.
Today, Tess was working in a face-painting booth where children could have their face whimsically decorated for free. “We can’t charge them, or we’d end up having to refund everyone,” Tess had joked last night. “Every animal I draw somehow ends up with a grotesquely long neck. Even my ladybugs look like giraffes! And don’t even ask me what my attempt at the state of Texas resembled.”
As Lorelei stood behind a group of children and watched her friend apply a misshapen pink blob on a little girl’s cheek, she had to concede Tess’s point. It was a good thing the woman made her career in the performing arts, because she seemed to have no aptitude whatsoever in the field of visual arts. Still, Lorelei wanted to be encouraging.
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