Nantucket Romance 3-in-1 Bundle (21 page)

“Hungry yet?” he asked.

She was tempted to say yes just to relieve the boredom. “No.”

“Need more Advil?”

“It’s not time yet,” Caden answered. “The bottle says every four to six hours.”

“Okay, then, Nurse Owens.” Landon tossed Caden a smile.

Sam was surprised at her daughter’s response to the injury. She’d never seen this mother hen side, and she realized Caden would make a great big sister. After their argument the day before, she was relieved her daughter’s anger had been curbed, even though it had taken an injury to do so.

Still, Sam felt better about staying within earshot of Caden and Landon. One slip was all it would take to unload her secret and change everything.

Awhile later, Landon prepared a simple lunch and carried it to the backyard, then he lifted Sam off the sofa as if she weighed nothing.

Sam rested her arm on his shoulder. “This is ridiculous. I feel so helpless.”

“You’re not helpless, just injured. Let someone lend a hand for a change.”

She tried to relax her body in his arms. He was always helping her, for heaven’s sake.
And you’re always pushing him away
.

Caden was diving into her sandwich when Landon settled Sam into a chair and pulled up another one to elevate her foot.

Above the whooshing sound of the waves rushing the shoreline, Sam heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway.

“I’ll be right back.” Landon trotted down the porch steps and around the house.

“Wonder who that is.” Sam dug into the bologna sandwich and chips, gulping down the ice water. The throbbing in her ankle intensified, and she realized it was time for medication.

Caden offered to get it, and while she was in the house, Landon returned, holding two crutches.

She grinned wryly. “Where did those come from?”

“Scott. Hopefully they’re the right height.” He leaned them against the wall at her side, then seated himself across from her.

Sam was surprised Scott was letting her borrow them. She’d always figured him for the sort whose kindergarten report card read “Does not share with others.” Besides, it was obvious the man wanted her gone yesterday, and that he disapproved of her friendship with Landon. Little did he know she didn’t want Landon here any more than he did.

Sam set her glass back on the table. “Getting tired of carrying me around?”

“Yep.” He smiled around the bite of food.

When they were finished eating, she hobbled back into the house on the crutches. By the time she made it to the couch, she was glad to elevate her ankle again. The jarring steps had aggravated it, and it seemed all the blood had rushed down, resuming the staccato throb.

Landon and Caden finished the kitchen and moved into the living room. The furniture was squished into the center of the room to allow access to the walls. “Bridge Over Troubled Water” played in the background. Not her favorite song. She laid her head against the sofa back and listened to the sucking sound of the rollers working against the walls. The window behind her was open, and fresh air trickled in, alleviating the heavy smell of paint fumes.

Landon balanced on the ladder, rolling paint onto the ceiling. His denim shorts hugged his hips, and Sam followed the long line of his sturdy legs to his tennis shoes. He rose up on his toes, and his calf muscles bunched in hard knots. She looked away.

She must be bored if she was checking out Landon. Wasn’t there a book or magazine anywhere in this stinking house? Sam tapped her good foot and drummed her fingers on the end table. She wanted up! She wanted out of here. She wanted to do the work herself, not sit here watching others do it. Stupid ankle.

Aretha Franklin’s voice crooned about respect from the radio. Caden turned it up, then resumed rolling the wall beside Landon’s ladder. He began singing, working in time with the beat.

Seconds later, Caden joined him. She swayed with the rhythm, waggling her head as she sang the words.

Caden and Landon traded a smile, singing in unison. Sam’s mouth curved into a grin. Caden was a good dancer. She was doing more dancing than painting as her roller went over and over the same spot.

Landon wasn’t doing much better. When Aretha started on the chorus, he turned toward Caden, holding the roller like a mike, and belted it out.

Caden’s laugh was more melodic than the music. She turned her roller up and sang with him. They faced each other, cranking out the lyrics at the top of their lungs. Caden shimmied her shoulders, and Landon wiggled his hips like a defective backup singer.

A laugh caught in Sam’s throat.

Landon finished the chorus on an odd pitch. “Take it, Sam.” He pointed to her.

Sam said rather than sang the words. “Sock it to me.” No one wanted to hear her sing.

Caden called over the music, still bopping to the song. “You can do better than that, Mom.”

Next time the line came, Sam sang it. She couldn’t be any worse than Landon.

Landon whooped, then stepped down from the ladder and took the main part while Caden did the backup.

Sam watched, knowing a silly grin had spread across her face, but she couldn’t look half as silly as the two of them bebopping around the living room with rollers in their hands. They weren’t getting much done, but they were having a blast.

Watching her daughter interact with a man triggered something in her. The music’s volume seemed to decrease as she watched them together, behaving like father and daughter. How many days like this had Caden missed? She was nearly a teenager, and her formative years were quickly fading. How would the lack of a dad affect her future? How would she learn how to relate to a man when she’d had no role model?

Landon set down his roller and took Caden’s, setting it in the pan. He took her hand and twirled her toward him, then back out. Landon still had two left feet, despite his claim that he’d outgrown them. His jerky moves made Caden look all the more graceful.

Caden laughed as she spun. “Is this the way they did it in the olden days?”

“Hey,” he said. “Watch it.”

“This is how they dance now.” Caden did a move with her feet, then wiggled her hips as Aretha crooned.

“Not bad. You must have gotten your rhythm from your mom.” Landon did a move that reminded her of a lame turkey, bobbing his chin in and out.

Sam and Caden laughed.

“Ha!” Caden shouted over the music. “Mom can’t dance.”

He raised his eyebrows at Sam. “Too bad about your bum ankle, or you’d have to show her your stuff.”

“Yeah, too bad,” Sam said sarcastically.

When the song wound down and the next one started, Caden turned the volume down. Landon gave Caden a high five, then handed back her roller.

Sam watched them paint side by side, wishing things were different for Caden. What if Bailey had lived? Would he have married her? How would Landon have reacted? Sam wasn’t sure she could have gone through with it. Either way, she’d cheated Caden out of a father. The thought stabbed her hard.

Sam shook the thought away. She didn’t want to go back to that dark night. Hard as it was to live in the present, it beat living in the past.

Caden finished a portion of the wall and moved the paint pan to the other side of the ladder, then loaded her roller.

Landon whistled to the tune on the radio while he rolled over a water leak on the ceiling. When he needed more paint, he descended the ladder.

“How about if we grill burgers tonight?” He addressed Sam. “I can grab some at the grocery.”

She was about to agree when she noticed his foot descending straight toward the paint pan. “Watch ou—”

His tennis shoe landed square in the middle of the pan. Paint sloshed out over the metal edges.

He looked down, going still, his mouth going slack.

Sam sucked in her breath.

“What?” Caden asked, then peeked around the ladder. Her mouth dropped. “Oh.”

Landon lifted his foot and watched the paint run off his shoe, trickling back into the pan.

A laugh bubbled up inside, and Sam pressed her lips together.

“How”—he paused, shaking his leg to get the paint off—“did the pan get over here?” He slowly turned toward Caden, a funny scowl on his face.

Sam could tell her daughter was torn between horror and humor. “I”—her mouth worked—“I had to move it.”

“You had to move it,” Landon repeated.

“It was in the way.” Her eyes were as wide as silver dollars. “I’m sorry.” A giggle sneaked out, contradicting the apology.

“You look real sorry.” He shook his foot again.

It reminded her of the way Max’s leg shook when his belly was rubbed.

Another laugh sneaked out of Caden’s mouth.

“That’s it.” Landon broke out toward Caden, his wet foot sliding on the plastic.

Caden squealed and took off toward the door. Landon followed, leaving white footprints behind on the drop cloth. Sam wished she could follow, especially when she heard a belly laugh from Caden that she hadn’t heard since she used to blow on Caden’s toddler belly.

When the phone rang, she reached for it and punched it on, realizing her jaws ached from smiling.

By the time Landon finished chasing and tickling Caden, they were out of breath. He’d forgotten how much fun kids were. He realized Caden was probably starved for male attention. She was eating it up.

He took off his shoe and ran it under the outdoor spigot, rubbing the paint away with his fingers.

Caden plopped down on the grass nearby, breathing hard and still smiling. “I’m tired.”

When he was finished cleaning his shoe, he took the other one off and helped Caden up. “Piggyback ride?” He turned and offered his back.

“I’m too old for that.” Her eyes said something different.

“Says who? Hop on.” It was all the encouragement she needed. He squatted, and she wrapped her little arms around his neck.

“Hang on,” Landon said as he stood, hooking his elbows around her knees. She laughed as he rose to his feet. The sound was the sheer delight of a child. If she was struggling with an adolescent attitude as Sam said, all traces of it were gone now.

He jogged up the porch steps, bouncing Caden as much as possible. She tightened her arms around his neck.

He gasped. “You’re choking me.”

He turned and let Caden open the screen door of the porch. After she let go, he stopped and let it swing into her backside.

“Hey!”

“Sorry.” He snickered.

“Yeah, you sound real sorry.” She tightened her arms around his neck in a chokehold.

He was laughing when he entered the house. “Your daughter—” He stopped when he saw Sam was on the phone.

She glanced at him, then quickly looked away.

He eased Caden off his back and went to retrieve his roller. Then he saw the wet paint he’d trailed across the plastic and went for the roll of paper towels. When he returned, he wiped up the mess. Sam’s quiet voice carried across the room.

“Well, uh—I really can’t. I fell off a ladder and twisted my ankle yesterday.” She explained the situation.

Landon wiped harder at the mess than necessary. He could tell it was Tully on the phone. Landon supposed the guy wasn’t going to give up until he got what he wanted.

Over his dead body.

“No, that’s okay,” Sam said into the phone. “I’ve got it covered.”

She was talking about the work on the house.
She
had it covered? He nailed her with a look, which she missed entirely because she was looking the other way.

“Sure. Sure. Okay.”

Was he asking her out? Sam couldn’t even walk across the room, much less go on a date with that idiot.

“All right. See you.” She punched the phone off, and it clunked as she set it on the end table.

The mood in the room shifted. Even Caden seemed to sense it and went back to work quietly. He moved the pan away and climbed the ladder. Was Sam going out with Tully again? Her ankle would only keep her off her feet so long, and then what? What if she wanted Tully?

The clock was ticking. Landon had six more days with Sam, and the reality of it hit him with new urgency. Six more days to make her see how much he loved her. Six more days to make her see she had nothing to fear. But would six days be enough, or would she and Caden go back to Boston and leave him forever?

Twenty-four

R
ain came later in the afternoon, changing their plans from a backyard barbeque to hot dogs under the broiler. Tully’s phone call had somehow deflated the fun. Landon brooded, and Caden looked between the adults with speculative glances.

Later that night, Caden took her bath, then Sam sent her to bed. She must have been tired, because she didn’t complain. Landon insisted on finishing the ceiling before he called it a night.

Sam sat on the couch, the pack of peas on her ankle growing soggy. Outside, rain still pattered against the leaves. The damp carried through the screen, alleviating the smell of paint.

The afternoon had been filled with taut silences, and Sam never felt like more of a burden. She wished she could pay someone to finish the house, but she had eighty-two dollars left, hardly enough to get them through the week. A loan would take too long, even if she could get one, and she didn’t think she could.