Nantucket Romance 3-in-1 Bundle (6 page)

He went back in the house and washed the utensils he’d dirtied making his sandwich. “What do you think, Max?”

The Labrador stared up at him, questioning.

Landon set the dish towel on the counter and ruffled Max’s ears. “You think I should wait until tomorrow, don’t you?”

Did Sam want him to come over? He’d tried all day to analyze her response to him the night before. Maybe he’d caught her off guard. Of course, it wasn’t like she didn’t know where to find him. Besides, he’d waited eleven long years to see her again. One more night wouldn’t kill him.

Six

S
am dipped the wide paintbrush into the five-gallon bucket, letting it soak up the white paint, then slathered it on a thirsty shaker shingle. Caden had been eager to help and enthusiastically applied herself to the job—for about thirty minutes. Now she was somewhere in the backyard, probably turning back handsprings. Hopefully not down the pier, as Sam used to do.

Though most of the island’s homeowners let their shingles turn to weathered gray because of the unrelenting abrasion from the wind and sand, she knew a freshly painted cottage made for curb appeal. Melanie had agreed. Unfortunately, the shingles soaked up the paint like a sponge. She would need more paint than she had estimated, and one coat wasn’t going to do the job. It was going to take twice the time she’d figured on, and she considered making Caden come back to help. Just as quickly, she scratched the idea.

Already the air was warm, and there wasn’t a fresh breeze in sight. She set her brush down and pushed up her sleeves.

“’Morning.”

Sam turned and saw Landon. He wore khaki shorts that revealed lean, sinewy legs, and a white T-shirt that showed off his tan.

Her heart tore off, and she blamed it on his sudden appearance. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” His grin proved otherwise. “I came to see if you needed help.”

She heard a bark from the backyard and Caden laughing.

“I brought Max over. Hope you don’t mind.”

She shrugged and wet her brush. “It’s fine.”

She could feel him staring at her, and a film of sweat broke out on the back of her neck. Didn’t he have a family to get back to?

“Do you have an extra brush?”

A drip of paint ran off the edge of the shingle, and she caught it with the wet bristles. “I’m fine. I’m sure you have other things to do.”

He must have spied Caden’s brush sitting on the lid behind her, because she heard him grab it. He dipped it into the bucket. “I don’t mind. I’m not doing anything else today.”

“Don’t you want to change?”

He shrugged. “These are work clothes.”

They painted side by side quietly for a few minutes. When they reached down to fill their brushes simultaneously, she glanced at his left hand. His wide, tapered fingers were bare.

The way that revelation lifted her spirits was completely irrational. She heard Caden squeal happily and Max bark.

“Sounds like they’re having a good time,” he said.

From the corner of her eye, she watched his tanned arm make small swipes. He was bulkier than he used to be. Taller, too, it seemed. She was no shrimp at five-seven, and he was a good six inches taller.

Sam realized it was her turn to say something. “She’s never had a pet.” The apartments they’d lived in had no-pet policies, not that it stopped Caden from begging. Besides, all pets eventually died, just like Freckles had, and loss was something she longed to shield Caden from.

“Max likes her. I can tell from his bark.”

Freckles had liked Sam too. When her dad brought him home, she thought she was the luckiest girl in the world. Then her dad died, and Emmett came. Freckles didn’t stand a chance. She pushed the memory away.

Landon began humming a Phil Collins tune, one she hadn’t heard since she hung around his house in her youth. She wondered what his life was like now. He probably wondered the same about her. Once, they knew nearly everything about each other. Now they knew virtually nothing.

He seemed to read her mind. “I have a vet business in town, did you know that?”

“I could’ve guessed. It’s what you always wanted.” Landon had always possessed clear vision and goals. So had she, but life got in the way.

“I still love it. But what about you?” He glanced at her hand. Her left one. “What have you been up to?” The unspoken question hung in the air.

Paint ran down her wrist, and she wiped it on her shirt.
Well, Igot pregnant, then Emmett kicked me out, then I lived in a homelessshelter in Boston while I waitressed at a bar until Caden was born.

“Not much,” she said. “I clean office buildings and take care of Caden. I don’t have time for much else.”

They painted in silence for a few minutes, long enough for her to think she was free and clear.

“What about Caden’s father?”

If it had been anyone else, she would have told him to mind his own business. “He’s gone.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask her to elaborate. Some things she couldn’t tell even Landon. Especially not Landon.

“Did you ever marry?”

Sam jabbed her brush at the shingle, filling in the crevices. “Nope.” Let him think Caden’s father hadn’t wanted her and no one else had either. Why should she explain?

“Me neither,” he said.

A weight lifted from her shoulders. She wondered why Landon hadn’t been snatched up by some woman yet. He’d had no trouble attracting girls in high school, and she had to admit, he’d only gotten better with age. Even Caden had commented on his looks.

They painted side by side, using the rickety ladder to reach the gable, and when they finished the front of the house, it was lunchtime. Landon invited them over for sandwiches and chips, then they worked the rest of the afternoon.

Sam was amazed at the way they fell back into their old friendship so quickly. He had a way of getting around her defenses. When the sun sank low in the sky, Landon asked them over for supper. She was about to reject the offer, afraid they’d make pests of themselves, but Landon promised a game of Scrabble, and she couldn’t say no to Caden’s excitement.

After they ate, they set up the Scrabble game on the kitchen table. Sam sank into the wooden chair across from Landon, watching his brows furrow as he lined up his tiles on his rack. In the background, an old Santana song played.

“You’re not thinking you have a chance, are you?” Sam asked him.

“There’s always a first time.” When she’d had a bad day with her mom or Emmett, he was the first to pull out the board game, even though he didn’t like losing.

“Are you good, Mom?” Caden set the first tiles on the board.
Claps
. “Double letter on the
s
.”

“You two have never played?” Landon asked.

How could she explain that she had no time for fun and games? Earning a living and keeping the household running took all her energy.

“Mom doesn’t play games.” Caden found a pad of paper under the directions in the box. “Oh, look!”

The pad bore at least a dozen sheets of scores. Her name and Landon’s. Sometimes his mom had played too. Bailey had always been too active to sit still for a board game.

“Those are sure old,” Landon said.

“Notice who always won,” Sam couldn’t help adding.

Caden flipped through the pages while Landon placed a word adjacent to Caden’s.

“Sheesh, did you ever beat her, Landon?”

“Mr. Reed,” Sam corrected.

“It’s okay,” he said. “She can call me Landon.”

“You call him Landon when you tell me stories, Mom.”

Landon drew four tiles. “Stories?”

Judging by the heat in her face, Sam knew it was turning pink. Somehow admitting she’d told Caden their stories was like admitting he’d been the cornerstone of her childhood. She didn’t know why that embarrassed her.

“Oh, sure, Mom’s told me all about you. She told me about the time capsule, and about that night crawler you dug up that was the size of a snake, and about the time she rode on your handlebars and got her foot stuck in the spokes.”

Sam studied the letters on her rack, carefully avoiding Landon’s eyes.

“She did, huh?”

Sam picked up her tiles and arranged a word.
Coop
. “Double word score,” she said.

“Did she mention I warned her about the perils of riding on handlebars?” Landon asked.

She’d only been eight or nine, and she thought it would be great fun to ride on the handlebars. Barefoot.

“She said you were always trying to talk her out of stuff.” Caden tucked her golden hair behind her ear.

“He was a chicken,” Sam said.

“I was cautious. And for good reason. You broke your big toe, if I remember right.”

“Small price to pay,” she said. “Your turn, Caden.” Sam drew three tiles and arranged them on the rack.

“Did she tell you about the time she dug up Miss Biddle’s flowers?”

Caden smiled. “No!”

“I didn’t dig them up; I just picked them. And only the roses.”

“Her
prized
roses.”

Sam shrugged. “I had good taste.”

“Why’d you do it, Mom? Did you get in trouble?” Caden added two letters to make the word
mob
. “Triple letter on the
m
.”

“It was my mom’s birthday,” Landon said.

“Miss Biddle wasn’t too happy, either.” When Mrs. Reed took Sam over to apologize, Miss Biddle had surveyed the mess, her eyes watering like a sick puppy’s. It was the year before Sam’s dad died. “Miss Biddle didn’t tell my mom and dad. She always had a soft heart.”

“She put a gate around her garden, though,” Landon said.

Sam laughed, and it felt good. When had she last laughed?

They played until all the tiles had been drawn and no more words could be formed. It was no surprise to anyone when Caden tallied the scores that Sam had won. But Caden had come within four points of beating her.

“Caden, it looks like you inherited your mom’s knack for the game.”

“I guess she has.” Sam helped her put away the pieces. She needed more times like this with her daughter. Back home it seemed she was forever playing the bad guy.
Caden, go clean your room. Caden, brushyour teeth. Caden, do your homework.
Why was it so hard to have moments like this with her?

Max barked. He sat at the door, his head cocked toward them.

“You need to go out, buddy?” Landon stood.

“Can I take him?” Caden asked.

“Sure.” Landon put the Scrabble game under the TV console while Caden left.

Sam stood and stretched, her right arm and lower back already aching from the painting. They’d finished the first coat, and she figured she’d wait a couple of days on the second coat. Her muscles thanked her.

“I appreciate all your help today,” Sam said. Truthfully, work aside, it was the best day she’d had in a long time. She’d never had a friend like Landon, someone she felt so comfortable with. He knew her inside and out and liked her anyway, and she experienced a certain security in that.

He leaned over the stereo. Turning it up, he faced Sam, smiling. “Remember this one?”

It was “I Can Love You Like That.” She hadn’t heard it in years. Not since the week before their senior prom. Landon had planned to take Bekah Ward, a pretty girl who had a crush on him through most of high school. He finally asked her to prom, then admitted to Sam he didn’t know how to dance.

“Don’t be silly,” she’d said. “Give me your hand.” His parents had taken the boat out, Bailey was on a date, and they had the little Reed cottage to themselves.

Once she was in his arms, she swayed with the music, her feet shuffling back and forth. He was stiff as a statue.

He stepped on her foot. “Ouch,” she said.

He chuckled. “I warned you.”

“Loosen up. Let your knees and hips move.”

“I can’t.” His breath tickled her ears.

“Of course you can. Close your eyes. Listen to the music. Feel it. Move with it.” She closed her eyes, but instead of hearing the music, she heard his heart. Instead of feeling the music, she felt the warmth of his body.

Sam opened her eyes, looking over his shoulder but seeing nothing. Her palms grew clammy, and she swallowed. Their movements grew subtler. He was moving with her now. “That’s better,” she rasped. His hand settled on the small of her back, and she fought the urge to arch closer.

What was getting into her?
This is Landon. Your best friend, Sam.

“See?” She pulled away, out of his arms. “That’s all there is to it.”

He thanked her for the lesson, but a week later, when she sat home thinking of Bekah in his arms, she wondered who’d learned a lesson that night.

“I guess I was a real klutz back then,” he was saying now.

“Bekah didn’t seem to think so.” Did she sound snarky? She smiled to soften the comment. The Monday after prom, Bekah bragged about Landon’s good night kiss. Sam had wanted to slap the silly smile off her face. That’s when she knew she was in trouble.

Landon cocked his head, studying her. The soft glow from the table lamp turned his skin golden brown.

Sam shifted under his scrutiny and looked away, feeling her skin heat.

“I wanted to ask you, you know.”

The timbre of his voice beckoned her attention. “Why didn’t you?”

The corners of his mouth tucked in. “You’d been my best friend all my life, and suddenly I was thinking of you in a different way. I was afraid of what you’d think.” He lifted a shoulder. “Afraid you didn’t feel the same way.”

What would she have said if he’d asked her? She remembered the dance they shared in this very room all those years ago. Her own feelings were changing then; she just hadn’t wanted to admit it.

“I did finally outgrow my two left feet.” He reached over and turned the volume up. All-4-One belted out the chorus.

Sam knew what was coming next. It was time to leave. Before she turned to pick up her purse, he spoke.

“Let me prove it.” He held his hands out to her, palms up.

All she had to do was step into his arms. Put one foot in front of the other and slip her hand into his. She could lay her head on his shoulder and lose herself in the strength of his embrace. She could forget about her pile of debts and the stress of raising a child alone. She could just follow someone else’s lead for a change.