was for Chase and me, in case we need something. This—” she held up an impressive fan of Benjamins “—is for food. Totally different.”
“Okay,” he replied, still unable to believe how much cash Daphne kept on hand. “While I’m thinking of it, you gotta tell me why she calls you Peaches.”
Holly laughed. “It’s an old nickname. When I was little, I wouldn’t eat anything other than peaches. If Mom wanted me to try something new, she had to mix some of them in or I wouldn’t touch it. Dad started calling me Peaches, and it stuck.”
Looking at the nearly empty shelves, he said, “Looks like you’ve got some shopping to do. Daphne mostly eats out, either on her own or with friends. She told me she can hardly work the microwave, but I figured she was kidding.”
“No, she was totally serious. She’s a people person, and machines confound her. But we can’t take her to a restaurant for every meal in her condition, so when we spoke on the phone last week, I warned her that we’d need some groceries.”
“I can help with that, if you want,” he blurted without thinking. Despite his earlier wariness, something about this spunky single mom made him want to step up and give her a hand. It wasn’t a date or anything, he assured himself, and he could catch up on his lengthy to-do list tomorrow. The work wasn’t going anywhere. “I’ll put away those supplies I brought and meet you out at my truck.”
She didn’t say anything to that, and he wondered what he might have said wrong. Then it hit him that she might not be inclined to get into a stranger’s car with her son, and he amended his offer. “You can follow me out there if you’d rather do it that way.”
Gazing up at him, she studied him for several long, uncomfortable moments. Then, to his great relief, she smiled. “Auntie D trusts you. That’s good enough for me.”
Sam felt as if he’d just scored a touchdown, but the swift connection he’d made with this engaging woman was unsettling, so he kept it to himself. After shuttling in the new kitchen faucet and fixtures for Daphne’s bathroom, he went back to his truck. Reaching behind the seat, he grabbed a clean shirt to replace the grimy one he was wearing. The bottle of water he found underneath it wasn’t cold, but it felt good going down, and he finished it off while he waited.
A few minutes later, Holly and Chase joined him, and he opened the passenger door for them. The boy eagerly jumped in, but Holly hung back, rewarding Sam with another of her heartwarming smiles before climbing inside. He’d counted four different versions of that expression, and he wondered how many more she had tucked away, ready to be pulled out for the right occasion. He’d just met her, and she was already drawing him in like some kind of feminine magnet.
He really needed to get a grip, he thought as he settled into the driver’s seat. Out of necessity, he’d pulled into himself after leaving the service, unwilling to subject anyone to the turmoil of emotions that seemed to have taken up permanent residence inside him. His little sister had accused him of becoming a hermit, and while he believed her assessment was on the melodramatic side, he couldn’t deny that it wasn’t too far off the truth.
One day, he’d be almost like his old self: confident, capable and ready to take on whatever life threw at him. And the next, he’d take an enormous step back into the mire that had dominated his perception of the world since his injuries had sent him home. The physical wounds had long since healed, but inside the scars sometimes felt as fresh as if they’d happened yesterday. He’d give anything to go back and relive that day, find some way to make it end differently.
But he couldn’t. He regretted that more than he’d ever be able to convey, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
Squaring his shoulders with determination, Sam put aside the past and focused on the misty view outside the windshield. Unfortunately, in the enclosed cab, he caught a whiff of Holly’s perfume. With a mental groan, he identified the flowery scent: roses. He’d always had a fondness for roses.
“There’s a small market in town,” he explained as he headed for the highway. “But considering the fact that Daphne’s cupboards are pretty much empty, I’m thinking you need something more than a few cans of soup and a loaf of bread. Waterford has a big new grocery store that should do the trick.”
“Oh, it’s not far, is it? It’s getting late, and I hate to take up the rest of your day.”
“Not a problem.”
A blossoming smile made its way across her face, reminding him of the way the sun came up over the nearby hills every morning. The poetic comparison was so unlike him, he was beginning to wonder if he was coming down with something.
“You’re a nice guy, Sam.”
Her sweet, no-frills compliment trickled into a part of him that had been cold and dead for so long, he’d begun to think it would stay that way. His brain was clanging a warning, but the rest of him apparently wasn’t listening because he found himself smiling back at her. “You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
She didn’t say anything more, but the lingering gaze she gave him before looking out the passenger window made his heart roll over in his chest. Normally cautious when it came to relationships, he wasn’t one to go all mushy over a woman the first time he met her.
But this one had gotten to him on some level that he didn’t quite understand. One thing he knew for sure, though: he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
The next morning, Sam was clearing equipment from the bed of his work truck when he heard the kitchen screen door of Daphne’s house quietly creak open. He knew the sound of someone sneaking out, and he peered over the unruly boxwood hedge that separated his yard from hers. “Morning.”
Chase’s head snapped around, a guilty look on his face. “Hi.”
There was something about this kid that really appealed to him, so Sam decided to play it cool. “Headed to work?”
The boy grinned and shook his head. “Just checking things out. Mom said it was too muddy yesterday.”
“Sounds like a mom.” Sam wasn’t used to dealing with children, and he hunted for something else to say. “Wanna give me a hand?”
“I can’t leave Auntie D’s yard.”
It was a good rule, and Sam didn’t want him getting into trouble. Then inspiration hit, and he asked, “Have you got a baseball glove?”
“In the car. Why?”
“I’m ready for a break. We could play catch over the hedge if you want.”
“Cool! I’ll be right back.”
Skirting around the side porch, he scrambled up the driveway to where Holly’s car was parked. Sam expected to hear the slamming of a car door, but Chase made barely a sound opening and closing it before running back. Smart kid, Sam thought with a grin as he went into the garage to find his own glove and a baseball. They were under a pile of junk on his work bench, covered in dust. And one of the strings on his glove was considerably shorter than the others, with telltale gnaw marks that alerted him he had a mouse.
More like mice, he amended with a grimace. In his experience, the little pests always came with friends and were hard to get rid of. Just as he felt his chipper mood starting its usual nosedive, something incredible happened.
It stopped. As if someone had reached out to catch a ball on its way to the ground, his demeanor reversed course all on its own and began lifting again. Sam had never experienced anything even remotely like this, and he had no idea what to make of it. Since Chase was anxiously bouncing from one sneaker to the other on his side of the hedge, Sam put aside his bewilderment, banged the dirt and sawdust from his glove and tossed his throwing partner an easy pop fly.
After