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“Yes!” Phoebe raced down the hall and disappeared around a corner.
Faith went after her and Sam realized he’d never had the opportunity to look at her from the back. She was always facing him with a counter in between them. She had quite a superior rear view and now he knew what he’d been missing all this time.
He caught up with them in the room that overlooked the front lawn with a spectacular view of Blackwater Lake beyond it. There was a queen-size bed, walk-in closet and bathroom.
“There’s a bed in here even though no one lives here?” Phoebe asked.
“Yes.” He’d never thought about that. Furnishing the whole house seemed like a good idea when you didn’t want it to be a big, empty shell.
“I think you and I can share this room, Phoebs,” her mother said.
“But no one is using that other room. The green one. Sam said so.”
“I know, sweetie. But I know you. It seems like a good idea right now but when the sun goes down you’re not going to want to be in there by yourself.”
“I promise I will,” Phoebe begged.
“I have an idea.” Sam looked at Faith. “Not taking sides here, but how about if she tries sleeping in the green room. If you change your mind, you can always crawl in with your mom.”
“You’re okay with that?” Faith asked.
“Of course. There are five bedrooms in this house. I have one. The other four are up for grabs.”
Faith was wearing an uncertain expression as she nodded. “I promise when we’re able to go home, we’ll leave the rooms in the same condition we found them.”
“Don’t sweat it. I have a cleaning service.” He set the pink backpack just inside the door of the green room.
“Okay.” She smiled. “I’m grateful for your hospitality.”
“Don’t do that,” he said.
“What? Thank you? It’s the polite thing to do.”
“Mommy always tells me to say thank you,” Phoebe chimed in, then disappeared.
“I meant don’t be nice to me,” he told Faith. “It’s just weird.”
She laughed and for a few moments the tension in her expression disappeared. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Mommy! There’s a pool!”
“Phoebe?” She set her bags inside the doorway then called out, “Where are you?”
“In the big family room upstairs.” The reply was muffled because she was around a corner and down the hall.
Sam put his palm to the small of Faith’s back as they walked in the direction the little girl had gone. Touching her wasn’t the dumbest thing he’d ever done, but it ranked fairly high up on the list. Awareness tingled in his fingers and crackled through his entire body. The whole point of opening his home to evacuees was to be neighborly. But touching her opened up something else, too. What had she called it? Oh, yes. Connecting in a physical way. The idea of that was entirely too appealing.
They found the little girl looking out the window at the backyard. The pool was big, one could say proportional to the rest of the property. He’d put it in for swimming laps and staying in shape. Also for summer parties and entertaining. And he was particularly proud of the built-in barbecue area and outdoor kitchen. There was also a covered patio and the yard was meticulously landscaped.
“Do you want to go outside?” Sam asked.
“Yes!” Phoebe didn’t wait for further invitation. She took off ahead of them.
“Does she always speak in exclamation points?” he asked.
“Only when she gets her choice of bedroom and there’s a pool outside.”
Shoulder to shoulder, he and Faith followed, but this time Sam made it a point not to touch her. No one could say he didn’t learn from his mistakes.
They met Phoebe at the family room’s French doors, where she waited impatiently for him to unlock and open them. Outside, he watched the little girl stop and stare, taking everything in. It wasn’t long before she moved closer to the water.
“Don’t fall in,” Faith warned.
Sam positioned himself close enough to pluck her out if necessary. “I have arm floaties for my niece if you want them.”
“I can swim,” Phoebe informed him. “My camp is at the lake and they taught me how.”
“Good.”
“Can I go swimming?” she asked.
“That’s up to your mom.”
“As long as there’s an adult outside with you.” Faith held up a hand, obviously aware protest was coming. “I know you’re not a baby and can swim but water safety starts with never swimming alone.”
“Your mom is right,” Sam agreed.
“Okay. They told us that at camp, too.” The little girl moved closer to him and looked up. “I like you, Sam.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Squirt.”
“None of my friends have a pool,” she continued.
“What am I? Chopped liver? I thought I was your friend,” he protested.
“You are. So,” she continued, “does that mean I can go swimming anytime I want? As long as there’s an adult there with me?”
“Whoa, kiddo,” Faith said. “Remember we’re only here temporarily. One day. Maybe two. Just until the fire is contained and it’s safe to go home.”
“You told me that a million times, Mom.” She went over to explore the outdoor kitchen.
“You know, Faith, she’s welcome to come swimming anytime,” Sam offered.
Faith glanced at her daughter, who was opening drawers and the outdoor refrigerator and too far away to hear. “Please don’t make promises to my child that you don’t intend to keep.”
“I have every intention of keeping that promise.”
“Maybe right this minute,” she said. “But life will go back to normal and there will be female visitors. Two strikes and out. Breakup bouquets and peonies. A promise to a little girl could get in the way of that lifestyle and your women.”
“So much for you being nice to me.”
“I wasn’t being mean. Just stating a fact.” She looked past him and frowned. “Phoebe Catherine, I told you not to touch anything. Stop right now.”
Sam watched her walk away and realized several things, starting with the fact that Phoebe’s father didn’t seem to be in the picture. One could presume that Faith had been let down big-time by a man. The self-reliant message was a big clue, as was the warning to keep his promise to her child or she’d come after him like a pack of wolves. She hadn’t actually said that but the expression in her eyes had conveyed the message loud and clear.
But she needed to realize a few things, too. There weren’t as many women in his life as she thought and he made sure none of them had expectations. He wasn’t a bad guy and wanted Faith to know it. He was very careful not to make promises he couldn’t keep. Starting with commitment.
Very soon he was going to set her straight about all of the above.
Chapter Three (#ue5bca3b3-68b7-5b47-b9d2-dd34c7ed68d4)
Faith left work early the next day and headed to the fire staging area for a volunteer shift. At the base of the mountain she saw auxiliary fire trucks parked, and soot-covered, exhausted men slumped against them. Not far away there was a tarp, and underneath it were picnic benches and a propane steam table where food was being kept warm. After parking her van she got out and instantly was hit by a gust of hot wind that whipped her hair around. She slid a scrunchie from the pocket of her jeans and pulled the strands off her face into a ponytail, then walked over to the food area.
Delanie Carlson, who owned the local pub, Bar None, transferred a case of water bottles to a large insulated chest then poured a bag of ice in to cool them down quickly. At a stove stirring food she saw Lucy Bishop, chef and co-owner of the Harvest Café. Both women were good friends.
“It’s really windy.” That was stating the obvious and there was no point in doing that. They all knew what could happen and worry clawed at her. But she was here to do her part and take her mind off the fact that she could lose her home.
“What can I do?” she asked Lucy.
“Organize the paper plates and utensils for an assembly line. The firefighters are on a regular rotating schedule,” the blue-eyed blonde said. “They need the breaks to cool off, eat and rest. Otherwise someone could make a deadly mistake.”
“That sounds like Desmond Parker’s doing. Everyone says he’s a really good fire captain,” Faith said.
“That’s the rumor. I’ve seen for myself that he’s hard-core about enforcing breaks.” Lucy’s tone said she respected him for doing a great job, but in other areas he was not deserving of her high opinion.
“Ice is really cold.” Delanie joined them, shaking water off her hands.
“That’s kind of the point.” Faith smiled.
The auburn-haired woman returned it. “But I wish someone could invent ice that didn’t give you frostbite.”
“Get ready, ladies. We’re almost up.” Lucy pointed to a group of men who had just disembarked from a truck that’d pulled into the staging area. They were wearing thick coats and pants plus heavy boots and other firefighting gear. Their first stop was a comfort station, where they poured water over their heads. Then the grimy jackets were shucked before they lined up at the food station.
Faith handed the first guy a plate and plastic utensils wrapped in a paper napkin. “How are you?”
“Hot. Hungry. Beat.”
There was nothing else to say. Clearly he didn’t have the energy to make small talk. She couldn’t imagine how difficult the working conditions were.
Lucy piled the man’s plate with food. It wasn’t fancy but there was plenty. “Is there progress?”
“Hard to tell.”
“There’s a table over there with cookies,” Delanie said, handing him an icy-cold water bottle. “And thanks for what you’re doing.”
“It’s my job,” he said simply.
“I know. But thanks. When this is over there’s a round of drinks waiting for you guys at Bar None.”
“Then we better get it over.” His smile was weary.
For the next hour they served food, distributed water, accepted and organized food donations dropped off by concerned townspeople—and tried to lighten the load of every exhausted man and woman who was taking a break from the fight to save other people’s homes and property from the fire.
Faith handed Desmond Parker a plate. He was the last man in this group, having waited until each of his guys had been taken care of. “Hi, Des.”
“Hey, Faith.”
“You look terrible.” Her heart went out to him, but she hadn’t meant to be so blunt. “I mean that in the nicest possible way. No offense.”
He laughed. “None taken. I get it.”
The man was in his thirties and had dark hair and blue eyes. Suspenders from his insulated pants seemed to highlight his broad shoulders, and his black T-shirt with BLFD—Blackwater Lake Fire Department—in bold white letters stretched tightly across his impressive chest. He was really handsome, even with the grime all over him. But Faith didn’t feel a single flutter in the vicinity of her heart. Not like she did with Sam.
“How’s it going?” she asked him.
“This is a tough one.” Worry etched in the soot on his face told her it was worse than he would say. “Wind speeds pick up late in the afternoon and the fire jumps from hill to hill. That stretches our resources even thinner.”
“So no containment yet.”
“Maybe ten percent.” His eyes darkened. “Don’t you live somewhere near Crawford’s Crest?”
“Yeah. Phoebe and I had to evacuate yesterday.” A vision of Sam Hart pouring her coffee that morning flashed before her eyes. He was a very good host, but with all the women in his life he’d probably had a lot of practice. “Do you have any information about the area?”
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “Got my hands full on the fire line.”
“My bad. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Don’t worry about it. Of course you want news about your property. Wish I had something for you.” His expression was sympathetic. “Well, I better get some food.”
“Right. Sorry. Didn’t mean to hold you up.”
Faith watched Lucy fill his plate without saying a word to him. That was weird since she’d chatted with the other guys who came through—teased and talked and lifted their spirits. But not a syllable or a smile for Des Parker. What was up with that?
When the rush was over the three of them replenished supplies at their respective stations, then looked at each other.
Delanie glanced at the plume of red-tinged smoke that just seemed to expand and obscure any blue in the sky. “I wish there was more I could do to help.”
“You’ve already taken people into your home,” Lucy pointed out.
“So have you.”
“The families you gave shelter to are pretty lucky,” Faith pointed out. “There are worse places to stay than with the proprietors of Bar None and the Harvest Café.”
“Yup.” Delanie nodded. “Except for the part where they could lose their homes and all their worldly possessions.”
“Oh my God, Faithie.” Lucy pressed a hand to her forehead. “I forgot. Your house is in the evacuation zone, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She kept trying to tell herself that as long as she and Phoebe were healthy and safe nothing else mattered, that worry wouldn’t do any good. But sometimes it slipped past her defenses.
