Needs A Little TLC (Spinning Hills Romance 2) (7 page)

“How? Your right knee is banged up,” he pointed out.

“I’ll drive with my left foot.”

“No. You won’t,” he said with infuriating calmness as he carried her to the front seat and set her down. “I’m taking you.”

“Jessica can take me, or Johnny.”

Jessica looked remorseful. “Honey, I can take you, but I can’t stay the entire time. I have to pick Billy up from soccer in an hour.”

Sam slammed the door, walked to the other side, and got in. Cassie hissed out a sigh, feeling murderous.

“Calm down, Cass. I’m just the guy who’s giving you a ride. Someone has to. Ignore me.”

She’d ignore him, all right. Even though the car smelled like a more enhanced and acutely masculine version of twenty-year-old Sam. One whiff and she felt flushed. Why had she gotten on that bike? This was where feeling free had landed her. In a cage.

There were two Sams in her memory, and as she sat there, she did her best to remember the one who’d let her down. There was no way in seven hells she’d let him carry her in. She’d drag herself through the parking lot before that happened.

Sam parked right in front of the ER and tried to carry her in, but she pushed him away and hopped in on one leg.
Hop hop hop. Rest. Hop hop hop. Rest.
She looked back, feeling ridiculous. Sam was watching her, arms folded, lips drawn in a tight line. She hopped on.

The room was half-full and they were told it would be at least an hour. They handed her a clipboard with a few forms and she hopped over to the nearest seat. Sam left to move his truck.

By the time he came back, her knee had gone from stinging pain to throbbing ache. “I’ll see if I can get you something for it,” Sam said, as if he could read her mind.

When he came back with water and a little blue packet containing ibuprofen, she looked up and met his eyes with a cool gaze. “I’m sure you have plenty to do. You don’t have to stay.”

“It was my fault. I’ll stay.” He reached for a magazine, propped his foot up on the table in front of them, and began to read.

“The more things change . . .” Cassie muttered, her frustration mounting. But the moment the words were out of her mouth, memories of the Sam she wanted to forget flooded her, and she regretted saying anything at all.

Sam had always been one to shoulder blame. His mom always tried to blame Dan when the boys got into trouble, which was often, but Sam would always step up and accept responsibility. He’d do it privately, when his brothers weren’t around to deny it. He’d ask Cassie to back him up, and she’d do it, because it was what he really wanted.

Sam’s eyes were on her now, so she picked up the pen and began filling out the second form. Ignoring him had worked best. A moment later, he turned back to his magazine. “Don’t forget to write down you’re allergic to penicillin.”

Cassie ground her teeth. As if she’d forget.

“And remember local anesthesia doesn’t work well on you. You usually need a greater amount.”

Crap. She’d forgotten that. She hadn’t needed local anesthesia in over fifteen years, when she’d badly mangled a toenail when she’d tripped over Johnny’s drum set.

He turned a page in the magazine he was looking through. “I read an article once about how it’s a redhead thing. There’s this mutation or something in a gene responsible for fair skin and red hair. The same gene can also make local anesthetics less effective.”

She glowered at him but he didn’t look up. “Quit acting like you know me, Sam. It’s as adults that we grow. We’ve been apart our entire adult lives and kids don’t know a thing. You don’t know me and I don’t know you.”

“You’d think.”

“I didn’t even know you back then, remember?”

Finally he looked at her, and she knew. He’d been pushing her buttons and he had her right where he wanted her. So much for saying he didn’t know her.

“Don’t forget your appendectomy in the past surgeries section.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ve been wondering if that redheaded gene I was telling you about is responsible for temper tantrums, too. I’ll look it up now.”

It took all of Cassie’s inner strength to keep her mouth shut and the clipboard in her hand and off the top of his head. She was about to jot down her appendectomy when a sudden movement caught her attention. She looked up to see Jessica entering the ER, waving a pair of tweezers in the air. “Here you go. See? I didn’t forget.” She reached Cassie and handed her the package, looking triumphant. “How are you feeling?”

Cassie was dumbfounded. “Thank you, Jess! But I’m not going to be here overnight. It’s just a bruise and a scratch.”

“You landed on your head. You could have a concussion.” Much to Cassie’s annoyance, Jessica looked over at Sam and said, “Make sure they check her for a concussion,” before turning back to Cassie to squeeze her hand. “All right. My work here’s done. I’ve got to go pick up Billy. Call me, okay?”

Cassie stared at the tweezers in her hands. How on earth had she come upon such an efficient friend?

“Opposites attract,” Sam said.

“What the hell do you know?” Cassie muttered.

 

Two hours later she was back at her soon-to-be office, feeling completely spent. It had nothing to do with her knee. That was exactly what she’d told everyone it was: a bad scratch and an ugly bruise. She was used to both.

But ignoring a quiet person hell-bent on taking charge was exhausting. If he’d at least become talkative and annoying again, she could’ve vented by telling him to shut up. If he’d been hesitant or cautious around her, she could’ve told him to get lost. But after his initial shots at her, he’d been quiet and determined to see her through, all while radiating an appeal that had nothing to do with the past.

Feeling that appeal in her bones had been her one true setback that day, because she and Jessica had accomplished a lot.

But something had to be done about the adult physical attraction she felt for adult Sam. Maybe she needed to meet his ex-wife and son and find out his disgusting adult habits . . .

Maybe when the idea of meeting them didn’t make her feel sick to her stomach.

T
he next day, Cassie limped down the school’s hallway and stopped just inside Mrs. Flannigan’s door, where other men and women were waiting. A person she guessed was a veterinarian was standing in front of the classroom holding a puppy and talking about the importance of spaying and neutering. She was doomed.

No way a mere person could be interesting to a bunch of seven-year-olds after that puppy. Maybe she’d just talk about her cool car.

“Cassidy? How are you? How are your parents doing? I saw them on the news the other day, arriving at the governor’s ball, talking about how it was their thirty-fifth anniversary,” a woman Cassie vaguely remembered started talking.

“They’re doing well,” Cassie managed. She hated talking about her parents and their perfect image. She didn’t have it in her to perpetuate the myth, but she couldn’t very well say,
“Well, lady I don’t remember well, the day of their anniversary my mother told me their marriage felt like twenty-five years of her unappreciated hard work and ten years of shit, so you decide how they’re doing.”

One by one, everyone gave their little speech. The kids looked either dazed or fidgety. Cassie had been right. The puppy was a tough act to follow. Maybe she’d show them her ugly bruise. That always used to get kids’ attention.

Finally, Mrs. Flannigan introduced her to the class.

Cassie’s smile as she faced the classroom felt stiff. She gave her boring little speech and then it was time for questions. As had happened to quite a few before her, no one raised their hand. Cassie cleared her throat and shifted from one foot to another, as eager as the kids to be dismissed.

And then, a little boy raised his hand.

Mrs. Flannigan smiled, nodded, and said, “Jake Amador.”

A rush of hard-to-define emotions came over Cassie the instant she heard the boy’s last name. She blinked over at him.

The little boy with the solemn face had Sam’s warm, chocolaty eyes.

It was like a punch to her gut. So much for thinking a career day chat to a room full of second-graders couldn’t hurt.

When Jake Amador caught her watching him, he tilted his head and grinned. “Do you wear nail polish? Because my uncle Johnny says that the only difference between a redhead and a barracuda is nail polish.”

A little girl with red hair threw a notebook at him. “Mrs. Flannigan! He’s saying that just to bother me!”

Cassie pursed her lips to keep from smiling. She turned to Mrs. Flannigan. “He’s an Amador, all right.”

Mrs. Flannigan smiled back.

 

Sam looked at his watch and dashed down the hallway. He’d started picking Jake up at his classroom so he could squeeze a little more quality time with him into his day, but he was a few minutes late.

When he got to the classroom, he stopped in his tracks.

Cassie was inside the classroom, talking to his son. Why it caused his stomach to clench in anxiety, he didn’t know.

Jake grinned at Cassie and asked, “How do you get a redhead’s mood to change?”

“You wait five seconds. I know them all, buddy. And your uncles taught me most of them.”

Sam had teased her just as much, and defended her even more when someone other than he and his brothers were doing the teasing, but she didn’t mention him. He remembered the one redhead joke she did like, though. “What’s black-and-blue and lies on the sidewalk?” he asked, walking toward them.

Startled, both Jake’s and Cassie’s heads swiveled to the door. Jake’s eyes brightened when he saw him and he jumped out of his chair to hug him, but Cassie’s expression didn’t reveal a thing. She turned to watch Jake, instead.

“I don’t know that one.” Jake looked up at him.

“A guy who tells too many redheaded jokes.”

Jake giggled and Cassie bit her lip.

“Uncle Dan and Uncle Johnny didn’t tell me that one.”

“Probably because both your uncles and I ended up black and blue and lying in the park somewhere over telling Cassie here one too many redhead jokes.”

“You know her.” Jake looked surprised.

Again, Sam felt that nervous twitch in his stomach. “Yes. I know her.”

“Does Mom know her?”

Sam swore in his head. “Uh, no. Mom doesn’t know her.” It was mostly true, after all.

Mrs. Flannigan walked over to them wearing a rueful smile. “It’s depressing seeing you two together again. It makes me feel old,” she explained.

When Sam and Cassie didn’t respond, Mrs. Flannigan seemed to become aware of the awkwardness in the air. She looked from one to the other.

“What do redheads and razors have in common?” Jake piped up.

“The answer is, you handle both with care,” Mrs. Flannigan responded. “Now, that’s enough jokes out of both of you, Sam and Jake Amador.”

Cassie picked up a poster and began walking to the door. “It was really nice meeting you, Jake.” She smiled and waved good-bye with her poster and Sam knew she meant it. But that thought made him anxious in other ways, ways he didn’t want to examine too closely. He shouldn’t care whether Jake and Cassie got along.

 

Sam loved giving Jake a tour of the houses he was working on because his son seemed to enjoy it as much as he’d enjoyed doing the same thing with his own dad. It was only four thirty when he took Jake to Heather’s, but Jake was half-asleep and he asked to be carried in.

That was one memory Sam didn’t have. His dad had been interested and interesting, strict or easygoing as the situation called for, and had dedicated himself to his boys, but he hadn’t been a tender man. He’d kept himself to himself and Sam understood why. Whenever Sam held his boy to his chest, there was the pain of loving too much and too well. Unlike his father, Sam didn’t avoid the pain, but he kept himself to himself just the same. The only problem was he was surrounded by people who liked to poke and prod for a living.

Heather opened the door with a wide smile that reflected the same love Sam was feeling for Jake and Sam smiled at her.

She kissed Jake’s cheek, ruffled his hair, and asked, “How was school?”

Jake went from half-asleep to fully awake in the time it took him to blink. “I met Dad’s friend Cassie. She was funny.”

Heather’s eyes widened and Sam’s heart plummeted to see how excited his ex-wife looked. “I heard she was back.” He knew he had to leave before the poking and prodding could begin.

Jake frowned. “Dad said you didn’t know her.”

Sam and Heather exchanged a look. “Uh, no, I don’t. But I bet if I met her, I’d like her, too.”

Jake wiggled out of Sam’s arms. “Can I watch TV before dinner?” he asked before running to the living room and picking up the remote control.

“Half an hour only,” Heather called after him before turning to Sam.

“I’ve got to get back. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned the knob, but wasn’t quick enough.

Heather moved to lean on the door and block his way “Why are you in such a hurry?” Her eyes twinkled in a way Sam didn’t like. It was the twinkle of a meddler.

“Your apartment smells like new. It gives me hives,” he joked. His love of old and weathered and her love of shiny and new had been among their differences.

“So, Cassie and Jake met and he liked her. You don’t have to hide anything from me, Sam. I’d be thrilled if you two work things out.”

Sam raked a hand through his hair. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re my ex-wife. Can you please act like it?”

“I’m dating and you don’t mind. It makes things easier.” She shrugged. But when Sam turned the knob and gently tried to open the door, dragging her along with it, she leaned back, hard, and shut it again. “Whether it’s Cassie or someone else, I want you to find someone. I want you to be okay, and I want you to know I’ll be okay.”

Sam sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was make things awkward with Heather, too. Only honesty would do. “Cassie and I have a business partnership, as I’m sure you’ve heard,” he said, pointedly. “Anything else is long dead, okay? Including friendship. It’s been ten years.” Sam held Heather’s chin up and looked into her eyes. “And I haven’t been holding a torch.”

Heather brushed his hair out of his eyes and it pierced his heart. Tenderness always hurt, for some reason. “I know. But you two had a real spark, and it was based on a deep, long-standing friendship. I know you aren’t carrying a torch, but that doesn’t mean the spark was extinguished.”

They did still have a spark. But that didn’t mean much. A spark could light up or fizzle. Fizzling was safer.

He had to shut the meddlers in his life down. As much as he hated to hurt her, Heather would be the easiest to stop. “Of all people, I married you. A spark can’t survive that, Heather, and I’m more than okay with it. Thanks to you, I have everything I need or want.” He looked over at Jake.

“Have you guys even talked about the past yet? She borrowed your car and never returned with your uniform. You never told her you got kicked off the team and lost your baseball scholarship because of her. You’re adults now. Maybe if she knew that, she’d understand.”

“You’re biased. I’m not. One was an oversight, the other was a betrayal.”

“I’m not judging her, Sam, God knows I can’t, but it wasn’t an oversight. It was selfishness on her part. Whatever was going on in her life, she shouldn’t have let you down like that.”

Sam had nothing to say to that, because he’d never found out what exactly had been going on with Cassie to have her pull away so suddenly and completely. All he knew was that in the end, he’d been the one to cause the most pain.

 

Jessica was on her way out just as Cassie was getting back. “Sorry, I have to leave early today. Billy doesn’t have practice. How’d it go with the munchkins?”

“I met Sam’s son.” Cassie shrugged.

Jessica sat down, keys in hands. “Oh honey, was it tough?”

“You don’t have to sit or ‘oh honey’ me. I’m fine. It kind of came as a shock at first, though I knew he existed, but he’s such a little Amador . . . it’s hard not to adore him on sight. He had me smiling the moment he opened his mouth.”

“As I recall, it was hard for you not to adore their adult versions, too.” Her mother’s unmistakable voice came from the half-open door.

“Mom!”

“Mrs. McGillicuddy!”

“Why are you both acting so surprised?” Her mother stepped in and closed the door behind her. As always, she looked impeccable in a lime-green linen sheath and strappy-sandaled heels. “I may not agree with your choices, but I take an interest. I’m your mother.”

“I thought you were in Washington.” Cassie hugged her mom. To the world, Sandy McGillicuddy was her father’s bright, beautiful right hand and devoted mother to their only child. To other politicians, she was a one-woman public relations machine.

While none of it was false, Cassie knew the hidden truths: Botox and farming your only child out to your mother-in-law and babysitters had a way of diminishing the fine lines caused by stress and aging and of freeing up time to be the best at a game.

Still, Cassie had always liked spending time with her mom when she was being herself... and when she wasn’t complaining about her dad.

Jessica hugged Sandy, too, before heading toward the door. “I’ve got to go pick up Billy. Good to see you, Mrs. McGillicuddy.” She waved, a little too giddily. Jessica, like many, was a bit in awe of Cassie’s parents.

“For the life of me, I can’t understand why anyone would want to live in Spinning Hills. Many houses are perfectly charming, but most of them can’t be above twenty-five hundred square feet and there are no shopping malls or lifestyle centers within a five-mile radius.”

“No, but they’re within a six-mile radius, and that’s good enough for most.” It was the first time Cassie had heard her mom criticize Spinning Hills out loud, though she’d always known it didn’t suit her mother’s lifestyle. To her dad, Dayton was home. He loved the city, even though it was too small to contain him and his wife. Both were bigger than life.

Her parents’ careers and social lives both thrived first in Columbus, and then in DC, but her father would come back once in a while. He’d walk the streets of downtown Dayton with Cassie—she could still feel her small hand in his large one—and he’d say, “We’re walking on a street that was once a canal, you know.” He’d point out the beautiful old buildings and tell her about the Industrial Age and the genius minds that once inhabited the city and changed the world. The Wright brothers, Charles Kettering, John Patterson . . .

Her grandfather had been an engineer who’d loved old machines and the old city that had given birth to so many of them, and he’d passed that appreciation on to her father.

“Why did you send me here nearly every summer if you didn’t like it? You came down every other weekend, and you never said anything about not liking it.”

Her mother’s eyes gleamed. “Everyone loved that your father championed an aging Ohio town with a rich history. It was my idea, of course. I just didn’t think it would take twenty years for the town to look this good. Now, tell me, who is Jake Amador? Is he Sam’s or Dan’s? The thought of Johnny fathering a child is too much to handle.” Cassie laughed and her mother smiled. Johnny had always been Sandy’s favorite.

“He’s Sam’s boy.”

Her mother stiffened. “All I’ll say is I hope you learned your lesson on that front. Never trust a cheating bastard twice.”

Cassie held her mother’s eyes. As usual, her mother’s harsh words were really meant for her father. Cassie was tired of it. She’d been tired of it for years. But her mother always dismissed her complaints, telling her she was the only one she could talk to.

At first, she’d listened and consoled and loathed her father with her mom, believing that she was the only person in the world her mother could trust, understanding her proud mother couldn’t bare the humiliation of a scandal. But after a few years of her mother’s continuous, consistent bitterness, Cassie had just wanted her mother to
get over it
and to treat her like a daughter, not a best friend. To have her understand that Max McGillicuddy was not just a husband and senator, but that he was her father, too. She wanted her mother to forgive him or divorce him, no matter the consequences.