Small-Town Nanny (13 page)

He tamped the jealousy down. He didn't want Susan as a long-term part of his life, so why feel bad when other men admired her? She was totally inappropriate for him. Just witness this whole ridiculous camp situation. His blood pressure rose just thinking of Mindy going to camp.

Marie would never have allowed it.

But Marie's gone, and you have to move on.

That new voice inside him was unfamiliar and unwelcome, but Sam was honest enough to know that it spoke truth. He had to stop focusing on Marie, had to let her go.

But if he did that, would his life be as it had been for the past twenty-four hours—crazy and emotional? Going from the intense excitement of kissing Susan to the low of feeling guilty, like a bad boss hitting on his employee? Angry about the camp. Embarrassed by his workers' jokes.

He didn't want such an exciting life, couldn't handle it. He wanted life on an even keel. Stable. Comfortable.

As he bid goodbye to the final couple of workers, his father approached. He'd stayed in the background during the picnic, letting Sam have center stage, but Sam had been conscious of him, as always. Though his father's health didn't permit him to run Hinton Enterprises anymore, he'd started the company and cared about its success, and Sam always respected his opinions.

“What did you think?” he asked his dad.

His father clapped him on the back. “Another good picnic,” he said. “You have a way with the workers. They like you.”

“Thanks.” He knew what his father wasn't saying; the workers liked Sam better than they'd liked his father. Personality difference, and maybe the struggles of starting something from the ground up. His father wasn't an easy man to get along with.

Sam knew he wasn't always easy, either, but he at least could laugh at himself—usually—and listen to other people's ideas, talents his father had never mastered.

Since his father was so hard to please, his approving remarks about the event felt good.

They turned together to stroll back toward the almost-empty tent. Just in time to see Mindy run to Susan, hug her legs and get lifted into her arms.

“Looks like those two are close,” Mr. Hinton remarked.

Sam nodded slowly. “It sure does.”

“You worried about that?” Mr. Hinton asked.

“A little,” Sam admitted. “But Mindy needs women in her life. She's attached to Daisy, and now to Angelica, but those two aren't always around. Susan fills in the gaps, that's all.”

“Are you sure that's all?” His father's thick eyebrows came together, and though he was a good head shorter than Sam, his expression was enough to make Sam feel ashamed, as if his father had seen that moment under the street lamp.

“It has to be,” he said. “Things couldn't work between us.”

Mr. Hinton nodded, looking relieved. “I didn't think she was your type, but I was starting to wonder. Figured you'd do the right thing.” He shook his head. “Back in my day, races didn't mix. Oh, we always had a lot of different colors in Rescue River, but for marrying, they stuck to themselves. Times might be changing, but it's hard for me to keep up.”

“Dad,” Sam said automatically. “What a person looks like doesn't matter, you know that. We're all of the same value to God.”

His father frowned at him. “Never thought to hear you spouting religion at me.”

Sam laughed. “Surprise myself sometimes,” he said.

As his father walked off, Sam sank down on a park bench rather than interrupting the moment between Mindy and Susan. He needed to think.

He probably needed to pray, too, but this wasn't the time or the place.

Still, under the stars, he thought about his goal of finding a mother for Mindy and made a decision.

He wouldn't try so hard to replace Marie anymore. It wasn't working, and it wasn't possible.

But a woman like Susan wasn't possible, either. He wasn't the man to handle it.

Instead, he'd focus on being the best single dad he could be.

People did that. Look at his employee, Eduardo; he'd been a single parent for years. And several other dads at Mindy's school were going it alone.

Anyway, Susan was way too young for him.

He'd go forward single and let Mindy's nurturing needs be filled by his female relatives, by teachers, by the church.

It wasn't what Marie had wanted, and looking up into the starry sky, he shot an apology her way. “I'm sorry, Marie,” he whispered. “I don't think I can keep my promise, at least not right now.”

He let out a huge sigh as sadness overwhelmed him.

The quest to remarry had helped him get by, had given him a goal. Without it, emptiness and loneliness pushed at him like waves lapping the shore.

He had to find his center again, his stability. Had to get right with God. Had to learn to go on alone.

It was the only thing he could do, but it didn't feel good. Just for a minute, he let his head sink down into his hands and mourned the loss of a dream.

* * *

The next morning, Sam broke all of his own Sunday morning rules, flipping on a mindless TV show for Mindy and handing her a donut. Then he ushered Susan into his office.

She was wearing close-fitting black pants and a jade-green sleeveless shirt that showed off her tanned, shapely arms. Jade earrings swung from her ears, giving her a carefree vibe. But her expression was closed tight.

During the night, he'd gotten over some of his anger about the camp situation. He probably hadn't listened carefully enough to what she'd been telling him. Half the time, when Susan talked to him, he got caught up in her honeysuckle perfume and her shiny hair and her lively, sparkling dark eyes; it wasn't surprising that he might have missed some of the details she'd shared with him.

Now that he'd made a new commitment to staying single, maybe he could pay more attention to what she had to say.

And today, he just had to keep a cool, professional distance, make her see reason and get her on his side, so that she could help him explain to Mindy that she wouldn't be going to camp.

“Sit down,” he said, ushering her to the same chair she'd sat in the day he'd interviewed her. Thinking of that day almost made him chuckle. When he'd suspected she'd be a handful to work with, he hadn't been wrong.

She perched warily on the edge of the seat. “We only have half an hour before we should leave for church,” she said. “Or at least, I'm going to church. Are you?”

He nodded. “There'll be time. He spread his hands and gave her a friendly-but-impersonal smile. “I guess when I agreed to Mindy going to camp, I wasn't really listening,” he said. “I'm sorry about that, but I really do think she's too young to go.”

Susan nodded, and for the first time he noticed that there were dark circles under her eyes. “I lay awake thinking about it, and I want you to know I feel bad about what happened. I should have made sure I had your full attention about such an important decision.”

Relief washed over him. This wasn't going to be as hard as he'd feared. “I'm glad you see it my way.”

“Well, but I don't exactly see it your way,” she said, flashing a smile at him. “You were wrong, too, not to pay attention about your child's summer plans. Now Mindy has a spot at the camp and some other child doesn't. It wouldn't be right to back out.”

He hadn't thought of that. “I'll pay for the place,” he said, waving his hand in an effort to dismiss her concern. Wanting to dismiss it himself, and not quite succeeding.

“It's not just that, Sam,” she said quietly. “Mindy needs this camp. She needs to go where other kids with limb differences are. She needs to see what's possible for her and what's positive. For example, why doesn't she have an artificial limb?”

“We tried that when she was little. She hated it.”

“From what I've read, that's common,” she said. “But now that she's a little older, she might want one. And I'm sure the technology has advanced. It's something she can learn about at the camp, get a feel for it, see some kids with artificial limbs and others managing without.”

He had to admit, Susan had a point. “In that case, maybe she should go. And—” he said to cut off Susan's expression of victory. “I should go, too.”

She bit her lip and shook her head, looking regretful. “I thought of that. I mean, of getting you a space there, too. The problem is that the camp is entirely full. There are no more spaces for adults. I checked online last night, and they texted me a confirmation this morning. No more space.”

He frowned. “Then she can't go.”

“Sam.” Susan leaned forward. “Why don't you want her to, really?”

The question floated in the air.

“I wish you hadn't talked to her about it so much,” he heard himself blustering, knowing he was avoiding giving her an answer.

She nodded slowly. “I'm sorry. I should have made sure you understood what you were signing.” Her voice was contrite. “And the last thing I want to do is cause Mindy to be disappointed. I...I really have no vested interest in this happening, Sam. For what mistakes I've made, I apologize.”

Her accepting responsibility took the wind out of his sails. “I made mistakes, too,” he said grudgingly. “I get too caught up in my work and don't pay attention to other people enough. You're...not the first person who's told me that.”

“Anyone can get distracted,” she said with a shrug. “So you're not perfect.”

“That's it?” he asked. “You're not going to yell at me?”

She looked amused. “No. Should I?”

He settled back and stared at her, then down at his desk. That was new to him. Susan admitted her own mistakes, and she accepted that he made mistakes, too.

Hashing things out with someone like Susan, openly flawed, was actually a little more comfortable than arguing with someone practically perfect, like Marie.

Guilt washed over him. The very thought that there was something as good as, even better than, being with Marie seemed disloyal.

“Hey.” Susan grabbed an old ruler that was sitting on the edge of his desk and gave his hand a light, playful whack. “What's going on in there? You never answered my question. Why are you so afraid to let Mindy go to camp with her aunt and cousin?”

He grabbed the ruler, pointed it at her and met her eyes. “I do have my reasons, young lady.”

She lifted an eyebrow, waiting.

“The main reason is...” He started, then paused.

“Spill it.”

He looked out the window, watching the leaves rustle in the slight breeze. “The main reason is that I don't like her to be so far out of my sight.”

“Out of your control, hmm?” She was laughing at him. “Get used to it, Dad. She's growing up.”

He smiled ruefully. “I'm not ready for that.”

“Are you really going to be so lonely?” she asked in a teasing voice. “If it's too much to face alone, I can keep you company.”

“Oh, is that so?” His whole body felt sharp with interest and surprise and...something else.

A pretty pink blush flamed across her cheeks. She picked up his tape holder and studied it with intense interest.

His hand shot out to cover hers. “A date? Maybe at Chez La Ferme?”

She dropped the tape holder and tried to pull her hand back, but he held on until she met his eyes.

“Are you asking me out?”

“Would you go?”

Their eyes met and held. Their hands were pressed together, too, and it didn't seem like either of them was breathing.

Then she pulled back and looked away, and he let her go.

“Now it's you who hasn't answered my question,” he said, barely recognizing his own throaty voice. “Will you go out with me?”

“I don't...I don't know.”

He leaned forward, not sure if he should press his advantage or retract the question. He knew what he
wanted
to do, but was it the right thing? “I shouldn't be asking you out when you're an employee. I don't mean to put any pressure on you, at all. You have your job whether you say yes or no. Nothing would change.”

Her dark eyes flashed up to meet him. “Thanks for that,” she said. “I appreciate your being so careful, considering that I'm just a temporary nanny. And...well, it's true that I don't have plans for the weekend.”

Triumph surged through him, but he tamped it down.

“And I've never actually eaten at Chez La Ferme.”

“So what you're saying is...” He prompted.

“Yes,” she said, her voice a little bit breathy. “Yes, I'll go out with you.”

And she stood, spun and hurried out of the room, leaving Sam to wonder what on earth he'd been thinking to ask Susan out.

Chapter Nine

T
he next Friday afternoon, Susan climbed the stairs to her over-the-garage apartment, arguing with Daisy the whole way. Quiet Fern was following along, shaking her head.

“It doesn't make sense for me to get all dressed up. This is Sam! He's seen me in my sweats, in my ratty jeans, without makeup...”

“But you're going to Chez La Ferme,” Fern said hesitantly. “That's super dressy, right?”

“Exactly!” Daisy said, her voice triumphant. “You can't wear ratty jeans to Chez La Ferme.”

“They fired me once, what more can they do to me?” Susan asked as she opened the door. “Come on in. Not like I have a choice about it.”

“I'm sorry, Susan,” Fern said, looking stricken. “If you don't want us here...”

“Fern. You're fine. It's
her
I don't want.” Susan flung an arm toward her best friend. “Because she's got some kind of an agenda that I don't share.”

Daisy ignored her, walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out sodas.

“Make yourself at home, why don't you?” Susan said sarcastically. But the truth was, she was glad to have the other two women around. She was way too antsy about her date with Sam tonight.

Why had she offered to keep him company? Why had he jumped on the idea and upped the ante to a real date at Chez La Ferme? Maybe it was just something to do, and after all, he did sort of own the restaurant. Maybe this was all just business.

She'd run into Daisy at the library and made the mistake of confiding the reason for her anxiety. Daisy had taken one look at her and insisted on coming back to help her get dressed. Since Fern was leaving work at the same time, they'd talked her into coming along.

Now, Susan tore open a bag of BBQ potato chips and started pouring them into a bowl, only to have Daisy snatch the bag away. “No. Uh-uh. You're not eating those and then going on a date.”

“Why not?” Susan asked.

Daisy and Fern looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“What?” Susan looked from one to the other.

“It's just,” Fern said, still chuckling, “if you would happen to get close enough to kiss...”

“Your breath would reek like a third grader's,” Daisy finished.

“We're not getting close enough to kiss,” Susan said as heat climbed up her face.

“Here.” Daisy found a bag of pretzels and tossed it to her. “Have these instead. Fern and I will eat the stinky chips.”

“Well, actually,” Fern said, blushing, “I think I'll stick to pretzels, too.”

Daisy's eyebrows shot up. “Plans with Carlo tonight?”

“We like to watch movies on Friday nights, and it's my turn to pick.”

“What are you watching?”

Fern grinned. “
Casablanca
. What's not to like? There's manly war drama for Carlo and romance for me.”

“Fine,” Daisy said, grabbing the bag of chips. “So I'm the only one without plans. I get the whole bag. Now, what are you wearing tonight?”

“I don't know.” Susan looked at the pretzels but had no appetite. She took a sip of diet soda instead. “I have, like, one fancy dress, and I haven't worn it in a year at least. I don't know if it even fits.”

“Let's see it,” Daisy ordered.

Susan walked back to her bedroom and pulled out the turquoise silk. With a mandarin collar and buttons up the front, it fit snugly and had a perfectly modest hemline...until you noticed the slit that revealed a little leg.

But was that too dressy? This was Sam. She rummaged in her closet and pulled out a plain black skirt. She carried both garments out. “I'm thinking the skirt,” she said.

Both Fern and Daisy said “no” at the same time.

“Wear the blue one,” Daisy ordered.

“It's gorgeous,” Fern agreed.

“But it's Sam, and it's Rescue River. Won't I feel way out of place?”

“You used to work at Chez La Ferme, right? Don't people dress up to go there?”

Susan thought back and nodded, reluctantly. Even Miss Minnie Falcon had worn a beaded dress when she'd come to the restaurant, and most of the men wore suits.

“What's Sam wearing?” Fern asked.

Susan shrugged. “I don't know.” Truthfully, they hadn't seen much of each other since that weighted conversation that had led to this date. She wouldn't have thought they were on, except he'd sent her a text message confirming the time. And he'd washed his sleek black sports car and parked it in the driveway, so evidently they weren't going in her car. As if, Susan thought, giggling a little hysterically.

“I'll text him,” Daisy offered.

“No!” Susan grabbed for her phone.

“Why not?”

“I don't want him to think I care what we wear!”

“Because...”

“Because I don't want it to seem like a real date!” Her voice broke on the last word and she sank down onto the couch, focusing on pinching a thread off the blue dress while she pulled herself together.

“Hey,” Daisy said, coming to sit next to her. “You sound really upset. What's wrong?”

Susan swallowed the lump in her throat. “My dad sent me this dress because he said I had nothing decent to wear on dates with a real good prospect. So that's where I did wear it: on dates with my ex-fiancé.”

“Oh.” Daisy nodded.

“You were engaged?” Fern asked, her voice sympathetic.

Susan waved her hand impatiently. “Ancient history. It didn't work out because he wanted a dishrag of a wife. Like all businesspeople.” She shot a glare at Daisy. “Like Sam, so don't go matching me up permanently with him.”

“Who said anything about that?”

“Nobody!” Heat clamped into Susan's cheeks. Nobody had said anything about a permanent connection between her and Sam, so why had she mentioned it? What was she thinking?

“Don't you want to get married someday?” Fern asked quietly.

“No!” Susan said. “Marriage sucks the life out of women.”

“It doesn't have to,” Fern said. “I'm really looking forward to marrying Carlo.”

Way to put your foot in your mouth, Susan.
“I'm just going on my mom's example. I'm sorry,” Susan apologized. “What you and Carlo have seems wonderful. But for me...for women in my family...marriage is the path to destruction.”

“Nothing like being melodramatic,” Daisy said, looking up from her phone.

“I'm not being melodramatic. I'm afraid I'll lose myself and then he'll leave! Just like what happened to my mom.”

The comment hung in the air.

“Oooh,” Fern said. “That does sound scary.”

Daisy shook her head. “The past doesn't have to repeat itself. You're a completely different woman from your mom.” Her phone buzzed and she glanced down at it. “Sam's wearing a suit, by the way.”

“You asked him?” Susan practically shouted.

“So you should wear the blue dress. Go put it on, since you're not going to eat.”

Susan drew in her breath and let it out in a sigh, then did what her friend said.

* * *

Buttoning the cuffs of a new dress shirt—cuff links would probably be excessive for a woman like Susan—Sam looked in the mirror and thought of his teary departure from Mindy just a few hours ago.

Oh, Angelica had comforted her, all too well. It made him realize how much Mindy needed a female figure in her life. And while he wanted to go forward with his plan to be single, this whole camp thing had put him back in doubt. Mindy needed a mom.

And there was the additional question: with Mindy gone, what was he supposed to do with himself this weekend? He didn't even get to go pick Mindy up because Troy was going to the camp to visit Xavier and had offered to bring Mindy home.

I'll keep you company
, Susan had said in her throaty voice. He used water to tame his unruly hair and then decided he should shave after all, and took off the shirt so he wouldn't get anything on it. Man, he was acting like a teenager. He'd been on so many dates. Why was this one such a big deal?

Because it's Susan.

Susan, who was completely inappropriate for him. Susan, who wouldn't fall into line easily with any of his plans, for Mindy or otherwise. Susan, who was way too full of opinions and ideas of her own.

Susan, whose hair was like silk and whose laughter was like jazz music, rich and complex.

Susan, the very thought of whom made his heart rate speed up.

He had it bad.

* * *

Susan sat back in her soft and comfortable chair at Chez La Ferme. “You really want to hear that story?” she asked.

“I'm curious why your engagement ended, but if you don't want to talk about it, it's okay. I want this evening to be fun for you, not bringing up unpleasant memories.”

“No, it's okay.” Susan was surprised at how comfortable she felt. Oh, there'd been a few awkward moments at first, like when he'd come to her door. She'd seen Sam in a suit before, but tonight, knowing he'd dressed up for her, she found him devastatingly handsome.

And when he'd seen her, he'd offered a simple “You look great,” but the way his eyes had darkened had sent the heat rushing to her cheeks.

Men didn't usually look at her that way, as if she was gorgeous. It took some getting used to, but...she
could
get used to it. Could learn to love it.

Even so, she'd gone into the meal with her guard up, determined to keep her distance. But Sam, with his pleasant, non-threatening conversation, gentle questions and self-deprecating jokes, had ruthlessly displayed his charm, causing her to drop that guard right back down.

“So, your engagement?” he prompted.

She'd keep it light, in line with the rest of the evening. “We actually broke up in Infinite. That super-exclusive department store in LA?”

He looked surprised. “I'm familiar with it.”

“Well then, you can imagine the scene. Frank, his mother, the high-powered registry consultant and me, in their bridal registry salon.” She squirmed, remembering. “Not my kind of place.”

“You seem more the casual type.”

“Exactly. But he and his mom and the consultant were trying to get me to register for formal china and super-expensive linens, stuff none of my friends could afford.” She shook her head. “I saw my mom's life flashing before my eyes, you know? Trying to live up to somebody else's dream, trying to make a man happy when he couldn't be pleased.”

He nodded, actually seeming interested in her rambling story. “What did you do?”

“Well, I...I'd read about how you can just have charitable donations at your wedding instead of gifts.”

“That's usually something older couples do, right? People that already have what they need to set up housekeeping?”

She shrugged. “We had what we needed. Especially compared to the kids who could benefit from donations to Children International, which is the group I decided I wanted our guests to donate to. Frank made plenty of money.”

“Okay...”

“So I...kind of stood up and said we were done at Infinite, that we weren't going to do a bridal registry after all.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I guess that didn't go over well.”

“It didn't.” She reflected back on the scene, the horror on the saleswoman's face, the identical disapproval on Frank's and his mother's. “It wasn't that they didn't like charity, it was that such things weren't done among their friends. We ended up yelling—well, I did—and I got kicked out of Infinite, and Frank was totally embarrassed, and then he didn't want to marry me anymore.”

“And were you heartbroken?” he asked, the tiniest twinkle in his eye.

“No.” She'd been hurt, of course, and her mother had been furious, but mostly, she'd felt relieved. “It made me realize how different we were, and that I could never have made him happy.” And she was done talking about it and wanted to change the subject. “I ate too much tonight. That was really good.”

He waved for the check and smiled at her. “I overdid it, too. Maybe we need a walk?”

“Sure.”

“Was everything okay, you guys?” Tawny, their server, asked as she handed Sam the check. “It's so great to see you guys here! I can't get over it. And I'm learning how to stand up for myself better, Susan. What you did to that one jerk really made a difference to me.”

Sam's pen, signing the check, slowed down, and he glanced up at Susan and raised an eyebrow.

She felt herself blushing. “I'm glad,” she said, smiling at the girl, who did seem a little more mature than at the beginning of the summer. “You did a good job tonight. You're a better waitress than I'll ever be.”

“Aw, thank you!”

Tawny hurried away as Max, the restaurant owner and Susan's former boss, approached their table. “I trust everything was satisfactory, Mr. Hinton?”

He looked up, winked at her. “Ask the lady.”

Which put her former boss in the position of having to treat her as a valued customer. Ha! It felt so gratifying that she had to be gracious about it. “It was fantastic, Max. And it's a lot easier from this side of the table. Tawny's a good waitress.”

After another minute of small talk, Sam made some subtle sign of dismissal and turned to Susan. “Ready for a walk?” he asked with just the faintest hint of wolfishness.

Suddenly, she wasn't sure, but she didn't want to let her nerves show. “Sounds good.”

He held her elbow as she stood and helped her drape her lacy shawl around her shoulders. “How are your shoes?” he asked, looking down.

She held one out for him to see and was glad she'd painted her toenails to match her dress. “Wedges. Very comfortable.”

“Good.” He ushered her out of the restaurant with a hand on her back, nodding to a couple of patrons.