Some Day Somebody (12 page)

Carrie straightened and pulled Grant into a tight embrace.

“Be careful driving in this stuff, Mom,” he said.

Carrie bit her lower lip hard to keep from crying. “I will, son. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

“
Naw
, I’ll be fine. I don’t want him to be alone. Besides,” he shot a look at his sisters, “it’ll be nice to get the bathroom all to myself for a change.”

She kissed her son soundly on the cheek. “Listen, if he gives you any grief, you call me and I’ll come get you right away.” Carrie climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled up. “Love you.” She blew him a kiss as she started the car and backed out into the storm.

Miraculously, the rain let up just long enough to unload their suitcases into Christie’s small home. As soon as they’d emptied the car, the deluge started again.

Christie lugged a large duffle into her son, Max’s room. “I emptied out this chest of drawers so you won’t have to live out of a suitcase for the next several days.”

Carrie started unpacking the duffle to place items into drawers. “I really hate to put you and poor Max out like this, even for a short while.”

“No problem, sis. I know what it’s like to be displaced thanks to my ex,” Christie said.

“Yeah, I know, but he sure helped you make a good-looking little boy, didn’t he?” She grabbed the tow headed two year old under the arms and lifted him, making the toddler squeal with delight. “Hey little man, is it okay if Aunt Carrie sleeps in your bed?”

“
Yeth
!” he lisped through his big, cheesy grin as she kissed him on the neck.

“You’re a man of few words, Max—just what Aunt Carrie likes.” Carrie sat down on the edge of the bed and began to nest empty suitcases as Christie pushed them under the bed.

“Yeah, and uh, speaking of what Aunt Carrie likes, how are things at work?” Christie asked her older sister.

“Things are great at work. I’m almost finished with the training to get my second certification.”

“That is not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you about him,” Carrie whispered, speaking of their phone conversation about Sam the night before. She checked to see if her daughters were near.

“They’re in the living room with Max,” Christie answered her unspoken question as she got up to close the bedroom door for more privacy. “Now, what’s going on over there in that office of yours with Mr. Six Foot Two, Eyes of Blue?”

Carrie rolled her eyes. “He’s closer to six three, but you need to stop, okay? I’ve only been divorced a few months. If anyone gets wind of this, I’ll go from divorcee to tramp in one night.”

Christie waved off her sister’s statement. “That’s crazy.”

Carrie placed her hair supplies and make up in the drawer of the night stand. “You know how people around here will twist this like an old dishrag until they’ve wrung out the last microbe of truth. When they’re done, I’ll be the old dishrag.” She sat on the bed. “It’s not fair. As nice as it is to feel wanted by another man, the timing is off. Lauren would freak if I started dating now.”

“Are you thinking about it?”

Carrie flopped back on the bed and threw her arm over her eyes. “I try not to, but I can’t help thinking about him. Some of the things he’s told me—”

“
Ew
, give it up, girl!” Chris plopped down on the bed next to her sister. “What kind of things?”

Carrie ran her hands through her dampened hair, her curls more pronounced because of the rain. As she related Sam’s comment about her being worth the wait, and Kenton’s proximity to Lake Coburn, a slow smile spread across her sister’s face.

“Oh God, that’s so sweet. And he wants you to be closer to him,” she whispered. “Maybe you ought to think about it.”

Carrie raised herself to one elbow. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?
We all know how two hours on the road every day is eating you up. Mom’s worried sick you’ll get in a wreck. It’s crazy to think about doing that for the rest of your career.”

Carrie traced a finger around the robot-shaped figure on Max’s quilt. “I can’t ask the kids to switch schools.”

“Sure you can. Mom and Dad moved us to another state, and we adjusted.”

Carried sat up to rub her eyes and face, as a wave of exhaustion washed over her. “Sometimes I wonder if any of us will adjust.” She dropped her hands and stared at them. “This whole situation with Sam scares the crap out of me.”

“Hell, I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”

“I’m afraid of everything. Of moving too fast with Sam or anyone else, or not moving fast enough, of losing my kids or their respect, and losing my family’s respect.” She dropped to the bed once more. “But then again, I’m getting older. How many chances at this am
I
going to have in one lifetime?” She gazed over at her sister. “You know, the last time I went on a date, I didn’t have stretch marks from carrying a set of twins.”

“I hear that,” Christie agreed.

“Whatever I decide to do, I need to be careful, Chris,” Carrie spoke, her tone soft, but sincere. “My kids need at least one of their parents to act like an adult.”

***

The skies opened up the next day, drenching the city of Lake Coburn with another day of rain.

The local weatherman spouted more bad news from the country radio station blasting from Carrie’s car speakers. “
Well, folks, the weather doesn’t care that it’s the last work day before your Christmas holidays. It’s more rain throughout the weekend.”

“Great,” she mumbled, pulling up to the building.  Since the carpool was down to her and Sam, she’d decided it would be better to drive their own vehicles until everyone else returned after the holidays.  She regretted it now, remembering how Sam had dropped her off at the front door one day last week so she wouldn’t get wet. She stepped out of her
car,
right into a puddle of water deep enough to soak her shoes, socks, and hem of her jeans. Carrie hurried inside to her desk, cursing with every squish of her saturated footwear.

“Take your socks and shoes off,” Roxie suggested.

Carrie squished over to her locker and pulled out her leather work shoes, thankful for the extra pair. She walked into the kitchen and propped one foot on the plastic chair seat to try to loosen her knotted laces. As she struggled with the tangled mass of cold, wet strings, she heard a low groan from the doorway. She peered up to catch Sam standing in the doorway, his gaze on her neckline. She looked down at her cleavage, visible due to the gaping neck of her wet shirt and her awkward position. Carrie looked up, seeing Sam’s gaze still transfixed on her bosom.

“Like what you see, Sam?” When he turned to leave the kitchen, red faced at being caught, she stopped him with one word. “Hey!”

He turned back without looking up. “Yes ma’am?”

“Think you could help me with these wet laces?”

“Guess I could try. Can you slip your shoes off?”

“I tried that already. My socks are wet and I laced my shoes really tight this morning.” She waved her long nails, recently polished. “I don’t want to break a nail, but I can’t stand my feet wet.”

After a slight adjustment to his jeans, Sam sat down on the chair across from her. He tapped the seat, signaling her to put one shoe up on the seat between his legs.

Carrie propped her right foot on the chair seat and settled back to watch him fight the laces.

Sam grunted as he worked at the tangle. “These damn things get hard to manipulate once they’re wet. They have a way of swelling up.”

Carrie kept her silence, pursing her lips as she waited for him to think about what he’d said. She watched his hands freeze mid-air when the double entendre finally hit him.

He lifted his gaze to meet her amused expression then went back to his task, jerking hard on her strings. “I’ve lived like a freaking monk for over a year now. Cut me some slack, okay?”

“My momma taught me it was rude to stare. All you had to do was look away.”

Sam met her gaze head on. “Now why would I want to deprive myself of the best thing I’ve laid eyes on in ages?”

His hands kept working as their gazes remained locked for several seconds. He broke eye contact, and loosened the lace enough to remove her shoe.

Carrie held her breath as he slowly peeled off her wet sock. When he rubbed the arch of her foot with his work roughened thumb, the skin to skin contact broke her trance.

He stopped her when she tried to pull her foot out of his hands. “Hold on, now.” His devilish grin exposed that one adorable dimple. “What’s this?” He bent to examine her polished hot pink toenails.

“Oh...” She jerked her foot out of his grip and placed the other shoed foot on the chair between them. “My girls practiced on me and Christie’s toes last night.”

He got the next one untied with no trouble and removed her shoe, along with the second sock. “You have nice feet.” He lightly caressed her foot.

“I have big feet. None of the other women in my family have feet as big as mine. I’m a size nine and a half in a family of size sevens.”

Carrie pulled her foot away and slipped her feet into her dry work shoes. She shivered as her bare skin touched the cold leather.

Sam rose, unfolding his long body from the chair. “Wait, I have something you’ll appreciate.”

Carrie watched him exit the kitchen, thinking she appreciated the sight of his rear end from behind. In less than a minute, he came back with a pair of new tube socks.

“I always keep a couple of extra pair in my work bag. You never know what’s going to happen when you work like we do.”

“Oh, yeah,” Carrie purred, as she slid the comfortably dry tube socks onto her ice cold feet. “That feels delicious.”

“Have I redeemed myself?”

She slipped her socked feet into her shoes. “I can forgive anything if my feet are warm and dry.”

Sam gazed down at her shoes. “I’ve got an extra pair of work boots, too, if you need `
em
. They’re only a size thirteen,” he added.

“Thirteen, huh?”

“Yep, and you know what they say about men who wear big shoes, don’t you?”

Carrie swallowed, silently waiting to hear his answer.

“They have big feet.”

She laughed and stood up. “You’re so bad.”

Around noon, Dale stood to stretch. “Roxie and I are going to lunch. Anybody else coming with us?” he asked loud enough for the rest of the skeleton crew to hear.

“I guess I’ll have to go,” Sam answered.

“Me too,” J.C. told Dale.

Carrie shook her head. “Not me, I brought leftovers. I have enough for two if anyone else wants chicken gumbo.”

J.C. stood to get his cap and jacket. “I’ll pass. I had gumbo last night, but I bet Sam wants some.”

“I sure do, if you don’t mind,” Sam admitted, as Carrie entered the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t have offered, otherwise.” After heating the food, she sensed Sam’s presence in the kitchen before he spoke.

“God that smells good.”