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Sam called himself all kinds of an idiot. He should get up and leave. He had a nice cabin at the Swamp House with a deck jutting out over a narrow bayou full of cypress trees and dark, brewing water. He could sit on the deck, and find some peace and quiet watching the fish jump. Watching the alligators slumber. Watching the trees grow. He did not need a full weekend with an intriguing, misguided woman in his life.
But he didn’t leave. He got up and started taking trash to one of the garbage cans that were set out around the big sloping yard.
Anyway, the Sonnier house was the kind of place a person never wanted to leave. Unless that person was Sam Hinson.
He’d always been on the outside looking in.
The bad kid from across the tracks with the abusive, alcoholic father and the passive, quiet mother. Both of them had eventually left him. The kid who only wanted to belong had never really belonged anywhere. Not even in the sleepy Florida town where he’d been born and raised. Once, he’d stupidly thought he’d found a good place with the right person, but he’d been so wrong on that account. So wrong. Nobody wanted to hear his sad story. He needed to keep things light, and then go home.
He stared up at the two-story log house with the big porches and multi-layered decks and the chaotic, laughing family with the barking, playful pack of mutts following them around.
Madeline and her sisters had grown up in that house. They had a solid upbringing. They had a family that loved them completely and unconditionally. Roscoe and Ruby. Even their parents’ names held a joyful note. Roscoe was a big, jovial man with gray hair and a stoic sense of humor, and Ruby was petite and honey-blonde, but a dynamo. They loved.
And yet, they hurt.
Michelle had been through the worst a wife and mother could go through. Madeline had been through an obviously bitter divorce. And from what he’d heard, their younger sister Melissa was on a course of destruction that involved flittering from one man to another.
They hurt. But they also held each other up and supported each other. The only time Sam had ever had that kind of closeness was when he’d been embedded with his unit in some foreign country surrounded by a hostile enemy.
What would it be like to become embedded in this kind of strong family unit?
Stop daydreaming and pick up the trash.
That’s what he’d always heard growing up.
Might as well take that same advice now and get on with things.
It’s just for a long weekend, he reminded himself. I can do this for Brodie and Michelle.
And for Madeline.
Brodie came over and together they silently gathered the trash bags Sam had collected and took them out front so the trash truck could pick them up tomorrow morning.
Sam figured Brodie was curious, but Brodie knew him well enough to wait it out. He’d talk when he was ready. And he wasn’t ready. This whole night had been full of sensory overload and a big undercurrent that flowed as strong as that reddish muddy water just beyond the yard.
He needed to decompress.
So he helped finish up with the cleanup and watched as a few stragglers hung out around the fire pit. Then, when he didn’t see Madeline anywhere in the yard, he thanked Michelle and Brodie and the Sonniers, and got in his black Camaro and headed toward the Swamp House.
He’d made it about a block or so when he spotted someone walking along the wide sidewalk that followed the road and the river. A lone woman.
Her.
Maddie Sonnier Parker. And her dog.
He should keep right on going.
But he didn’t.
He slammed on the brakes and leaned over and opened the passenger side door. “Get in,” he said.
She stopped and stared at him for a few silent, surprised seconds. And then she got in the car and shut the door.
“Where to?” Sam asked, those let’s-get-lost-in-the-forest green eyes enticing her.
Madeline thought of a million reasons why she shouldn’t be in this car with this man. But she also thought of a million other places she’d like to be. With someone to talk to.
“I live over my shop,” she said, adjusting her scarf around her lightweight jacket. “I was walking home.”
He let the engine idle. “Kind of dangerous this late, don’t you think?”
“In Spirit?” She scoffed. “We don’t have criminals here.”
He smiled at that. “Right.” Then he glanced at her. “But you do have that guard dog.”
“Spike? He’s a lover not a fighter.”
Spike barked in agreement.
“It’s just up the block on River Street.”
He eased the growling car away from the curb. “Show me this shop.”
“Okay. But I’m pretty sure I don’t carry anything in a size Broad Shoulders.”
And did she actually just say that?
“I don’t think you do,” he said. “I want to see the place that you seem to love, in spite of your ex owning the building.”
Said no man to her before. Ever.
She motioned with her hand. “It’s right up there, past the Heart of Spirit newspaper and the Delta Café. The white building on the left near the square.”
He sent the big car charging up the deserted street, his gaze moving over the turn-of-the-century and art-deco buildings and rows of bare-limbed crape myrtle trees. “This place looks like something out of another century.”
“We pride ourselves on being old-fashioned but forward thinking,” she replied. Then she slumped down in her seat. “I sound like an ad for the Spirit Chamber of Commerce.”
“I’m sure you’re a member.”
“Yes, I am.”
He smiled again and pulled the car up in front of her shop. Madeline wondered what it looked like through his eyes. She had a great staff and a capable assistant who was in charge while she took a couple of days off to help Michelle with the wedding. They’d decorated the windows for Valentine’s Day, using a wedding motif. Old lace and red roses, chocolates and baubles, ornate jewelry and vintage shawls, hats and shoes.
“It’s not much but it’s mine,” she said. “Well, mine and the bank’s and ... my ex-husband’s, at least. It galls me to pay him rent but ... after the divorce I didn’t want to move in with my parents or move my whole business to another location. That costs money.”
She stared up at the Victorian-style façade on the old storefront. “This is a good location since we get a lot of people from the entire region. They like the quaintness of our town.”
“I like it, too,” he said. But he wasn’t looking at Madeline’s Closet.
He was looking at Madeline.
She swallowed and willed herself to stop with the nervous chatter. But the way he sat there, with one shoulder against the red leather seat and his gaze moving over her, was kind of driving her crazy. This car shouted at her to kiss him. This man’s silence made her want to kiss him.
“Uh ... well ... thanks for the ride.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Uh ... I live up there.” She pointed to the second story of the building. “Those steps lead to my little apartment.”
“Wanna give me a tour?”
Madeline’s palm sheened with sweat and her heart pumped a warning into her brain. “Not much to see. Just a kitchen and living area, a nice bathroom and big closet, and my ... bedroom.”
He gave her that look again. That look that made him one part knight and one part villain. “Sounds nice.”
She was not ready for this. “We could walk over to the park.”
He glanced at the park, then glanced back at her. “It’s cold out there.”
She wanted to shout, “Well, it’s warm in here.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said. “I need to go. It’s late and I’ve got a ton of things to do before the wedding.”
“I’ll help you.”
“No, you don’t have to do that. You have your best-man duties and I have my maid-of-honor duties, or whatever I am. I mean, I was married so I guess I’ve gone beyond the maid part, but I’ll do whatever Michelle needs me to do—.”
His warm finger over her lips silenced her. “I’m not talking about any official duties,” he said. “I’ll do it. I’ll hang with you. To make your ex suffer.” He shrugged but his eyes were solemn and sure. “I got nothing better to do.”