02_Groom of Her Own (12 page)

By the time they arrived back at her condo after an extended dinner, Sam and his father were on a first-name basis.

“Now, Henry, you aren’t going to neglect those poor roses anymore, are you?” Sam asked, as Brad’s father climbed out of the car to say good-night.

“Nope. Think I’ll tackle’em first thing when I get home tomorrow,” he said purposefully. “And you won’t forget to send me some of those perennial hollyhock seeds, will you?” he asked eagerly. “Sounds like a mighty pretty plant, and can’t say as I’ve ever seen’em down in Jersey.”

“I won’t forget. I’ll put them in the mail next week,” Sam promised. She held out her hand, and this time Henry shook it vigorously.

“It’s been a pleasure, Sam. And you’re welcome anytime to come down and see my gardens. Course, give me a little time to get them in shape,” he said. “Maybe Brad’ll bring you down some weekend,” he suggested.

“Well, he’s a busy man,” Sam replied quickly, avoiding Brad’s eyes. “But I’ll be sure to stop by if I get down that way.” Before Brad could say anything, she hurried on. “Now you take care, okay, Henry? And try that spray I told you about. It really does work wonders in this Missouri humidity. I haven’t had a touch of black spot since I started using it.”

“I sure will. And…thanks for having dinner with us, Sam. I had a good time,” he added almost shyly.

“Me, too,” she assured him with a warm smile.

“I’ll just walk Sam to the door, Dad,” Brad said.

“No hurry. You two take your time,” he replied.

As they made their way toward her condo, Brad was silent, and Sam wondered if he felt awkward about his dad’s suggestion. Maybe she should bring it up, say she didn’t expect—

“Sam!” Her elderly next-door neighbor opened her door halfway and peered out

“Hello, Mrs. Johnson,” Sam said.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Sam, especially since you have a gentleman friend with you, but I’ve been watching for you. Did you have a chance to pick up those things for me?”

“Of course. I’ll bring them over in just a couple of minutes,” she said.

“That would be fine, dear. You go ahead and say goodnight to your young man first.”

Sam’s face flushed again, and she turned to Brad helplessly. “Sorry about that,” she apologized.

“What?”

“That ‘your young man’ business. And I’m afraid your father has the wrong impression about our relationship, too.”

Instead of commenting on her remark, he nodded at her neighbor’s door as they passed. “What was that all about?”

“Oh. That’s Mrs. Johnson. She’s eighty-five, would you believe it? Anyway, her kids want to put her in a nursing home, but she’s hanging on to her independence for dear life. Literally, I think. And she’s perfectly able to look after herself with just a little bit of help. Like she needs someone to do her grocery shopping every week and pick up a prescription now and then. It’s no big deal to me, and if it helps her stay independent, I’m glad to do it,” Sam said with a shrug as they stopped in front of her door.

“That’s a very nice thing to do,” Brad said, touched by her thoughtfulness.

She shrugged again. “Who knows, maybe someone will do the same for me someday when I’m old and all alone,” she said with a crooked smile, fishing for her key.

When she found it, Brad reached over and took it from her hand, and she looked up at him in surprise. He closed his fingers around it and leaned against the door frame with one shoulder, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “What makes you think you’ll be all alone?” he asked quietly.

Sam lifted one shoulder and averted her face slightly. “I don’t know,” she said evasively. When he didn’t respond, she looked up at him. He was watching her with an odd expression that made her heart stop, then race on. “Brad, your dad is waiting,” she said, suddenly breathless as she tried to control the panic that swept over her.

“He said to take our time,” Brad reminded her.

“Yes, but there’s no reason to keep him waiting.”

“Maybe there is,” he said quietly.

Sam looked at him uncertainly, her heart thumping painfully in her chest “What do you mean?” she asked, a strange catch in her voice.

He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “Sam, I want to thank you for what you did for Dad tonight,” he said slowly.

She dismissed his thanks with a shake of her head. “It was no effort. He’s a nice man.”

“Where did you learn so much about flowers?”

“I’ve always liked them.”

“Do you really have a garden?”

She looked surprised. “Of course.”

“You never told me.”

She frowned. “I guess it just never came up.”

“It seems like I learn something new about you every day,” he said. “You’re a pretty terrific lady, do you know that? And by the way, I like your skirt.” He let his gaze flicker briefly down to the short hemline.

Sam blushed. His voice had a warm, intimate tone that set off alarm bells and made her nerve endings tingle. And she still hadn’t figured out that look in his eyes. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he wanted to kiss her. But of course that was ridiculous.

“Well, thanks,” she said, her voice still uneven. “Um, Brad, you really ought to get back to your dad.”

He frowned. “Yeah, I guess so.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Sam, I—”

“Brad.” This time the panic in her voice was evident “It’s getting late.”

He remained unmoving for a moment, studying her face with his perceptive eyes. Finally, with a sigh, he straightened up. “Yeah, I know.” Before she realized his intent, he quickly leaned down and gently kissed her forehead. Then he put her key in the lock and pushed open the door. “I’ll call you soon, Sam,” he said quietly.

She stared at him, her heart banging against her rib cage, her breathing shallow. “Okay,” she whispered.

Brad lifted his hand, as if to touch her, then dropped it and turned away, striding quickly down the walk.

Sam closed the door and sagged against the frame, not trusting her shaky legs to support her. Things were starting to get out of hand here.

When Brad had first suggested friendship, she’d been touched—and pleased. But she’d really never expected it to go beyond that. Oh, sure, he was an attractive man. He was fun to be with, intelligent, sensitive. He had all the qualities she most admired in a man. Husband material for sure. But she’d known from the beginning that there was no possibility of that. They were too different. And even if those differences could be worked out, he would never be able to accept what she’d done. Even
she
couldn’t accept it. Which was why she’d long ago ruled out marriage. And now was not the time to start changing the rules.

But then again, she hadn’t expected to actually fall in love.

Sam let her eyelids fall, and hot tears welled up behind them as she acknowledged intellectually what her heart already knew—she loved Brad. How could she have let this happen? she cried silently. She should have seen it coming. And she supposed she had. She’d just chosen to ignore it. Because she wanted to be with him, and she figured she could handle the inevitable emotional upheaval. But she wasn’t so sure anymore.

And how did he feel? she wondered, as she began assembling the groceries for Mrs. Johnson. He seemed to like her. Sometimes she thought she even detected stronger feelings than that in his eyes. Like tonight. But maybe gratitude was the explanation for tonight. After all, even though he
had
kissed her, it had felt more brotherly than romantic.

And she should be glad that’s all it had been, she reminded herself sharply. Because if he showed any deeper interest, she’d have to stop seeing him. Immediately. Otherwise she would be misleading him, building up false expectations, and that would be wrong. In the end he would be hurt, and the last thing in the world she wanted to do was hurt Brad.

Yet how could she walk away, if that became necessary? she wondered desperately. The thought of never seeing him again was almost too painful to consider. But how long could she hide her real feelings? Tonight she had wanted him to kiss her. Really kiss her. She had almost lost control, reached out to him. And that out-of-control sensation frightened her. Given the depth of her feelings, she ought to stop this thing before it was too late.

Except that she had a feeling it already was.

“Seems like a nice girl.”

Brad looked over at his father as he backed the car out of the parking spot. He thought about telling him that “girl” wasn’t the politically correct term, but he doubted it would do any good, so he refrained. “She is,” he replied shortly.

“Known her long?”

“Since Laura’s wedding. She was the maid of honor.”

“Let’s see, that’s been…what? Two months ago?”

“Just about.”

“Hmm.”

Brad gave his father a warning look. “Don’t get any ideas, Dad.”

“Ideas about what?” his father asked innocently.

“Ideas about Sam and me,” Brad said.

“Well, she’s a nice girl,” he persisted.

“Yes,” Brad agreed. “She’s a very nice
woman.
But there are a lot of nice women in the world.”

“None that you’ve noticed in recent years, far as I can tell,” his father countered promptly.

“You’re right,” Brad admitted. “I haven’t been looking. And I’m still not. Sam and I are just friends.”

“Humph” was his father’s only response.

Brad looked over at him in exasperation. “Now what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Son, I may be old, but my sight is just fine. I watched you tonight, and when you look at Sam I don’t see ‘friendship’ in your eyes.”

Brad frowned. He obviously hadn’t given his father’s powers of perception enough credit. He himself was only now coming to grips with his feelings for Sam, still struggling to understand their implications, and his father had summed it up in one accurate, pithy sentence.

“So?” his father persisted.

“So what?” Brad asked.

His father sighed heavily. “So what are you going to do about it?” he asked impatiently.

“Dad, it’s too soon to be even thinking about that,” he protested.

Henry snorted. “Baloney. I only knew your mother two weeks when I decided she was the one for me. Took her a little bit longer,” he admitted. “But she came around. We were married six months later. So it’s not too soon.”

Brad shook his head. “I’m not ready for anything that serious.”

“Why not?” Henry demanded. And then his voice gentled. “It’s been six years, son. And you’re still a young man. You could still have that family you always wanted,” he said, reaching over to touch Brad’s shoulder, “Rachel was a wonderful woman, but she’s gone and she wouldn’t want you to be alone. You know that.”

Brad sighed. “Yeah, I know. But it’s hard to let go.”

Henry looked down and fiddled with his seat belt. “That’s for sure.”

Brad glanced over at him. Some of the life had left his father’s eyes, and he berated himself for dampening the spark that Sam had so successfully fanned back into life.

“So you think I should pursue this, then?” he asked, more to refocus his father’s thoughts than to prolong the conversation about Sam.

Henry looked up. “Course I do. Wouldn’t have brought it up if I hadn’t.”

“I take it you like Sam.”

“What’s not to like? She’s got spirit, that girl. Did you see the way her eyes shine when she talks about gardening? Does a person good to be around that kind of enthusiasm.”

“I know. I always feel good around Sam.”

“Well, there you go. Can’t believe somebody hasn’t grabbed her up by now,” Henry said, shaking his head.

“She was married once, Dad. Years ago.”

His father’s head swiveled toward his son. “She was?”

“Yes. When she was eighteen she married a musician. He just walked out on her one day after only a few months. It sounds like he left her high and dry, to use a cliché. She never saw him again. He died a few years later of a drug overdose.”

His father had a few choice words for Sam’s former husband before he turned his attention back to Brad. “Well, I bet the right man could get her to take the plunge again.”

“Maybe,” Brad admitted. “But Sam and I are different in a lot of ways, Dad. Too different to get seriously involved.”

His father folded his arms across his chest “Well, I don’t see it. Seems to me like you two get along just fine. And it would do you good to be around somebody spunky like Sam. She’d sure keep life interesting.”

Brad chuckled. “I can’t argue with you on that.”

“You think about it, son,” Henry said. “Because those kind don’t come along too often. It’d be a real shame to let Sam slip away without ever givin’ it a try. I think you’d always regret it.”

Later, as Brad prepared for bed, he recalled his father’s words. He had a feeling that the older man was right about regrets. And also about his son’s interest. Because what Brad had felt tonight for Sam as he said good-night had definitely
not
been friendship. He’d wanted to kiss her. She had looked so appealing, so sexy, so…wonderful, he thought.

And he kept discovering new facets to her personality. She had been absolutely fantastic with his father tonight, drawing him out with her easygoing manner and surprising knowledge of gardening. He had actually seen the spark in his father’s eyes rekindle. For that alone he would be eternally grateful to her. And then he’d discovered the assistance she gave her elderly neighbor. Few people would put themselves out like that on an ongoing basis. It was the Golden Rule in action. Then there was her volunteer work on Tuesday nights. He’d never discovered just what that involved, only that she was dedicated to it, but he was beginning to realize that this was the way Sam operated. She did good things but never called attention to them. Whether Sam knew it or not, and whether she went to church or not, she was living the principles of the Christian faith.

Yes, Sam was quite a woman. And yes, he was attracted to her. But he’d promised her friendship, nothing more, and he had a feeling tonight that she’d sensed he had something else in mind. Something that she either hadn’t considered before, so she’d been surprised, or considered and rejected. Why else would she have suddenly seemed so nervous and uncomfortable?