For the Longest Time (2 page)

Her feelings on that were the first things she'd been dead certain of in quite a long time.

Over my dead body.

“Here. If I didn't manage to embed the cat too deeply in your skin, I'll take it.”

Sam took a step back. “I'm keeping it.”

He paused, looking startled. “Well. Good. I mean, that's what I like to hear, of course. But it still needs medical care before it's ready to come home on a permanent basis. With luck, the kitten will be ready to travel by the time you're done with your visit—”

“She's not visiting,” Andi said, and Sam caught the little smile on her mother's lips.
Damn
. What if her mother didn't want a cat in the house? She hadn't even thought about it. Yet another hazard of moving back home, though this was only going to be temporary. Really temporary. And she'd use that to argue for keeping the little black ball of fluff if it came to it.

“She's home. With company, seems like. It'll be good to have an animal in the house again,” her mother said. “I'd thought I might keep one anyway.” Sam relaxed a little. One crisis averted, at least.

“Really? You're moving back?” Jake asked. He sounded strangely interested. It was annoying.

“Sort of. For the time being,” Sam hedged. If he wanted more concrete information, he could just stick with whatever rumors were sure to come down the pike. It was what he'd done before. Why should that have changed?

“Great,” he said, and his easy smile included those damned dimples. She could almost believe he was sincere. That, Sam knew, would be a mistake. Everyone said that people changed, but in her experience, they didn't change that much. And even if Jake had, she had better things to do than find out.

Like mope around her mother's house in her pajamas
eating queso out of the jar, for instance. With a spoon. Awesome.

When the silence dragged out, Sam finally realized why Jake was looking at her so expectantly. Sadly, it had nothing to do with wanting extra information about her scintillating life plans.

“You still want the kitten,” she said flatly.

Jake scrubbed a hand through his hair and looked almost apologetic. “Uh, well . . . yeah. Provided you'd like it to stay alive, I think this would be a good thing.”

Sam sighed heavily, looked down at the green eyes that were full of silent, obvious pleading, and began the arduous process of unhooking its claws from her shirt. It mewed and reattached itself almost immediately. She pursed her lips, looked at the kitten, then up at Jake. She might as well go all in on not caring what he thought.

“A little help?”

In the end it took all three of them to detach what Jake determined, with a quick look, was her brand-new male kitten from her now holey T-shirt. Sam hated seeing him put in the carrier with his siblings, already worried that she wouldn't see him again. His piteous yowling, however, seemed to be a good sign, at least according to Jake.

“You're going to have your hands full,” he told her as he loaded the carrier into the passenger seat of his truck. “I can already tell he's not going to give you any peace.”

Sam just laughed. “I could use the distraction,” she replied before she could think better of it. But even when she did, it hardly mattered. She wasn't a stupid sixteen-year-old anymore. Her life was her own, and she didn't have to share it with anyone but whom she chose. And Jake Smith was long off her list.

Still, the look he gave her was speculative in a way that left her feeling off balance just before he walked away.

“I'll give you a call,” he said.

“When you get a better idea of how he's doing?” Sam asked.

“Sure. That, too,” Jake said, and flashed his gorgeous, infuriating grin before turning to walk around to the other side of the truck, giving Sam an excellent view of an ass that had lingered in her memory far longer than should have been allowed.

“Let me know how it goes, Jake,” her mother called. “I'll pay for whatever they need. I won't have them going in the shelter.”

“No, ma'am,” Jake called back. “Don't worry. I will.”

Sam stepped back as he started the engine and backed out, turned, and headed off down the driveway with the gravel crunching beneath his tires. She stared after him, wondering what the hell had just happened. She'd definitely adopted a scrawny kitten. And she was pretty sure Jake Smith had just threatened to call her for reasons entirely unrelated to said kitten. Which made no sense, since she was still the same girl he'd ignored throughout school, with one notable exception, until he'd graduated and left her, along with her broken heart, in the dust.

Her mother's arm slid around her waist.

“Sorry about that, honey. I'd hoped he'd be gone by the time you got here. I'm sure that's not the first person you wanted to see, but believe it or not, he
is
a good vet.”

Sam shrugged, eyes still tracking the truck as it made the turn onto the Crescent. “No big deal. I grew up. I'm not going to go inside, lock myself in my room, and play “Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely” until your ears bleed. I promise.”

That had her mother laughing as she led her back toward the house, giving her a squeeze that allowed Sam to push all of her embarrassment and confusion, old and new, into the back of her mind in favor of simply being grateful for the moment.

“Good, or you'd be in the attic.” She paused, and Sam could feel her mother eyeing her. “Though I think you surprised him as much as he surprised you.”

Sam smirked to hide her discomfort. Jake was the last thing she wanted to think about. “Yeah, my hair is actually a shade found in nature now. This town will never be the same.”

“I liked it when it was purple,” her mother admitted.

“I don't know how I feel about matching the mailbox, but I'll keep that in mind. Lavender's in right now, you know.”

Andi surprised her by stopping and hugging her tight. This time Sam slipped easily into the embrace, breathing in the light, herbal scent that would always be her mother's.

“I'm so glad you're back, Sammy. I always understood why you needed to go, but this is where you belong. You'll see.”

Sam didn't say a word. She just took in the comforting familiarity of the house, the meeting of sea and sky beyond, and tried to make herself believe it.

J
ake propped his boots on the railing of his front porch and took a swig of his beer, enjoying a few minutes' peace while he looked out at the deepening twilight. Tucker, the cattle dog crossed with God-knew-what he'd brought home two years ago, was flopped at his feet, panting happily. Tucker was living proof that there were benefits to bringing your work home with you.

So was the pile of sleeping kittens in his laundry room. Well, until they woke up and started raising hell in there again. For a bunch of malnourished, flea-infested orphans, they'd perked up awfully quickly after a day of attention, medical and otherwise. Still, they were going to be plenty of work for a while yet. Feral kittens always were. And Sam's little buddy didn't like him nearly as well as the kitten liked her. Not that it was hard to understand the attraction.

Samantha Henry.
Jake took another drink while he mulled what might have brought her back to the Cove. He hadn't heard a word about it, and considering how many people he saw on a daily basis, he usually heard
everything
. He tried to remember the last time he'd seen Sam, thought it might have been nothing more than a
glimpse of purple hair about six years ago when he'd been home on break. Even that brief sighting had piqued his interest with a strength that had surprised him—though it shouldn't have. He'd never really gotten over that first bout of fascination with her. Of course, his younger self hadn't been able to admit that's what it was back then. Not to himself, and certainly not to anyone else.

From the reception he'd gotten earlier, Sam remembered that as well as he did. She sure as hell hadn't forgiven him for it. He tapped a finger against the side of the bottle he held, frustrated by the hold she'd had on his thoughts all afternoon. It had been ten years. Didn't people get to be absolved of their teenage stupidity at some point?

They ought to. Except . . . he remembered her face that day. And he knew that sometimes the answer was a resounding “no,” no matter how much time had passed.

Jake flexed his foot to get the rocking chair moving a little as he reached down to give Tucker a scratch behind the ears. The dog leaned into his touch, happy for the attention like he always was. Jake grinned, gave the furry head one last hard rub, and then leaned back into the chair and blew out a long breath.

“She still hates my guts,” he said, knowing it was mostly, if not entirely true. Tucker cocked his head, looked keenly interested until he realized that nothing Jake had said involved either a walk or food, and then returned his attention to sniffing the air while keeping watch for squirrels. Which was, Jake thought, a lot more productive than sitting here brooding.

He slid a look at the phone he'd brought out with him, thinking there was an off chance that Sam would call to
ask about the kitten. A
really
off chance. Only slightly greater than a snowball's in hell. Maybe.

Jake scrubbed his hand over his face when he realized what he was doing. Seeing Sam hadn't just made him feel like a teenager again. It had turned him into a teenage
girl
.

“Screw it,” he muttered, grabbing the phone and punching in Andi's number before he could talk himself out of it. He'd said he would call, so he was calling. In his
professional
capacity. It wasn't a big deal.

“It's not a big deal,” he told Tucker, who was so impressed that he decided it was a good time to start cleaning himself. Jake nudged him with his foot.

“You could at least act supportive, jerk.”

The phone rang just twice before someone picked up. Luck was with him.

“Hello?” Sam sounded a little breathless, like she'd had to run to get the phone. She also sounded a lot friendlier than she had earlier . . . which told him she just didn't recognize his number. Yet.

“Sam,” he said easily, hoping that if he kept it casual and friendly, she would too.

“Jake.” The temperature of her voice changed so quickly that he was surprised the phone didn't go cold in his hand. Just another reminder that this wasn't the shy misfit he remembered . . . though there hadn't been much question of that once he'd gotten a good look at her earlier.

“What do you need?”

He closed his eyes. That was, at the moment, a loaded question.

“I thought you might want a kitten update.”

“Oh.” He could almost hear her switching gears,
deciding how to proceed with him. When she spoke again, Sam sounded cautious, cool, but less overtly homicidal. It was progress, Jake told himself. They had to start somewhere.

The question was, where did he want to go?

“Well . . . how are they? Is Loki okay?” she asked.

He paused. “Norse god of mischief?”

“Avengers supervillain. He'll be an adopted orphan, misunderstood because of his fur color, and bent on world domination because he's a cat. I think it fits.”

Despite the slightly defiant note in her voice, Jake burst out laughing. “I can't actually argue with that. Loki it is. And he's doing fine.”

“Good.” He heard surprise, relief . . . and the natural caution that she'd always had with him, with everyone around here, actually. It took him back to the first day he'd really noticed her, sketching in the park beneath the huge old oak they called the Witch Tree. It was early May, the first really warm day they'd had that year, and he'd been out enjoying it on his own, thinking of the upcoming party that night, the impending summer. He'd just turned eighteen, and the world seemed to be waiting for him. Sam had been just shy of seventeen, and she hadn't known what to do with him then, either.

“What are you drawing?”

“Well . . . I . . . um . . . Just things, I guess.”

She'd tried to cover up the sketch pad she'd carried with her everywhere, but her hands weren't big enough to hide what had been an incredible rendering of some dark, enchanted dragon, brooding atop a throne of skulls. Jake remembered noticing her chipped black nail polish as she'd hurriedly flipped the book shut. Mostly, he remembered being completely blown away that Sam, who
normally only tripped his radar as a black-clad shadow who was teased mercilessly for being a wannabe witch, a freak, and a variety of other unflattering things, was actually talented. What he'd glimpsed had been at least as good as a lot of the comic book art he liked. Maybe better.

Then she'd looked up at him with those big blue-green eyes, and he'd seen her, really seen her, for the very first time.

“Earth to Jake.”

Her voice, now that of a woman and not the girl she had been, jerked him back into the present.

“Sorry. Thought I heard the kittens.” As an excuse, it worked as well as anything. And it had the added benefit of piquing Sam's interest.

“Oh. Are you still at work?” He could hear the slight frown in her voice, and pictured her standing with the phone against her ear, looking serious and slightly annoyed. It made him smile. In some ways, she looked so much the same it was eerie—the delicate, pointed features, the full lower lip that he remembered her chewing at when she was nervous. But ten years had enhanced what was already there, and banished the awkward teenager. Her smile was more open, the natural grace in the way she moved more obvious. What she wore, while not exactly standard for the Cove, suited her lithe curves rather than looking like baggy armor. And something about that icy blond hair made his mouth water every time he thought about it. Pretty had become beautiful. Sam wasn't hiding anymore.

Well, not from the world, anyway. The jury was still out on whether she'd try to hide from him. That, or just flay him alive with what he already sensed was one very sharp tongue.

“It was my day off. I took them in anyway, since they needed it, but afterward I brought them back home with me,” Jake explained. “I've got the room, and they really shouldn't be left alone yet.”

“Oh,” she said again, and he could tell he'd surprised her. Good. Even if it rankled a little that it meant she still had him mentally filed under
Heartless Bastard
.

Because it helped him keep her on the phone, Jake slipped smoothly into vet mode, telling her that the kittens looked to be about six weeks old, explaining about the baths they'd had to remove the fleas, how he'd started deworming them, how they were taking the soft food he'd started them on. Sam listened, interjecting the occasional murmur of assent to show she was paying attention. When he ran out of material there, she seemed to be waiting for more. Jake cast around for something else to say. Everything he really wanted to know was none of his business. What had she been doing? Why was she back? All he knew about her for sure at this point was that she was in town, and that he wanted to see her again, preferably as soon as possible. Unfortunately, asking her over for a drink was likely to get him hung up on. Left without options, he decided to just jump into the void.

“So why don't you come by the office tomorrow?”

“Why? He isn't ready to come home yet, is he?” Any warmth he'd heard in her voice vanished instantly, and that old wariness was back full force. Frustration had him gritting his teeth. For a guy who'd never had much trouble attracting women, he was doing a great job keeping this one at arm's length.
Patience
, he told himself.

He was going to have to keep repeating it. Patience had never been one of his strong suits. He was still
interested in Sam Henry. Maybe it would burn itself out quickly, maybe not, but he needed to engineer a way to find out.

“No,” Jake said calmly, “but Loki and his siblings are feral. I still don't know what possessed him to come to you, because all the kittens are going to need a lot of handling before they're comfortable with people, and he's nowhere near as friendly with me or my staff as he was with you. The good news is that they're still in the age window where they should take easily to human contact. The bad news is that my practice is pretty busy. Between me and Tom, we handle most of the pets in the Cove, so I don't know how much time anyone is going to be able to spend with them on any given day. A foster would be ideal, at least once I'm sure there's nothing pressing, health-wise, but the local cat rescue is swamped. I thought if you had time you might come by and hang out with them for a while tomorrow.”

She hesitated. “Just tomorrow?”

“I didn't figure I'd need to ask after that. Kittens are highly addictive.”

She laughed, and though it was still more tentative than he would have liked, it at least sounded genuine.

“Yeah, um, sure. I can come in. Is there a good time?”

“Around noon would be perfect,” Jake replied, deciding that Sam didn't need to know she was coming in right at the beginning of his lunch hour. No need to complicate things. He'd lure her in with cute, furry things, and then overwhelm her with his charm. Or something.

Right now, it was all he had, so he'd go with it.

“I guess I'll see you around noon, then,” Sam said. She still sounded way more cautious about it than he would have liked, as though she was sure he was just waiting to
spring something unpleasant on her. Still, it was a beginning. He'd see her tomorrow, and they'd go from there.

“See you then,” Jake said, and hung up before she could change her mind.

* * *

Sam set the phone on the counter, then turned, shaking her head, to pour herself another cup of coffee. Caffeine was probably the last thing she needed this evening, but then again, it was better than, say, whiskey. Which, considering what she'd just agreed to, was a tempting thought.

If he thought she didn't realize he'd invited her to come by when he'd be able to hang around and pester her, he was really dense. Or just male. She could try to pretend that she was going for Loki—and that was certainly part of it—but the truth was, she was curious. Twisted but true. Of all the things she expected to happen coming back to Harvest Cove, having Jake Smith sniffing at her heels was probably last on the list. What did he
want
?

“Doesn't matter,” she muttered, then lifted her mug to her lips, inhaled the warm, comforting aroma of her mom's favorite coffee, and took a sip. Sam leaned back against the counter, crossed one fuzzy purple slipper over the other, and tried to banish Jake from her thoughts. She'd deal with it tomorrow. And if he thought he was getting any closer than arm's length, he was going to be awfully disappointed.

“Whose demise are you plotting?”

Sam blinked and turned her head to watch her mother amble into the kitchen from the living room, where she'd been sitting with her nose in a book when the phone had rung. Andi looked about as comfortable as it was possible to get in a pair of loose pajama pants covered in little
Eeyores and an oversize T-shirt advertising Merry Meet, a little restaurant downtown. Her long hair was coming loose from its braid, and her reading glasses were perched atop her head. She smiled knowingly as she settled herself on one of the stools situated beneath the edge of the long wooden island, basically a farmhouse table, that occupied much of the middle of the kitchen. Sam stayed where she was, close to the warmth of the massive, white cast-iron AGA. Actually cooking with it remained a mystery to Sam, but she loved the unusual oven nonetheless.

“I'm not plotting anything,” Sam protested. “I'm having coffee.”

“Uh-huh,” Andi replied, blue eyes twinkling. “I gave birth to you, Sam. I know the evil smirk.”

Sam shrugged. Her mother had always been an excellent sounding board, but this . . . she wasn't ready to talk about this. Whatever “this” actually was. Leftover hurt and unwanted attraction, she guessed. Hardly worth talking about. So she directed the conversation elsewhere.

“Just planning how I'll take the Cove by storm, starting tomorrow,” Sam said. “I'm sure once word gets around I'm back they'll throw me a parade or something.”