doe-like eyes peeking out from under long dark wavy hair. She wore a pencil skirt that hugged her curves, a satiny pink blouse and dark pumps that raised her from what he guessed was a normal height of about five foot three. “Uh, I’m Katie Williams,” she said, while he continued to stare. “I’m here to interview for the tutor position? I’m sorry I’m a few minutes early.”
The tutor. Of course. Already, he’d forgotten about her appointment. Maybe he was the one who should have eaten his breakfast. Or, for that matter, had a cup of coffee. Thus far, Sam was lucky he’d had enough time to throw on some clothes and brush his teeth. And given that Charity hadn’t responded to his text yet, that meant he still didn’t have anyone to watch Libby, and his interview was in less than forty-five minutes... “Oh, yes, I’m sorry. I—” He threw up his hands and gave up trying to formulate any kind of excuse. How did he encapsulate months of feeling overwhelmed into one sentence? “It’s been a morning and a half. Katie Williams—Colton’s little sister, right?”
“Yes.”
Which made her probably only a couple years younger than Sam. He didn’t know why that mattered so much, but it suddenly did. “Colton’s a great guy.”
“Who’s here?” Libby skidded to a stop beside him and poked her head around the door. “Hi. I’m Libby.”
Katie bent down. “Hi, Libby. I’m Katie.” She raised her gaze and peered at the space behind Sam. “And who’s that?”
Libby turned. “Oh, that’s my little brother, Henry. He’s shy.”
Katie wiggled her fingers in Henry’s direction. “Hi, Henry. I’m Katie.”
Henry stood at the corner for a second longer, then dashed back into the living room. He never uttered a peep. Not that Sam had expected him to. Henry had almost completely stopped talking after his mother died. Sam had taken his son to doctor after doctor, spent hours searching the internet, but the conclusion was the same—Henry would talk when he was ready.
Lord, how Sam missed the sound of Henry’s voice. The curiosity in the lilting questions he used to ask. Sam’s heart ached, literally ached, for the things he had lost. The things he couldn’t change.
Libby, the more outgoing of the two kids, just kept looking up at Katie with obvious curiosity. “Do you like dogs?” Libby asked.
Katie smiled. “I love dogs.”
One point in favor of Katie Williams. Hopefully, she liked dogs with plenty of puppy energy, because he could feel Bandit nudging past him. Just as Sam reached for the dog’s collar, Bandit leaped, paws landing on Katie’s chest. She stumbled back, and for a long, heart-stopping second, Sam thought she was going to fall down his porch stairs. Visions of hospitals and lawsuits popped into his mind. He reached for her, caught her hand, just as she recovered her balance and swayed forward. But then she overcorrected, and swayed straight into his chest.
“Oh, God. I’m... I’m sorry,” she said, jerking away from him.
He knew he should say the same, but for one long second there he hadn’t been sorry at all that she had touched him. Maybe it was because he’d been alone for so long, or maybe it was because she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, but either way, a little frisson of electricity had run through Sam when Katie touched his chest. It was chased by a wave of guilt. Wendy had been dead for only a year and a half. What was he doing, reacting to another woman like that?
“I’m the one who needs to apologize. My, uh, dog is still learning his manners,” Sam said, and thought it would be a good thing if his owner remembered his. “But please come in, have a seat while we talk. I can lock Bandit up if you want.”
“Oh, no, the dog is fine. I love dogs, remember? Really.” Katie started to follow Sam into the house, with Bandit hot on her heels.
“You can come with me,” Libby said. She put her hand in Katie’s and tugged her down the hall. “My father says I gotta be nice to people who come over to the house.”
My father. Not Daddy. He hadn’t heard Daddy, or even Dad in a long time. He bit back another sigh.
“And he’s supposed to be nice, too,” Libby added, giving Sam a pointed glare.
Katie looked up at Sam and smiled. She had a nice smile. A really nice smile. “Is that so?”
“Yup. ’Cuz sometimes he’s grumpy,” Libby added, thumbing in the direction of Sam.
Sam groaned. That was the problem with kids. They said too much and always at the wrong time. “I’m not grumpy. Just...stressed.”
“How come?” Libby asked.
He ruffled his daughter’s hair. She stiffened, an almost imperceptible amount, but the distance was there. The easy relationship he’d had with his eldest had also disappeared in the last year and a half. Sam put on a bright face, pretending, as he always did, that he didn’t notice. That they were all just fine. “Because some people feed their breakfast to the dog.”
Katie bit back a laugh. “My brother used to do that.”
“Not you?”
“Of course not. I was the good one.” Katie smiled when she said that, which sent his mind spiraling down a couple paths that were not appropriate for interviewing the tutor. Yeah, he definitely had been alone too long. That was all it was.
Sam cleared his throat and gestured toward the dining room table. The kitchen was a mess—as was typical pretty much every day of the week—with dirty dishes piled in the sink, breakfast crumbs scattered across the table and countertops, and a set of muddy paw prints running circles around the table. They never used the dining room, which meant it was relatively clean, if he ignored the light coating of dust on everything. “Libby, go watch cartoons with Henry.”
“But I wanna—”
“Go watch cartoons with Henry. Please.” He prayed Libby wouldn’t argue, that she would just do what he said.
Libby stood her ground a moment longer, but then the sounds of Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck drew her into the other room. Sam had a brief moment of peace in his house, which meant he’d better get this interview done fast, before Katie realized things here were actually more like a zoo, and she ran out the door, like more than one nanny he’d interviewed.
“Is there any chance you also want to be a nanny?” he asked, only half joking. Still no text back from Charity.
“I’ve never been a nanny, or a tutor,” she said. “I’m a CPA, but I’m...looking for a new direction for now. I’m in town for a couple weeks while I think about my career options.”
A CPA? What had Della been thinking? Talk about overqualified for the job.
“Do you have any experience with kids?” He should have realized that when she showed up on his doorstep. Any tutor in her right mind wouldn’t be wearing heels and a figure-hugging pencil skirt.
He glanced at his phone again. Nothing from Charity. Damn. The last thing he wanted to do was take the kids with him. He’d had to do that a few times with client appointments and the results had been...disastrous to say the least. He was still paying for the marker decorations that Henry had drawn on a custom-made leather sofa in one
