when Pete found out what they’d done, he’d moved her and Ciara into the upstairs apartment. And when the Learys returned eight months after that, expecting to pick up where they’d left off, he’d made it clear they would not.
“Good ol’ Pete,” she muttered, remembering the tongue-lashing he’d given her folks.
“What’s that?” Sam asked.
“Oh, nothing.” She faked a grin. Stop looking so sympathetic, Sam Marshall, she thought, or I’ll lose it. Finn hated few things more than blubbering in front of people, strangers in particular.
What would Pete say if he were here? “Look for the silver lining, cupcake. There’s always a silver lining.” Her eyes misted with tears. Oh, how she missed him!
“Well, we’re done,” Torry said, rapping on the plywood wall. “That’ll hold ya until your insurance agent cuts you a check.”
“Thanks, guys. You’re all entitled to free meals just as soon as we’re open for business.”
Torry took her aside. “Are you crazy, offering this motley crew free food? They’ll eat clean through to the kitchen, and you’ll have to start all over again!”
Laughing, the guys made their way out through the back door.
All except for Sam.
“I know a couple good contractors,” he said. “Recruits turned firefighters who used to work for family businesses. So, just say the word, and I’ll hook you up.”
“Thanks.” She glanced into her office, where the still-unpaid invoices sat on her desk. “I have a couple of phone calls to make.”
“Insurance agent?”
Finn nodded. “Thanks for rounding up that work crew. You’re right. No way Rowdy and I could have done all that alone. Especially not so quickly.”
“Happy to help.”
It was what everyone said, but it rarely sounded more heartfelt.
Sam handed her a business card. “If you need anything, you know, while you’re waiting for the agent to get back to you, call me. Any time. Even if it’s just to talk.” He looked around the place. “Because I’m guessing this hit you pretty hard.”
Why, oh, why, did he have to seem so sincere? Tears stung her eyes, and Finn held her breath. You will not cry. Do. Not. Cry!
Sam took a step closer, stooping slightly to study her face. Why didn’t he just leave? She’d ask him to go...if she could speak around the sob in her throat.
“Aw, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” he said, and extended his arms.
If anyone had told her she’d so willingly step into them, she would have called them insane.
But that was exactly what she did, and safe was exactly how she felt.
SAM HAD COMFORTED women before. Not so unusual for a guy in his line of work, especially one with a mom, grandmothers, sisters, an assortment of aunts and nieces and a weepy ex-girlfriend or two. Some wailed, others sniffled, a few hiccupped...over lost loved ones and pets, poignant movie plots, thoughtful gifts. But not one had held on so tight he could feel her heart beating against his chest. If not for the tears dampening his shirt and the quaking of Finn’s petite body, he wouldn’t have realized she was crying.
His leg was killing him, thanks to hefting and steadying the plywood while Torry, Mark and the guys had nailed it in place. He could go home, elevate it and apply heat, swallow an aspirin or two and feel relief in no time. But he’d rather endure the pain than let her go.
Common sense told him that useless platitudes were the last thing she needed to hear right now. So he stood quiet and still, and let his presence do the talking.
Thanks to Mark and Torry, he’d learned a bit about Finn’s history. The terrible accident. Absentee parents. Full responsibility for her sister. Employees who relied on her for a steady paycheck. Sam thought of his own mom and dad, whose unconditional love showed in everything they said and did.
The contrasts made him hug Finn a little tighter. She’d grown up without any of that, yet she’d taken on the role of mother, father and older sibling to her special needs sister. If she’d been raised by parents like his, how much more terrific would she be?
Finn pressed both palms to his chest and gazed up at him through long, tear-spiky eyelashes. His pulse pounded when a faint, sheepish grin lifted one corner of her mouth.
“I’m not usually such a big whiny baby. Sorry.”
When she looked away, it felt as if someone had flipped a switch and turned out the light in his heart. Sam lifted her chin on a bent forefinger, gently guiding her gaze back to his eyes.
“You’re not a big whiny baby, and you have absolutely nothing to apologize for.”
Finn bit her lower lip to still its trembling, and he admired her all the more for the effort at self-control.
“I meant what I said.”
Dark eyebrows lifted slightly.
“You really are safe with me. Safe to cry or stamp your feet or put a fist through a wall.” He grinned. “Although I don’t recommend that last one.”
“Right...the place has sustained enough damage for one night.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Besides, tears and tantrums are a waste of time and energy.”
Sam read between the lines: she hadn’t come by that mind-set the easy way. How many other hard-earned lessons had life taught her? He fought the urge to pull her close again.
“Don’t know about you,” he said, “but I could go for some strong coffee and a slice of pie.”
She smiled, and the light in his heart went on again.
“Cherry or apple?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
He followed her into the kitchen, where she grabbed two plates from the shelf above the long stainless counter.
“Sorry it isn’t homemade, but it’s not half bad warmed up in the microwave and topped off with ice cream.”
Sam considered reminding her there was nothing to apologize for. Instead, he said, “I’d offer to help, but, man, you made quick work of slicing that pie!” Chuckling, he balanced on a wheeled stool. “Remind me not to startle you when there’s a cleaver in your hand.”
She used the tip of the wide blade to point at a row of knives and scissors stuck to a magnetized strip above the counter. “That’s a cleaver. This is a chef’s knife. It’ll slice, chop, dice, mince or mash—as in garlic cloves. Most useful kitchen tool ever invented.”
It was good to see her more relaxed. “Aha. So that’s why you have
