of nine, he’d been told old for the silly games his sister and her best friends played in the yard behind the pub, so had restricted himself to a lofty sigh or a weary shake of his head when they needed him to fetch a ball or help them sketch out a hopscotch on the concrete floor of the yard. Even back then, they’d known he would do anything for them and his complaints fell on deaf ears.
Pops had never understood Sam’s fascination with fancy cooking, and had taken it upon himself to teach him the workings of the pub, whether Sam had much interest in it or not. They’d been down in the cellar one morning checking the barrels and making a note of what they needed to order that week from the brewery, when a high-pitched cry had reached their ears. Racing up the cellar steps, Sam had burst into the yard to find a tear-stained Beth on her hands and knees where she’d tripped over.
He hadn’t been able to do much more than stare into her limpid hazel eyes before his mum had bustled over with a flannel to soothe the grazes on Beth’s palms and shins, but it had been enough for him to make a decision. With no brothers or sisters, Beth didn’t have anyone else to look out for her, so it would be his job from that day forward. It was true that little Libby Stone was an only child as well, but she’d always been as tough as old boots and would likely thump Sam if he tried to pull any of that big brother stuff with her. Beth had always been more delicate, more in need of his protection. Something her feckless parents had failed to give her.
The adult version of Libby wasn’t any less scrappy than the mini one, and right now she was eyeing Sam in a way that made him want to squirm, or scrub at the heat he could feel rising on the back of his neck. With a knowing smile, Libby snagged a sausage roll from the plate in front of Beth and popped it into her mouth. ‘So kind of you to think of us, Sammy.’
Having witnessed that momentary indiscretion between Sam and Beth, she’d been like a dog with a bloody bone, reading far too much into a something-and-nothing of a kiss. They’d both managed to forget about it, so why couldn’t she? Fixing her with a warning glare, he gathered their empty glasses. ‘It’s a big brother’s job to look after his girls. I’ll get you a refill, shall I?’ Not waiting for an affirmative, he returned to the bar, ignoring the derisive snort behind his back that could only have come from Libby.
Eliza followed on his heels. ‘Better make those spritzers, Sam, and heavy on the spritz or we’ll all be crying again.’
He lifted the hatch to let her join him on the business side of the bar, pressing a kiss to the top of the unruly sandy curls they’d both inherited from Pops, through their dad. ‘How are you holding up, kiddo?’
Her arm slid around his waist, and she burrowed deeper into his side. ‘Bloody awful. Poor Beth, she’s been so brave all week she had me fooled into thinking she was coping all right with losing Eleanor, but she’s absolutely shattered.’
His attention strayed once again across the room. Libby had an arm around Beth’s shoulders and their heads were pressed close together as they whispered about something. He saw Beth shake her head, followed by a frown from Libby as the willowy brunette slipped out from beneath her arm and headed towards the bar. A couple of people stopped her on her way, no doubt offering some condolence or other which she accepted with a gracious smile and a few words.
Unable to stop himself, Sam stepped around Eliza to intercept Beth on the threshold of the door leading to the private areas of the pub. ‘Everything all right?’
‘What? Oh, yes, fine thanks, Sam.’ Jesus, could she hear the lie in her voice as clearly as he did? He ground his teeth to choke back the words, forcing a smile he knew wouldn’t reach his eyes. Luckily, she was too distracted to notice much of anything. Holding up the phone in her hand, she gave him a rueful grin. ‘I just need to check in with work, my boss keeps texting me.’
From the little he’d overheard the girls talking about him, her boss sounded like a right knob. ‘I thought you were on leave?’
‘Me too.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s a bit noisy in here, you don’t mind if I pop in the back?’
Freeing one hand, he pushed open the swing door to the family area. ‘Help yourself. Mum’s in the kitchen, and I think Dad’s having a lie down so the lounge will be quiet.’
Beth placed one foot on the bottom step, then paused to glance back at him. ‘Thanks. I might go out in the yard, I could do with a bit of fresh air.’
‘Of course.’ Sam grabbed his jacket from the peg by the back door. ‘Here, put this on, and mind your step. The sun doesn’t get high enough this time of year so it’s likely to still be icy in a few spots.’
A more natural smile played upon her lips, but she let him help her into the coat without protest. ‘Thank you.’
The thick length of her hair was caught in the collar, he unhooked it, his fingers accidentally brushing against the nape of her neck. She froze at the unexpected caress, and feeling ten types of awkward himself, Sam tweaked her nose just as he had when she’d been a little girl. The weird tension between them snapped and she gave a little giggle.
He zipped the jacket up to her chin until she was all but swallowed up by the padded material. ‘Don’t get cold, all right? I’ll see if Eliza can give me a hand rounding people up. They’ve all had a good feed and a couple of drinks on the house by now. More than enough to pay their respects.’
Her shoulders drooped, as though the promise of not having to face any more well-wishers had drained the last of her reserves. ‘If you could, I’d appreciate it. I’m…I’m about at the end of my tether.’ The hitch in her voice scrapped him raw. For all Eleanor meant to him, she’d been Beth’s guardian and primary carer for the best part of ten years now.
Her features crumpled for a second before she forced her eyes wide open and heaved a breath. If she needed to be strong, to stand on her own two feet for just a bit longer, he would have to let her. Even if it felt like he’d swallowed a handful of glass. ‘Consider it done, Princess.’
Growing up, the three girls had played elaborate games of dress-up. Eliza and Beth had always been princesses. They’d rope Sam in whenever they could, but never to play the heroic prince—that had been Libby’s role. No, Sam had been relegated to playing the bad guy, a dragon to be slain by Libby’s sword or an evil robber baron intent on stealing the kingdom. The flashback to those childhood days did the trick, just as he’d hoped and they both laughed. Her spine straightened, and she tilted her neck in a haughty angle as she gave him a mock-dismissive wave.
He nodded his head towards the door. ‘Go and make your call, and when you come back, I’ll make you something special. Tequila Sunrise, perhaps?’ The girls had snuck down to the bar one night when they’d been all of fifteen and experimented with cocktails, to their eternal regret and the permanent detriment of the bathroom carpet.
Beth pulled a face. ‘Don’t ever mention those again! Just when I start thinking you’re a nice man, Samuel Barnes, you go and ruin it.’ She was laughing though, the smile she gave him was as soft as the words were harsh. A blast of cold air sent a shiver through him, so he shut the door behind her and nipped upstairs to let his mum know he was going to try and wind the afternoon up.
With the remains of the buffet cleared and the last few stragglers having at least moved closer to the exit, Sam made a start with wiping down the dark wood tables, one eye fixed on the door to the back. It had been at least twenty minutes since Beth had stepped outside and she’d yet to appear, leaving him in a quandary. He’d always acted on instinct, making decisions based on his gut, and it had served him well so far. His teachers had encouraged him towards university, advised him he could have his pick
