Page 13 of A Family Affair: The Plan
Sam leftthe Heart Sent after his “conversation” with Hope Newland and didn’t return until almost ten o’clock. Tonight, hisfather had actually asked his opinion on a case: a five-year-old labrador retriever exhibiting signs of silent seizures. Okay, the guy had to have a plan, especially in regard to educating the owners on what to look for and how to react. Maybe he was testing Sam, checking out his ability to diagnose and work with the family. Or maybe it was his father’s attempt to start mending the mess their relationship had become. It didn’t matter; Sam would accept either one, and hopefully, there’d be more.
When he let himself into the Heart Sent, he shrugged out of his jacket and shoes, careful he didn’t make too much noise. He’d become an expert on arriving after Mimi closed up, and while she’d told him several times he could come and go as he pleased, he did not plan to take advantage of her generosity. Besides, there was another guest staying here, and he wanted to avoid a confrontation with her. Hope Newland had a lot of opinions and she didn’t need to say the words for Sam to understand he wasnother favorite person. The woman had a damn file on the townspeople—only the important ones as she’d made sure to tell him. He wasn’t in it, and that was fine by him. He didn’t need some fancy sophisticate asking questions, seeking opinions, trying to find out about the town and by default,him.
There were enough other residents, some in her file, some not, who could list all of the reasons Magdalena was the place to be and how it could provide a wonderful life…family, kids, a dog or two. Sam could talk about the dogs if she asked; that was his area of expertise, even if his father had his doubts.
He moved toward the kitchen, thinking about the chocolate chip cookies Mimi had baked when he heard the faint off-key humming. Even if Mimi were still awake, she would not be humming a Journey song, and definitely not off-key.
When Sam reached the kitchen, his gaze settled on the source of the humming. Hope Newland stood at the stove, her back tohim, head bent as she stirred a pot. Sam leaned against the door frame, took in the single braid, the tie-dyed T-shirt and gray sweatpants. And bare feet. Interesting visual and one he would not have expected. The humming continued, wrapped around him, and for the briefest moment, the dark hair, the slender neck, and curves reminded him of Celeste. How had his life gone so wrong? How had?—
Hope turned, gasped. “What are you doing here?” A frown followed by a sharp, “How long have you been standing there?”
Splashes of red seeped from her neck to her cheeks, spread to her forehead. The woman didnotappreciate being caught like this—no pearls, no designer shirts, no makeup. Sam eased away from the doorframe, moved toward the open container of cookies on the counter, offered a tiny smile. “Long enough to hear your rendition of “Faithfully”.”
The raised brow and pinched lips said she did not appreciate that comment. “I didn’t realize I was being observed.”
His smile spread, his shoulders relaxed. “Observed? We’re not in a classroom. I was simply enjoying a few seconds of the unfiltered version of Hope Newland.” His gaze slid from the tie-dyed T-shirt to the gray sweats and bare feet.
A shrug, a prim, “Good manners dictate a person inform the other person when they’ve entered a room.”
“True, but I was more straddling the room at that point. Besides, who said I had manners?” She stared at him as if trying to decipher whether he was serious or toying with her. “Relax. The outfit suits you. Makes you more…approachable. Ever think of losing the buttoned-up image? I’ll bet a lot more people would talk to you if you did.” He lifted a chocolate chip cookie from the container, took a bite. “These are my favorite.”
Her expression relaxed the tiniest bit. “Theyaregood. I couldn’t sleep so I decided hot chocolate and chocolate chipcookies might do the trick.” Pause and a hesitant “Would you like some hot chocolate?”
That almost sounded like a kind gesture toward him. Huh. “Sure.” Sam turned and opened the refrigerator door, pulled out the milk and handed it to her. “Thanks.”
“It will just be a few minutes.” She kept her gaze on the milk as though uncomfortable with their late-night encounter.
“Do you cook?” The words fell out before he could yank them back. Strange, but she didn’t seem offended by the question.
“I do. I love to cook but I work a lot and it’s not fun to cook for one…so…”
Cooking for one.Did that mean she wasn’t in a relationship? Not with anyone in particular? “I see. Single? Divorced?”Not your business, his brain said, but it didn’t stop him from wondering.
She glanced at him and for the briefest second, he spotted what looked a lot like pain. “Alone.”
That could mean anything. Alone by choice? Alone by someone else’s choice? Alone because it didn’t work out? So many possibilities and none of them were his business.Do not venture into her personal space. Stay away. Not your business.“I get it. Trust me, I do.”
She did not look at him as she poured the hot chocolate into the mugs, handed him one. “Sometimes we think we know where we’re going and then the path changes and we have to find a new one. Not what we expected but who wants to jump off a cliff even if there’s a net below?”
Okay, somebody burned her. “I know exactly what you mean.”
“I see.” Her lips pulled into a faint smile. “Guess you don’t want to expand on that?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“Good. Me neither.”
Now she really had him curious. Sam pointed to the table. “Care to sit and gorge on cookies and small talk?”
The smile inched wider. “Sure.” She grabbed the cookie container, set it on the table between them, and eased into a chair. “Darn, I forgot the plates. Sorry about that.” She moved to stand, but he stopped her.
“No need. It’s just us. I won’t tell Mimi if you don’t.”
She settled into her chair, eyed him. “Sort of like drinking from the orange juice container when no one’s watching?”
Was that a joke? He’d done it quite a few times, but he couldn’t picture this woman doing it. “Are you toying with me?”
A shrug and a coy “I’ll never tell.”
