Page 55 of A Spot of Trouble
“I suppose I feel guilty by association.” Violet sighed. “They mean well, I promise. They just…”
Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Care about you an awful lot?”
“I was going to say they tend to meddle, but I like your version better.” She sipped her tea. Little by little, she was beginning to feel warm again. “They dote on me. They always have.”
“It’s because you lost your mother, isn’t it?” he said quietly.
Violet’s gaze met his. “Yes. Wow, you remember that?”
“Of course I do. I’m not all bad, Violet.” He gave her a gentle smile. “I might even let your friends off the hook for today if you can convince them to never pull a stunt like this again.”
Violet was tempted to ask him why he was going easy on the Charlie’s Angels when he’d been more than happy to give her citation after citation, but she didn’t want to spoil the moment—and much to her astonishment, it definitely seemed like a Moment with a capital M. “I’ll talk to them.”
“Good.” He nodded and swallowed a sip from his mug. “This isn’t like any tea I’ve ever tasted before. What is it?”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes, it’s fantastic.” He took another swallow.
“It’s a lemon–lavender blend I bought for Mavis at the farmer’s market in Wilmington. I kind of have a thing for culinary lavender. If you like this, you should definitely try my Earl Grey–lavender cupcakes sometime.” Violet had worked on that recipe for months before finally nailing it. It was her favorite on the Sweetness on Wheels menu.
“I’d like that. You realize I’ve never actually tasted one of your cupcakes?” Sam bumped his thigh playfully against hers.
Violet bumped his right back. “That can’t be right.”
“It absolutely is.” He let out a laugh. “I’ve come close, but haven’t ever bit into one. Something always seems to get in the way. Trust me.”
Trust me.
Oh, how Violet wished she could.
“Speaking of my mother…” She cleared her throat. What was she doing? She definitely shouldn’t be talking to Sam about this. “Do you remember yesterday when you said I looked like I might need someone to talk to?”
“Of course.” He nodded and shifted slightly on the tiny love seat. This time, when his thigh came to rest against hers, he left it there.
Violet didn’t dare move. Goosebumps pricked her arms again, but she was no longer the slightest bit cold. “Mavis had just given me an old newspaper photograph of my mother with her Dalmatian back when she was just a puppy. I’d never seen it before. I guess it made me sort of melancholy, you know? I love the picture. I’ve already framed it, but I wish I knew more about the moment it was taken.”
Sam studied her. “That’s why you were so quiet after the game last night, wasn’t it?”
“I suppose so.” Violet nodded. “My mind wasn’t really much on softball.”
Sam gaped at her in mock horror. “Say it isn’t so. I thought nothing was more important than softball in Turtle Beach.”
She tipped her head back and laughed. “Don’t tell anyone. It was just temporary, anyway. I’ll be fully prepared to annihilate you on Saturday.”
He winked. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Their eyes met, and Violet felt so warm and fuzzy that she found herself willfully ignoring the fact that Sam’s wet clothes were emblazoned with the Turtle Beach Fire Department’s crest. How different would things be if he wasn’t a fire marshal, but something else? A pharmacist, a veterinarian, or even a professional baseball player? Anything but her sworn enemy.
“Why did you give up a career in baseball to become a fireman?” she asked.
Sam’s smile turned bittersweet. “Joining the Chicago Fire Department was always the plan. My dad was a member of the department, as was my grandfather. I’d wanted to wear that uniform since I was a little kid.”
Against her better judgment, Violet let her head drop onto Sam’s broad shoulder. Goodness, he smelled amazing—like a beachside bonfire. “Then why did you give it up to move to Turtle Beach?”
It couldn’t have been about softball. She might have thought so a week ago, but not now. Now she knew better.
“I just needed a change.” Sam’s grip on his mug tightened until his knuckles turned white. “That’s not the entire truth, actually. We lost a few men in a fire—three of my closest friends. At first, we thought we had it contained. It was a box fire in a mattress factory near Logan Square. The building wasn’t up to code, and things went south in a hurry.”
