Authors: Mariah Stewart
“All right.” He dragged a hand through his hair with impatience. Giving in had never been easy for him. “But I’m not letting Tom off the hook.”
And he did not.
“What the hell is wrong with you? I told you to stay at Andrea’s and you just take off without even telling
me?” He started yelling the minute he walked into Tom’s house.
“Since when do I take orders from you? I had things to do,” Tom replied calmly. “I wanted to see my boy. I figured I’d see you at the field. I ran into Blake Carter and he told me he’d seen you in the parking lot but that you’d already left.”
“Did you think to call my cell phone?” an exasperated Sam asked.
“No. I left mine at home. It never works around here half the time anyway. And I figured you’d be stopping at Andie’s on your way back, so you’d know where I was.”
“And if I’d gotten back to the farm and you weren’t here?”
“Sam, give it a rest. I’m not hiding in my house, all right? I talked it over with Kitty, so don’t think you’re going to turn my wife to your side. I have a bunch of guys working with me out there in the fields, and I have my rifle and I have a handgun. I’ll take them both out with me if it makes you happy. Can’t say I’ve ever ridden a tractor with a twenty-two caliber Winchester Wildcat lying across my lap, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”
“You’ll be lucky if you don’t shoot your knees off.”
Tom hesitated. “You think maybe the handgun’s enough then?”
Fiona was still awake in her room in the back wing of the old farmhouse at almost 1:30
AM.
The house had been still and silent for the past several hours, since everyone—Fiona included—had turned in for the night. There’d been bickering most of the evening—
between Tom and Sam, Tom and Tommy, Tommy and Jody, Jody and Gil—to the point where her head was spinning.
If anyone in her family had disagreed with another, they kept it to themselves. Disapproval always meant the cold shoulder, the withdrawal of whatever small amount of affection there might have been before the offending opinion had been spoken. She’d never witnessed the collision of tempers and opposing viewpoints, followed by a round of good-natured ribbing and good-night hugs as if nothing had happened.
The DelVecchios, on the other hand, seemed to all hold different opinions to one extent or another on just about every topic. At the end of the evening, Fiona couldn’t recall hearing any one of them say,
Yes, you’re right
, the entire night. To be sure, they had been good-natured about their bickering, and had even seemed to be enjoying it, as if arguing amongst themselves was a form of sport. She hadn’t taken part, of course, in any of the discourses, being an outsider on the one hand and a person who, in her personal life, always sought the avenue of least resistance. But it had been fascinating, she had to admit, to see how the personalities played off each other, how the different relationships wove into one another. She wondered how it might have felt as a child, to have been encouraged to express herself as openly as Tommy, Jody, and Gil had been earlier. Would her life’s choices have been very different if she’d been allowed to voice her thoughts? She hadn’t done that until she turned eighteen, and then the results had been somewhat disastrous.
She heard a door down the hall open and close quietly,
heard careful footsteps move toward the steps and fade down the back stairwell. Moments later, she heard the porch door squeak as it opened and squeal as it was closed. She got out of bed and tiptoed to the window and looked out on a star-filled night sky. She could make out a form headed toward the lounge on the back porch, and she knew it was Sam. Fiona sat on the edge of the bed and tried to talk herself out of joining him. She could think of several reasons why she shouldn’t and only one why she should: she wanted to. She wanted to sit with him in the moonlight and she wanted to kiss him and see if he tasted as sweet as she thought he might.
She got up and pulled a T-shirt over the tank and sleep shorts she’d worn to bed, and crept from her room to the first floor before she could talk herself out of a trip down the steps.
The inside door of the kitchen stood open. Fiona turned the handle of the outer screen door and stepped out onto the porch.
“I thought I heard you,” she said as she walked toward him. “Having trouble sleeping?”
Sam nodded and held out a hand to her. She took it and let him tug her down onto the chaise next to him. The evening air had gone cool, but his arms and body were warm and welcoming. “You too?”
“I usually have one or two sleepless nights each week,” she told him. “I guess this is one of them.”
“I usually don’t have a problem sleeping,” he said, “but tonight, I guess there’s too much on my mind.”
“You’re worried about Tom.”
“Sure. Wouldn’t you be if he were your brother?”
She nodded, prompting Sam to ask, “Do you have a brother? You never talk about your family.”
“I have a brother. He’s a few years younger than I am. Also one sister, also younger. They both live on the Coast. I don’t see them very often.”
“Are they in law enforcement too?”
Fiona laughed softly. “Hardly.”
“What do they do?”
“I’m not really sure. As little as possible, probably. Last I heard, my sister was trying her hand at some little theater, and my brother was trying to get a contract with a recording label in L.A.”
“Sounds like a theatrical family.”
She smiled wryly. Her family had thrived on theatrics.
“You really enjoyed seeing all your old friends today, didn’t you?” She thought now would be a good time to change the subject.
“Oh, man, did I ever.” He smiled broadly, his fingers playing with hers. “They were such great guys, every one of them. Seeing everyone again just made me realize that I need to keep in closer touch with them, need to get back here more often. It’s good to keep those ties alive.”
“Why haven’t you?” She inched closer to him and settled in the crook of his arm. He played with her hair, lifting the long strands, then letting them fall.
“I don’t know. I guess because for a long time, I was busy with work and busy with Carly when I wasn’t working. Then, after she died, most of my energy went into making sure that Don Holland accepted responsibility for what he’d done to her. Of course, he never did …”
“Well, you can’t change the past, but you can make it a point to stay in touch now that you’ve reconnected with your old friends.”
“Yeah, I’m definitely going to do that. We had some real good times back in the day. We were really close back then, went all through school together.”
“That’s what you said. I find that amazing, that you’d all gone from kindergarten all the way through twelfth grade together.”
“Well, all of us except Steve. His parents divorced when we were juniors in high school and he left to go live with his mother when she moved to Sioux City. He moved back after college. But it’s not so amazing when you consider how small our elementary school was. If you grew up in a really small town, there might have only been two classes per grade. Some schools might only have one class. You California kids probably had bigger classes.” He glanced down at her. “How many kids were in your grade-school class?”
“Well, actually, there was only me. I was mostly homeschooled.” She shifted uncomfortably.
“For high school, too?”
She nodded.
“No prom? No football games? No team sports?”
“No.” Talking about it made her feel bad about it all over again.
“You must have had friends from … I don’t know, Sunday school? Summer camp? Girl Scouts?”
“I never did any of those things,” she admitted. “So I’ve never had those long-term connections. I guess that’s why it all seems so strange to me.”
She took a deep breath, then said, “Something smells so wonderful. What do you suppose that is?”
“Probably the garden. My mom started it when she first moved out here, tended it all those years. Now Kitty’s keeping it up.”
“I’ll have to check it out tomorrow, see what all she has growing down there.” She pointed up at the sky. “Look, there’s a shooting star. Quick! Make a wish.”
She closed her eyes and wished for what she wanted. When she opened them, she saw Sam was staring at her.
“What?” she asked.
“Was that uberagent Fiona Summers, superior marksman and investigator extraordinaire, wishing on a falling star like a six-year-old on her first camping trip?” He poked her in the ribs.
“What’s your point?” She sniffed with feigned indignation.
“Madam, you have a reputation to protect.” He grinned at her. “Hard-assed agents do not wish on stars—shooting or otherwise.”
“I guess I didn’t get that memo.”
“We’ll let it go this time.” He gazed down at her and asked, “So are you going to tell me what you wished for?”
She smiled.
Reaching up, she drew his face down to hers and kissed him full on the mouth. If Sam was surprised, he recovered quickly.
It had never been Fiona’s habit to make the first move, but there was something about this man and this place that she needed to hold on to. Sam DelVecchio was the most decent man she’d ever met, and if she was ever going to let him know how she felt, it was going to have to be now. Tomorrow, things could
change, she knew that all too well. Maybe there would only be tonight. If so, she needed to take advantage of that. If other days, other nights, were in the cards, she was fine with that, too. She’d welcome them. Right now, she was trying to ignore the voices in her head that were telling her that she should have waited for him to make the first move.
There’d been nothing tentative about that first kiss, nothing tentative in his response. She held his face in her hands and looked into his eyes, wanting him to know without her telling him that she was in this for wherever it would lead. She teased the inside of his mouth with her tongue and he reciprocated. She felt as if she couldn’t get close enough to him, and when he moved back on the lounge to reposition her, she settled into him as if she belonged there. When his hands ran up and down the sides of her body, she raised her arms and wound them both around his neck to give him better access. She kissed him with total abandon and for the first time in her life, didn’t bother to outline the potential consequences first. She got a glimpse into what her carefully constructed life had been missing, and it was exhilarating. His mouth moved down the side of her throat as his hands moved on her breasts, his touch on her bare skin sending a quick shot of heat to her very core.
“Hey, Sam, is that … oh.” Tom stood half in and half out of the door. “Sorry. I didn’t …”
Startled, Fiona bolted upright.
“Not a problem,” Sam said with a great sigh of resignation, as he pulled her shirt down as surreptitiously as possible.
“The dogs were getting restless, coming in and out
of our room for the past half hour,” Tom explained from the doorway, “so I let them out the front. Then I came into the kitchen for a glass of water and saw the back door open, and thought for a minute we had a visitor. Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Tom began to disappear into the house.
“It’s okay, Tom. Come sit with us.” Sam pointed to the row of rocking chairs.
Tom appeared hesitant until Sam said, “I guess we’re all having trouble sleeping tonight. Everyone’s a little on edge.”
Tom took a few steps toward them. “Yeah. Then when I saw the kitchen door open I thought maybe I let the dogs out the wrong side of the house. Stopped my heart in my chest until I realized it was you two out here.”
He grabbed one of the chairs and turned it around to face Sam and Fiona. She tried unsuccessfully to act as if sitting there in Sam’s arms was the most natural thing in the world, something she did every day.
Well, it had felt natural, until Tom showed up and scared the crap out of her.
“It’s a beautiful night, Tom. The flowers in Kitty’s garden smell great.” Sam pointed overhead. “Beautiful stars. Fiona and I were just admiring the overhead view.”
“Yeah, the old place has its charm.” He nodded. “I think I’ll grab me a cold something out of the fridge. You want anything while I’m in there? Sam? Fiona?”
“I’ll take a beer if you’ve got one,” Sam said.
“Nothing for me,” Fiona replied. “Actually, I think I’ll be going back up. The mosquitoes are beginning to like the taste of me a little too much.”
Tom disappeared into the house.
“I like the taste of you, too,” Sam said, pulling her down for one long, last kiss. Fiona slowly pushed from his embrace and stood up.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Sam.”
She’d gotten as far as the back door when he called her name.
“Fiona.”
When she turned around, he was sitting on the edge of the lounge.
“Did you get what you wished for?” he asked.
“Not
all
, but it will do for a start.” She smiled and went inside, waving to Tom in the kitchen, and shot quietly up the back steps to her room on the third floor.
It was well past dawn before Sam awoke the next day. After Fiona had gone to bed, he and Tom sat outside and talked for another hour or so, the first time in years they’d done that. Still, if he said he’d been pleased when his brother had shown up, he’d be lying. He’d been wanting to kiss Fiona practically since the first time he saw her, but it had been so long since he’d made a serious move on a woman that he was afraid he’d botch it. While he’d never cared much for aggressive women, that Fiona hadn’t waited for him but had, rather, taken matters into her own hands—so to speak—had delighted him.
He sat up against the wooden headboard, thinking that she just might be the first woman he’d ever been comfortable with on every level. Carly, for all her love for him, had never really understood who he was, nor had she understood how seriously he took his oath to
seek justice, to stand for the innocent. A bit of a Pollyanna, Carly had believed that every man had a good heart and if given the opportunity, would always choose to do the right thing. Sam knew better. Fiona did, too. There were things he’d never have to explain to her, and that in itself was liberating. She knew, as he did, that evil was a real force in the world, that it had to be met head-on, and she was as unafraid to put herself on the line as he was. That she was beautiful was just a bonus. It was her heart and her spirit, her character, that he was falling for. Apparently, she felt the same way about him. In spite of everything that was going on around him—including a potential threat to his own life—Sam was feeling pretty good, possibly even optimistic.