It Happened One Night (7 page)

Harley moaned. Sam. Oh Lord. Something told her she'd never hear the end of this.

“Honey?”

“What?” Harley muttered.

“Not that it's any of my business, but why did you go up that tree to begin with?”

“There was a cat up the tree and I thought he couldn't get down.”

“But, honey...how did you think it got up there?”

Harley stifled an expletive. “I guess I didn't think, did I, Edna, or else I wouldn't be in the predicament.”

To Harley's relief, Edna did not laugh.

“I think I hear a siren,” Edna offered.

“Great,” Harley mumbled and closed her eyes.

W
hen the call went out for Sam's company to roll, he donned his gear without thought, concentrating only on the impending job and wondering what they would find upon arrival. It wasn't until he'd jumped onto the ladder truck that the captain had come running out, yelling that the call had come from his residence. Within moments, every fireman on the rig knew where they were going, and although they cast the occasional nervous glance in his direction as the big red engine raced through the Oklahoma City streets, no one spoke. To a man, they were all empathizing with Sam's shock and fear.

For Sam, the ride was a blur. All he could think was that Harley was in trouble. He'd been anxiously scanning
the horizon for smoke, but as they neared his home, he'd come to the conclusion that whatever had happened to Harley, it didn't involve a fire—at least not anymore.

As they turned the corner, he saw Edna Matthews standing in his yard and gesturing wildly. Sam was off and running before the truck came to a complete halt.

“What happened?” he yelled, grabbing Edna by the shoulders. “Where's Harley? Where's my wife?”

“Up  the tree,”  Edna  said,  pointing  up  and  over Sam's head.

“Up the what?”

“The tree! The tree!” Edna cried. “Someone stole your ladder and she can't get down.”

By now, it was evident to all the firemen that no one was in mortal danger. Relief swelled through the crew as they gathered around Sam and looked up the tree.

Sam squinted. He could see a familiar length of bare leg and shoe, but he couldn't see Harley's face.

“Junie. Are you all right?”

Harley rolled her eyes. God, but this was humiliating.

“Someone stole your ladder. I only saw the top of his head but he was driving a big black truck.”

“Why did you climb up the tree?”

Harley resisted the urge to scream.

“It's a long story,” she said. “Suffice it to say, I want down. Would you please make that happen?”

One of the firemen slapped Sam on the back as another placed a ladder under the tree.

“Sounds to me like she's running out of patience, old buddy. If I were you, I'd save the questions for after she's down.”

“Yeah...right,” Sam said, and started shedding his bunker gear. He dropped the coat, hat and gloves on the ground and readjusted the suspenders on his pants to make sure they would not get hung up on the limbs. The less he took up the ladder, the easier it would be to help get Harley down.

Another one of the firemen waited with Sam, making no attempt to hide his glee.

“Been wanting to meet your new missus,” he said. “Now's as good a time as any, I suppose.”

Sam glared. “If you're smart, you will not tick her off.”

The fireman grinned. “Hell on wheels, is she?”

“Just steady the ladder and shut up,” Sam muttered, and started climbing. “Hang on, honey. Here I come.”

“Don't hurry on my account. I've been hanging for the better part of an hour now with no immediate plans to turn loose.”

A round of laughter from the men below followed her terse remark. Sam heard her mutter something unsavory beneath her breath and began climbing a little faster. When he could finally see her arms and then her face, his heart skipped a beat. He could see the
tear tracks on her face. Whatever he'd been going to say was forgotten in his need to comfort.

“I'm here, now, darlin'. Can you scoot backward toward me about six inches?” “Yes,” Harley said, and did as he'd asked.

When his fingers curled around her ankle and then slid up the curve of her leg to steady her, she resisted the urge to cheer. So she looked like a fool to about a dozen men. So what. She was still going to be down from this tree.

“Easy does it,” Sam said. “Now put your foot here.”

He placed her foot on the top rung of the ladder.

“Okay...good...good.  Now  the  other  foot.  It's okay. I've got you. You're not going to fall.”

Finally Harley was standing upright, sandwiched between Sam and the ladder that was leaning against the trunk of the tree.

“Thank God...and Edna Matthews,” she said, and rested her forehead against a rung of the ladder.

Sam's nose was against the back of her head, his arms encircling her as she stood. Her hair smelled as if she'd washed it this morning, although there were bits of leaves stuck in the curls. He kissed the back of her neck behind her ear and then gave her a quick hug.

“Ready to go down now?”

“Yes, you go on ahead,” she said. “I'll follow.”

“We'll go together,” Sam said.

Harley sighed. “Sam. Please. I'm not hurt. Just stupid. You go first and I'll be right behind you.”

He could tell she was embarrassed and figured that arguing with her wouldn't help.

“Okay, if you're sure.”

“I'm sure.”

He came down the ladder as quickly as he'd gone up. It wasn't until he got down to the ground and looked up that he realized there was a large tear in the seat of her shorts.

“Uh, honey, maybe I'd—”

“Sam! For pity's sake. Allow me the dignity of disembarking from this tree on my own.”

“But your—”

It was too late. She was already halfway down before he could warn her that everyone was going to have a pocket-size view of her backside, and in a most unfortunate place.

Harley was halfway down when she heard the first whistle then a couple of men's chuckles. She heard Sam mutter something beneath his breath and the chuckles stopped, but only momentarily. By the time she got to the ground, every man there except Sam had a big silly grin on his face.

“Well,” she said, pasting a smile on her face. “I've been wanting to meet the men Sam works with for weeks now, but didn't intend for it to be quite this way.”

“Yes, it's real nice to meet you, too, Junie,” they chorused.

“Harley,” she said. “I'd really rather be called Harley. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going into the house and call the police to report a stolen ladder.” Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment as she glanced at Sam, but her shoulders were straight and her chin was held high. “Sam, we must have the men and their families over for a backyard picnic. We'll grill hamburgers and hot dogs and whoever wants can swim in the pool. You set up a date with the men and just let me know.”

“Hey, thanks, Junie... I mean Harley. We'll look forward to it,” one of them said.

Harley glanced at Sam and smiled primly. “Now that the emergency is over, I suppose you'll need to get back to the station. I'll let you know what the police have to say about the ladder.”

With that, she pivoted sharply and headed for the house, resisting the urge to run.

Five steps later, a slow wolf whistle sounded, then someone called out in a slow, Okie drawl.

“Hey, Harley...nice tattoo.”

She froze in midstep and reached behind her, felt the dangling remnants of her hip pocket and gasped. Without missing a beat, she pulled it up over the bare spot, pasted a smile on her face and turned.

“Thank you,” she said primly, then strode into the
house as if it was of no consequence that a covey of men she did not know had just seen her bare ass.

“Dang it, guys, you are not helping matters any,” Sam said.

The men laughed among themselves as they began returning their gear to the fire truck and tying down the ladder that they'd used. Just as they were about to pull out, a big black pickup truck came around the corner and then screeched to a halt in front of the house.

The driver bolted from the truck cab, then pulled a ladder from the back of the truck.

Sam frowned. That looked like his ladder. Thinking of what Harley had been forced to endure, he jumped off the fire truck and headed toward the man with single-minded intent.

“What in blazes do you—”

“Look, I am real sorry,” the driver said, still dragging the ladder behind him. “My boss sent me to pick up a ladder they'd left behind on a paint job yesterday, but they gave me the wrong address. When I got back to the shop, I got chewed out big time for going to 904 instead of 409 Carolyn Lane. I hope I didn't cause any trouble. You got any idea where the owner is? I'd like to apologize.”

“I'm the owner,” Sam said, and took the ladder out of the man's hands. “You left my wife stranded up a tree. If I were you, I'd get myself back in the truck and get out while the getting is good.”

The driver groaned. “Oh man, I am so sorry. So I guess she's pretty ticked, huh?”

“That doesn't come close.”

When the front door slammed, they turned. Harley was coming out of the house on the run.

“That her?” the man said.

“Yep,” Sam said.

“Tell her I'm sorry,” the man said, and bolted for his truck.

By the time Harley reached the curb he was almost out of sight.

“Why didn't you stop him?” she yelled.

“He brought it back,” Sam said. “It was all just a mistake.”

Harley stared at Sam as if he'd lost his mind and then put her hands on her hips and gave him a cold, angry glare.

“Fine, then you can be the one to call the police and tell them that the ladder is back. I've had all the humiliation I can stand for one day.”

Then she fixed the grinning men with a look that wiped the smiles from their faces.

“Don't you people have someplace to be?”

“Load up,” Sam told them. “I'll hang the ladder in the garage and be right with you.”

Glad to be out of the line of Harley's fire, the men headed for the truck.

“Don't bother,” Harley told Sam, yanking at the
ladder he was holding. “I got it down. I can put it up.”

Sam held on tight, refusing to relinquish the ladder and resisting the urge to turn her over his knee.

“I will put it up and you will take a deep breath before you say another word to me,” he muttered, then turned and headed for the garage.

It was the first sign of anger she'd ever seen in Sam, and it stunned her. Suddenly, she realized she was standing alone in the yard and Sam was already at the house. By the time she got to the garage, the ladder was on the wall and Sam was turning around.

“You over your hissy fit, yet?” Sam asked.

“I do not have fits,” Harley  said. “They aren't ladylike.”

Sam snorted beneath his breath and then grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her into his arms.

“Honey, my first impression of you was anything but ladylike, and it was enough to make me want to spend the rest of my life with you, so climb off your high horse just like you climbed down out of that tree and get over it. You were the victim of circumstances and you're okay. If the worst you got was embarrassed, then so be it. You don't know how scared I was when we got the call to this address. I don't ever want to feel that sick and empty again, do you understand me?”

Overwhelmed  with  shame,  Harley  could  barely
meet his gaze. She hadn't thought about the call from his point of view.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

Sam shook his head and pulled her close against his chest, holding her so close she could barely breathe.

“God, woman, I would have thought you'd figured out by now that I love you so much I ache.”

He kissed her then, taking what was left of her breath with his words.

“I've got to go,” he said quickly, kissing her again, only this time harder and swifter, groaning softly when he had to let her go. “I'll be home this time tomorrow and then we'll have four days together. Don't climb any more trees until I'm here to catch you, okay?”

Too stunned to do more than nod, she watched him jog toward the truck, then watched as they drove away. Only after the big red rig was gone did she turn and go back into the house.

The rooms were cool, quiet and empty. It occurred to her then that without Sam's presence, the house was not a home. He made everything come alive—especially her.

She touched her mouth where his lips had been.

I love you so much I ache.

The room blurred before her eyes. The words had never been said before—by either of them. And now the truth was out in the open and Harley had to think about what she felt for him. Was it possible that in this short period of time that she, too, was falling in
love? She'd been attracted to him sexually. That was a given. And with passing time, she'd come to realize that her husband was a man whom people trusted and admired. But she'd been so busy trying to cope with the chaos of an unplanned marriage that she hadn't allowed herself to feel. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, remembering her relief as she'd heard Sam's voice beneath the tree, then knowing as he helped her onto the ladder that he would never let her fall. That was trust. But did she love him, like a woman was supposed to love her man? She wasn't sure. What she was sure of was that Sam was light and laughter and kept her safe.

And he loved her so much it made him ache.

* * *

The doorbell rang again, as it had off and on for the last thirty minutes. Harley raced to answer it, sidestepping two firefighters' wives and a half-dozen kids and wondering as she did what on earth had made her invite all these people to their home for a cookout.