Breaking Away (33 page)

“You’ll be singing a different tune when I get Joy back.”

Chaney shook his head and stalked to the door. He rested his hand on the doorknob and glared over his shoulder at Will. “I never completely understood what she went through with you. But now I do—” he jerked open the door. “God help her.” He strode down the hall, leaving the door standing open.

In the hall stood the man who’d kept him waiting for the last hour. “Get in here, Zusak, and shut the door. I have a job for you.”

Sam read the letter over again for the fourth time. The bank was requesting she come in to discuss her mortgage. She had to refinance because the deed was now in her name instead of her grandmother’s. Why hadn’t she gone to the bank right away and done this?

Because she was caring for Gran and at the time she just couldn’t deal with anything else.

A nauseous fear took up residence in the pit of her stomach. Would she ever know what it was to not be afraid?

She should call her lawyer to find out what needed to be done, but Ben had already helped so much.

She couldn’t lose the house. She had to prove she could provide for Joy or the court would revisit the custody agreement. She wasn’t sharing custody with Will. The court wouldn’t give him custody because of his history of domestic violence but they might Chaney and Grace.

“Mommy—” Joy’s universal kid’s voice came from the living room, where she was playing Barbie.

Sam rose from the kitchen table and went to the living room doorway. “Yes, baby.”

“I want dogs for supper.”

Why did she like hot dogs so much? It was the last thing Sam wanted her to have after her choking incident, so of course it was the first thing Joy wanted. “Pizza?”

Joy’s bottom lip popped out, then her eyebrows went up. “Pasghetti.”

She had some sauce frozen in the freezer. All she’d have to do would be get it out and heat it up. “Okay. Spaghetti.”

“Can Mr. Tim eat with us?”

Sam hesitated. They had ruined the last meal they’d shared with him. But those few minutes when he’d held her after saving Joy had been the first true moments of comfort she’d experienced in a long, long time. She’d avoided him for the last few days, since his meltdown on the phone with Will and he’d installed the alarm system.

Will had been ominously silent.

He was planning something horrible. She could feel it. He never let a slight of any kind go. Tim had called him some pretty colorful names.

And it had felt
good
—until she realized there would be consequences.

“Mommy?” Joy’s voice brought her back to the present.

“Yes.”

“I want to call him.” Joy slid off the couch and ran to get the cordless phone.

Oh, shit!

Joy lifted the receiver off the base and stood with her fingers poised over the keypad. “What’s the number, Mommy?”

“Uh.” Her mind went blank. “I think it might be in the memory of the phone. Let me find it for you.” If she couldn’t find the number would that qualify as an excuse not to invite him? She thought of the extra bolts on the double doors at the back side of the house. The reinforcement he’d done to the bathroom doorframe, and the bolts he’d installed to make it into a panic room, including a button above the light switch. Sensors on every window and door. He’d worked for two days on the alarm system and done it all to protect them.

The memory of how he’d smelled up close after Joy’s crisis, like grill smoke and laundry detergent. She wanted—she needed—to feel safe again. When she was with him she felt protected. Or was that just a delusion? She could use a delusion of safety right now, with the anxiety still cramping her stomach.

Before she allowed herself to think more about it, she found Tim’s number, pushed the button so it would automatically redial and handed the phone to Joy.

“Hello, Mr. Tim.” Joy’s voice when she spoke with him held a note of confidence it lacked when speaking with her father. She jabbered away about her day at school and her friend Nancy Jane. Then paused when Tim said something. “Uh-huh. Mommy says you can come eat pasghetti with us.”

Sam bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“She’s right here.” Joy shoved the phone at her. “He wants you.”

Heat climbed into her face at her daughter’s words. Sam pressed the receiver to her ear. “Hello.”

“Was that invitation from you both?” he asked, his deep voice holding a note of amusement.

Her heart leapt at the sound of his voice. She had missed it, missed him. “Yes, it was.”

“I appreciate it. And I really like pasghetti.”

Sam chuckled. “It was either that or hot dogs, and I wasn’t ready for those yet.”

“I hear you.” He paused. “Does this mean I’m forgiven for screwing up?”

“I guess so.” She didn’t want to talk about Will or even think about him. He had dominated her world long enough. She needed to learn to block him from her mind. It was time she moved on. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour, but you can come whenever you like.”

“I have to finish loading the van with some electronics for a job for tomorrow, but I can walk over in about twenty minutes.”

“That would be fine. We’ll see you then.”

She placed the receiver back on the base. She had to get the sauce in the microwave to thaw and make a salad, and if there wasn’t any garlic bread in the freezer, there might be some rolls. She hustled into the kitchen and got things going. She’d just put the salad into the refrigerator and poured the defrosted sauce into a pot to heat when the doorbell rang.

Joy leapt from the couch and ran to the door. “Do what we practiced, Joy,” Sam said from the kitchen.

Joy looked through the window next to the door.

“It’s Mr. Tim.” She grinned.

“He’s a friend and we’re expecting him. You can unlock the door and let him in.”

Joy fumbled at the deadbolt and finally got it unlocked. She opened the door. “Come in, Mr. Tim.”

“Hey, sweet tart.” Swinging open the storm door he flashed Sam a smile that set her heart racing. He knelt before Joy, whipped a rectangular box out from behind his back, and held it up for her to see. “I brought dessert.”

“Chocolate ice cream!” Joy bounced with excitement.

“Not just chocolate. Rocky Road. It has nuts and marshmallows in it too.”

“I eat marshmallows in my cereal.”

“I haven’t tried that. But I bet it’s pretty good.” He rose to his feet. “We better put the ice cream in the freezer until we’re ready for it.”

“’Kay. It’s in here.” Joy grabbed his hand and tugged him in the direction of the kitchen.

His gaze fastened on Sam as he sauntered toward her. “Hey.”

How could such an innocuous word sound so sexy? He offered her the ice cream.

“Thanks for bringing desert.”

“I didn’t have any wine. And beer doesn’t go well with pasta.”

She smiled. “I don’t drink anyway.”

Joy opened the freezer door. Sam took the half-gallon carton and put it in the freezer. “Joy why don’t you go clean up all your Barbie doll mess, while we finish fixing supper.”

Joy’s bottom lip popped out. “Mommy—”

“If I get up in the middle of the night and step on one of those little plastic high heels, they’re going in the trash,” Sam warned.

Joy shot her a grumpy frown but went into the living room to do as she asked.

“Plastic high heels?” Tim asked.

“Barbie has spiked heels about a quarter inch long, and they’re lethal. I stepped on one and drove it into the bottom of my foot and limped for a week.”

“Ouch.” He grimaced.

“How’s your week been?” she asked while she filled a pot with water.

“It’s been okay. Quiet.”

“When he’s quiet that means he’s plotting something. Stay on your guard.”

His expression grew solemn. “Understood.” He looked about the kitchen. “Can I do something to help?”

“I think I’ve got everything under control. The sauce is hot and the oven’s heating up for the bread.”

“I can set the table.”

“Thanks.” Sam pointed to the oak cabinet above the sink. “Plates are there and the silverware is in the cabinet drawer below.

She stirred the sauce again. Salted the water for the pasta and checked the oven temp.

“A watched pot never boils,” Tim said, placing a napkin beside the last plate and arranging the silverware next to it. He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down. He looked around the room. “Were the cabinets built by hand?” he asked.

“Yeah. My grandfather loved working with his hands. He had plans for every room in the house.” She sat down in the chair diagonal to him and scanned the room. The floor was terracotta tile. The hand-built oak cabinets gleamed with care. Tiled countertops framed in with a decorative motif added an artistic flair to the decor.

“He did good work. I can do a few things, but nothing like this.”

“Don’t say that too loudly. Joy thinks there’s nothing you can’t do,” she teased.

“I wish she didn’t. It’s too hard to live up to perfection.” He grew serious. “She’s very trusting.”

“I know. On the one hand, I’m grateful I was able to protect her from things that would make her fearful of everyone. But on the other, I worry that she’s not wary at all. I can’t teach her to be. I’ve tried. So, I’m trying to teach her to be safe. This week we’re practicing how she should answer the door. She looks out, and if it’s someone she recognizes and knows we’re expecting, she lets me know, then she’s allowed to open the door, but only after I’ve said it’s okay. If it’s someone she doesn’t know, she comes straight to me.” She glanced toward the living room. Joy sat on the floor doing more playing than cleaning up.

Sam bobbed up to stir the sauce and turn it off. She put the pasta in the water, stirred it, then slid the bread in the oven and set the timer. She smiled at him as she sat back down. “Next week we’re going to work on what she should do if a stranger approaches her outside the house.”

“I don’t know how you do it all.” He rested his fingertips on her wrist and ran them back and forth over a small patch of skin there. His eyes fastened on her face, a look in their depths that made her heart beat in her throat and stole her breath away.

The light brushing movement of his touch set to life a million sensations in that one spot on her arm and spread outward.
Please tell me you really are a good guy. Please be a good guy
. She wanted to trust him so much.

“I talked to a guy who does body work today about your car. He said he could do the work and repaint the side at cost, and he’d be willing to let you pay him in installments.”

“How did you manage that?”

“He called me for an estimate on a system and I just asked about it. I can run the car over to him tomorrow after you get home from work.”

“Why do you want to help me, Tim?”

He remained silent for a moment, his features thoughtful, solemn. “I keep thinking, if someone had tried to help my mom, maybe things would have been different for us.”

Her throat tightened with emotion.

“I stayed away this week, because…I know I shot my mouth off and said some things I shouldn’t have. I thought if your ex thought what he was doing was pushing you in my direction, he’d stop.”

“I understood the psychology behind it.”

“I don’t want what he does to affect whether or not you take a step toward trusting me, Sam. I’m trying to earn your trust for myself.”

She swallowed. What could she say? The timer on the stove went off and she went to check the pasta and take out the bread.

Tim followed her and leaned back against the cabinet next to the stove.

“I do trust you,” she said her voice softening to a whisper. She cleared her throat. “But I’m not sure about…anything else.”

He stepped forward, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. Time stopped and so did her breath. Her hands came to rest on his taut muscular waist. He tasted like cinnamon. His lips covered hers, withdrew, then came back again, the pressure gentle but firm. The brush of his closely-trimmed beard was a sensual texture against her face. The urge to rest against him, to draw him closer, nearly overwhelmed her. It had been so long since she’d been kissed or held. And never with such care. When he raised his head, it took a moment for her to open her eyes. She drew in a breath.

He smiled and enveloped her in his arms, holding her close. She rested against him and found a spot for her head against his chest. And for a moment she knew contentment, and then more when he ran his hand down her back and drew her close enough to feel his reaction to the kiss.

“Mommy, my tummy is growling,” Joy called from the living room.

Sam laughed, happiness bubbling up inside her. She patted his chest and looked up at him. “You are a brave man.”

His intent expression softened to tenderness, and his lips quirked up. “A hungry one, too.”

His double entendre brought heat to her cheeks and she eased out of his arms. “The pasta.”

She drained the pasta and with his help dished everything up. “Joy, dinner’s ready. Come to the table,” she called.

Joy brought Barbie along and climbed up in one of the chairs. Tim pushed it in.

As they sat down together to eat, the normalcy of it all struck her. No rage. No tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. No fear. She drew a deep breath and a smile curved her lips.