Sam had no doubt the men could handle themselves. It was adding Sophie to the mix that made the situation more difficult.
Her story wasn’t his to share. She hadn’t been able to provide many details because Tyson had slunk back into the living room, abruptly ending the conversation. It was obvious Sophie didn’t want her son to overhear them. From the brief conversation, however, Sam had managed to put together a few of the pieces.
Sophie had been working on her family’s genealogy when she was diagnosed with cancer. While searching through family archives, Sophie discovered diaries kept by her grandmother that exposed a skeleton in the Graham family closet. A scandal caused when a ship sank in Lake Superior and her great-grandfather, Matthew Graham, apparently saved himself and a young woman’s dowry. No one else had survived.
At that point, Tyson interrupted them and Sophie had quickly changed the subject.
Sam buried a sigh and dodged between the boxes of shingles scattered on the roof, pausing long enough to scoop up his shirt. By the time he reached the ladder, Evie stood below him, holding the bottom of it.
“They do make aluminum ladders nowadays, you know,” she called up to him. “They don’t rot. They’re splinter free. And they’re equipped with multiple safety features.”
Sam suppressed a smile. You’ve got to be kidding me. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Sam bypassed the last three rungs of the ladder and landed on his feet beside her, light as a cat.
Evie averted her gaze as he pulled the damp T-shirt over his head and rolled it down over his abdomen. As if he knew exactly why she’d looked away, his eyebrow lifted in a silent question.
Better?
He was laughing at her again. Heat coursed into Evie’s cheeks and she took a step away from him, knowing her freckles had lit up like laser dots against her skin. She took a deep breath and decided to focus on the reason she was there.
“Is Faith inside?”
“I think so. She was helping me but took a break about an hour ago.”
The glint in his eyes told Evie he was deliberately baiting her. She took the bait anyway.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea—”
The guinea hens drowned her out as they recognized Sam’s voice and charged. He sank his hand into the pocket of his tattered blue jeans and retrieved a fistful of corn, tossing it on the gravel.
“Numida meleagris,” Evie said without thinking.
Sam pushed his hand down his leg to wipe off the dust and looked at her. “What?”
“Numida meleagris. The Latin name for guinea fowl.”
“I’ll take your word for that, Miss McBride.” Sam scraped a hand through his hair and ended up tousling it even more. “I should probably warn you. Faith doesn’t really like science. Or math.”
“She enjoys English? History?”
Sam shook his head and a few strands of dark hair flopped across his forehead. Evie resisted the urge to smooth them back into place.
“Gym class.”
“She’s into sports.” Evie remembered that Faith had described herself as a jock the day they’d met on the beach. That didn’t bother her. In a school like the one she taught in, the smaller ratio of students to teachers allowed her to focus on each individual child. Over the years, she’d found creative ways to tap into her students’ natural abilities to make learning more fun.
“Don’t get me wrong, she’s a good student,” Sam told her. “But she’d rather study basketball plays than sit down with a textbook.”
“Is there anything else I should know?”
A strange expression flickered across Sam’s face, but he shook his head. “I can’t think of anything.”
“Good, because I hate surprises.”
Sam glanced at the canvas bag looped over her shoulder. “Here. Let me carry your…suitcase? You didn’t have to bring your own books, you know. Faith’s mother sent up an entire library.”
“I’ve got it. And, just to set the record straight, it’s a purse, not a suitcase.”
“What do you have in that thing?”
“Oh, the usual stuff.”
He studied the bulging bag. “Sleeping bag? Jumper cables? The kitchen sink?”
Evie saw the look on his face. “Of course not. Just the essentials.” Her laptop computer. A miniature sewing kit. Tape measure. Collapsible umbrella.
“You must have been a Girl Scout.”
Her eyes narrowed. Was he mocking her? “It’s always good to be prepared.”
The cabin door flew open, and Faith stepped onto the narrow porch. Evie guessed the reason behind the mutinous look on the young girl’s face. Even though the two of them had connected over Faith’s sketch of Lake Superior, Evie’s role had changed. Instead of a kindred spirit, now she was the person responsible for making sure Faith kept her nose buried in the books.
Evie almost laughed. It wouldn’t take long to put those fears to rest. “Hi, Faith.”
“Hi.” Faith studied her toes, refusing to meet Evie’s eyes.
“Did you get your books out like I told you to?” Sam asked.
Faith shot him a look ripe with resentment. “Yes.”
“Faith? Remember what we talked about this morning.”
Judging from the edge in Sam’s voice and the anger simmering in Faith’s eyes, Evie doubted they’d talked at all. She guessed Sam had lectured and Faith had tuned him out.
“We don’t need any books today,” Evie said. “We’re going on a field trip.”
Sam and Faith both turned to stare at her.
“A field trip?” Sam sounded skeptical.
“For science class. We’re going to study Canis familiaris.”
“Good. Great.” Sam looked way too eager to escape. “I’m going back on the roof. I’ll see you later.”
“Sam?” Evie dug in her bag and pulled out a plastic bottle. “Here. Sunblock. The sun isn’t as strong this late in the day, but you should still wear it. Or, ah, your shirt. That would work, too.”
You aren’t only a geek, Evie, you are officially their queen.
Sam stared at the bottle as if it were a live grenade and then at her. Evie braced herself, expecting to see amusement lurking in his eyes. She was used to it. Over the years her sisters had developed entire stand-up comedy routines based on her cautious ways.
We’re not laughing at you, Evie. We’re laughing with you.
To her amazement, Sam didn’t laugh. But he did smile. A slightly lopsided smile that lightened his eyes to silver and warmed up her insides like a Bunsen burner.
“How can I turn down…SPF 50?” he murmured.
Maybe he was reckless but he knew his sunscreen.
Evie waited for Faith to join her, and they started down the driveway. Faith’s plodding steps conveyed her unhappiness with the situation, but Evie didn’t push for conversation or attention. When Faith wanted to talk, she would.
“What did you say we’re going to study?” Faith finally asked.