“It’s not that. I don’t think it’s a good idea to hit her with too much all at once.” She shrugged. “Bad enough I have to break the news that her house could go up in flames, but then she meets a strange man and is going to stay in his house...”
His gaze narrowed. “Are you talking about Phoebe being nervous? Or you?”
“I’m an adult. I understand what’s happening. She’s just a kid and I want to reassure her that everything’s all right.”
“You know best,” he said. “And you’ve got my card and cell number. Call if you need anything at all.”
“Thanks.”
Faith put a foot on the van’s running board and slid inside, then closed the door. She turned her key in the ignition and drove slowly away, glancing quickly in her rearview mirror. Sam was standing there, almost protectively, watching her leave. Her heart did that fluttering thing, which didn’t make her feel any better about accepting his offer of shelter.
Evacuating to the mayor’s house or with old Brewster Smith and his wife, Aggie, would feel comfortable and normal. But Sam Hart was a bachelor. Even worse, she was attracted to him.
* * *
Sam had been watching out the front window for Faith so he opened the door before she could ring the doorbell. The little girl standing on the front porch beside her had to be Phoebe. Her Mini-Me had the same blond hair and freckles on her nose.
“Hi,” he said to both of them, then smiled down at the little girl. “You must be Phoebe.”
Long straight bangs caught in the thick eyelashes framing big, brown eyes that were wide with apprehension. “How did you know?”
“Your mother told me about you.” Poor kid. No matter how the truth had been censored, she had to know that her home was in danger. That was scary for an adult let alone a child. “Come on in.”
Sam pulled the door open wider and stepped back to let them pass. The little girl clutched her mother’s hand tightly as she looked around wide-eyed.
“Wow. This is big.” She was looking up at the chandelier in the two-story entryway. For the moment, awe distracted her from fear and worry.
He could keep the distraction going for a while because this was a big house. Glancing at Faith, he saw that she looked the tiniest bit impressed, too, and that didn’t bother him a bit. “Would you like to see the rest of the place?”
Faith looked at her daughter who nodded eagerly. “Okay.”
“Follow me.” Sam noticed she was carrying a couple of bulging bags.
“Since we couldn’t go home, I had to pick up some clothes and toiletries for us,” Faith explained.
He held out his hand. “Let me take those for you.”
“That’s okay. I’ve got it.”
“I can see that. But guys are supposed to carry things for girls.”
“Why?” Phoebe asked. “Is that a rule?”
“No. But boys are usually bigger and stronger and it’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”
“Oh.” The little girl thought about that and frowned. “At summer camp the girls carry stuff and the boys let us.”
“Girls have to be able to take care of themselves,” Faith explained. “It’s called being self-reliant.”
“And that’s a good thing,” Sam allowed. “But in certain situations, like now for instance, what with you being guests in my home, it’s appropriate for a man to help a lady.”
“And sometimes a lady just wants to tell a man to take a flying leap because she’s perfectly capable of carrying her own things.”
“Can I look at your house?” Phoebe was staring up at them, clearly impatient and not the least bit interested in the undercurrents of the adult standoff.
“We can,” he said. “Follow me.”
“You can carry this if you want.” Phoebe held out a pink backpack with two female cartoon characters on it, one in a sparkly turquoise dress.
“It would be my pleasure,” he said, taking it from her. “This way.”
He led them straight ahead to the kitchen and family room, with its leather corner group and two-story river rock fireplace.
“That’s the biggest TV I ever saw,” Phoebe said.
Sam looked down at her and realized that when you were small, everything must look gigantic. “I’ll show you how to turn it on later.”
Faith cleared her throat loudly and, when she had his attention, shook her head. “Sensitive electronic remote controls and an eight-year-old are not a good combination.”
“She thinks I’m still a baby.” The little girl made a face. “I’m not.”
“I can see that. Maybe your mom would be okay with it if there’s an orientation.”
Phoebe frowned. “What’s that?”
“I’ll show you how to use it and you can practice for a while with me supervising. Your mom might be okay with that.”
“I don’t think so. Mom doesn’t let me do very much. She’s a little overprotective.”
“Hey,” Faith said. “I’m standing right here. And I’m not overprotective. Where did you hear that?”
“I don’t know. Around. And anyway, in the car you told me not to touch anything in his house,” the child said. “And that’s kind of hard unless I stand in the corner.”
Sam looked from one to the other and said, “I’ve never been the rose between two thorns.”
“How long have you been waiting to drop that into a conversation with me?” One corner of Faith’s beautiful mouth quirked up.
“I thought you’d like that one, plant lady. And, moving on—”
He showed them the rest of the downstairs, with its spacious home office and media room. On the second floor he took them past the master where he slept to the wing with three other bedrooms and a large open space set up as another entertainment area.
“How big is this house?” Faith asked.
“A little over five thousand square feet.”
“No one else lives here with you?” Phoebe asked, wonder in her voice.
“You do now.” He looked at her mom. “Told you I had lots of space. Do you want to pick out a room?”
“Yes!” Phoebe raced down the hall and disappeared around a corner.
Faith went after her and Sam realized he’d never had the opportunity to look at her from the back. She was always facing him with a counter in between them. She had quite a superior rear view and now he knew what he’d been missing all this time.
He caught up with them in the room that overlooked the front lawn with a spectacular view of Blackwater Lake beyond it. There was a queen-size bed, walk-in closet and bathroom.
“There’s a bed in here even though no one lives here?” Phoebe asked.
“Yes.” He’d never thought about that. Furnishing the whole house seemed like a good idea when you didn’t want it to be a big, empty shell.
“I think you and I can share this room, Phoebs,” her mother said.
“But no one is using that other room. The green one. Sam said so.”
“I