Читать книгу Daddy Says, ''I Do!'' - Stacy Connelly, Stacy Connelly - Страница 8

As Sam walked into his garage later that morning, he spotted a familiar pair of worn work boots and skinny, jeans-clad legs sticking out from beneath a navy sedan. Even though Will Gentry had been working for him since the beginning of summer, Sam still wasn’t one hundred percent accustomed to someone else in his shop.

He had long prided himself on taking care of his customer’s cars as if they were his own—doing all the maintenance and repairs, and not letting anyone else lend a hand. Thanks to that work ethic, he was busier than he could handle, to the point of turning work away. Hiring an employee had been a big step, but it was only the beginning of plans that included the Corvette he’d parked out front.

A grin tugged at his lips when he thought about Kara’s obvious lack of appreciation for the work he’d done on the car. Obviously she wasn’t easily impressed. What would it take, he wondered, to really wow a woman like her?

Anticipation fueled the blood in his veins even though he wasn’t sure what to make of his undeniable interest. He didn’t usually go for serious types. Or single mothers, he reminded himself. Knowing Kara had a son should have been enough to keep his mind off the woman, beautiful or not. But she was only visiting. So, it wasn’t as if he was expecting anything permanent. Just a chance to get to know the lady, short-term, until she was ready to move on.

“How’s it going, Will?” Sam asked, turning his attention back to his young assistant. One good thing about having an employee was having someone to talk to. With Will, that meant having someone who listened, but rarely responded beyond a mumbled word or two.

The grunted response from under the sedan was less verbose than usual, but Sam knew the simple oil change wasn’t enough to give Will any trouble. “Come on out for a minute, will ya?”

Moving in slow motion, Will’s scuffed heels inched along the concrete, revealing more of his threadbare jeans, then a ratty yellow T-shirt over a nearly skin-and-bones torso, until finally Sam got a glimpse of the kid’s face—and the black eye he’d been reluctant to reveal.

Sam frowned as the kid tucked his legs up beneath him. “What happened, Will?” he demanded even though the fist-shaped bruising around the boy’s swollen eye told the story. “Or should I say who?”

Smart, skinny and shy, Will could easily be the target of bullies, and Sam felt a protective instinct to step in and defend the kid. By the time he was Will’s age, he’d filled out enough that his size alone silenced the insults that had done more damage than any physical fight.

“It was my fault,” Will mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze. “I started it.”

“Oh, really,” Sam said, deadpan. Will was a good kid. Not the kind to get into trouble or cause fights.

“Look, if some kid’s been bullying you, you can tell me.”

Will kept his head down, as if Sam might forget about the black eye if he didn’t look him in the face. “It’s not some kid. It’s—Something I can handle.”

“If you want, I can show you some ways to defend yourself.”

“Yeah, right.” Will paused. “The guy’s like twice my size.”

“Self-defense isn’t about being bigger than your opponent, you know.”

Will snorted as he stood and glanced between Sam’s six-foot-three-inch, two-hundred-pound frame and his own five-seven and buck-twenty-five. “Easy for you to say.”

“Hey, I wasn’t always this size, and growing up I had two older brothers who used to gang up on me. It felt like they’d always be bigger and stronger and that no matter how much I grew, I’d never catch up.”

Sometimes it still felt that way. As if his brothers’ successes and accomplishments were somehow greater than his own.

It wasn’t that he was jealous of his brothers. He was proud of them. And, okay, so Nick and Drew had gone to college—Nick to be a veterinarian and Drew to study architecture before he decided he preferred building to designing—while Sam had struggled far more than he’d let on to just finish high school.

His brothers had been the good students, and he’d been the troublemaker, the class clown. All his life he’d heard the same comments from his teachers, his parents, even his high school girlfriend. If you’d just try harder…

The hell of it was, he had tried. He could remember being ten or eleven years old and sweating bullets as he struggled to finish a test or a project or a reading assignment. But he’d been unable to focus, to concentrate. His mind would drift away. Soon his gaze would follow and before long he’d have to escape. To be outside where he could run and play and forget.

By the time he hit junior high, he realized failing without trying was easier. He doubted he could explain it, but to his frustrated, angry mind, it had made sense. If he didn’t study, if he didn’t do his homework, if he didn’t complete assignments, he had a built-in excuse for failing. All it meant was that he was lazy, a goof-off who lacked discipline. If he tried and failed, well, that meant he was stupid, didn’t it?

When he reached high school, he discovered an alphabet’s worth of acronyms for learning disabilities. Part of him had been relieved to discover a reason for his problems, but by then keeping those difficulties a secret for the sake of his social standing had been second nature.

So he’d continued to hide his weakness behind an easy laugh and a what-the-hell smile and managed to get through high school. Barely. God, he’d been so scared, nearly sick to his stomach, his entire senior year. Terrified that he’d fail a class so badly his teachers would hold him back when all he wanted was to get out. Stuck behind a desk, crowded inside four walls, he’d itched for freedom, desperate to escape and unable to sit still.

Even though the worst of his symptoms had faded as he grew older, something his online research had told him didn’t always happen, that same feeling still snuck up on him when he thought about settling down. Trapped by a white picket fence instead of the chain link that circled the high school, but trapped all the same.

Shaking off those memories, Sam told Will, “If you change your mind and decide you’d like some help, let me know.”

“Just forget it, okay, Sam? I can take care of myself.”

Sam recognized the defiant lift to the boy’s chin and knew he wasn’t going to get any more out of Will. But patience had never been Sam’s strong suit. He wanted to push, to keep driving and get to the bottom of what Will had said—and whatever it was he was trying not to say.

Deciding to leave the ball in Will’s court for now, he nodded toward the sedan. “Think you can take care of this oil change?”

Will nodded, relief filling his young features.

“All right, then. Get back to work.”

Following his own advice, Sam checked the inventory for a replacement tire for Kara’s minivan. Even though she hadn’t told him where she’d be staying, he could easily find out. But for now it was another opportunity to play it cool. He’d given her the perfect excuse to see him again. If she didn’t take it—well, then he’d have to come up with an excuse of his own.

Never, in her wildest imagination, had Kara dreamed of being a spy. She’d never tried opening a lock with an unfolded paperclip. Never sent away box tops from sugary cereal for a secret decoder ring. Never tried eavesdropping with a glass pressed against a door.

Just as well, she decided, as she sank further down behind the steering wheel. Because she certainly would have been very, very bad at it. Not that she was actually spying. She’d parked beneath a shady spot across the street from Sam Pirelli’s garage fifteen minutes ago, the windows rolled down to catch a breeze carrying the scent of surrounding pines, but she wasn’t spying.

You aren’t going to find out anything about the man unless you really get to know him.

The voice of Olivia Richards, her best friend, rang in her thoughts. Olivia was a fellow teacher and the only person besides Kara’s parents to know the reason she had made the trip to Clearville.

Unlike her parents, Olivia had supported Kara’s decision to find Sam Pirelli.

“I can’t believe you met him already. What are the odds?” her exuberant friend had demanded when Kara phoned her after checking in at a local hotel and settling Timmy down for a nap. “It’s like fate.”

“It is not fate.”

Olivia snorted. “You break down in the middle of nowhere and the very guy you’ve traveled hundreds of miles to see is there to change your tire. That is fate, Kara-girl.”

“He’s a mechanic. He was doing his job, not riding in to save the day on his trusty steed, okay?” Kara wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. Sam Pirelli’s arrival had very much smacked of a white-knight rescue whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Her friend sighed. “Fine, so he was simply in the right place at the right time. Tell me what he’s like.”

“He’s—he’s like too many of Marti’s past boyfriends,” Kara said dismissively. “Good-looking and out for a good time.”

“How good-looking?” Olivia pressed, curiosity clear in her voice even from miles away.

“Are you even listening to me?” Kara had demanded in a whisper as she glanced to the bedroom door only a few feet away from the suite’s tiny living area.

“I heard you say he was good-looking. In all the years we’ve known each other, you’ve been blind to the opposite sex.”

“Not blind,” Kara murmured, her friend’s teasing words stinging a little even though she knew they shouldn’t. The truth was, she’d been blinded by love before, and she’d sworn she’d never be so vulnerable again. “And you missed the part where I said Sam Pirelli’s only out for a good time.”

And not father material.

Kara might not have said that last part out loud, but Olivia had been her friend long enough to hear the unspoken accusation. “How do you know after one meeting?”

“I just know,” she argued. When her friend’s silence continued, she blurted out, “He hit on me, okay? Five minutes into meeting the guy, and he was pushing for a dinner invitation. What does that tell you?”

“Um, that’s he’s interested in you?”

“He’s a player, Liv. He’d hit on anything with a pulse.”

“You don’t know that.”

But Kara felt she did. Knew the type, at least. The kind to make promises, to vow to love a girl forever. But she’d learned those words—like those men—were meaningless.

“You have to give him a chance,” Olivia encouraged. “Weren’t you the one who said it was wrong of Marti to keep Timmy’s birth a secret?”

“I know, but Marti must have had her reasons, right?”

And what those reasons were…the possibilities made Kara sick to her stomach when she thought of handing Timmy over to the stranger who was his father. As much as she’d loved her sister, she’d never understood Marti’s attraction to rough and rowdy men.

But Sam’s not like that.

The voice that sounded so much like Marti’s whispered through Kara’s mind. On the surface, at least, Sam was more the golden-boy-next-door type than dark and dangerous. He had a quick and easy smile, a good sense of humor and a willingness to laugh at himself.

All…not bad qualities.

Kara could see why Marti would have found him attractive. But her sister had excelled in picking men suited for short-term relationships. None of them had been built for the long haul. Even if he didn’t possess the worst qualities of some of Marti’s previous boyfriends, was Sam Pirelli the type of man to put the needs of a child before his own?

“You may never know what made Marti keep silent in the past. But I think in that letter she was pretty clear about what she wanted for the future.”

The letter. The one that had sent Kara on this mission in the first place.

The shock of her sister’s death in a small plane crash had been like a nightmare. Too horrible and unreal to be true. Kara had sleepwalked through those first days, waiting for someone to wake her up. But reality had set in quickly, forcing grief aside. After all, she had Timmy to think about.

Finding out her carefree sister had a will had come as another shock. And the letter naming Timmy’s father for the first time and asking Kara to take the little boy to meet Sam Pirelli had been the last painful blow.

How could you ask me to do this, Marti? How could you ask me to give up a child I love as if he were my own?

But if Marti’s voice had spoken before, it was silent now, leaving Kara’s raw and aching questions unanswered.

After the reading of the will, Kara had talked with the lawyer. Because Marti had named Kara her son’s legal guardian, he reassured her, in the eyes of the law, Timmy was hers…as long as the boy’s father didn’t sue for custody. Then, the lawyer told her, the courts tended to side on behalf of the biological parent.

She swallowed hard, the sign for Sam’s Garage blurring before her eyes as she blinked away the hot press of tears.

She didn’t know for sure that her sister wanted Sam to raise their son. Didn’t even know if Sam Pirelli would want to take on that responsibility.

Inhaling a deep breath, she forced the rush of emotion aside. She had two weeks to find out. That was the timeframe she’d given herself, one that coincided with the start of the fall semester and also the beginning of the year at the preschool where Timmy was enrolled.

“Aunt Kara.” She glanced in the rearview mirror to meet her nephew’s disgruntled gaze. “I wanna go home.”

That refrain, coupled with “are we there yet?” had repeated with headache-inducing consistency over the past two days. “I know, sweetie.” Turning around in the seat to face her nephew, she said, “Do you remember the man who changed our tire? Well, we need to go to his garage and replace the one that went flat.”

“But why are we just sitting here?” He drummed his heels against the edge of the seat, revealing his impatience.

“Because Mr. Pirelli is…busy.”

And he had been since the moment Kara parked the van across the shop. The prosaically named Sam’s Garage looked like the kind of place that would have a girly calendar pinned to a wall, but it was Sam who could hold his own with Mr. November any day.

Even from across the street, she could see the wink of his dimples, the flash of bright white teeth, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Little wonder women fell for him, and from what she had witnessed, Sam Pirelli did not discriminate.

A tall, stunning redhead had stopped by, followed by a short, curvy blonde. He greeted them with that killer smile and exchanges were made—keys, cars, laughter, embraces. A petite, doe-eyed brunette then brought him a late lunch in a brown paper bag—a huge sandwich he ate with the gusto of a man who was starving. Not that Kara believed it.

With so many women flocking around, going without hardly seemed necessary. Or even possible.

All of which made her wonder again what her sister had been thinking.

It also made Olivia’s advice ring through her thoughts again.

And once the brunette left, Kara decided this might be her best opportunity to get to know Timmy’s father. “All right, Timmy. It looks like Mr. Pirelli has some free time now.”

And as long as no other women stop by, maybe he can squeeze in a few minutes for the son he’s never known.

The thought was more than a little unreasonable, but then again, so was the jealousy she’d felt. She’d told Olivia the man was a playboy, flirting with any woman who crossed his path. That his interest in her and his angling for a dinner date meant nothing. But watching proof of her words brought to light right in front of her made her feel foolish for thinking she might have been wrong.

The motor roared in protest as she turned the key, forgetting she already had the engine running. Even more flustered now, she sucked in a calming breath as she pulled out of her hiding place and drove the minivan the short distance into the garage’s parking lot.

She’d barely set one foot on the ground before Sam appeared, opening the door the rest of the way and offering her a hand.

“Come for that spare?” he asked with enough question in his voice to suggest she might have shown up for another reason. Like the dinner he thought she owed him.

“That’s why I’m here. For the tire.” One that, hopefully, wasn’t as overinflated as Sam’s ego.

Even though they’d only met that morning, Kara had already tried to convince herself he wasn’t that tall, his shoulders weren’t that wide, his smile wasn’t that tempting. That in an effort to distract her emotions, her mind had simply exaggerated, focusing on unimportant details and blowing them all out of proportion. That was what she’d told herself. Unfortunately, Kara realized as she gazed up into his handsome face, she’d lied.

He didn’t give any ground as she stood, keeping her caught between the V of the open door and his body. His eyes searched hers as if looking for answers to questions he’d yet to ask, and Kara’s heartbeat stumbled uncertainly. Standing this close, she could smell the unfamiliar combination of motor oil and machinery, but also the clean, simple, sexy scent of the man beneath.

“Caramel.”

The unexpected reference to candy took her by surprise. “What?”

“Your eyes. They’re the color of the caramel my mom used to make for dipping apples when I was a kid. My brothers liked the crunch of hard candy, but I always wanted rich, swirling caramel.” His gaze roved over her face, but it wasn’t her eyes he finally honed in on.

Kara swallowed hard, biting back the urge to run her tongue over lower lip. Not in anticipation of a childhood treat, but with a longing for the sweet promise of Sam’s kiss. The shock of her own desire was enough to lock her trembling knees in place. “My eyes are brown. Plain and simple.”

“Oh, I’d be willing to bet there’s nothing simple about you.” His voice held a hint of teasing, but something told her he wasn’t joking. That he knew she had her secrets and wouldn’t stop until he discovered them all. “You had sunglasses on earlier. For some reason with your blond hair and fair skin, I expected your eyes to be blue.”

Another shock quaked down her spine, and Kara braced a hand against the side of the minivan. Sam stepped back, giving her room to breathe, but she still felt lightheaded after his casual revelation.

Marti’s eyes had been blue.

While Kara had worried about Sam’s paternal instincts coming to the fore and that he might somehow recognize Timmy as his son, she’d given little thought to him realizing she was Marti’s sister. Though the two of them had the same coloring and bone structure, the similarities ended there. Her sister had been taller, blonder, hiding her fair skin behind bronzers and spray-on tans.

“Aunt Kaaaraaaa!” Timmy’s impatient call from the backseat broke through her panic, and she ducked past Sam to open the door.

“Sorry, Timmy. Come on out, okay?”

The boy nodded, but his attention was clearly on the man standing behind her, a mix of curiosity and interest in his green eyes.

Sam’s eyes.

And Kara knew in that moment, everything had changed. Whether or not she told Sam about the boy he’d unknowingly fathered, she would never be able to look at her nephew the same way again. The weight of the secret she kept made her long to jump back in the van and drive as far as she could to escape the responsibility.

If the seriousness of the choice she had to make hadn’t been so great, Kara might have laughed. Running from responsibility. That was something she’d never done as an adult. Reaching up, she touched the locket she wore around her neck. For the past twelve years, she’d lived her life on the straight and narrow, determined to make the right choices. To do the right thing.

But what was the right thing? To tell the truth? Or to keep her sister’s secret?

Realizing she wasn’t going to come to a decision right then, Kara held out her hand as Timmy climbed from the backseat, his dinosaur tucked beneath one arm.

“Aunt Kara?” Sam echoed, a hint of surprise lifting his eyebrows, and Kara realized he must have assumed Timmy was her son.

“Um, yes. It’s—it’s a long story.” One she wasn’t yet prepared to tell. “About that tire—”

“Right.” He nodded once, seeming to accept her desire to get down to business. “Will can change it out for you while we handle the paperwork,” he added as they walked toward the garage.

For the first time, Kara noticed a skinny young man bent over an open hood. As Sam spoke his name, the teen looked up with a nod. A dark bruise blacked one eye, and he ducked his head after only a split second of contact.

“I have some toys in the office.” Sam held open the door to a small office that seemed to have been tacked on to the side of the garage like an afterthought. “Bunch of cars and trucks my mom saved from when I was a kid. And then my sister Sophia added some dolls and stuff in case a little girl wanted to play.”

“Girls can’t play with cars and trucks?”

Sam raised a hand as if she’d proved his point. “That’s what I said, but she seemed to think they’d like Barbie better.”

The office was small and crowded with a desk, file cabinets and mismatched chairs, but it was the narrowness of the doorway Kara noticed most as her shoulder brushed Sam’s chest as she passed.

“There’s the toy box right over there, Timmy,” Sam said, gesturing to a box with a monogrammed yellow S on the front nearly faded away.

The boy hesitated, scraping his tennis shoe along the scuffed linoleum floor, and Kara said, “He’s not really into cars and trucks.”

Sam nodded knowingly. “All about the electronics for kids these days, isn’t it? Video games and computers.”

“I suppose, but Timmy likes books and puzzles.” She could sense Sam’s surprise in the look he shot at the boy. Feeling more and more defensive by the minute, she insisted, “He’s very smart for his age. He’s been going to a very prestigious preschool since he turned three. School’s starting again in another two weeks, and he’s looking forward to getting back and seeing his teachers and his friends.”

“Whatever he likes to do, right?”

Kara swallowed and strove for a sense of calm that had completely deserted her. Her heart was racing and she felt out of breath, all without reason. Sam hadn’t challenged a single thing she said, but even though he didn’t know it, he was a roadblock in front of all the plans she had for her nephew. “Right. It’s all about what’s best for Timmy.”

If she could only determine what that was….

“Hey, good choice, my man.” Sam grinned over her shoulder and Kara looked back to see her nephew holding a tiny red metal car in his hand. A car that even she could see looked very much like the one Sam drove.

“Now that is a familiar sight,” he added.

Kara swallowed against the rising panic. Was it only that car Sam recognized, or on some level was he starting to see a younger version of himself in the green-eyed, blond-haired boy?

Her heart tumbled inside her chest as Sam crouched down, folding his big body until he could meet Timmy’s gaze face-to-face. When he held out his palm, the boy’s face fell and he reluctantly handed over the car. “No, Timmy. You can keep the car. I wanted you to give me five.”

He shot a confused look at Kara. “Five what?”

“Give me five. That’s what it’s called when I hold out my hand and you slap my palm with yours.”

Eyes wide, Timmy shook his head. “I’m not supposed to hit.”

“It’s not hitting. It’s…” Sam glanced over his broad shoulder as if looking for some help in this department, but Kara could only shrug.

Clearly both she and Marti had been lax when it came to explaining the high five. The gesture wasn’t exactly one that filled her daily life, though she realized it was a guy thing. High fives. Chest bumps. Those complicated handshakes. They were all signs of male celebration and camaraderie that were completely beyond Kara.

Was that why Marti had asked Kara to find Timmy’s father? To provide the boy the male role model missing from the first four years of his life?

“You know what? Don’t worry about giving me five.” Lowering his voice, he added, “But I want to tell you something about that car. A car like that is super-fast.”

His eyes wide as if understanding Sam was imparting some kind of secret knowledge, her nephew whispered, “How fast?”

“Faster than a bird or a bear or…” Sam’s voice trailed off but not before a look passed between man and boy.

An unspoken communication that shook Kara to the core even as Timmy filled in, “Monsters?”

Sam bumped his fist against the one Timmy had closed around the small car. “You better hold on to that. Just in case.”

A sudden clatter of metal against concrete broke the moment. Sam’s head swung back toward the open doorway to the garage and pushed to his full height with a frown when a muffled curse followed. “Will,” he called, “you break anything important out there?”

At first only a pained silence answered before the teen responded, “Just my foot.”

“In that case, get back to work.”

Kara gaped at the callous response and took a step toward the door. “Don’t you think—”

Reaching out, Sam wrapped a hand around her arm, stopping her progress, her words, her heartbeat. For a crazy moment, she imagined him pulling her closer, his eyes darkening as he kissed her.

“He’ll be fine.”

It took a moment for Kara’s mind to refocus on Sam’s words instead of his touch. “You don’t know that.”

“I know if we rush out there and start hovering over Will, it will only make that bruised foot feel worse.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

He gave a short laugh at that. “Because it’s guy logic. You’ll have to trust me on this one. If we pay any attention to him right now, it’ll hurt his pride and embarrass the he…heck out of him. For a kid like Will, that’s worse than broken bones any day.”

As if proving the truth—logical or not—of his words, the high-pitched whine of machinery resumed as Will went back to work.

“Will’s shy and quiet, but he’s tough in his own way.”

A hint of pride and admiration filled Sam’s voice. Admiration for the teen’s toughness? Kara wondered.

A toughness that Timmy, with his reluctance to hit and his fear of monsters, didn’t possess.

“He’s just a boy,” she protested, not sure if she was talking about Will or Timmy. “Do you really think ignoring pain is the best way to deal with it?”

Half expecting some quick response about rubbing dirt on a wound and getting back in the game, Kara was surprised when Sam gave her question some thought. “Admitting you’re hurting makes you vulnerable. Hiding that pain’s a pretty good way to make sure no one can make that hurt even worse.”

Memories of her own hidden pain pushed to the surface, but Kara forced the thoughts aside even as she wondered if she and Sam might have something in common. “I wasn’t exactly suggesting that you go out there and slam Will’s hand in a car door to make him forget about his foot.”

Sam laughed and the moment was broken, the quick grin on his handsome face almost enough to wipe away the thought of this big, strong man being vulnerable to anything—or anyone. “As far as distractions go, I can think of a few that would be more enjoyable.”

Kara barely had time for a blush to rise to her cheeks before he turned his focus to business. “Now, if I can take a look at your driver’s license, I can use that into to get you into the computer.” Jiggling the mouse on his desk, a screen popped up marked with blanks.

Information Sam was waiting to fill in. Information like her last name and where she was from. Pieces of a puzzle that might become a clear picture if she told him anything more about herself. She glanced over at the toy box where Timmy was carefully guiding his car along the well-worn edge. On some level, Sam had already picked up on her resemblance, faint though it was, to Marti. Add in the last name they shared and the city where they’d both lived, and he was bound to put the pieces together.

“Kara?”

Sam gazed at her from across his desk, waiting for her to hand over her license. Nerves shook her stomach as she realized she’d been wrong. She’d thought telling Sam he was Timmy’s father might be the biggest mistake she could make. But having him figure it out before she told him would be so much worse.

Without letting herself stop to think, she said, “What about that dinner I owe you?”

Her forced smile started to tremble along the edges as Sam’s slightly surprised gaze met hers. Did he see right through to her ulterior motives? Or could she fool him into thinking her nerves were due to accepting his date?

His green eyes lit with pleasure, and Kara’s stomach pitched in a slow, shaky roll. Were her nerves more about going out with Sam than she wanted to admit? She’d have to worry about that later. For now, she breathed a sigh of relief when Sam moved his hand away from the mouse.

“Tonight?”

“Um…” His eager question caught Kara off-guard. If she didn’t know better, she might think this “date” really mattered to Sam. But she did know better, didn’t she?

He’s interested in you.

“Sorry,” he said, his smile turning a little embarrassed and slipping further past her defenses. “I forgot you just got into town. You probably want to take it easy and get Timmy settled. How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Hey, I eat dinner every day, so take your pick.”

Kara couldn’t help giving a startled laugh at Sam’s dogged pursuit. With his good looks and quick smile, she’d assumed a man like Sam Pirelli treated everything in life as easy come, easy go. But in the past few minutes, he’d shown a depth and determination she hadn’t expected.

“And I can ask Hope Daniels to babysit Timmy,” he added. “She’s a friend of the family who watches my niece, so you don’t have to worry about her. She’s very reliable.”

But as they finalized plans for their date the following night, Kara was already worried. She just couldn’t decide what concerned her more—the idea of Sam’s single-minded focus on Timmy…or on her.