A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel (2 page)

What now? She wanted to fly into his arms, but that seemed awfully forward for someone you hadn’t seen in years. Plus, he had his hands full with his daughter, a dark fairy who regarded her with open distrust.

She squelched the impulse and opted for safe. “Welcome home.”
I thought you’d never get here
.

He stepped closer, his eyes softening over a wide smile. Lorelei began to squirm, and Sam stood her gently on the tiled floor.

Unable to restrain the affection bubbling inside her, Rosie reached for him as he opened his arms and caught her in a fierce embrace.

“God, it’s good to see you again!” he said against her shoulder, his touch creating odd fluttery feelings in her stomach. “I didn’t realize until I reached the outskirts of town how much I’d missed this place and my friends.”

Friends
. Rosie hugged him back, savoring the moment and the faint spicy scent that tugged at her nose.

He released her and stepped back an arms’ length, leaving her with the hollowed-out feeling she’d become well acquainted with. She preferred it over the alternative, after her last romantic entanglement had ended so badly.

Sam did a slow survey of her from head to toe. “If the guys in New York could see what I’m seeing, they’d fly south like the geese in winter.”

Rosie’s pulse jerked until she saw the teasing glint in his eyes. “Oh, stop.”

“What, you don’t believe me? As I recall, the last time we were together you were getting your fair share of male attention.”

Rosie could feel the heat stealing across her cheeks. “It was a wedding. Everyone had romance on the brain and too much bubbly, that’s all.”

“Ah.” Sam’s noncommittal comment was accompanied by a small wince. It was the closest they’d ever come to talking about what had now become a moment best forgotten.

She shrugged off the feeling she’d said something amiss, and smiled at the wary little face peeking from behind his knee. “Well, hello, there.”

Sam knelt on one knee beside his daughter. “Lorelei, this is Miss Rosie, a friend of Daddy’s.”

Rosie glanced at Sam, pleased he hadn’t forgotten the Southern tradition of introducing adults to children with a title. His gaze stayed on Lorelei as he waited for a response.

Lorelei merely looked to him for reassurance.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Rosie’s the nice lady who’s going to let us live in her house until we find one of our own.” He stood and turned back to Rosie. “She’s more clingy than usual since we left New York. I’m hoping it’ll pass with time.”

“I’m sure it will.” She liked how Sam’s voice softened when he talked to Lorelei. During one of their recent phone calls, he’d warned her his daughter was terrified of the dark and strangers who approached her too fast, but hadn’t explained why.

“Pwetty,” Lorelei said, bringing Rosie back to the present as she pointed toward the flowers inside their refrigerated cases. Her big brown eyes sparkled with interest.

“She’s beautiful, Sam. Good thing she took after her mother,” she teased. If Rosie hadn’t been looking directly at his face, she would have missed the tightening of his jaw.

“I like to think I see a few Moreland traits in her occasionally. In any case, She’s a good kid. Puts up with me.”

“Then she must be angelic, as well.”

Sam rewarded Rosie’s acerbic statement with a short, humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far. Wait until you see her grumpy act at nap time.”

“Speaking of that, we should probably get going so we can get her room squared away. Unless you’d like to reacquaint yourself with Sweetwater Springs.”

“I soaked in the changes on the way here. Getting settled would be good. My deadlines aren’t moving just because I am.” He tweaked the long braid hanging over her shoulder. “Good to see some things are the same.”

She hesitated, uncertain how to respond. She wasn’t the same, not at all, not after her ex-fiancé’s negative impact on her life. Dean’s need to control through mind games and manipulation was enough to turn a woman off men forever.

In the end, she opted to ignore Sam’s statement. “Even with the trendy coffee shop on the corner and the new office park by the freeway, a few minutes are all you need to see everything. Sweetwater Springs isn’t exactly a bustling metropolis.”

A slight movement to her left reminded Rosie they weren’t alone. “You remember J.T.’s wife, Sara, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course.” He took a step toward Sara, hand offered for a polite shake, his gray T-shirt stretching over well-muscled shoulders. Lorelei followed, clinging shyly to his jean-clad leg like a lifeline. His fingertips played in her dark hair. Its wispy look and her large, serious eyes gave her a soft, fragile appearance.

“I’ve read all your books,” Sara gushed. “J.T., too. He likes the action, I like the romance.”

“Well, thanks. I’m glad. How is he?”

“Quite virile, if recent reports are to be believed,” Rosie quipped.

Sara colored delicately. “I’d better get back to work. My slave-driver boss is very strict about the hired help keepin’ to schedule. Good seeing you again, Sam. We’ll have y’all out to the house for supper real soon.” With that, she waved and re-entered the cool confines of the prep room.

Sam did a slow circle so Lorelei could follow, taking in the cooling units, bridal table, gift shop and the display window. “This is nice. What made you choose to become a florist?”

“My Aunt Laurel made me a good deal on the place when she retired to Florida. Between my business degree and the experience I had working summers here, it felt like a good fit.”

“You must be doing all right. The place looks good.”

Suddenly all the late evening hours spent scrubbing and painting were worthwhile.

“Yes, but she spends way too much time here.” Sara’s voice came from the doorway of a cooler where she separated a few sprays of Gypsophilia, or baby’s breath, from a thick bunch. “Maybe now that you’re around, she’ll accept a few more invitations and rejoin the living.”

Rosie hadn’t heard Sara reenter the room and was momentarily tongue-tied. Sam’s frown and narrowed gaze urged her to set the record straight. “It’s not like I’m a hermit. I’m in here meeting the public every day. Is it any wonder I’d like a little quiet time?”

Sara shook her head and flicked a don’t-you-believe-it look at Sam. “She eats, sleeps and breathes this place. Some days she doesn’t even leave for lunch. Eats at her desk in the back.”

She started back into the prep room, then turned with a frown. “Rosie, these don’t look as perky as they should. Are these from the batch we received yesterday?”

“Has to be. We barely had enough to finish the Slocum wedding on Friday, remember?” Her gaze wandered to Sam. “Twelve attendants on each side. Can you imagine?”

A sound of disgust came from his throat. “Waste of good money.”

“Lucky for us though. That wedding brought us the most profitable month yet.” Not so profitable that she could afford anything major to go wrong over the next few months. She made a mental note to have the refrigeration in that unit checked first thing tomorrow.

“Perfect example of Miss Workaholic’s tendencies right there. Rosie stayed here until midnight making the bridesmaid’s bouquets.” Sara looked at Sam with amusement, but he was stroking Lorelei’s head, his attention on her.

Sara exchanged what-gives shrugs with Rosie. “Well, I’d better get back to it.”

“And I’m out of here. You’re on your own.” Rosie extricated herself from the apron and stowed it under the counter. “Throw some extra preservative in with the baby’s breath, and I’ll check it again tomorrow.”

Sara’s gaze flicked over Sam again. “You got it.”

Rosie smiled at the rounded eyes watching her from behind Sam’s knee. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

She was leading the way to her house, window of her aging van partially lowered to release the trapped heat, air conditioner on full blast before she allowed herself to examine the feelings of dissatisfaction surrounding Sam’s arrival.

His warm embrace and teasing aside, something wasn’t right.

She’d wanted him to see her as the mature grown-up and competent businesswoman she’d become over the last two years since grad school. Instead, she’d gotten the distinct impression Sam had withdrawn from the conversation a little further with each mention of her involvement in the business.

Both his mother and ex-wife had managed high-profile careers. Maybe hers wasn’t impressive enough for him. Rosie made a sound of disgust in her throat. Or maybe she was being too sensitive and egotistical. He was probably tired or something.

Until a few months ago, she and Sam had drifted to the greeting card stage in their correspondence, never completely losing touch. Over time their sporadic communications had become less personal. E-mails and phone calls regarding his move and living arrangements had alleviated some of that distance.

He’d probably felt a little apprehension about the reunion, as she had. They’d both changed, she in ways she’d never imagined. It was only natural to expect a period of adjustment, to wonder if they could reestablish their former easy friendship or if the bonds of childhood would remain elusive.

Oh, who was she kidding? Easy? Ever since that one-time aberration in their behavior—the kiss—there had existed an undercurrent of tension in their relationship. One she’d never had enough courage to examine closely. Therein lay the source of her apprehension. Did he feel it too?

* * *

S
am braked behind Rosie’s slowing van, then stopped as she pulled over in front of a house that stood proudly a good fifty feet off the road. The soft gray of a weathered roof, porch floor, and shutters subdued the large expanse of gleaming whiteness. A wraparound porch, dotted with wicker furniture displaying faded flowery cushions, flared around the house like a hoop skirt, while the porch ceiling reflected cool blue. Boston Ferns hung at regular intervals across the front of the house.

He sighed. Although he hadn’t made the best decisions lately, especially where his personal life was concerned, this was a good choice. It looked like . . . home, and he’d wanted something comfortable with a yard his daughter could play in. Until he and Lorelei could find a place of their own, this one would more than do.

Rosie stepped around the front of her van and motioned for Sam to pull forward. He rolled down the window and winced at the wall of heat. How did she manage to look so cool?

Her skin had a soft, dewy look lots of women would kill for. And her Caribbean blue eyes had depths a man could happily drown in. He’d almost done so while dancing with her at that damn wedding. It was one memory both of them avoided talking about.

“Back your trailer into the driveway along the side the house,” Rosie instructed. “That’ll put it right at your front door and make it easier to unload.”

He maneuvered the U-Haul into position, and saw he could access the apartment from a private side entrance.

Sam retrieved Lorelei from her car seat and stood looking at the house. She held onto the edge of his jeans with one hand and clutched a worn baby blanket in the other.

“Love the house, Rosie,” he called to her with a grin. “What a great porch.”

“There’s a screened-in version across the back. Both the apartment and house rear doors open to it.” She sauntered across the yard toward him, rounded hips swaying. Rosie had most definitely filled out in all the right places, her body more curvy than he remembered. Holding her earlier, however briefly, had about overloaded his senses.

“I appreciate you letting us stay here,” he said, pretending fascination with the house before she could catch him gawking.

“Hey, I need a tenant. You need a place to live. It’s as simple as that.”

“Lucky me. A great place to live and a pretty landlady. What more could a single guy want?” he teased, mostly because he’d come to believe it was expected.

She turned to the house with a shake of her head. “Come on, Slick, I’ll show you and Lorelei your new digs. You can save all that charm for somebody who’ll swallow it.”

Sam gazed after Rosie in amazement for a moment before realizing she didn’t want flattery. After living with Jasmine, so insecure and obsessed about every nuance of her appearance, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the concept.

If Sara’s teasing were to be believed, the floral business was now Rosie’s life. He certainly hadn’t expected that either.

He’d seen her playing with her doll babies as a girl, laughed indulgently at her preteen wedding plans, and would’ve predicted Rosie married and the mother of a kid or two by now. Not that she couldn’t have those things and a career too. Just because his mother and Jasmine couldn’t handle both didn’t mean it wasn’t possible.

Rosie had showered him with protective, maternal instincts after his parents died, sometimes sitting beside him for hours without talking, their bare feet dangling into the creek waters. Until then he’d only seen her as J.T. and Travis’s little sister, an occasional tagalong. That summer, she’d become a friend.

Had the loving, nurturing girl he’d known changed so much that a career shifted into her number one priority? The thought saddened him, followed by the sharp pinch of shame. At the least, he owed her the benefit of the doubt.