Some Day Somebody (6 page)

J.C. stepped into the kitchen with his usual flair for making an entrance, and headed for the coffee pot. “
Dat’s
the biggest bunch of bullshit I ever did hear. Sam Langley never says
anything
just to be nice.”

“You tell her, J.C.” Sam encouraged.

“He might say
somethin
’ to piss you off, or prove what a monumental jack ass he is, but he won’t ever say it just to be
nice
.”

“Yeah!
Wait. What?” A veil of confusion slowly settled over Sam’s previous look of confidence.

J.C. continued. “I mean, we all know what a grouchy ole son of a gun he can be.”

Sam’s brow furrowed with deep frown lines. “All right, that’s enough.”

“He didn’t get the name Oscar de Grouch for
no
good reason.”

“Julian,” Sam warned.

“He sure can be a crusty old son of a bit—”

“
Julian
Alcide
Carter!
”

A moment of stunned silence permeated the kitchen, until Carrie finally spoke.

“Julian
Alcide
?” she repeated, suddenly understanding J.C.’s preference for initials.

J.C.’s eyes snapped with mischief as he glared up at the big man. “You stump
jumpin
’ old son of a bitch. I could kick your ass for
dat
, yeah!”

Sam gave his somewhat vertically challenged buddy a friendly shove. “You’d have to be able to reach it first, short shit.”

Carrie chuckled at the good natured teasing between the two men. She stepped between them and gave J.C. a gentle nudge. “Go to your corner, Killer.” She turned to Sam and stuck a finger in his face. “And
you!
Go pick on somebody your own size.” She walked out of the room mumbling. “Julian
Alcide
—I never would have guessed that.”

From the doorway, Sam watched Carrie return to her desk. Gradually, he realized J.C. had spoken to him and pivoted to face his friend. “Sorry, did you say something?”

J.C. grinned. “I said
she’s
closer to your size. Maybe you
oughta
go pick on her.”

“
Bouche
ta
gueule
,
J.C.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up. I know what I’m talking about here,
dammit
. You two would be good together.”

“It
ain’t
happening.”

“Why not?
You’re divorced, and now she is, too. You know you want her, man.”

“
Arret
ca
, Julian.
Just
stop it
.”

The shorter man poked Sam’s chest with his stubby finger. “Look, Jackass. You need to quit calling me dat.” He turned and walked toward the door.

“It’s a good name—”

J.C. turned and pointed to him. “Den
you
take it.”

“Come on, J.C.,” Sam pleaded, as the other man left the room without looking back. “It’s a good name.”

Sam crossed his arms and looked out the window, surprised at how empty the room felt without Carrie’s presence. He pictured her the way he’d seen her at various times. With her head back and laughing at his impersonation of an old co-worker, or in profile as she bent over her desk to study a set of plans. The smell of her perfume lingered in the air. He breathed deeply, remembering the effect it had on him the day before as he’d leaned over her shoulder to explain a field book drawing.

Sam hit the building’s back exit with an inward groan as chilled air from the early cold front surrounded him. He made it to the rear of the survey truck and collapsed against the rear bumper. His breath rushed out in a low grunt as the cold metal penetrated through his jeans to shrink his boys into oblivion.

He leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees and shook his head in an effort to deal with the sudden awareness of his feelings. He stood and leaned over, far enough to get a glimpse through the window by her desk. There she was, a perfectly framed scene from a movie projecting through the window out into the dreariness of the overcast morning. He sucked in his breath as Carrie laughed at something else J.C. told her, then groaned out loud at the ache brought on by a woman he used to think was a huge pain in the ass.

Sam stood suddenly and jerked open the work van’s rear doors, determined to find something to keep his mind occupied. He thumbed through the stack of survey books, collected the trash, and rearranged the equipment.

He replayed their conversation in his mind...her fear of ending up alone.

“Not if I can help it.”

Why would she want you?

“I’m better than what she had.”

Hell, that doesn’t take much.

He rearranged the stack of survey books filled with his own neat, hand-written field notes and precisely drawn details. Once more, he tossed them back into the box he kept them in, and slammed the truck door harder than he’d meant to.

He tried not to stare up at the window, but the sight of her profile lured him. He was a big fat robin and she was a live cricket. Her laughter exposed her pronounced dimples. Dimples, along with the two different colored eyes that she claimed were “—really just a birth defect.” Birth defect or not, they sure added to the package. Those luminous eyes that sparkled green one moment, blue the next, accompanied by hair that shimmered with golden-red highlights in the afternoon sun. All of those luscious curves that accompanied the full bodied woman, damned well-proportioned on her five foot and seven inch frame, just right for a man of his height. The sudden tightening in his groin area made him grimace with need, again.

You want that.

“Not too surprising for a guy who’s as horny as a three-balled tomcat,” he muttered.

You want HER.

“She’s too freaking complicated,” he continued, trying to convince the other. Sam gazed up at her profile and watched her lean back in her chair and stretch in an alluring arch.

He forced himself to turn away from her, wanting to avoid the tried and true method of
ass on an ice cold bumper
to diffuse his single man’s affliction. Try as he might, he couldn’t get the image of her out of his mind. A minute later, he returned to the dreaded bumper and plopped down on the frigid metal. He searched the area, praying nobody had seen his one man performance, stellar enough to earn him a one-way trip to the psyche ward.

“You see?” he groaned. “Women are just good to make you crazy.” Crazy, or not, he couldn’t talk himself out of wanting to explore every inch of her body at his leisure. He stood and turned back toward the window.

Once more, his inner voice spoke to him.
You want that
.

Sam watched for a moment longer more before turning away, determined to put her out of his mind. He didn’t have anything to offer someone like her. More importantly, if he went out on that limb and she rejected him...Holy crap, how much was one man supposed to take?

CHAPTER 4

The first
half of November flew by for Sam, highlighted by one special day. On the sixteenth, he’d answered a call from Carrie’s mom. After telling her Carrie was off taking a certification test, the friendly and talkative woman had divulged it was her daughter’s birthday.

By the time the newly turned thirty-six-year old returned from testing, her co-workers had a small party waiting for her, complete with birthday cake, courtesy of Sam and a local bakery. Once Carrie learned Sam was responsible, she’d given him a look of appreciation so stellar, he knew his act had been well worth the effort.

With November came a steady supply of cold fronts. The Monday before the Thanksgiving holidays rolled around with the morning temperature hovering around forty degrees as the humidity dropped drastically.

Sam locked his truck and zipped up the all-weather work jacket while waiting patiently at the car pool’s pick-up spot. His heart pumped furiously as he watched the approach of Carrie’s gray sedan. Sam wiped his hands on his jeans, hands as clammy as a twelve year old boy playing touchy feely with the preacher’s daughter. “You big dumbass,” he mumbled to himself as she pulled up in front of him.

His heart dropped to his toes when he saw Cory, the youngest member of his survey crew, sleeping comfortably in the front bucket seat next to the driver. Sam’s only option was to crawl into the Escort’s cramped back seat.

“Pull up that seat, Cory,” Sam groaned, trying to stretch his long legs to a less cramped position. “My knees are touching my chin back here. You know,” he added, thinking he had nothing to lose. “If you
really
wanted to score points with your boss, you’d switch seats with me.”

Cory gave a sleepy groan and moved to open the car door, until Carrie placed a restraining hand on his forearm.

“Don’t you
dare,
” she commanded then shot a glare in Sam’s direction. “It won’t kill you to sit back there for a change.” \

“But my legs are a lot longer than hi...”

“You need your diaper changed too, you big baby?” she asked, throwing gravel as she peeled out of the parking lot to get back onto the highway.

“You
offering?”
Expecting a comeback, he glanced in her direction. One look told him she wasn’t in a mood for jokes. Instead of a grin and dimples, he encountered furrowed brow and a frown. She steered with her right hand in a white knuckled grip while the left supported her forehead. Only a fool would ignore those crystal clear signs of a woman on the verge of a blowup.  Make that a major “open-your-mouth-and-I’ll-tear-you-a-new-one” meltdown. He settled into the back seat without another word.

Sam stalked out of his crew’s darkened office. “Where the hell are Craig and Dan today?”

“Called in sick,” Dale told him from across the room. “They got the flu...out the rest of the week.”

Sam slapped his cap against his thigh. “That’s just great. How am I supposed to work with half a crew when you need that survey finished by the end of this week?”

“It’s
kinda
slow right now. I guess we can spare somebody from the office,” Dale suggested.

J.C. jumped out of his seat. “I’ll go!” he volunteered then sent a hopeful look in Carrie’s direction.

“What?” she asked, her brows lifted in confusion.

“You want to come with us today? We need two people to work
da
chain.”

Carrie gave J.C. a look that would have scared the crap out of a lesser man. “I swear to God, if that’s ‘man-code’ for something disgusting, I may have to kill you.”

J.C. shook his head and clucked his tongue in disapproval. “Listen to you,
wit
your mind in
da
gutter. It takes two people to work the hundred foot chain for stationing the roadway.”

Sam chuckled. “We’ll show you how. Come on, you’ll have a chance to go outside and get some fresh air and sunshine. It’s
gonna
be a nice day.” He turned to their supervisor. “How about it Dale, can we borrow these two today?”

Dale lifted his gaze from the letter size set of plans cluttering his desk. “Get her a vest and a hard hat.”

“Yes, sir.
We’ll pick ‘
em
up on the way out,” Sam told him before heading to his office.