The Mechanics of Mistletoe - Liz Isaacson Page 0,38

a hint of anxiety in his gaze.

“Poor Sammy can’t clean up all the debris. No problem,” she said, feeling wild and out of control now. She hated the hysteria building behind her lungs. “Bear and all his cowboy buddies will come take care of it. Sammy’s hungry; Bear will bring dinner. Sammy’s parents can’t take care of Lincoln. No problem. Bear will take him to Shiloh Ridge.”

She felt so hot, and she pressed her palm to her forehead. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Bear said, “Sammy,” in that deep, calm voice, and she stopped.

“That is not what I’m doing,” he said. “At all.”

“You have solved a lot of my problems.”

“And I’m not going to sit here and lie and say I don’t want to keep doing that.”

She lowered her hand and met his eye again. “It makes me feel weak, and I hate feeling weak.”

“I apologize,” he said. “That was not my intent. My only goal was to help you. A lot of people need help right now, Sammy. You are the strongest woman I know.” His eyes blazed, and Sammy’s foolishness doubled.

Her chest pinched and shook, and she didn’t know what to do. She looked away and pulled her food back in front of her. She took a couple of bites of potatoes and picked up the roll. She ate the whole thing, her mind buzzing through her options for Lincoln. He’d been fine today, but it was day one. By afternoon, he’d be bouncing off the walls and asking if he could go ride his bike down the debris-riddled streets.

Lincoln finished eating, and Sammy said, “Go wash up, Link. I can’t have barbecue sauce on the tires.”

“Okey doke.” Lincoln slipped from the barstool and skipped toward the bathroom.

Sammy drew a deep breath and turned back to Bear. “Okay, here’s the deal.”

“I have strong feelings for you, Sammy,” Bear said. “I never, ever want you to feel weak because of me. I’m sorry.” He took her hand in both of his. “Please, forgive me.”

Sammy couldn’t stay mad at him even if she’d wanted to. She wasn’t mad anyway. She was frustrated, and not necessarily with Bear. With herself. With her own shortcomings.

“Please,” Bear whispered, leaning closer to her. Her eyes drifted closed as Bear neared, and the soft brush of his lips against the side of her neck made her gasp. Fireworks raced through her system, and her heart beat as loudly as a gong.

“Okay,” she whispered.

He pressed his lips to a spot just below her ear, and then his mouth barely tasted her earlobe. “Thank you, Sammy.” He pulled away, but everything around her was fiery and hot. She could barely breathe, and when she opened her eyes, the room stayed blurry for a few seconds.

“Sammy,” Lincoln said, and she blinked to focus on him. “There’s a guy outside.”

She turned and saw a man standing there. “Frank Lemon.” She started to get up, but he waved his hand. He pointed to the container in his hand, which was identical to the one she’d been eating out of.

“Thanks, Bear,” he called through the glass, and Sammy swung her attention toward him.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Bear said, turning his back on the front windows. “What were you going to say before you forgave me?”

“What?”

“The deal?” He picked up his second roll.

“Oh, right.” Sammy sat back down and looked at her food and then Lincoln. He wore such a hopeful look, and she couldn’t deny him something that would make him happy. “The deal is this: You can take Lincoln to Shiloh Ridge on weekdays. I will allow you to pick him up at the shop, but I will come pick him up at the ranch when I’m done here.”

“Deal,” Bear said, a smile playing with his mouth.

It drove irritation through Sammy as much as pleasure. “Stop it,” she said, reaching out to physically straighten his mouth.

“Stop what?” he asked, laughing as he dodged her attempts to manhandle him. He turned toward Lincoln, still chuckling. “Did you hear that, bud? Your mom’s gonna let you come to the ranch with me.”

“Yay!” Lincoln jumped up and down, and Sammy cocked her head at Bear.

He sobered quickly. “Okay, but Link, a ranch is a lot of work. You’ll have to work.”

“I can work, Bear,” the little boy said, and Sammy’s heart expanded to at least three times its size.

“You’ll have to work hard,” Sammy said, putting one hand on Lincoln’s shoulder. “Bear runs that whole ranch. It’s not