Sealed With A Kiss

“He’s living with the students? Over in those tiny apartments?” Tara questioned.

“That’s what I heard.”

She and Lacey filled their plates from the all-you-can-eat salad bar at Ruthie’s Kitchen. They ladled creamy dressing atop greens and choice veggies, tossing raisins and croutons on for good measure. Neither woman was inclined to pass on lunch in favor of squeezing into designer jeans. Tara’s all-black, figure-minimizing wardrobe had become infamous about town. It had also become unbearably hot as the mercury rose into the nineties before noon each day.

They slid into an empty table as Lacey continued. “You know the older boys don’t want to live in the dorm anymore. So, three or four of them get together and share one of those little efficiencies that have less square footage than a dorm room, go figure. Well, Sam’s living in the smallest one of all, which makes sense, seeing as he doesn’t have a pot to cook in or a window to throw it out of.”

Lacey paused to collect a getaway crouton and pop it into her waiting mouth. “Anyway, they have a new evening ritual of sitting out behind the apartments, drinking sodas and asking Sam for advice on keeping life simple. He’s becoming their mentor.”

At this new piece of information, Tara sucked in a surprised breath and, along with it, a raisin. Heads turned toward their table while she sputtered and coughed in an effort to dislodge the fruit. She struggled to free her airway, tears trickling over her lashes.

“Honey, are you gonna be all right?” Lacey pleaded.

Tara nodded, swiped at her running nose and continued to struggle for breath.

Strong arms grabbed her from behind, hoisted her to her feet, positioned clasped hands against her chest and gave a powerful tug in and upward. A whoosh of breath was forced from her lungs. A small projectile shot across three tables and into the trash can by the exit door.

The lunch crowd burst into cheers. She didn’t need eyes to confirm what her intuition already suspected. The conquering hero was at it again.

Lacey stuffed a wad of paper napkins in Tara’s hand, motioning she should wipe her face.

Sam released his grip and stepped around the table, his concern turning to amusement as Tara smeared navy mascara from one temple to the other. On the tips of her auburn lashes, he found the blue color enchanting. But by the time she’d finished wiping her eyes and nose, the streaks had given her the appearance of a masked character from the comics.

“Thank you for your help,” she sniffed. “I should go to the ladies’ room and freshen up.”

“No, that’s not necessary. You’re fine, considering you were almost done in by a dried grape.”

“Tara, I agree you should make that trip to the ladies’ room,” Lacey cautioned, gesturing toward her own eyes.

“Nonsense.” Sam took Tara’s hand as he sat and drew her down into her chair. “Now, finish your salad. Oh, by the way, my mama taught me to chew each bite twenty times before swallowing.”

“That must be my problem. I didn’t have a mama.”

“No, you had a rich old grandma and I’m sure she gave you the same lecture.”

He motioned for Tara to continue her meal.

“Since you mentioned your mama, how is she, Sam?”

“Fine. She married a nice retired guy a couple of years ago. They own a condo on South Padre.” He crunched a crouton that he snagged from her plate.

“Aren’t you having anything?” She stabbed a forkful of spinach.

“I’m waiting for the guys.”

“The guys?” Tara’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you mean the students. Yes, I hear you’ve managed to worm your way into their living quarters.”

“If you call keeping my expenses low by renting the cheapest apartment in town ‘worming my way into the student quarters’ then I guess you’re right. Too bad Grandma didn’t leave us the house together.”

“But she didn’t.” The menacing glare was wasted in the swirls of navy that stained her eyelids and cheeks.

“That’s a shame, too. Instead of rocking on your veranda at night I’m sitting on lawn chairs in the parking lot, enjoying the smell of simmering asphalt.”

“Somehow, I think it suits you.”

He was grateful for the excuse to smile at the ridiculous picture she made in her severe black jacket and skirt, straitlaced hairdo and birdman mask.

A mechanical roll of thunder overwhelmed the clinking of stainless on Melamine as three choppers pulled to a stop near the entrance of Ruthie’s Kitchen. Burly men clad in leather removed their helmets to reveal colorful do-rags over balding heads.

Sam scooted the chair back and pushed to his feet. “Gotta go. The guys are here.”

“Those men? I thought you were talking about some of the students.”

“I know. You assume way too often, Rusty. And you know what they say about people who assume.”

“Save your clichéd pearls of wisdom for the college boys, Sam.”

“Thanks, I’ll do that. I value the guidance of a woman who drinks in my every word and memorizes the lines on my face.”

Tara was mortified. The man must have gone home after her humiliating teenage soliloquy and made notes. All these years she’d prayed he’d forgotten her passionate profession of love. Of the millions of forgetful men in the world, she’d had to fall for one with a razor-sharp memory.

And Sam wasn’t likely to forget anytime soon. As long as she took the bait, he’d keep setting the trap.

She considered tossing her glass of ice water in his insolent face. Instead, she took a long drink to cool down the heat that threatened to rise in her throat and cheeks. She stood, picked up her black clutch and turned away.

His strong hand shot out, grasping her forearm with surprising speed. As if sensing the unnecessary pressure, Sam loosened his grip. She fixed the offending hand with a hot stare and he released his hold.

“Wait, we need to talk,” he insisted. “This involves structural changes to the building that I think you should know about.”

He angled his dark head toward the sound of the bikes. “Those guys are my demolition crew. Tomorrow morning their equipment will arrive and we’ll begin knocking out the alley side of the building to accommodate overhead doors. The day after that we’ll take out chunks of the front side and replace it with showroom windows. It’ll be noisy and dusty. I didn’t want to get started without showing you the drawings and explaining it all first. And I need your signature on a couple of permits.”

The heat creeping up her neck couldn’t be stopped by a barrel of ice water. “When did you start planning this ‘demolition’ as you call it?”

“About fifteen minutes after the reading of your grandma’s will.”

“And you’re just now asking for my permission?”

Sam threw his head back and laughed. Not like you’d laugh out loud at a funny joke. More like you’d laugh with hysterical relief if you won the lottery. The lunch crowd at Ruthie’s had stopped watching the commotion out front and were all staring at Sam when he caught his breath and wiped away the tears of mirth.

“You still don’t get it, do ya, Rusty? I’m not asking for your permission. Not today. Not ever. I have as much right as you do to make changes to that building and if you want to drop by this afternoon, I’ll give you a preview of the coming attractions. If not, I suggest you work from Sycamore House tomorrow, because it’s going to be dusty when those bricks fall.”

He retrieved his helmet and headed toward the exit, but he didn’t exactly make a beeline for the door. Instead he worked the crowd as if he were running for office. He smiled and complimented the ladies and glad-handed all the men. If there’d been a baby in the place, he would have kissed it.

Along with everyone else, Tara found herself mesmerized by the vision of Sam and the other men beyond the plate-glass windows. Then, she caught sight of her reflection in the shiny pane. As Tara’s hands flew to her face, Lacey’s blond reflection joined that of the wretched blue-faced creature in the glass.

“You have to admit, I did try to get you to go to the ladies’ room.”

Tara opened her black clutch and withdrew a small canister of pepper spray. She handed it to her friend.