By Proxy(31)

“Right this minute?” My heart’s hammering the hell out of it, Jen. “Just fine. All healed up.”

“I’m glad you’re not with her anymore. I’m so sorry she wasn’t there for you when you needed her. I’m so sorry you were hurt and alone.”

How does she keep doing this, cradling my heart in her hands? He knew how much it had taken for her to reach out and hold his hand, but she had done it, in spite of her reservations. Comforting him was more important to her than feeling comfortable herself. Once again, he was humbled by her selflessness.

Her face looked nervous, and she swallowed before continuing. “I owe you an apology.”

“Nah, I’m flattered. Anyway you make a mean omelet, Jenny. It’s okay.”

She looked at him soberly and held his eyes uncompromisingly. “Sam, I owe you an apology. I thought you were attempting to dally with me while you were away from your girlfriend, but you’ve done nothing in the short time I’ve known you to lead me to believe you are the sort of man who would do something wrong like that. And yet I jumped to that conclusion after looking at a few pictures on Google. I do that sometimes, rush to judgment. It’s a bad habit of mine and I am just so sorry and so embarrassed.

“And I…I also just want to say, I sure would understand if you’d like to just be left alone for the rest of the weekend. You don’t have to help me today. I can get Nils to come help me. I don’t deserve your help.” She said her piece then released his eyes with a single nod.

Standing up, she gathered the dishes and put them in the sink, giving Casey the solitary piece of leftover bacon.

Man, she is brave. Most of the men he knew, hell, most of the people he knew wouldn’t have offered up an apology that thorough and that sincere. She took it on the chin, that’s for sure. He suddenly thought of Jenny as a little girl, being raised alongside three older brothers. No doubt she sat in on all of the life-lessons they would have had about courage and integrity and standing up for themselves throughout childhood. She’s strong like that. She’s tough.

Then again, he thought as he watched her at the sink washing up the breakfast dishes, she’s all woman too. She had her white shirt rolled up to her elbows and he could see the skin on her forearms was still holding on to a summer tan against the white of the shirt. He moved his eyes lower to her waist and hips, but sadly her curves were concealed by the boyish cut of the jeans on her hips. However, lower still and—hallelujah!—the opposite was true of her backside, which was cupped to perfection by the soft, molded denim which showed every pert curve. No way she was putting up that booth with Nils today, whoever the hell he was. Screw Nils. No way.

“Hey, Jen.”

She turned to face him from the sink where her arms were elbow-deep in suds. “Mmm?”

“I know you may think an urban Chicago playboy isn’t fit for hard work, but you’re not getting rid of me that easy—”

“No, I just—”

“You just didn’t think I could cut the mustard.”

“No! I think you can! I just—”

“You just think I’m a man who welches on deals he makes?”

“No, Sam! I just didn’t want you to feel like you owed me anything!”

“But, I do,” he responded, eyes twinkling. “We had a deal and I broke it. I owe you a booth.”

It dawned on her that he had just teased her into accepting his help again, but it still didn’t feel right. “Okay. You owe me a booth for too much teasing. I accused you of infidelity. What do I owe you?”

He beamed at her. “I could use a date for the Stroll tonight.”





Chapter 6



After breakfast, Sam and Jenny made their way from her apartment to Gardiner High School, which was a short walk down Main Street toward the river, over the bridge, and a right turn onto Stone Street, where they approached the campus through the empty Saturday parking lot.

Sam wasn’t impressed with the relatively small, squat, brown-brick public building before him, but he stopped walking abruptly, staring gape-mouthed at a herd of about a dozen bison grazing on the football field between two goal posts as they approached.

“Are…are those…?”

Jenny stopped walking and nodded, smiling at Sam. “Bison. They wreak havoc on that field every year, but it gets fixed in the spring.”

“How often does this happen?”

She shrugged. “Couple times a week. Especially when it’s cold. The building throws off heat. Not that they need it, but it melts the fields faster around here and they can graze.”

She tugged on his coat sleeve. “Come on, Greenhorn, we’ve got work to do.”