Love Came Just In Time Part 39

"What's new, fellas?"

"Kilpatrick's heading south," Zeke grumbled. "I said he'd never make it up here. Born and bred in California. No spine at all."

"I said he'd fold," Amos said, leaning over to deposit a hefty bit of spit into the spittoon. "Guiding's a

man's job. Ain't that so, Sydney?"

"You bet, Amos," Sydney said, rocking back on her heels. It was no easy feat in her boots, but she'd had plenty of practice. "Not for cowards."

Zeke looked up at her with a disapproving frown. "Still got that writer fella out at your place, Sydney?"

"He's paid through December," Sydney said defensively.

"I heard Ruth Newark offered him a place. He shoulda taken it. Ain't right to have him out at your

house, Sydney. Your pa wouldn't have liked it."

Sydney frowned right back at him. "He's paid through December," she repeated. "Money's money, Zeke."

"And he's a single boy, Sydney."

Sydney felt her good humor evaporate. "It isn't as if he wants anything to do with me," she said sharply,

then spun around and walked over to the counter. She shoved her list at Joe and pretended a mighty interest in the contents of Joe's gla.s.s case. She could name all the flies there and could tell which ones were best for what kind of fis.h.i.+ng. Yessiree, that was certainly the kind of knowledge she needed to attract a man.

She looked up as the door opened, expecting to see Sam. Instead, she saw Melanie Newark and Frank Slater. Frank was the only male in Flaherty who had ever given her the time of day. He thought it was great that she had her own business, and he had even asked her out on a date. Once. Her one and only date.

"Hey, Sydney." Frank smiled, coming over to her. "How's it going?"

"Great, Frank. How are you?"

"Frank, stop," Melanie hissed.

Frank threw Melanie a faintly annoyed look. "What?"

"What are you doing, you idiot?" Melanie spluttered.

"Well..."

"Frank, you come away from her."

"Now, Melanie..."

"You know she's desperate for a husband. Or maybe she isn't. Either way, you don't want to stand too

close. And I certainly don't want you talking to her. It will ruin your reputation. Mother says no

self-respecting man would get within ten feet of Sydney Kincaid." "Sure, Melanie," Frank mumbled, moving away. "I guess you're right." He didn't spare Sydney another glance.

Sydney looked back down at the case, blinking furiously. She didn't care what Melanie thought, or Frank for that matter. They were just stupid. Stupid, idiotic, ignorant jerks who didn't have a kind bone in their bodies.

"Here's my list, Joe," a deep voice said directly behind her. "Alphabetically, just how you like it. Sydney, did you give Joe your list?"

She nodded, keeping her head down, mortified that Sam had probably heard all of Melanie's diatribe.

"Why, Sam," Melanie purred, "how nice to see you again."

Sydney peeked to her right in time to see Melanie shove Frank out of her way so she could get closer to Sam.

"Mother wanted me to invite you out for supper tonight."

"Hey," Frank complained, "I was coming out for supper-"

Melanie glared briefly at Frank, then smiled at Sam. "What do you say, Sam?"

It was the last straw. Sydney knew when to concede the battle. Not that she wanted Sam. No, sir. But he was her housemate, after all. She couldn't help but feel a little proprietary where he and his chocolate cakes were concerned. She backed up, intending to make a clean getaway before Sam started discussing his dinner plans.

She backed up straight into Sam's hard body. He grabbed a fistful of her jacket and held her immobile.

"Can't," he said cheerfully. "Sydney's going to teach me how to fish this afternoon, then we're going to fry up our catches tonight."

Sydney turned around, as best she could with him still clutching her coat, and gaped at him.

"Isn't that so, Syd?"

She could have sworn he winked at her. She couldn't even manage a reply. He pulled the hood of her coat up over her hair.

"Why don't you go out and warm up the Jeep? I'll get Frank to help me out with the goods. And, Syd, do you think I need boots for the winter? Joe, have you got any boots? Get moving, Sydney. We haven't got all day. The fish will be asleep by the time we get out to the river."

Sydney got help to the door. Sam kept up a steady stream of nonsense conversation as he steered her past the b.o.o.by-trapped floorboard and pushed her out the door.

"Go start the car," he said in a low voice. "I want a quick getaway before Melanie's mother gets here. Move it."

Sydney moved it. She walked out to her car, crawled in under the wheel, and started the motor. Then she put her head down on the steering wheel and tried to cry. It didn't happen. She steeped herself in the humiliation she'd just been through, repeating Melanie's words over and over again in her head. No tears were forthcoming. Not even the knowledge that Sam had wanted to leave quickly not because of her but because of Melanie's mother brought any tears to her eyes. As if he would actually want to stick up for her!

Though he had. Rather nicely, too. She shook her head. He hadn't meant it. He was just a nice person. He wanted nothing to do with her. He probably felt the same way all the other men in Flaherty felt. Sydney Kincaid wasn't good wife material. A woman who couldn't cook or keep house was a bad bet for marriage. Best stay away from her. Wouldn't want to ruin your reputation or anything.

The driver's side door opened. "Keys."

Sydney didn't move, so Sam reached in for the keys. She listened to him load their supplies into the back. By the sound of it, the supplies were numerous enough to last them through the winter. It was just as well. It would start snowing soon enough, and they'd be trapped together. Alone in her house.

Too bad nothing would happen.

"Move over, sugar."

Sydney looked up at Sam-handsome, kind Sam who stood inside the open door.

"What?"

"I'm driving home. Move over."

"But-"

He picked her up in his arms, carried her around to the other side of the car, unlocked the door, and put

her in. He buckled the seat belt, returned to the driver's seat, and started up the motor. And he said nothing, all the way home. Sydney grew more miserable with each mile that pa.s.sed. Maybe he was having second thoughts. Maybe Melanie had talked him into coming out to dinner. Maybe he was going to stay once he got there. She wasn't sure why it bothered her as much as it did, but there was no denying it.

She unloaded the groceries with Sam, then helped him put them away. And when they were done, he plunked her down on the counter as if she'd been a rump roast and slapped his hands down on either side of her.

"We've got a problem," he said, looking her square in the eye.

She could hardly swallow. "You're going to dinner at Melanie's?"

"h.e.l.l, no. Her mother fondled me at Eunice and Jeremy's reception. At the reception, mind you. No, I

am definitely not going to dinner at Melanie's house."

Sydney couldn't stop a small smile. "That's really a compliment, you know. She doesn't grope just

anyone."

"I'd rather be snubbed. Which brings me to what I want to discuss."

Sydney's smile faded. He was leaving. He was leaving and she was stupid enough to want him to stay.

"The way I see it," Sam continued with his hands still resting on either side of her, "we both have what

others would consider a problem."

"We do?"

"We do. I can't find a wife because I can't tell one end of a hammer from the other. You can't find a

husband because you can't cook. That about sums it up, doesn't it?"

She nodded slowly. "That's about the size of it."

"So," he said, clearing his throat and looking at something behind her, over her right shoulder, "I figure

we can help each other. You can help me become mechanical and I'll help you learn how to cook. Of course, this means I'll have to stay here with you longer than I'd planned. Probably three or four months more." He sighed. "I'm really hopeless when it comes to fixing things. It might take you that long to rectify my lack of studliness."

He was staying. Sydney blinked back the tears that should have been there at his announcement. "You think a man wants a woman who can cook?"

"Absolutely. And not just cook. She has to be a fabulous cook. It'll take me at least six months to teach you what you'll have to know. Maybe more if you really want to become marketable. Especially since I'll have to keep working on my revisions."

"So you won't be able to help me every day?" He was staying.

"We'll see. What sorts of things do you do during the winter? Will you be busy a lot?"

"I just read. And watch television." She paused and looked at something behind his left shoulder. "I could fix you lunch and things while you work. Just to practice," she added hastily. "Of course," he nodded, just as hastily. "All right, let's have a plan. We'll get up in the mornings and make breakfast together. Can you scramble eggs?"

"If it doesn't come prewrapped and precooked, I can't deal with it."

Sam smiled. "Eggs first, then. Once we've finished breakfast, you can teach me something to increase my machismo. I bought boots today, so I don't have to worry about losing any toes."

"Good point."

"Then we'll make lunch. Then I'll either work on my book in the afternoon while you read up on your trail-guiding studies or I'll teach you how to bake. How does that sound?" "Fair enough," she said. In reality, it sounded like bliss. Maybe if she were exceptionally inept, Sam would stay until spring.

Or summer.

Or fall.

Or forever.