Christine Flynn - Suddenly Family

The beautiful, bubbly ex-cheerleader had doted on her children and adored her husband. They had clearly cared for her, too. The few times T.J. had seen Sam with them at community functions, it had been clear that their family had been as happy as any around.

Watching him now, when she was so aware of his physical strength, she couldn’t help but wonder at the fortitude and tenacity he had to possess. Rumor had it that he seemed to be doing well now, though he stuck close to work and his family. But she remembered hearing early on that he’d taken his wife’s death as hard as any man could.

As if he had finally become aware of how intently he was being watched, Sam’s motions began to slow. With his last box unloaded, he straightened like a pinnacle rising from the sea, plowed his fingers through his hair and turned toward the doorway.

The bright fluorescent lights illuminated the sculpted lines of his face when his glance jerked from them to his watch. “I didn’t realize how late it was,” he called to her. “How long have you been standing there?”

Longer than I probably should have, she thought. “Only a couple of minutes,” she called back. “I hope you don’t mind us coming through the office.”

“Not a problem. Come on over.”

Since he stayed where he was, near the plane, she gently tugged Andy forward. She was halfway across the gray concrete floor when she noticed the lines of fatigue fanning from the corners of Sam’s eyes. Deep creases bracketed his mouth. She’d noticed the lines before, but thought only that they added interest to a face that would have been too perfect otherwise.

With his loss fresh on her mind, she realized now that what had carved the furrows so deeply could very well have been grief—and a kind of weariness that ran soul deep.

She stopped a couple of yards away. “I didn’t know if you got my message.”

Looking very competent, very capable and very…big, he ran an impersonal glance from her short T-shirt to the hem of her baggy linen pants, then smiled at the child clinging to her hand.

“I got it about an hour ago.” Turning, he reached inside the open door of the plane’s cabin and pulled a clipboard from the pilot’s seat. “I just wanted to get the cargo unloaded before we got started. We can talk while I work on the plane.”

Concentration sharpened his features as he dropped the clipboard atop the stacked boxes and made a note on an attached form. His manner was as brisk and businesslike as his tone. She had no idea what time he’d started work that morning or how many places he’d flown over the course of the day. But from the fatigue he dutifully ignored, she had the impression of a man running on nothing but reserves.

Still, he offered another easy smile to the little boy who peered past him to the plane. Andy hadn’t budged from beside her. Sheer awe rooted him to the concrete.

Sam’s preoccupation lifted when he noticed where her son was staring. “Have you ever seen a plane up close before?” he asked the silent child.

Solemnly, Andy shook his head to indicate that he hadn’t.

“Then, you’ve never been inside a plane before, either?”

Without a blink, the little boy shook his head once more.

“Do you want to sit inside this one?”

The awe in Andy’s expression moved into his voice. “Inside it? Can I? Really?”

“Promise not to touch anything?”

Andy nodded so fast that his bangs bobbed.

“Wait a minute.” T.J.’s wary glance darted past the open cockpit door to the complex array of gauges and gadgets on the control panel. “Is it safe for him to be in there?”

Looking intimately familiar with the workings of a worried mother’s mind, Sam paused. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if it weren’t,” he replied, reasonably. “Would you rather he didn’t?”

Andy’s eyes beseeched her. Eyes of startling blue met hers with calm patience.

“If you’re sure he’ll be okay…”

“I’m sure.” He arched one eyebrow. “Do you want to let go of his hand?”

Andy nodded, his expression still pleading. “You can come, too, Mom.”

At her son’s encouragement, she finally let go. She always kept a close eye on her son. Especially in unfamiliar places. That was why she was right behind them when Sam swung her child up in one arm, carried him to the plane and plopped him onto the pilot’s seat.

“Here you go,” he said to Andy. “You can sit in here while your mom and I talk. That’s the throttle and this is what steers the plane. And this,” he said, digging something out from the utility box by the seat, “is a Game Boy. Do you know how to work it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. Then you can play with that. Hands off everything else. Okay?”

“’Kay,” Andy murmured, obligingly. His nose wrinkled. “What’s a throttle?”

“It’s like the gas pedal in a car,” T.J. replied from behind Sam’s broad back.

“Oh.”

“Look,” she murmured, touching Sam’s arm to get his attention. The muscle beneath the soft khaki felt every bit as hard as she’d imagined. “You’re sure he’s okay in there?” she asked, feeling that heat move into her palm.

He turned, causing her hand to fall, then forced her to back up as he stepped toward her. “I’m positive. Even if he does touch something, it might mess up an instrument, but it won’t hurt him.” His big body towered over hers as he nodded toward the exposed engine. Its cowling lay on the ground. “You don’t have to worry about him starting it up, either,” he murmured, sounding as if he knew she was thinking just that. “I have the key, and the fuel line is disconnected.”

He was crowding her, though she didn’t think he was doing it on purpose. There was just nowhere else for him to go with the door open, the plane at his back and her blocking his path from the front.

Jerking her focus from his firm mouth to his wide chest, she curled her fingers over the odd heat lingering in her hand and backed to the middle of the long high wing.

“You’ve been reading.” He offered the observation as he followed her, obviously referring to her response about the throttle. “Did you get the chapters finished?”

Nothing about him made her think he was at all affected by her proximity. Uneasily aware that she was not unaffected by his, she thought about the book she carried and willed herself to relax.

“Some of them. Most of them,” she corrected, her glance automatically seeking her son.

She had been more anxious than usual about her little boy over the past couple of days. Every time she lost sight of him, which was never for more than a few moments, a bubble of panic rose in her chest, pumping adrenaline into her veins, making her heart lurch. But she could easily see Andy holding the Game Boy in a death grip as he stared, enthralled, at the complex instruments.

He was fine. Sam had even assured her that he was safe.

For the moment, with Sam there, she realized that Andy truly was.

The knot that had formed in her stomach yesterday morning actually began to loosen. Grateful for the respite, only now realizing how tense she had been, she pulled the book from her big denim bag and held it out with both hands. “I’m afraid I won’t be needing lessons, though. Thank you, anyway.”

The weathered creases in his forehead deepened as he reached for the bulky volume. Confusion colored his tone. “What changed your mind?”

“That book, for one thing. I had no idea until I started reading it how complicated it all would be. Even if you could teach me how to get a plane off the ground, I can’t afford the money or the time it would it take for real lessons and to get a license. Doc Jackson will be leaving in a couple of weeks. It would be a couple of years before I could fly a plane on my own.”