Family in Progress. Brenda Harlen
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I’ll see you then.”
But Samara was too excited to wait until Monday.
She wanted to check out the studio where she would be working, meet the people she’d be working with, and she wanted to see Steven again, to reassure herself that the immediate hormonal reaction she’d experienced at their first meeting was a fluke.
He was dressed more casually today—in jeans and a collared T-shirt, and it looked like he’d forgotten to shave. He looked like a man would look on a comfortable Saturday morning—a little bit rumpled, a lot sexy.
Okay, so the hormone thing was still a problem, but not one that she would let interfere with her job.
He glanced up from a stack of papers, obviously startled by her knock at the door—and by her presence in his office. “What are you doing here, Samara?”
“I was in the neighborhood,” she began, then shook her head. “Actually, I made a point of being in the neighborhood because I wanted to stop in and say a personal thank-you for giving me an opportunity with this job.”
“You can thank me by working your magic with the camera,” he told her.
“I will,” she promised, coming farther into the room. “In the meantime, how about a large double-shot?”
He accepted the proferred cup. “How did you know how I like my coffee?”
“I asked your assistant,” she admitted. “I called from the lobby when I got here, to make sure you were in your office, and Carrie told me your preference.”
“Did she also tell you that I missed a couple of days this week because my son was home sick?”
“No,” Samara said. “I hope it wasn’t anything serious.”
“Just a touch of a flu bug. But I’m a little behind schedule right now and—”
“I’m in your way,” she guessed.
“A little.”
She took a step back toward the door. Though her lips curved, he could tell it was a practiced smile and he was sorry to see that some of the sparkle had dimmed in her eyes, sorrier still to know he was responsible for it.
“I’ll get out of your way then,” she said, and started to turn.
He should let her go. He wasn’t ready to confront the feelings she stirred inside of him just by being in his office. But he also knew it wasn’t fair to blame her for the unexpected and irrational response of his hormones to her presence, and he didn’t want her to go away mad.
He pushed away from his desk and caught her before she reached the door. “I didn’t mean for you to rush off,” he lied.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I shouldn’t have assumed you would have free time to show me around. I’m just so excited about the opportunity you’ve given me that I wanted to get my bearings so I can get right to work on Monday.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to be accused of damping your enthusiasm,” he told her.
“You didn’t,” she assured him. “You couldn’t.”
Still, he wanted to see that sparkle back in her eyes. “Are you interested in seeing the studio?”
Sure enough, those few words did the trick. Her eyes shone, her lips curved. “Are you kidding?”
He looked at the paperwork on his desk, the pile of phone messages to be returned, the classified ads to be reviewed, and he waved a dismissive hand over everything. “It’s not like this won’t all be here when I get back.”
“Are you sure?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” he said.
But as he led her out of his office, his thoughts were on Samara rather than the work he’d willingly abandoned for her smile, and he found himself wondering if maybe his fortunes were changing.
Caitlin took her usual seat at the back of the room. After almost a month of classes, she was still the new kid—and she hated it. Almost as much as she hated the fact that the neighborhood where her dad had bought their new house didn’t have middle school, so she was stuck in a kindergarten-to-grade-8 and had to go to school with her little brother. It was beyond humiliating and made her wish even more that she was back in North Carolina where she actually knew people and had friends to hang out with. Where she had a life.
“You’ll make new friends,” her dad had promised, as if him wanting it to be true could make it so.
He didn’t have a clue what it was like to be the new kid, the one everyone stared at and snickered about. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d tossed out most of her favorite clothes when they’d moved, suddenly concerned that her style was inappropriate for a girl her age.
He used to drive her to the mall, give her money and tell her to get what she needed. And if he’d sometimes scowled at her choices, it had been easy enough to convince him it was what all the girls were wearing. But this time, he’d decided that a new school warranted a new wardrobe, and he’d enlisted her Aunt Jenny to take her shopping.
It wasn’t that she had anything against her uncle’s wife, she just didn’t know what to think about all of the changes that had occurred over the past few years. For so long, family had just been her and her brother and their parents with the occasional visit from one or other of the grandparents. Then suddenly, her father’s brother came back from a business trip to Japan with a new bride and an interest in renewing family ties.
Up to that point, she could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen her Uncle Richard, and it had never been when her grandmother was around. But whatever had caused the family rift—and she knew there was one, even if no one would tell her what it was about—was now forgotten and they were all part of one big happy family.
And then her mom died.
Caitlin dropped her gaze to her book as other students continued to filter into the class. She was enough of a social reject already without being caught with tears in her eyes.
She’d thought she was past this stage. For the first few months after her mother died, she hadn’t been able to think about her without breaking down. But over time, she’d managed to control her response to the over-whelming waves of grief. Mostly. There were still unexpected occasions when the pain would surge up again and the sense of emptiness would make everything inside her feel hollow.
She became aware of the whispers before she spotted the battered sneakers that stopped beside her desk. Glancing up, she saw the owner of those sneakers—a boy.
A stranger.
Her first thought was that she was no longer the new kid in the class.
Her second was that he was kind of cute.
It took her a moment longer to realize he’d spoken to her and was waiting for a response.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t hear what you said.”
“I was wondering if it’s okay to sit here.” He gestured to the vacant desk beside hers.
She shrugged as if to say, “Go ahead.”
He slid into the chair. “I’m Owen.”
“Caitlin,” she offered grudgingly.
“Where did you move here from?”
Yeah, she was a reject. Even the newest kid had pegged her as a new kid. “North Carolina.”
“I’m from Minnesota,” he said, though she hadn’t asked. “My dad got transferred.”
“My dad just wanted to ruin my life,” she grumbled.
“Is it that bad?”
“Ask me in a few weeks.”