Breaking the Ice

Chapter 30

30

“Hello, Birdie’s, this is Nick.”

“Nick, what the hell are you doing?”

Nick frowned. “Bec?”

“My sister is miserable. What the hell’s the matter with you?”

He wasn’t exactly a barrel of laughs these days. “Does she know you’re calling?”

“Nick, it’s me. I’m the bossy older sister. I fix things. That’s what she loves about me.”

“She seems pretty happy to me.” Not that he saw much of her these days.

“That’s because she wants you to think everything is okay. Honestly… you two should have your heads knocked together. Jess has more sense.”

“She’s got what she wants.”

“That’s bull crap. She’s got what she thought she wanted only to discover it’s not what she really wants at all. Samantha finally got herself a life, thanks to you. Please for the love of God, save her from this one.”

“And how do I do that?”

Bec sighed. “Do you have… feelings for my sister?”

Nick paused. Did he? He knew he couldn’t stop thinking about her. “I… like her very much. But… she doesn’t want me.” She wanted a baby daddy. And that was more the point.

“Yeah, but she needs you.”

“No, she doesn’t. She’s got her career and her Porsche and her corner office.”

Nick doubted Samantha had ever needed a man. She’d just fooled herself into it for a while because she had some time on her hands and was still enough to hear her clock ticking.

“Listen to me, Nick Hawke. Some people are really bad at asking for things. Samantha is one of them. Deep down she’s genuinely still puzzled about why you ‘like her very much’.”

Bec’s sarcasm oozed across the line.

“And,” she continued, “she’s hard to move from a plan when she thinks she knows what she wants. But trust me, I haven’t seen her happier than when she was with you at Birdie’s. Be the bigger person, Nick. Please, save her from herself.”

Nick hung up the phone that had cut off in his ear. Could Bec be right? He frowned. Was Samantha miserable? Had she just been putting on a brave face for him? The thought of her working away at a job she detested while he was off doing something he loved was disquieting.

Could he save her from herself?

He looked around at the shop. Yes. Actually, he had the perfect solution – probably not quite what Bec had in mind though.

He’d been interviewing prospective managers for Birdie’s all week. No one had stood out. Sure, they all seemed competent and would no doubt do a very good job, but not one of them had a burning passion for the books. Their eyes didn’t glow and their fingers didn’t itch to be reading and their noses didn’t wrinkle appreciatively at the aged bookish smell.

But Samantha’s did. And she was perfect for the job. The few months she had slummed it with him had more than proved that. Okay, it was a big step down for her and she may well tell him he was insane, but the one thing he was certain of in their whole complicated relationship was her love for Birdie’s shop.

And, if she was as miserable as Bec insisted, then she might jump at his offer. Which would be one less thing to worry about as he strapped on his protective gear, knowing Birdie’s wonderful legacy was in safe hands.

Samantha’s stomach growled as she tapped at her computer keyboard. Nick was leaving tomorrow. The figures blurred before her and she blinked rapidly.

I will not think about Nick .

But it was hopeless when her heart was breaking. Every breath hurt. Every second that ticked by reverberated through the cells in her body, pulsed through her blood, thronged through her gray matter, telling her she was running out of time.

Running out of time.

Her heart ached and her eyes watered and her skin itched. She felt like someone had a paint scraper and was stripping her from the inside. She felt pain. Physical pain. Like she was strapped down, enduring a full-body wax. Her love slowly and painfully ripped out by its roots.

Samantha’s stomach growled again and she thought about how Nick would be tucking into some delicious baked goodie from the Teahouse about this time.

I will not think about Nick .

I do not need him. I will be fine without him.

Oh God, who was she kidding? How was she going to say goodbye tomorrow and not beg him to stay? What the hell was she doing here staring at figures she hated when she could be spending time with him?

A brown paper bag landed on her keyboard and she was about to protest when she realized it had Martha’s Teahouse advertising all over it. The sweet citrusy aroma wafted up and her salivary glands went into overdrive.

She looked up and Nick was standing in her doorway.

He looked so good smiling at her like that. She had missed his smile. So had her eggs, who cheered appreciatively after weeks of having the cranks.

“Howdy, stranger,” he drawled in his very best Larry and Stretch accent.

Samantha almost cried, he looked so good. She’d been such a fool. Work hadn’t been a distraction at all, it had been a vehicle for complete denial. She loved him and his leaving was going to tear her in two.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, proud of how strong her voice sounded when inside she was as shaky as Jell-O, fighting the urge to debase herself completely and confess all her deepest, darkest emotions.

“I was at Martha’s and thought you might want your usual.”

Samantha opened the bag, for once not remotely interested, and took a huge bite out of the friand so she wouldn’t divulge her true feelings. No other man had ever bought her Martha’s friands. Why was it that the one man who knew the way to her heart, who knew her better than any other, was leaving?

“Bec rang.”

Samantha stopped eating abruptly to check her phone. No missed calls. “Is she okay?”

“Of course.” His quick easy smile allayed her fears and she took a mental snapshot of this moment, committing every detail to memory.

“She says you’re miserable.”

Samantha stopped eating again. Goddamn it, Bec . She knew her sister’s heart was in the right place but sometimes she didn’t know when to butt out. She went into mom mode and tried to fix things. Things that weren’t hers to fix.

What else had she told him?

“Bec should mind her own freaking business.”

“Is she right?”

Samantha shrugged. “I’m having a tougher time adjusting than I thought, that’s all.”

He didn’t say anything for long moments, just narrowed his eyes, looking her up and down. And not in an I’ve-missed-you kinda way. In an inspecting-a-defective-product way. Which was alarming because Nick was really observant.

She supposed he’d honed that playing hockey.

However he’d honed it, she knew she was looking… wan. And that was putting it mildly. In the mirror this morning she’d looked drawn, her hair and eyes lacking their usual shine. Hell, she’d even dropped a few pounds because she’d been too damn busy to eat.

If he noticed, though, he didn’t say. “I have a proposition for you.”

Samantha sat a little straighter, her curiosity piqued. His last proposition had involved a step-by-step seduction plan. Nick gave good propositions.

“As you know, I’ve been interviewing all this week and frankly, they’ve all been terrible and after talking with Bec I thought, why not Samantha? I know it’s not flashy and the pay is lousy but at least you enjoyed yourself working at Birdie’s. So… if you want it, it’s yours.”

Samantha gaped at him. Nick was offering her a management position at Birdie’s. No corner office. No Porsche. No view. A massive pay cut. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she knew she’d give up all the prestige in the blink of an eye to be back at Birdie’s.

Did she want it?

Hell to the yeah.

Thank you, Bec, you meddling, interfering witch.

Of course, there was still the unrequited love thing. Nick was still leaving and working back at Birdie’s would put that right in her face. Every nook and cranny would remind her of him. The place would smell like him, memories would follow her round the shop. But if she couldn’t have Nick then she could have the store and at least part of her would be satisfied.

“Well?”

“Yes.” She smiled, then she laughed and then, to her utter dismay, she cried and Nick came around and pulled her off her chair and cradled her to him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she muttered into his chest as he rocked her gently.

He held her until her emotion passed then eased away, ambling over to the window. He whistled. “Great view you have here. Are you sure?”

Samantha wiped her face, and joined him. She’d never been surer of anything in her life. The corporate killing fields and the view they came with would get on just fine without her and she would be a happier person without them. She liked it better, she realized, on the ground.

“I’m sure,” she murmured.

“Then let’s get the hell out of here,” he suggested.

Grinning and nodding, she stopped at her desk to grab her bag and stuff in the personalized Post-its, then, to her surprise, he swept her up in his arms. She protested but he just smiled and said, “Hold on tight. Some people believe in making an entrance, I’ve always preferred exits.”

And what an exit it was. People stopped their work and stared as Nick marched her out past the central cubical area and then they started to clap, sporadically at first, then louder until they were cheering.

She felt like Debra Winger in An Officer and a Gentleman . Except Debra got her man. And she was getting a shop.

“Samantha!” Bob’s voice boomed over the noise and the place went deathly silent. “What the hell is going on here?”

“I’m leaving, Bob,” she said, not feeling remotely ridiculous that Nick still had her cradled against him.

Bob’s mouth opened and closed like a floundering fish, not dissimilar to Godzilla really. “But… but… what about the corner office? What about the Porsche?”

“You can keep them.” She grabbed her keys and tossed them in his direction. “I won’t need them at the shop.”

Someone wolf-whistled in the background and Bob spun around, his eyes narrowed, looking for the culprit before turning back. “You’re really going to waste your life, your talent, in a second-hand bookshop, making minimum wage ?”

Samantha could feel Nick’s arms tighten a little and she wondered if he was worried she might change her mind? But he really needn’t worry. Sure, Bob had been an influential person in her life but not anymore.

“That’s right,” she chirped. “And I’m going to love every minute of it.”

Nick strode away then leaving a gaping Bob in his wake and her eggs chanting the end, the end, the end, in maniacal fervor.