The Soldier's Sweetheart

He didn’t hear Samantha until she was right behind him.

“Hey, what kind of music do you like? We can change the radio station if you want. I know country music isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.”

Will instinctively drew the letters against his stomach, as if he could hide them from her. He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter to me. I don’t much care for music.”

“How can a person not like music?” She sounded as astonished as if he’d just declared that he was originally from Pluto.

He shrugged. “I don’t dislike it. It just doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. Country, hip-hop, pop. Whatever. It’s all the same to me.”

“Okay,” she responded, drawing out the word in a way that indicated she either didn’t believe him or else thought he was off his rocker.

Or maybe both.

Will slowly turned around. “I rearranged your shelves,” he said. Her eyes landed on the folder in his hands, and she blanched.

“You did what?”

“I pulled all of the older stock off the top shelves to make room to store the new product that will be coming in on Monday. I also rotated everything according to date.” He held up the letters.

“And I found those letters Stay-n-Shop sent you.”

For a moment, she just stared at them, wide-eyed and openmouthed. Her face went from white to green around the gills to a burning-torch red in a matter of seconds.

“Give me those,” she snapped, snatching them from his fist and hiding them behind her back as if her action would somehow erase them from his memory.

“Don’t you think we ought to talk about it?” he prodded gently. He wanted to know what her strategy was so they could plan their next move. It didn’t even occur to him that it wasn’t his place to help her put this problem to rights. This was war—the more troops, the better.

“This is my private business,” she hissed. “Butt out.”

Well, that was straightforward and to the point.

It was also wrong.

“I can help, if you’ll let me,” he offered, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. The woman looked like she needed consoling and every instinct in him was screaming to do just that—and more. He suddenly pictured holding her close, wrapping his arms protectively around her, brushing his palm across the softness of her cheek.

His breath left his lungs in a rush, as if he’d been punched in the gut. He took a mental step backward. What was he thinking? He had no right to even consider acting out emotions he didn’t understand himself. He couldn’t—and wouldn’t—hurt her as he’d done to others.

“I’m just sayin’. I work for you now—for Sam’s Grocery. It’s my livelihood, too, and I’ve got a daughter to look after. Clearly I have a vested interest in keeping this store alive and kicking.”

Samantha gasped and then turned and fled the room. Will stared after her, astonished. He’d thought his explanation regarding his investment in her battle was unambiguous. Logical. Rational. So why had she run out that way? Hadn’t she understood that he was saying he had her back in this fight?

Apparently not.

Chapter Four

Samantha bolted through the back door and into the country sunlight. Her chest was heaving and burning. She took big gulps of air, yet she felt as if no oxygen was reaching her lungs.

Will wanted to help, did he?

And for such laudable reasons, too. Not because he was concerned about her or her family, but because Sam’s Grocery was his current place of employment. He was only worried about himself—but then, why wouldn’t he be? He didn’t know the Howells well enough to put himself out for them.

It wasn’t like he’d have to worry about a job once Stay-n-Shop got their way and moved into town. Once they’d built their new store, Will would no doubt have his choice of any of a dozen positions, with his experience as a supply specialist in the Army. They’d be knocking down his door.