She took his hand. The bashful look she gave Tanner made him want to take her back to bed until she forgot to be anything but happy.
“It’s so great to meet you, Sam.” Dan didn’t push her to shake his hand or offer a hug she might not feel great about giving.
Dan kicked off, heading to the living room.
“He is not what I expected,” Sam whispered in Tanner’s ear.
“He gets that a lot.” Tanner had heard it all.
Dan was a mechanic, and he was a foster dad to only he knew how many kids. He’d come off the streets, too. Ralph—the original owner of the garage—took him in. Nothing formal, but he let Dan work at the shop. In return, he gave him an office to sleep in and all-access to the vending machines. Eventually, they bonded, and Ralph handed over the business. That’s why Dan dedicated years to ensuring other guys got the same chance as he did.
“Sam might use my apartment a little while I’m in L.A. and Canada.” Tanner followed Dan to the living room, where he kept his recliner. He kept Sam in his periphery so he could tell if she got antsy. Got scared. Felt like running.
Not that she’d do that around Dan—nobody did that around Dan. But she’d had a hard morning, and he knew the inclination to take off wasn’t easily squelched.
“Sounds good to me. Sam, you know where I am. My door is always open. Tanner’ll get you my number?” Dan asked.
Tanner nodded. “Yeah. If that’s cool?”
“Totally,” Sam agreed. “Thank you.”
“Who would’ve thought.” Dan sat in the recliner, leaned forward, and stared right at Tanner.
“Thought what?” Tanner asked, already knowing.
“That I’d have been right?” Dan asked, and the smirk? Un-fucking-necessary.
Unfortunately, Dan was correct and Tanner appreciated that. Dan had told Tanner to stay the course, and he’d find his own reward.
He did not know that reward would have brown eyes and the name Samantha.
Chapter Sixteen
SAMANTHA
The weeks passed entirely too quickly,and Sam was looking straight into the eye of the future. That future being without Tanner since he’d be leaving for Los Angeles in only a couple of days. Her stomach felt a little pukey at the idea of this time alone.
Interesting, because she’d always excelled at being alone.
Sam opened the door to her Purple Peony apartment and paused. There were three of her charges lounging in her space. Well, not lounging, but they were there.
Her tiny apartment wasn’t even a condo. Heck, they could barely consider it more than a room. A room with a double bed, a tiny kitchen, and a bathroom with one of those walk-in bathtubs for anyone with mobility issues.
They were there for a reason—she knew an ambush when she saw one. Two steps backward was all it would take to get back in the hallway. Then she could pretend she’d never seen them there.
“She’s here,” Babushka announced before Sam could escape. “You’re here.”
“Oh good,” Betty Jane announced, waving her hand toward the chessboard. “I’m losing the chess match.”
“How did you get in?” Sam asked, because she didn’t expect a whole heap of privacy, but a little was to be expected.
“We have a key,” Aunt Etta said. “Don’t worry, we don’t use it much.”
This was news.
Don’t ask. Don’t ask.Sonofagun, she was going to ask. “Whyare you all in here?”
“Catching you up on laundry,” Great Aunt Etta said. She’d dyed her hair blue. Something about, “All the kids doing it these days.”
