Chapter 12 Sam the Keener
Sam the Keener
SARAH
ONE YEAR LATER
Itossed the last of my bags in the trunk of my car with an extremely unladylike grunt. It was Thursday, and I was only going to be gone for a week, but couldn’t decide on the best outfit for my presentation, so I’d packed them all. The shoes too.
I was still breathing hard at the effort of having hauled all my stuff down the stairs of my walkup apartment and across the snowy parking lot, when a truck turned off Maple Street.
It angled into my apartment building’s snow-covered outdoor lot, fishtailing slightly on the corner.
I didn’t recognize the vehicle, but when the window opened and a handsome face appeared, I grinned, reaching into the back for the snow scraper.
“Hey, Sam!”
“Ms. Cooper,” the man said, grinning back at me.
Last week, Cora had asked if I’d mind meeting her brother Sam, who had recently returned from a decade working overseas and keen to get into homebuilding.
This was one of the perks of working at Reilly—a constant stream of affable men wooing me for jobs. And the more than occasional jerk. But I could handle those. And Sam wasn’t one of them.
Sam hadn’t quite decided exactly what part of homebuilding he was interested in, and I wasn’t in charge of hiring labor anyway, but he’d still wanted to take me to lunch to pick my brain.
Sam was smart, funny, and with his dark, nearly black hair, bright blue eyes, and wide grin, he was definitely easy to look at.
But besides it being a professional meeting, at thirty he was also nearly ten years younger than me, and, sadly, being around him hadn’t set off any sparks.
Despite my track record of being attracted to men outside my age bracket.
I shoved that highly unnecessary thought aside as Sam hopped out of his truck.
“Thought I recognized that…” Sam hesitated, appearing to bite his tongue as he eyed my car.
“Shitkicker?” I offered. “And it’s Sarah. Please.” I’d told him that at our lunch, but he apparently couldn’t shake his polite upbringing.
He grinned sheepishly. “I wasn’t gonna say it.”
I looked over at my trusty red Civic. “She may not be pretty, but Shelly’s outlasted a career change, business school, three jobs, and a husband.”
Sam laughed. “Shelly?”
“I only named her last year. After someone I admire. Tough as nails, slightly evil. Prone to hissy fits and does not care.”
One such hissy fit was a crack in my radiator last summer with no warning, halfway through a trip home to see my family.
I’d had to keep the heat on the whole way home to keep the engine cool enough.
In July. I could have bought a new car years ago.
I’d kept her on blocks while I was with Ted, who was so embarrassed of her, my Land Rover lease was the one thing he paid for without complaint.
But Shelly was my friend. Besides, I didn’t want to pour energy or resources into anything that wasn’t my career, or career adjacent, like Heartbreaker Trades, the women-in-trades passion project I was helping my new friend Winona get off the ground.
Heartbreaker had been my saving grace over the past year, which had been rocky, even with a job I loved.
Specifically because of one person.
Sam nodded. “I like it. But you’re not really driving her all the way to Maine, are you?”
It was a six-hour drive from here to Crestville, Maine, where the building conference I was heading to was taking place.
“Why not?” I asked, defensively plopping my gloved fists on my hips.
“I just got a tune-up. Plus, it’s not supposed to snow on the route today.
I’ll be fine.” I neglected to mention the mechanic had warned me that no amount of tuning up could prevent the car from experiencing a catastrophic failure; likely soon.
When I’d asked him how soon, he’d hedged. When I’d drilled him like he was under cross-examination, saying “Isn’t it true these cars can last for decades?” He’d conceded it was true.
I didn’t care. Even if I had to call a tow truck for her and a four-figure Uber ride for me, there was no way on God’s green earth I was carpooling with Jamie across state lines.
I could barely stand to be in the room with him, let alone his truck.
The thought made me ill, and not for all the ways I wanted it to.
But Sam wasn’t letting it go. He looked truly concerned as he scanned Shelly’s faded red paneling. “The roads can get pretty hairy this time of year.”
I walked around the back of my car to sweep off my rear window. He was sweet. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got an extra phone charger, and an emergency bag in the back in case anything goes wrong. Which it won’t. Besides, I’m behind on my podcasts.”
Sam looked at me warily, but after a moment he nodded, clearly not wanting to counter someone in a position to hire him someday.
I swept the last of the snow from my rear window and tossed the brush in the trunk next to my bags. Then I remembered I’d left my charging cord in my suitcase.
Sam scratched the back of his neck as I opened the trunk again.
I wondered if this meeting was actually an accident.
“Did you come by for something specific, Sam?”
I looked pointedly into his eyes, which were incredibly blue.
He sighed. He was extremely transparent.
It was cute. He pulled off his beanie, revealing a mess of dark hair, and I once again noticed how objectively attractive he was.
Framed by his hair, those eyes were striking.
A woman who had better luck juggling a career and a love life than me would be lucky to be with him one day.
Sam clenched his cap in his hands. “Well, no, I was driving by and happened to see you out here. But I was thinking about what you said about networking.”
“Oh yeah?”
At lunch, I’d said that aside from just picking something and going to vocational school for it, the best way to choose was to keep talking to people in the industry.
“I think it’s kind of a sign that I saw you just now,” he continued, “because last night I was looking at the conference program online, you know for the one you’re speaking at.”
I pinched my lips to keep from laughing. “Right. That one.”
He blushed. “That you’re obviously headed to right now.” He rubbed his neck again. “Anyway I found out they sell standby day passes for Saturday and Sunday and uh… I was thinking maybe I should go.”
“Oh!” My fingers finally brushed the cord I’d been looking for, and I tugged at it to get it out. I frowned. “Doesn’t standby mean only if there’s space? It’s kind of far to go when you’re not guaranteed a ticket.”
“Yeah, I know. But it’s the biggest building conference in the Northeast, and I can’t wait a whole year to meet all my heroes. Besides, I hear the party is a blast.”
I laughed. “It does have a reputation.” The East Coast Builders Association conference I was setting off for was always held at the end of November, and featured a giant social on Saturday night where sometimes things got a little… lively.
I grimaced. “But tickets for the party sold out weeks ago.”
“Honestly, I’m super interested in Jamie’s keynote.”
At Jamie’s name, I jerked the cord a little too hard. It came out, but it brought with it a big swath of familiar thick flannel.
My stomach lurched.
I glanced at Sam.
But that was ridiculous. He wouldn’t be able to tell it was a man’s shirt. And he wouldn’t know whose it was if he could.
“I’ve heard his talks are incredible,” Sam said.
“Yup!” I had to work to keep my tone bright as I stuffed the flannel back into my suitcase. I zipped it shut, nearly pinching my fingers.
Jamie’s talks were incredible, unfortunately.
My boss hadn’t just grown to be a titan in the homebuilding industry in the past few years.
This year especially he’d spent practically every other week out of town doing consultations and talks on diversifying small-scale development firms like ours. He had a captivating presence on stage.
When I started working for him, I’d been a Jamie Reilly super-fan, just like Sam. It had stayed that way through the first year of my employment, too.
And more.
Until he suddenly went cold.
My mind went back to that night, and like I always did, I cringed inwardly at the memory. It had dulled slightly over the past year and a half, but the mortification of what I’d done was still an open wound.
The old me might have thought it was a positive sign that he’d invited me to present at this conference. But I knew it was only because Seamus had bowed out. And pity-support wasn’t good enough for me.
I slammed the trunk of my car. Self-pity wasn’t helpful either.
I trudged around to Shelly’s driver’s side door. “My talks aren’t half bad, either, you know.”
“Oh yeah. I’d be super interested to see yours, too!” Sam said quickly.
I laughed, wiping the last of Jamie Reilly from my mind like snow off my windshield. “I’m teasing. It would be nice to have a friendly face there, even if you’ll be outnumbered by women.” My talk was called Women Belong in Trades.
Sam smiled. “I can think of worse things.”
“Well, if you’re really keen on going, you won’t be able to stay at the hotel. During the conference, it’s a lost cause.”
“I know. But there are some motels nearby. Besides, after the Peace Corps, I can sleep pretty much anywhere.”
He stood there a moment longer, before clearing his throat. “Well, uh, if I go, maybe we could go together?”
I blinked. “Oh.”
“Nothing weird,” he exclaimed quickly. “Seriously. I just learned so much from you at our lunch and I really want to talk more. Also… I have snow tires.”
I glanced at Sam’s truck. It was true it looked a lot more roadworthy than Shelly.
Sam’s expression was pleading. I could tell he didn’t have an ulterior motive.
Still, I shook my head. “That’s really sweet of you.
I’m not coming right back, though.” I’d booked four nights at a bed and breakfast on a lake in New Hampshire to decompress after the conference.
Even though people might not know it these days, I still had to work hard to put myself out there.
I knew this weekend was going to take everything out of me.
Sam’s face fell. But he recovered quickly. “Okay. No worries.”
Behind him, another pickup was pulling into the lot.
I opened my door. “I guess I’ll see you there if you decide to go?”
Sam nodded again. “Sure.” He hesitated a moment, then blurted, “Sarah, if I do go, do you think you could introduce me to Jamie? Cora said she would sometime, but it would mean a lot coming from you.”
I smiled. “Of course.”
I’d been planning on actively avoiding my boss all weekend. But I’d figure something out. Maybe I could introduce them over email.
Except just as I said that, I realized I recognized the truck that had pulled in and was now idling behind Sam.
My stomach dropped as the window rolled down. A giant of a man sat in the driver’s seat, his silvering hair peeking out from under a dark blue beanie, one that matched irises nearly the same shade.
Furrowed brows. A signature scowl. Eyes looking directly into my soul.
Without breaking eye contact with Jamie Reilly, I said to Sam, “Or, I guess I could introduce you right now.”