"Sam-"

"Please," she said, her smile faltering at the expression in his eyes. "Let's just go."

Looking extremely conflicted and unhappy, he nodded. "Fine. But after, we talk."

No, after, she'd go off and lick her wounds, all of them, alone. That's how she did things, and that's how it worked best.

14

They hit traffic on the highway. Not unusual by any means, but Sam nearly bit all her nails to stubs on the drive. Twice Jack tried to talk to her, but she just shook her head, unable to hold a conversation, unable to think until she saw for herself.

Maybe somehow it wasn't as bad as she remembered. Maybe, by some miracle, they'd been able to save-

No. She could see the building as they came down the street, or what was left of it-a shell of what it had once been. A blackened, charred shell.

The parking lot was cordoned off. The fire inspector's truck was parked just on the inside of the yellow tape blocking their way in. Jack slowed his SUV to a stop, forced to wait for a break in the traffic before he could turn around and park on the street.

Unable to sit still, Sam hopped out. She heard Jack swear, heard him call out for her, but she didn't slow down. Couldn't slow down. There were just some things that she had to do alone, and this was one of them.

Ducking under the caution tape, she ran toward the burned building, passing the tall proud sign she'd once painted that still read Wild Cherries. Ironically, it wasn't even singed.

Sam eased up and walked toward the only real home she'd known since eighth grade. Behind the charred mess, the ocean churned and pounded the shore, as always. A few early beach goers walked along the edge of the breaking surf, as always.

But she wouldn't be opening the doors of the café today. She wouldn't be having fun creating interesting and delicious sandwiches. She wouldn't go upstairs into her apartment and be at home there.

It just occurred to her. Her surfboard was gone. Her toothbrush. Her favorite pajamas. The photo album of her parents.

All gone.

Her heart tightened. This loss is nothing, she assured herself. Nothing like her other losses. She could start over, find a new place, buy a new toothbrush.

She couldn't buy a new life. She was lucky. Although her heart was breaking, she told herself this with each step that brought her closer and closer to the charred building.

She would have stepped inside-inside being a relative term now the roof was gone-but a man blocked her way. The patch on his left pec proclaimed him Fire Inspector. He had a clipboard in his hand and a kind look on his face that for some stupid reason made her catch her breath.

If he so much as asked her if she was okay, she was going to lose it.

"Is this your place?" he asked, and when she nodded jerkily-all she could give him-he sighed. "I'm Timothy Adams, Fire Inspector."

"Samantha O'Ryan."

"I'm sorry, Ms. O'Ryan, but this building is a complete loss."

She swallowed hard and stared at her empty, empty building. "Surely something's left."

"Possibly. But you can't go inside just yet, not until it's cleared."

"But-"

"I know how difficult this is, Ms. O'Ryan-"

"Do you?" She rounded on him with surprising anger. "Do you really?"

"Yes." His eyes and voice remained kind. Understanding. "I lost my house in the San Diego fires. And everything in it, including my two dogs. "

She stared at him, then closed her eyes and turned away. "I'm sorry." She brought her hands up to her temples. "God, I'm so sorry. I hate this."

She heard footsteps on the gravel and opened her eyes in time see Jack loping toward her. "Sam." He had a frantic look to him as he took her arms in his hands. "I thought you were going to try to go in-"

"I can't. It's not safe." Dully, she introduced the two men, then tuned out their low conversation while she stared at the mess.

There was insurance, she told herself. There was nothing in there she couldn't replace.

Except memories.

"Jesus. Jesus H. Christ." Red showed up in the parking lot, looking shell-shocked. He hadn't tied back his long hair or buttoned his shirt over his long surfer shorts, and, as usual, he wore no shoes. But seeing him standing there was the closest thing to seeing her own parent, and Sam nearly lost it.

"It was the brownies," she whispered, and Red hauled in for a tight hug that blew the air right out of her. That worked for her; she didn't want to breathe, anyway. She fisted her hands in his unbuttoned plaid shirt and held on. "Oh, Red. It's all my fault-"

"Shh." He stroked her hair and she breathed in the scent of the sea, his funky homemade cigarettes and the coconut wax he used on his surf-boards. "Thank God you're okay."

Pulling back, she averted her eyes from the rums. "What about the café?"

"No doubt there's a shitload of work ahead to clean up and rebuild."

"Rebuild." With a little laugh, she shook her head. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because that takes money."

"Insurance will kick in."

"It'll never kick in enough. I was cheap with the coverage, the cost of replacing everything will kill me-"

"Damn it, I knew you'd be full of excuses." Red dug into the pocket of his surfer shorts and came up with a rolled up piece of paper that he thrust at her.

Sam opened it up and stared at a check drawn from his personal account for a staggering sum of money. "What's this?"

"Every penny of what you've given me over the past five years."

"What? Are you crazy?" She tried to push it back into his hands. "I can't take this."

"Look, get yourself back on your feet. Then you'll start paying me again, and don't think I won't be adding on interest."

She stared at him, not trusting her voice, and he touched her once lightly on the nose, then walked away.

The check in her hand ruffled lightly in the breeze, and she looked down at it, feeling dizzy with gratitude, grief and love.

She wasn't alone. Her gaze lit on Jack, standing there looking right back at her.

She'd never been alone.

That thought was so staggering, she excused herself from everyone including Lorissa, who'd made her way into the blocked-off parking lot and wanted to hug the life right out of her. "I need a minute," she said.

She moved down the stairs to the beach. This strip of sand and rock and bluffs had been a part of her life long before Wild Cherries had been, and it was still there.

Lorissa was still here, up on the dunes.

Red was still there, never judging, never asking anything of her other than to work hard and keep her nose clean.

And then there was Jack.

It was a moment before she realized he was there, too. Not just in spirit, but actually right behind her, respecting her need for privacy but silently offering his strength and hope.

"Sam…"

The torment in his voice had her closing her eyes. "I'm okay. I'm poor and homeless, and feeling a little pathetic, but I'm okay."

"I'd give anything to be able to fix this for you." Turning her head, she smiled at him through her tears. "I know."

He took one look at her wet eyes and came close, pulling her in for the hug that she desperately needed. "It's really all gone," she whispered, and promising herself it would only be for a moment, clung to him. "Recipes, my mother's china, my favorite bathing suit. They don't even make that kind anymore." A sob escaped her and she didn't try to fight it. There was no need with Jack holding her in a way that told her he'd never let go, not until she wanted him to, which worked for her.

"God, Sam, I'm so sorry-"

"No." She sniffed. "Don't be." She gripped him, buried her face in his neck and inhaled deeply. "It's going to be okay I'm going to be okay."

Pulling back, he studied her for a long moment before a smile touched his lips. "Yeah. You are."

"It's going to be complicated… Expensive."

"I have way too much money," he said. "Take mine."

That made her laugh through her tears. "No."

"I mean it, I-"

"Jack. That wasn't what I meant by complicated." She'd loved sleeping with him last night. And the way he always looked at her had a way of making breathing difficult. She could tell he was no longer thinking casual, and suddenly she could face that, even if it was more terrifying than losing the café.

"You're not alone, Sam. I want you to know that."

"Yeah. I know."

"I mean it. You have Lorissa and Red. They love you. They'd do anything for you. And you have me. I know you think I'm just your sex slave."

She laughed, as he'd meant her to. But then his smile faded. "I want to be more than your one-night thing, Sam."

Again, she fought for air. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like you."

"Because I tell you like it is?"

"No, Red does that. Lorissa does that. But you… you do something they don't."

"What's that?"

Unable to put it into words, she moved closer to the water. Let her toes dig into the wet sand.

He did the same, and stood next to her, reaching for her hand so that they were connected, but not speaking.

"That's a part of it right there," she said after a moment, her fingers tightening on his. "You don't feel the need to fill up the silence. You can just let me be, you can just let me think."

He looked over at her. "Is there anything else you like about me?"

"Well, there's your body," she said, and laughed when he shifted uncomfortably. "I can't help it. You're a hottie, Jack Knight."

"Yeah, well, same goes. But I was kind of hoping for something more than just… the physical."

She stared at him for a long moment, then turning to face him, took his other hand lightly in her bandaged one, her heart melting when he brought it up to his mouth and gently kissed it. "It's a lot more than physical," she admitted softly, the wind ruffling her hair from her face. "I've never met anyone who's wanted me so much. And I don't mean just sexually I feel like you really just… want me. Me."