The Texan's Honor-Bound Promise. Peggy Moreland

a tough time. Losing his father hit him pretty hard.”

      “Tough blow for a kid his age.”

      “Yes, it is.”

      He frowned, remembering the boy’s reference to homework, as well as her mention earlier about school. “Isn’t school out for the summer?”

      “For most students. Craig failed two classes, so he has to go to summer school.”

      He nodded, wondering if the kid’s father’s death had anything to do with his failure.

      She opened her hands. “So? What do you think? Are you interested in the job?”

      You’ve really stepped in it now, Sam thought, realizing too late his mistake in allowing her to go on believing he was a mechanic. He supposed he could tell her the restoration would take more work than he’d first thought and make a fast exit.

      But that would mean leaving without getting the information he’d promised Mack, which didn’t settle well with him at all. He owed Mack. Big-time. And he was determined to honor that debt.

      Pursing his lips thoughtfully, he studied the car as if considering whether or not he wanted to take on the job while buying himself some time to figure out what he should do.

      Getting the information for Mack wasn’t going to be the easy-in-easy-out mission he’d first thought. Mack had warned him about Leah’s obstinance in refusing to discuss her father, but Sam hadn’t taken him seriously until he’d gotten a taste of it himself. It was going to take some time to finesse her into telling him what he wanted to know.

      And restoring the car might be just the ploy he needed to gain that time.

      But if he agreed to work on the car, he’d be saddling himself with a troubled teen. Sam had seen the resentment, as well as the grief, that shadowed the boy’s eyes and suspected it was the loss of his father that had put them both there. Sam had lost a father, too, at a fairly young age. Not to death, but a loss just the same, and he understood what the boy was going through…and where he’d end up if someone didn’t intervene.

      He had a month, he reminded himself, with nothing to do but puzzle out the direction he wanted to point his future in. He could think as easily working on a car as he could lying on his back on some sun-drenched beach surrounded by bikini-clad women.

      Decided, he said to Leah, “Yeah, I’m interested.”

      He would swear he felt her sigh of relief from five feet away.

      “I have no idea what kind of payment to offer you. I know nothing about this kind of thing or how long it would take to complete the job. I guess it would simplify matters if you’d simply tell me what you’d charge for the restoration, then I could determine whether or not I can afford to hire you.”

      “Since you want your nephew to help with the restoration, I suppose the work will need to be done here?”

      “That would be best. He comes here after school each day.”

      Nodding, he began to circle the car again. “I’ve only got a month to devote to the job, but I think I could get it done in that length of time. Most of it, anyway.”

      “Are you saying you’ll do it?”

      Smiling, he stroked a hand over the Mustang emblem on the hood. “Hard to say no to a beauty like this.”

      “We haven’t decided on a fee yet,” she reminded him.

      He hitched his hands on his hips and looked up at the ceiling. “Most carriage houses like this have an apartment overhead. Does this one?”

      “W-well, yes,” she stammered as if wondering why he’d ask. “Although not a full one. Just a bedroom, sitting room and bath.”

      Lowering his chin, he met her gaze. “Tell you what. Provide me with room and board for the next month, and we’ll call it even.”

      “Room and board?” she repeated dully.

      “I’m not from around here. In order to do the work, I’d need a place to stay.”

      She nervously wet her lips. “I suppose that would be okay. The apartment’s furnished. I keep it ready for relatives and friends who come to visit. But I don’t cook,” she was quick to inform him. “Not regularly, at any rate.”

      “As long as I’m allowed access to your kitchen, I can see to my own meals.”

      She eyed him suspiciously. “And that’s all you want in exchange for doing the work? Room and board?”

      He hid a smile. “If you’re worried I’ll demand sexual favors, I won’t.” He waited a beat, then added, “Although I wouldn’t turn them down if offered.”

      She jutted her chin. “I’ll want references.”

      He shrugged. “Fine with me. None will be local, though. Lampasas is where I call home.”

      Her brows shot high. “How on earth did you hear about the ad I placed? Lampasas is hours from here.”

      He shot her a wink. “I guess some things were just meant to be.”

      As he pulled away from Leah’s house, Sam punched in Mack’s phone number. His friend answered on the first ring, obviously awaiting the call.

      “Did you talk to her?” Mack asked anxiously.

      “I did,” Sam replied. “And the answer to your next question is no. I haven’t gotten the information you need. But I’m working on it, which is why I called. I need a favor.”

      “What?”

      “Personal references.”

      “Why?”

      “I’ll explain later. Right now I need you to call Lenny, Pastor Nolan, Bill and Jack Phelps. Tell them that Leah Kittrell might be calling and asking questions about me. If she does, tell them to keep whatever information they offer to a minimum and not to mention anything about me being in the Army.”

      “Why not?” Mack asked in confusion. “Your service record is nothing to be ashamed of.”

      “No,” Sam agreed. “But if Leah finds out I’m in the military, it’ll kill whatever chance I have of getting the information you want.”

      Leah frowned in concentration as she fussed with the strands of ivy draping the tiered crystal pedestal centered on the sample table setting she had arranged. Once satisfied with the design, she would photograph the table, note the style and color of linens used, as well as the other accessories, and record them all in the client’s file to reference for the wedding reception scheduled for October.

      “Looks good.”

      Leah glanced over at Kate, her assistant, then back at the centerpiece and worried her lip. “You don’t think the ivy will obstruct the guests’ views?”

      “You’re just obsessing because Mrs. Snotgrass is the client.”

      “Snodgrass,” Leah corrected. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to slip and call her that one day.”

      “It would be worth it just to see the expression on the old biddy’s face.”

      “Easy for you to say. It isn’t your business she’d send down the toilet.”

      Kate snorted. “As if she could.”

      Leah lifted the digital camera hanging from her neck and moved around the table, clicking off shots of the table from different angles. “Though I appreciate the vote of confidence, Mrs. Snodgrass’s opinion carries a lot of weight in this town. One derogatory comment from her and my business would suffer the reverberations for months.”

      Satisfied that she’d taken enough pictures to record all the accessories used in the design, she headed for her office to download the photos into the appropriate file.