Randall Riches. Judy Christenberry

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      “Took my medicine.”

      “Is—is that woman with you?”

      “No, just Sam.”

      “Tell him to take good care of you.”

      “Yes, Mom. Gotta go.”

      He replaced the receiver, falling into a deep sleep the minute he closed his eyes.

      Chapter Four

      Samantha knocked on Rich’s hotel room door the next morning. She’d gotten the number from the man at the registration desk.

      She didn’t hear any sound from inside. She pounded louder. “Rich? Are you all right?” Then she pounded again.

      She decided to get the manager to open the door. As she was leaving, however, she heard a faint voice.

      “Yeah?”

      “Rich? Are you all right?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Are you awake? It’s seven-thirty. I’m going to the café for breakfast. Are you coming?”

      “Uh, yeah. I gotta get dressed.”

      He must’ve taken the pill she’d given him last night. He sounded a little fuzzy this morning. “If you know what you want for breakfast, I can go ahead and order for you.”

      “Okay, coffee, a short stack, scrambled eggs, bacon.”

      And there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, she marveled. Not that she’d noticed, she assured herself. “Okay. Come as soon as you can so it won’t get cold.” Then she headed for the café.

      The same waitress was on duty. “You worked last night and this morning, too?” Sam asked her as she sat down.

      “I have to. My husband is sick. He lost his job. I’m the only one bringing in any money,” the lady said with a weary smile.

      Sam gave her their orders. She brought a pot of coffee to the table at once along with two clean cups.

      Sam poured herself some coffee. She didn’t often indulge, which made the times she did even more enjoyable.

      She watched the waitress stop at another table. She often told herself she was better off without family. The waitress’s situation reinforced that decision. She tucked the thought in the back of her mind to pull out when she got low. Sometimes she felt so totally alone.

      Rich came in, still looking sleepy, dressed in those split jeans and a clean T-shirt. And he still looked good.

      “Morning,” she said cheerfully. But she didn’t say anything else. She couldn’t get used to having someone to talk to in the morning or she’d miss him tomorrow when she was alone again.

      “Coffee,” he muttered, reaching for the pot first thing. “Thanks for having it here.”

      “No problem. We have the same waitress as last night. She’s working a double shift because her husband’s sick and can’t work.”

      He looked sympathetic. But instead of saying something, he studied her. “Have you already paid for your breakfast?”

      She frowned. “No, but I figured you understood now.” Darn, she should’ve taken care of it, but the waitress had distracted her.

      “Ah. I’ll leave a really generous tip if you let me buy your breakfast, too.”

      She stared at him. “She deserves a generous tip.”

      “She won’t get one unless you cooperate.” He sounded stern, as if he might really act so badly. She couldn’t see any kindness in his gaze.

      “That’s ridiculous!” she exclaimed.

      “Your choice,” he muttered and sipped the hot coffee.

      The waitress returned with a tray full of food. Most of it was Rich’s. Sam had ordered a bowl of oatmeal.

      “I forgot to ask about the ticket,” the waitress said, as she put the food on the table. “Do you want it separated?”

      Rich gave Sam a steady look, letting her know she hadn’t answered his offer. She slowly shook her head. “No, the gentleman will be paying this morning.”

      With a nod, the waitress hurried away.

      He smiled. “Good decision, Sam.”

      “Shut up. Blackmail isn’t pretty!”

      “I’m not sure the waitress would agree with you. I’d bet she’s got some babies to feed.”

      She lowered her eyelids so he couldn’t see the tears pooling there. She never cried in front of anyone. She couldn’t afford to show a weakness. “I know.”

      Having broken one of her rules, Samantha felt nauseous. But she didn’t dare not eat. She’d learned that lesson the hard way. She had to stay strong.

      There was no conversation after that. As soon as she finished, she slid from the table. “I’ll go load up Bella. You paid last night, didn’t you?”

      “Yeah. But I’ll be finished in a couple of minutes and we can go together.”

      She turned around and walked out, not bothering to argue with him. He’d thought he could control her, but he had another think coming. She’d only succumbed this morning for the waitress’s sake.

      Of course, she wouldn’t know how generous Rich was, because she wouldn’t be there when he paid the bill. But, strangely enough, she trusted him to do what he promised.

      When she pulled up in front of the café ten minutes later, Bella safely loaded, Rich strode out with two disposable cups of coffee.

      He walked around the truck to the driver’s side. She reluctantly rolled down her window. “Yes?”

      “I got you some coffee for the road. I need to collect my gear from the room.”

      “Thank you. I’ll wait here.”

      “Would you hold my coffee, too?”

      She reached out and took it, settling it in the cup holder.

      He started to walk away. Then he halted. “Oh, Paula said thank you.”

      Then he hobbled toward his room.

      While he was inside, she carefully backed the truck and trailer close to his door so he wouldn’t have to walk far. Then she killed the motor and got out to unlock the storage trunk in the back.

      When Rich came out, she was standing beside the door and reached for his bag.

      “What are you doing?” he asked in surprise.

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