The Soldier's Sweetheart by Deb Kastner

openmouthed. Her face went from white to green around the gills to a burning-torch red in a matter of seconds.
    “Give me those,” she snapped, snatching them from his fist and hiding them behind her back as if her action would somehow erase them from his memory.
    “Don’t you think we ought to talk about it?” he prodded gently. He wanted to know what her strategy was so they could plan their next move. It didn’t even occur to him that it wasn’t his place to help her put this problem to rights. This was war—the more troops, the better.
    “This is my private business, ” she hissed. “Butt out.”
    Well, that was straightforward and to the point.
    It was also wrong.
    “I can help, if you’ll let me,” he offered, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. The woman looked like she needed consoling and every instinct in him was screaming to do just that—and more. He suddenly pictured holding her close, wrapping his arms protectively around her, brushing his palm across the softness of her cheek.
    His breath left his lungs in a rush, as if he’d been punched in the gut. He took a mental step backward. What was he thinking? He had no right to even consider acting out emotions he didn’t understand himself. He couldn’t—and wouldn’t—hurt her as he’d done to others.
    “I’m just sayin’. I work for you now—for Sam’s Grocery. It’s my livelihood, too, and I’ve got a daughter to look after. Clearly I have a vested interest in keeping this store alive and kicking.”
    Samantha gasped and then turned and fled the room. Will stared after her, astonished. He’d thought his explanation regarding his investment in her battle was unambiguous. Logical. Rational. So why had she run out that way? Hadn’t she understood that he was saying he had her back in this fight?
    Apparently not.

Chapter Four
    S amantha bolted through the back door and into the country sunlight. Her chest was heaving and burning. She took big gulps of air, yet she felt as if no oxygen was reaching her lungs.
    Will wanted to help, did he?
    And for such laudable reasons, too. Not because he was concerned about her or her family, but because Sam’s Grocery was his current place of employment. He was only worried about himself—but then, why wouldn’t he be? He didn’t know the Howells well enough to put himself out for them.
    It wasn’t like he’d have to worry about a job once Stay-n-Shop got their way and moved into town. Once they’d built their new store, Will would no doubt have his choice of any of a dozen positions, with his experience as a supply specialist in the Army. They’d be knocking down his door.
    So what was he anxious about? She was the one who stood to lose everything she cared about, everything she’d worked for in this life—the intangible items that went far beyond the old clapboard building itself, like family, tradition, legacy.
    And yes, she had to admit, that she was battling her pride and her deep-seated need to remain self-sufficient. She didn’t like anyone in her business, especially someone she hardly knew. And yet the notion of sharing the worry that festered in her chest wouldn’t let her go. The need to unburden herself was profound and powerful.
    But if and when she shared her trials with someone, it most certainly wouldn’t be Will Davenport.
    And it wouldn’t be her family. Not her father. Not her mom. Not Grandpa Sampson, who was known to spill a secret occasionally now that his mind was slowing down with age. It was out of the question. No matter how heavy a load she carried, it was vitally important that her parents not catch wind of her ongoing battle with Stay-n-Shop. She didn’t want to mention it at all until they absolutely needed to know, and Samantha desperately prayed it would never reach that point.
    She wasn’t ready to concede. Not yet. And in the meantime, what her parents didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
    Her mom and dad, inheriting the shop from her