The Sweetest Gift (The McKaslin Clan: Series 1 Book 2) by Jillian Hart Page B

where the “don’t walk” sign flashed red, and other pedestrians hurried with them in a final dash across the street.
    Where were they headed? To one of the little shops with cheerful front windows advertising breakfast fare, or the bigger restaurants with iron tables and chairs set out so patrons could enjoy the water view?
    As they passed by coffee shops and cafés and bakeries, the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked pastries and strong enticing coffee nearly killed her. She was really getting hungry.
    “I’m hungry, too,” Sam said to her, as if he’d read her thoughts. Or shared them. “The wait will be worth it. I give you my word of honor.”
    “It better be. I know where you live.”
    They swept around a corner and saw the ferry terminal hunched on the waterfront. A big white-and-green ferry waited meekly at the pier, car after car rolling onto the street. People spilled down the gangplank, hurrying with their briefcases and packs and cups of coffee. This wasn’t what she’d expected.
    “Two, please.” Sam pushed a twenty at the woman behind the glass partition, grabbed his change and both tickets. “Have you ever ridden a ferry?”
    “No. But you have,” she guessed.
    “Yep. I grew up around here.”
    He was a Seattle boy, huh? She didn’t picture him in a city. He had the relaxed confidence men raised in the country had.
    “C’mon, this way.” He headed up the plank, shouldering through the oncoming pedestrians.
    She had no choice but to follow him. The man who brazened through the trickle of straggling shorebound pedestrians as if they ought to get out of his way. Was he always this bossy? That was not an attribute on her checklist for the perfect husband.
    When they were at the top of the walkway and she was out of breath, she leaned against the cold iron rail. “You have this incredibly annoying habit.”
    “Only one?”
    “You act as though you’re in charge.”
    “That’s because I am in charge.” A dimple cut into his cheeks as he jammed both fists into his jacket pockets. “Don’t worry. You’re in good hands.”
    Why did her heart turn over like that? His melted-chocolate voice, the steady sincerity in his gaze, the way he towered over her, blocking her view of the sky and the city. He was all she could see. Bigger than life and every one of her girlhood dreams of what a man should be.
    And he was here, beside her. What did she do with him? She took a step past him and headed for the main passenger lobby. “In good hands? You’re not an insurance agent. I don’t think I ought to trust you.”
    “It’s not too late to turn back. The ferry is still at dock.” He held the door for her, and his arm brushed her shoulder as she passed. “I notice you’re not leaving. Decided I’m a safe risk after all?”
    “No. I figure if I wind up missing they’ll know who to interrogate first.”
    “It wouldn’t do any good. I’m impervious to pain, thanks to prisoner-of-war school.”
    “Let me guess. You led a daring escape.”
    “Naturally. I’m always the boss.”
    “See? You admitted it.” She chose a seat next to the window and collapsed into it.
    It felt good to be off her feet. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the letdown after the adrenaline rush of working to keep Sarah’s condition stable and the little girl as comfortable as possible on the flight. She’d never been like this with any man.
    She was normally shy, but Sam brought out the real her. “I don’t like domineering men.”
    “Hey, I’m not domineering. I’m not making you do a thing. You could have stayed at the hospital, but you’re with me voluntarily.” He settled into the seat next to her, too big for the plastic frame, and his steely shoulder bumped into hers and remained, hard and unyielding.
    “Voluntarily? You’re my ride back home. If I lose you, then I have to hoof it, and it’s a long walk back to Montana.”
    “What? You won’t have to walk anywhere. With your good looks,