Catching Sam: Book 2 of 5: The MacDonald Brothers

by Emily Matthews

  “Fine. It’s a date.” He smiled. “All right, I’ll go smooth things over with Cooper. You wanna let Beckie know?”

  “Yes. Oh, yes. She will be so excited.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Early Saturday morning, Annie woke and jumped out of bed, excited for their trip to the beach. Sam had suggested they leave before dawn to get there at low tide, so they could dig for clams. Digging for clams sounded messy, but because she liked to try new things, she agreed.

  Bundled up in jeans, tennis shoes, and a hoodie, she cursed her California wardrobe and hoped she’d be warm enough. She packed a heavy coat and a change of clothes in case she got wet. After checking the weather, she’d almost canceled the whole thing. Drizzle, followed by rain, followed by drizzle. She and Sam had discussed it and decided to go anyway and make the best of it.

  Sam arrived right on time and, after locking up, she jogged out to his truck. She climbed into the cab and hesitated before scooting over to give him a kiss. She wasn’t sure they’d progressed to kissing hello, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “Hey there. You ready?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I can’t wait to hear the waves and feel the ocean breeze on my face,” she said.

  “About that,” he hedged, pulling out of their neighborhood and making sure the gate locked behind them. “How about a change of plans?” He glanced over and smiled sheepishly.

  “What do you mean?” Annie asked. Dang it. She’d had her heart set on some sun and sand. Or even rain and sand.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she said.

  “Okay. Then just relax.”

  They made a pitstop for coffee and a couple of bagels and then headed out. He didn’t drive far before pulling into the parking lot of a small airport, just on the outskirts of town. He went straight to a hangar where a small jet sat idling.

  “What’s this?” she asked, confused.

  “Well, I figured if we got an early enough start today, instead of being in Ocean Shores at noon, we could be in Maui. The beaches there are much warmer!”

  “Wait, what?” she asked. “We’re going to Maui? Right now?”

  “You okay with that?”

  “Oh, my God. Yes. That sounds fantastic,” she exclaimed, clasping her hands in delight.

  He parked the truck in one of a half-dozen spots right there in the hangar, and they walked about fifty feet before reaching the stairs to the plane.

  “Oh, man,” she whispered reverently upon boarding. The plane wasn’t huge, but what it lacked in size, it made up for in opulence. Her feet sank into plush carpet as she entered.

  The cabin was lined on one side with cozy-looking plush chairs. The other side had two desks that faced each other. A big-screen TV was attached to the front wall. She sat in one of the chairs and was engulfed in soft leather. She swiveled around to look out the window and then continued around to face Sam again.

  “Oh, wow. So comfortable.” Catching a glimpse of another room, she got up to investigate. “What’s back here?” she wondered out loud. It was a bedroom, complete with a queen-size bed and nightstand. The bathroom was through another door to the left and was five times the size of a standard airplane bathroom.

  “Sam, this is so fancy!”

  “Glad you like it,” he said. “Beats the cab of the pickup, anyway.” He excused himself to go talk to the pilot for a second and then rejoined her. They buckled up and were off within minutes.

  If he was trying to dazzle her, it was working. This must be what it was like to have money to burn. Just jet off to Hawaii whenever the urge struck.

  “You do this often?” she asked.

  “Fly off to Maui for the day? No, this is the first time I’ve done this,” he said.

  “Did you rent the plane then?”

  “Not exactly. The jet belongs to the company. When I use it for personal reasons, I just have to pay for the pilot’s time and the fuel. Great investment, eh?”

  “I’ll say.”

  They watched reruns of The Office and played checkers until the pilot announced they would arrive soon. Once they were on the ground, a town car was waiting to take them to the resort.

  “Sam, this is so exciting, but I don’t have clothes for this. I dressed for fifty-degree weather.” She looked down at her jeans-clad legs. “I don’t even have a swimsuit. You told me I wouldn’t need one,” Annie exclaimed.

  “I would have been right if I hadn’t changed plans,” Sam mused. “Tell you what. I own a couple of short-term rentals here, and I need to drive by them and then talk to my property manager, so I can write this trip off as business. Why don’t you take my credit card and get whatever you need from the resort’s boutique? They should have everything.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Annie said. “How long do you think you’ll be?”

  “An hour and a half or so,” he said. As they entered the lobby, Sam flinched and swore under his breath. “Why didn’t I think about this?” he mumbled to himself.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “See that man to our two o’clock? Don’t look, but he’s a reporter for one of the tabloids. I don’t need this right now,” he said. “Unless he has a room at the resort, he shouldn’t be here.” Just then, the man looked up and recognized Sam. He grabbed his camera and pointed.

  “I got this,” Annie whispered. Turning away so her face wouldn’t be in any photos he took, she put herself between Sam and the photographer, then said in a loud voice, laced with a strong, Southern accent, “Well, thank you sooo much for the ride, Mr. MacDonald. You really saved my bacon. I can’t believe the prize people didn’t book a car for me. How was I supposed to get here? Anyway, it was real nice to meet ya’ll. I hope you have a great stay.” As Annie walked away, her back to the photographer, she could hear Sam chuckling. Sam by himself at the resort wouldn’t be nearly as newsworthy as Sam with an anonymous blond woman at the resort.

  She made a beeline for the front desk and told them about the man trying to take Sam’s photo. The resort staff were appropriately outraged and escorted the man out. Annie guessed that the ritzy place was probably a celebrity magnet, and the resort wouldn’t want the reputation of letting in the paparazzi.

  Once the photographer had been removed, Sam approached her with a chagrined look. “I hope you don’t think I was embarrassed to be seen with you or anything.”

  “No,” Annie replied quickly. “I get it. You value your privacy. Don’t worry.”

  He seemed relieved. “Okay. Here’s my credit card,” he said, handing over his American Express.

  “I’m not using that,” she said. “I’ll pay for my own stuff.”

  “It’s my fault that you have to buy anything at all. You are not buying your own stuff,” he retorted.

  “Oh yes I am,” she said.

  “Oh no you’re not.” He had a flash of déjà vu from when she insisted on paying for dinner at the bar the night they met.

  “Oh, yeah. Watch me.” She winked and turned to go.

  “Damn it, Annie,” he called after her as she walked away. She waved but kept walking.

  After a few minutes of browsing, a staff person approached her.

  “Hello, Ms. O’Neill. Whenever you’re ready to head to your bungalow, please come to the front desk and let us know. We will drive you there,” said the woman with a strong Hawaiian accent. Annie thanked her and said she would.

  Drive her? How big was the resort that she couldn’t walk to their room? She shook her head and focused. She didn’t want to waste her beach time shopping and got down to business.

  Sam was right about the shop having everything she needed. The prices were three times what she would consider reasonable, but what the hell? This was like a vacation. A little splurge wouldn’t hurt.

  It was important to her that Sam didn’t think she was a money-grubbing mooch. It might drive her into bankruptcy, but she was determined to pull her weight, financially, in this relationship.

>   After picking out a pair of shorts, a swimsuit cover-up, a “cheap” pair of sunglasses, and some flip-flops, she moseyed over to the swimsuit section. Saving that for last had been intentional, and she started a short debate with herself about what to buy. She’d done so much work on her self-confidence, but she wasn’t sure it was enough to wear a bikini in front of Sam.

  Concluding that if Sam weren’t a factor, and she were here by herself, she would be more comfortable in a one-piece, that’s what she bought. Sam was probably used to stick-thin, model-ready women, but if he thought he was getting that with her, he was in for a surprise.

  This would be an opportunity to test her mettle. To put herself and her half-naked body on display all afternoon, she would need to summon her inner warrior, but she could do this. On a whim, she bought Sam a pet rock named George Washingstone and paid for it all on her Visa.

  Walking back to the front desk, she was intercepted by a rotund, jolly Islander.

  “Aloha, beautiful,” he said. He placed a lei of flowers around her neck, and the flowery scent almost knocked her off her feet. “My name is Pika, and I will be your personal concierge while you are here, Ms. O’Neill. Are you ready to travel to your bungalow?” he asked as he took her bags.

  Pika had long, dark hair that laid in a braid midway down his back. He wore a sarong, flip-flops, and a brightly colored lei. He must have weighed close to four hundred pounds, but he still rocked it. It reminded her of the adage that it wasn’t what you wore, but how you wore it. She’d have to keep that in mind when she got into her swimsuit later.

  “Bungalow? Wow, sounds fancy,” said Annie, still in awe over how lavish everything was. “Yes, by all means, let’s head there now.”

  “Wait. Is this your first time to the resort? If so, we must take a quick tour,” he said as he led her to a modified golf cart. He put her bags in the back and helped her into the vehicle.

  “Sure. That sounds great.” Annie removed her lei just long enough to pull off her hoodie. She was very much overdressed and couldn’t wait to put on her new shorts.

  Pika pointed out the pool, which had a huge waterfall and two swim-up bars. He showed her where the golf course was and the location of the resort’s restaurant. The restaurant looked very romantic, and heavenly smells drifted from the general direction. If they ate there, she’d have to go back to the boutique.

  Finally, he set off for their room, driving past several other bungalows, each one fancier than the last. The place reminded her of a summer camp full of cabins. He stopped in front of what could only be described as a large, elegant hut. It appeared to be made of straw, but Annie was sure that was just for looks.

  Pika took her bags and walked her to the door. He opened the door, entered, and set her things on the bed. It was magnificent. She’d only seen places like this in magazines.

  “Do you need anything, mi amore?” Pika asked with a deep bow.

  “No. I’m great. So great. This is incredible!” The bungalow was one big circular room with a bathroom off to the side. High ceilings were littered with fans made of wooden palm leaves. A four-poster, king-size bed, covered in a fluffy white comforter and a million pillows, backed up against one wall and faced the ocean. Netting was bunched up and tied neatly on each corner post. Presumably, they could enclose themselves in the mesh and sleep with the windows open.

  “Ocean is that way,” Pika said, pointing needlessly. The room’s whole back end was made entirely of windows and huge, floor-to-ceiling, glass doors that stood open, letting in the ocean breeze. The ocean was literally out her back door.

  “The walkie-talkie to contact me is on the coffee table. What kind of drink would you like? I’ll bring it to you on the beach.”

  “Oh, my. I don’t know. How about you surprise me?”

  She wondered briefly if she should wait for Sam. Eh, you snooze you lose, she decided. She wasn’t wasting a second more.

  “As you wish, my dear,” Pika said as he backed out of the room. “I’ll see you on the beach in a few minutes then.”

  She changed into her swimsuit, freshened up, and walked the short distance from the bungalow to their private cabana. She plopped onto one of two full-sized chaise lounges that sat about fifty yards from the ocean. On the table between the chairs were instructions on how to hook into the Bluetooth speakers and how to contact the front desk.

  The chair was on wheels, which made it easy to pull out into the sun. She relaxed into the soft cushions and stretched out. The sun warmed her body, and the waves calmed her soul. Pika brought her a daiquiri in a coconut shell and a plate of fresh fruit. He carried the small table out to her and put it all by her side. He went back to the room, brought her the walkie-talkie, and told her to call when she needed a refill. She felt like a princess.

  “Pika, you are positively the best. Thank you so much,” she gushed as she took her first sip of cold, fruity deliciousness.

  She was blissfully aware of nothing and floating off into neverland when she heard something behind her. When she turned to look, it was Sam, wearing nothing but swim trunks. Her jaw instantly went slack. Holy shit. His business suits had been hiding a muscular torso, a trim waist, and long, lean legs. She hoped she wasn’t drooling.

  “Mind if I sit here?” he asked with a smile, pulling the second chaise lounge next to her. “Hey, where’d you get that thing?” He nodded to her drink.

  “Pika. If you want one, just use the walkie-talkie. This place is so awesome.”

  “What’s this?” Sam asked, picking up George Washingstone, who was sitting next to the walkie-talkie on the table.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s for you. I saw it in the shop and thought of you. It’s silly, I know. You don’t have to keep it.” Her cheeks were burning. The little trinket seemed so stupid now that she was actually giving it to him.

  “No, I love it. Thank you.”

  “It’s hard to buy for the person who has everything,” she said, laughing away the awkwardness.

  They ordered lunch along with Sam’s drink, and spent the afternoon in the sun, sipping piña coladas and dozing. They walked down to the water and waded for a bit but didn’t get in. The silence didn’t bother her one bit.

  “I love listening to the waves,” she said once they’d returned to the cabana. “Pika asked if I wanted to play music, but I told him no. I hope you don’t mind. I can feel myself unwinding when I close my eyes.”

  “I don’t mind. This is your beach day. You should do whatever you want. How often did you go to the beach in California?” Sam asked.

  “As often as I could in the summer. In the winter, only once or twice a month. It’s therapeutic, you know?”

  “Did you go alone?” he asked nonchalantly.

  “Are you trying to ask if I had a boyfriend?” She laughed. “Yes, I went alone, and no, I didn’t have a boyfriend.” She debated whether or not to go into her whole “story.” The drinks and the sand said may as well.

  “I’ve changed a lot in the last few years, Sam. You wouldn’t have noticed me three years ago, much less been attracted to me.”

  “Why do you say that?” He seemed genuinely interested. “And what do you mean ‘changed’? What’s different?”

  “Well, for starters, I weighed about thirty pounds more than I do now. I had this mousy brown hair that always fell in my face. I wore glasses and clothes that were a size too big and boring as hell. I had a slight overbite that I was always self-conscious of. And that’s just physical changes. I was also a doormat for anyone who cared to wipe their feet. I was shy and quiet, had no self-confidence, and never spoke up or stood up for myself.”

  “Huh. So you decided to change after your ex went to prison?”

  “That was part of it. I’d always wanted to change. I just didn’t know how. One day I discovered self-help books and videos and began devouring anything I could get my hands on. I hired a personal coach and started making gradual changes.

  “Once Wayne left, the weight just came off wi
thout me really trying. That might have been stress, I guess. I got braces and contacts, which was something I’ve wanted to do since I was a teenager, but my parents could never afford. I didn’t really make any other physical changes until just these last couple of months. I had my hair dyed blond and purchased some clothes that fit properly. After losing the weight, I had to buy new clothes anyway, so I had someone help me find what fit well for my body type. I’d never been into makeup and fashion, but that was easy to learn and implement.” Sam was silent but listening intently, so she continued.

  “The real work was the internal growth. My coach would make me do these exercises,” she put the word in air quotes, “that were supposed to help me grow.” Again, she used air quotes.

  “Like what?”

  “Things like, speak up in a staff meeting, tell someone no, wear a bikini to the beach, initiate a conversation with a man—stuff like that. He taught me to walk tall, look people in the eye, and shake hands properly. I was a real mess, Sam.”

  “A hot mess,” he said, and they both laughed.

  “Anyway, the point of all that is to say that going to the beach was one place I could be alone to think and plan. I suppose I could have done it anywhere, but I just love the beach.”

  “I get it,” he said. “It took guts and hard work to make those changes. I admire your tenacity.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I guess another point to telling you all that is that my confidence is newfound and still falters. I’m definitely a work in progress, but then I suppose we all are.”

  “So profound,” he said wistfully, and she slapped him playfully on the arm.

  “This place is mind-blowing, Sam. Thanks again for arranging it.”

  “No problem. I can’t believe I don’t do this more often. Seattle can get so gloomy. This is the perfect antidote. And it beats the hell out of the Washington beaches where you have to sit around a fire to keep warm and still freeze your ass off most of the time. We’ll have to do Ocean Shores in late July or August. Otherwise, it’s just too cold. Nine times out of ten, it’s raining too.”