by N. Raines
Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Connect with N. Raines
Other Kindle Titles by Nona Raines
Dedication
Copyright
No Promises
N. Raines
Chapter One
Thanks to a bowl of tortilla chips, Sam Pennywell was trapped in the broom closet.
It wasn't even her fault the bowl had spilled. One of the partyers, some dude with a few too many beers in him, had stumbled into her. When he knocked her into the snack table, he hadn't offered an apology, hadn't even looked back. What was she, invisible?
But everyone had stopped to stare when the multicolored ceramic bowl crashed and splintered on the floor, scattering chips everywhere.
Sam's face flamed as she bent to pick up the mess. Her cousin Brittany, the birthday girl, swooped in to help. "Hey, what're you doing, trying to wreck my party?" Britt gave her a good-humored grin.
"You got it." Sam sighed. God, was there a neon sign blinking World's Biggest Klutz hanging over her head? "I'm sorry. I'll pay you for it."
"Don't worry about it, Sam."
"No, really. How much was it?"
"I picked it up at a yard sale. You got fifty cents? Forget it." Britt laughed and swept her hair over her shoulder. The gesture attracted admiring glances from several guys, in spite of her being off-limits. Guys never looked at Sam that way. Well, why would they, especially when she stood next to her older, prettier cousin? Britt had a model's features, long blonde hair, and legs that went on forever. Sam was short, skinny, and had no boobs to speak of. Next to the statuesque Britt, she felt as stumpy and funny looking as a garden gnome.
The two of them dumped the garbage into the kitchen trash, but when Britt returned to the main room, Sam stayed behind. Smaller shards still needed gathering, not to mention the stray chips being ground to dust under the feet of the party guests. To tell the truth, Sam was glad for something to do other than stand around nursing a beer. Parties weren't her thing; she wasn't a schmoozer or a chitchatter. She was better with animals than people. Give her a sick cat or dog, she was golden. Not so much with her own species.
She needed a broom and one of those thingies, a dustpan. Sam stepped into a little closet off the kitchen of Britt's apartment and found what she was looking for. While inside the broom closet, which doubled as a pantry, she heard someone enter the kitchen. Two someones, speaking in hushed tones. She immediately recognized one of the voices as Britt's.
"All right, Rick. What's so important that you need to get me away from my own party?"
Rick? Rick Russo? Sam's breath caught when she heard his name. Her skin prickled with goose bumps. When had he arrived? Though she hadn't seen him in years, she'd never forgotten him. But she doubted he'd remember her.
"We need to talk," Rick said.
"Okay," Britt answered. "Let's talk."
"Since when are you a lesbian?"
Sam's mouth fell open. Seriously? He went there?
Britt, to her credit, kept her cool. "You're kidding, right? You don't honestly expect me to have this discussion with you."
"I think I'm entitled."
"Entitled?" Britt's voice rose in disbelief. "Uh, no. Think again."
Sam wanted to groan. She should so not be listening to this private conversation. Staring at the cans of corn, tuna fish, and tomato soup lined up on the shelves in front of her, she wished she could teleport herself somewhere, anywhere else. But there was no way she could leave the closet without being seen.
So she took the coward's way out and stayed hidden. She was stuck, an unwilling eavesdropper. Maybe she'd luck out and the conversation would end soon.
Britt hadn't finished. "You may be a friend, but—"
"Come off it, Brittany." Rick's voice was a low rumble from deep in his chest. It sent a tingle through Sam, much as she hated to admit it. "We were a hell of a lot more than friends."
True. Britt Hadaway and Rick Russo had been an item all their senior year of high school. It only made sense, them getting together—the hottest guy and the prettiest, most popular girl in the class.
"You can't blame me for being surprised," Rick went on. "Hell, shocked. I mean, we're out of touch a few years, and when we reconnect, you're into chicks? I don't buy it."
"You don't buy it? Rick, we haven't seen each other in five years. Sure, we were close. But that does not entitle you to drop back into my life and ask a bunch of nosy-ass questions. Understand?"
Sam nodded in satisfaction. You go, Britt. Tell him.
"Wait a minute. Is that what this is about? We break up and then you—"
"What, Rick? If I couldn't be with you, I completely gave up on men? You were good, son, but not that good."
Sam grimaced. Ugh. Total sexist, bro thinking. A girl decided to turn gay because some guy screwed her over. Or because she hadn't met the right guy in the first place.
"I didn't mean that." Though she couldn't see him from her hiding place, Sam heard the embarrassment in Rick's voice. "I just—"
Somehow Britt kept from tearing Rick's head off. She even managed to sound calm. "Look, you're a friend. I'm really glad we reconnected, so you could be here for my birthday." Her tone was firm. "We had some good times back in high school, but those days are over. I've changed since then, and you have, too." Then, with a smile in her voice, she added, "We're missing all the fun in here. Come on, let's go back to the party."
Sam sagged with relief. Conversation closed. They'd return to the rest of the group soon, and she could make her escape with no one the wiser.
The kitchen door creaked softly, signaling their departure. Sam held her breath and waited in silence for the coast to clear. When she heard no other sounds, she emerged from the broom closet. She stepped into the kitchen and froze. Rick was still there, leaning back on the counter and taking a pull from a bottle of beer.
She could only think wow. If he'd been hot five years ago, now he was positively scorching. Time had improved on what nature had given him. Six-plus feet of solid muscle, from his broad shoulders to his hard chest that tapered to a taut middle. His tight T-shirt didn't hide much. She was sure his jeans didn't either, though Sam didn't let her gaze drift lower for fear of passing out.
If she'd been a cartoon character, her eyeballs would have popped from their sockets and pinballed across the room while her tongue unrolled and flopped to the floor. Her heart would have boinged right out of her chest, dangling from a spring.
His eyes widened in surprise before narrowing in a glare. Deep brown eyes sat above a strong Roman nose. He wasn't handsome in the way of pretty-boy movie stars, but strong-featured and completely masculine. "Where did you come from?"
"Uh—" She took a step back. For a moment she lost the power of speech. Ugh, what was her problem? He'd been a jerk to Britt, and here she was, practically drooling over him. "In there." She tilted her head toward the closet. "I'm just cleaning up." She lifted the broom and dustpan as proof, then realized how dumb she looked. She let her hands fall to her sides. "I'm, uh, I'm Sam. Britt's cousin?" She winced. Why'd she say that last part like she wasn't sure? Dumb, dumb, dumb.
"I know who you are." He cut to the chase. "How long were you in there?"
Her mouth twisted. The jig was up. "A few minutes. Sorry."
"You make a habit of listening in on people's private conversatio
ns?" He lifted the bottle to his lips and took another swig.
Sam bristled at the question and his insulting tone. But worse was the way his gaze flicked over her and dismissed her. Fine, so she wasn't tall and willowy like Britt, nor did she have killer curves like Morgan. No, Sam was small breasted and narrow hipped, and with her short hair had more than once, from a distance, been mistaken for a boy.
But she got tired of guys giving her that you're-not-worth-my-time look.
Or pretending she was invisible. Like that jackass who'd bumped into her.
"No. And I said I was sorry." Sam recalled what he'd said to her cousin. Why was he trying to stir up trouble? "You know, Britt and Morgan really are in love."
"Great to know." His Adam's apple bobbed as he took another swallow.
She shifted her feet to a defensive stance. "And there are a lot of people who care about them and don't want to see them hurt."
His heavy eyebrows lifted as he looked at her again. This time his gaze lingered, and her heart gave a bump. Stupid, stupid girl. "And are you one of those people, Sam?"
She swallowed hard. "Yes." Oh God, why did he have to be so beautiful?
"So are you…warning me?"
Before she could answer, Britt swung open the kitchen door. "There you are, Sam! Where'd you go?"
"Oh, I—just went looking for these." Again she held up her cleaning supplies.
"You don't have to do that." Her cousin glanced uncertainly from her to Rick. "So, uh, Sam, you remember Rick, don't you?"
Sam gave a sickly smile. "It's been a while." Oh, she remembered him all right. She'd had a crush on Rick Russo since the first time she laid eyes on him. She'd been a gawky freshman. He was an upperclassman, so of course Sam wasn't even a blip on his radar. When he hooked up with Britt in high school, he'd been friendly to Sam in an offhanded way. He'd never guessed the major crush she had on him.
Rick's gaze was as flat and disinterested as his tone of voice. "Uh-huh."
Sam's fingers tightened around the broom handle. "I'm gonna go clean up." She jerked her head toward the door.
Though Britt told her not to worry, she slipped out of the room, glad to make a getaway. Well, there went another dream, up in flames. Awesomely hot Rick Russo, who she'd crushed on years ago—who she still fantasized about from time to time, truth be told——was nothing more than a backward-ass, run-of-the-mill jerk.
****
Half an hour later, she sneaked out to the enclosed back porch for a moment alone. Muted sounds of music and laughter still drifted from the apartment, but here she could find a bit of privacy. Sam took a deep breath in the cool darkness, then jumped when someone turned on a light.
Rick Russo sat in a wicker chair, a small lamp on the table beside him. "Would you like a beer?" He tilted a bottle her way.
"No thanks." She took a step back. "I didn't know anyone was out here."
"Well, don't let me run you off."
He'd taken a couple of six-packs, had already killed one of them, and was busy making inroads on the second. "Have a seat."
She sat on a chair facing him. Since he made no attempt at conversation, she started the ball rolling. "So how did you and Britt reconnect?"
From the look on his face, the topic bored him. "Hooked up on Facebook." He set his empty down. "What are you doing here? Hiding out?"
Sam bristled at the knowing smirk on his face. Why was he being such a dick tonight? What had happened to the Rick from back in the day? The one who'd given her a ride home from school while he dropped off Britt? Sometimes he'd kidded her about being a "brain." As if. Of course, he wouldn't have bothered if she weren't Britt's little cousin, but still. He'd been nice and funny. Why the change?
She shrugged, hiding behind a mask of carelessness. "Same thing you are, I guess."
He snorted, shifted his long legs, and suddenly leaned toward her, pinning her with his gaze. "So tell me, you know much about this girlfriend of Britt's?" He said the word "girlfriend" as though it were the punch line of a joke.
Sam's mouth flattened. "Her name's Morgan. And I know she makes Britt happy."
"Huh. Well, what's so special about this Morgan? What'd she do to make Britt fall for her?"
"What did she do?" Why was he asking? Was it some kind of he-man thing? Was his sense of masculinity punctured because Britt was with another girl instead of a guy? "You know that gays aren't like vampires, right? Or zombies. They don't turn straight people."
"Thanks for enlightening me. You seem to know a lot about it. Just how friendly are you and Morgan?"
She went numb with shock. "What?"
"I'm just asking, are the two of you—"
Rage zapped her. She shot to her feet. "Are you asking if Morgan and I are hooking up?" She grabbed the beer bottle from his hand. "Are you drunk, or are you always this much of an ass?"
He held up his hands, palms out. His lips twisted into a grin. He was laughing? "Whoa, whoa. Take it easy."
"You take it easy." She snatched what remained of the six-pack out of his reach. "Give me that." Obnoxious jerk.
"Calm down." He shook his head, still grinning. "I was just messing with you."
"Well, you have one sick sense of humor."
Surprisingly, he backed down. His smart-ass grin disappeared. His features smoothed as he turned serious. "I'm sorry."
She glared, still wanting to brain him with one of the empties.
"Really. I am. I shouldn't have insulted you."
She gritted her teeth and threw back her head in frustration. "Ugh. I'm insulted because you thought I'd sleaze around with my cousin's girlfriend." But truth be told, there was more to it. She knew he'd wondered if she was gay because of her short hair and boyish shape. Because she wore no makeup or figure-hugging clothes. Because she wasn't hot. And though it might be wrongheaded and politically incorrect, his casual assumption nipped her pride. "And if I were gay, I'd be out and proud, understand?"
"Okay, okay." A beat. "So you're not gay?"
"Shut up." She plunked down onto her chair.
A moment passed. "Can I have my beer back?"
She refused to soften. "No. You've had enough."
They both looked up when the door from the kitchen opened. Britt's partner Morgan stood there. "I saw the light. What are you doing out here?"
Mr. Pain-in-the-Ass refused to answer, so Sam filled the gap. "Just talking."
"Uh-huh." Morgan frowned as she took in the empty bottles lined up at Rick's feet and the few that remained in the six-pack. "Is he all right?"
"He's just fine." Rick pushed himself out of the chair. "Think I'll be saying good night now."
Britt appeared in the doorway behind Morgan. "What's up?" They made an attractive couple though physically they were very different. Britt's tall slender form contrasted with Morgan's short, curvy figure. Morgan's curly brown hair and golden-tan complexion indicated her biracial parentage.
"Just heading out. See you around." He brushed his lips along Britt's cheek in good-bye. Morgan's eyes narrowed as she watched.
Britt grasped his arm. "Hold on. You're in no shape to drive."
"Wasn't planning on it. I'll walk, come back for the Jeep tomorrow. The night air will clear my head."
Britt blinked in surprise. "Don't you live on the other side of town?"
He shook his head. "Nah. Temporarily staying elsewhere…" He trailed off without further explanation.
Morgan frowned. "You shouldn't be walking anywhere in your condition."
"I'll be fine." He proved her point, though, by wavering on his feet as he pulled away from Britt.
Sam stood. "I should be going, too."
Britt glanced her way. "Yeah? Oh Sam, could you drive Rick home? Or, uh, wherever he's staying? Please?"
Just how I want to end the night, being stuck in the cab of a truck with Prince Charmless. But how could she refuse her cousin? "Sure. No problem."
Her pride chafed when Rick shook his head. "No need. I'm all right."
>
Fine. Let him stumble on home. What did she care if he fell on his face?
"You're not fine." Britt's tone was no-nonsense as she wagged her finger at him. "Sam's nice enough to give you a ride and you're going with her. Understand?"
He relented and his big body relaxed as he smiled at her. "Yep. I understand."
She gave him a little whack on the arm. "Now be a gentleman and tell her thank you."
When Rick turned to Sam, there was a smirk on his face that hadn't been there when he spoke to her cousin. "Thank you, Sam."
"Uh-huh." Man, how she'd love to give him a kick. She nodded to Britt and Morgan. "Thanks for tonight." She knew her manners even if Rick didn't. "It was fun."
"Even though she did spend half the night hiding out," Rick commented. He laughed at the glare Sam gave him.
Britt hugged Sam good-bye. She hugged Rick too while Morgan bid him good night with a nod and a cool smile.
He trailed Sam outside. She pointed to her old but reliable truck parked at the curb. "That's mine, the gray one."
He hitched up an eyebrow. "You drive a truck."
"Yep." Another check mark against her in the feminine-stereotype department. "She's not fancy, but she'll get us there." She didn't tell him it used to be her father's truck. He didn't drive much anymore since he'd retired. Pop wouldn't have her in any vehicle that didn't meet his safety standards. She unlocked the passenger door with her key. "Climb in."
But he didn't move from his spot on the sidewalk. "Look, you don't want to take me. I'll be fine walking. It'll sober me up."
"So will a night in the tank if the cops pick you up for public intoxication." So he wouldn't get the idea she cared one way or another, she added, "Anyway, I promised Britt. Come on." It was a standoff until she said, "Or don't you trust a woman driver?" Considering his behavior tonight, she'd expected that attitude from him.
He huffed a laugh and opened the truck door. "You think I'm a real caveman, don't you?"
She circled to the driver's door. "No comment."
He laughed again.
Chapter Two
"We're coming up on it," Rick said as they approached the corner of Sixth Street.
