by Lyla Dune
“Good morning, handsome.” A blush kissed her cheek, and her bosom heaved with shallow breaths.
She was excited to see him. Mmm. That news got Rebel’s attention.
If he looked at her a moment longer he’d have those strings untied and the crotch of that bikini in his mouth. Maybe the cold water would help him get his body under control. It was worth a shot. “I need to go for a swim. I’ll be back.”
She gave no protest.
Behaving like a gentleman while erect wasn’t easy. Especially when presented with a full frontal view of Sam in three triangles of fabric smaller than a scallop shell each.
SAM BIT HER lip as Brock ran past her. His arousal tented his shorts. She knew a cure for what ailed him this morning, and it wasn’t holding hands.
Her phone rang, and she pulled it out of her beach bag.
“Hey, Sam.” Tox sounded groggy.
“Hey.” Brock dove beneath a wave, his tree trunk legs protruded from the water’s surface. “What’s up?” The idea of splashing in the water with Brock had her attention more than Tox. Why was he calling her so early anyway? Was he checking to see if she’d made up with Brock? Probably.
“Am I interrupting anything?”
Yep. He was checking up. “Not yet.”
“About last night—“
“Nothing happened last night.”
“Oh, so you and the Brit didn’t?”
“I mean nothing happened between you and me last night. Nothing that would require an early morning phone call to check on. We’re cool. Okay?” Brock waved to her from the breakers. She wanted to run out and join him.
“Listen, that’s not really what I called for.”
“Here’s a thought…how about you just tell me why you called, and we can have an actual conversation?” Good grief. Annoying with a capital T.O.X.
“Damn, girl. You’re a morning bitch. I like it.” He laughed.
“Ha. Ha. Ha.” She kept her tone dry and sarcastic, hoping he’d get the hint.
“Okay. So you want me to just come out with it, huh?”
She turned her back to Brock and kicked her sand castle down. “You have five seconds to say something worth listening to. One. Two.”
“The tour’s official, and we need you. Ten thousand dollars a week.”
She dropped to her knees. “Ten thousand dollars split how many ways?”
“That’s your cut. I’m not shitting you either. Lance got us a kick ass deal. Whatdaya say?”
“Where are we booked?”
“I like that ‘we’. Keep saying that.” Papers rustled in the background. “Okay, let me give ya the highlights. Let’s start with Madison Square Gardens.”
“Holy shit!” Her father had talked about playing there, said it was the ultimate venue. “How long is this tour?”
“That’s the thing. We keep getting more gigs by the hour. Lance doesn’t want to set an end date. He said to hit while we have a song climbing the charts, and don’t stop as long as we can get decent bookings.”
Ten thousand dollars a week. She’d be able to pay off her debt and build up her savings. Seeing as she turned thirty-one in three days and had no sort of retirement fund or even health insurance for that matter, that money was pretty tempting, but not near as tempting as performing at Madison Square Gardens.
“I need to think about it.” How would Brock react to the news? Would he dump her or cheer her on? A viable music career. A world tour. How could she pass that up? That was a once in a lifetime opportunity. An opportunity her father would have given his right leg for. “Is there a contract?”
“It’s coming. I’m not trying to twist your arm or anything, but you do know Brandon can’t go, right? I mean, you’re the only other bassist we’ve worked with. You know all the material. To be blunt, you outplay Brandon by a mile anyway.”
She looked over her shoulder. Brock walked toward her with a stern expression. A nervous jitter quaked in her belly. “It sounds really good. I’ll call you back later. Gotta go.” She ended the call and smiled at Brock.
“You were talking to Tox, weren’t you?”
His shadow loomed over her, and she wanted to lie, but she couldn’t. “Yes.”
“You have a guilty look in your eye. What’s going on?” His jaw tightened as he sat beside her.
The words she needed to say swelled in her throat until her breath became labored. Christ. She was nauseous.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Tour
Braced for a speech regarding the other man, Brock waited for Sam to open up to him.
Sweat beaded across her forehead, and she turned white, corpse-like. Good Lord, she trembled. He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.
“Whatever it is, Sam, you can tell me. There’s nothing you can say that could possibly change the way I feel about you.” He kept his tone calm and assuring.
But was his statement true? What if there was something more than “friends” going on between Sam and Tox? Was he lying when he said nothing could change the way he felt about her? He’d like to think so.
Quivering, with confusion glazing her eyes, she said, “I’ve been invited to go on tour with Inked Religion in a couple of weeks. It’s a dream come true for me as a musician, but as a woman it breaks my heart.”
Not what he had expected. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to stay here with him in the house he’d renovated to suit her needs. He swallowed his protest and said, “A tour sounds brilliant. Tell me more about it.” He didn’t really want to hear more, unless more included that she’d turned down the offer.
His father’s words rang in his head—when you love a woman, you look past what you want and give her what she needs, no matter the sacrifice, for there is no sacrifice in love, only privilege to be the one who provides.
He needed to process this tour information with a level head. A tour entailed traveling, performing music, being appreciated as a talented artist, and finding validation for years of hard work. A gift like Sam’s should be shared with the world, of course such a venture appealed to her.
Tilting her chin with his finger so he could look into her eyes, he said, “Why does it break your heart? Do you doubt that I’d be thrilled for you to find the recognition you so richly deserve?”
“We’d be pulled apart.” Her words cracked with emotion.
“We’ve survived separation before.” Fame. Paparazzi. Jealousy. Could he jump all those hurdles simultaneously and be the man she needed him to be? Doubtful.
“So you wouldn’t be angry with me if I went?” She sat up. Relief shown on her face.
“Angry for pursuing your dream? Never.”
She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. Her body shuddered against his.
He was willing to rearrange the stars for her, if doing so would ease her worries. But such actions wouldn’t diminish his own concerns twisting their blades of truth into his heart. The very demons that rendered him despicable were courting the woman he loved and stealing her away from him. If he stood against these faceless foes, he would prevent her from soaring through the clouds and reaching her destiny.
Even though portraying himself to be supportive pained him, he held onto his resolve. His reward was currently in his arms. Tomorrow would always be a day away. If he knew anything—it was that living in the moment was the only route to happiness.
Sam, spending day and night with Tox in close proximity, reporters, fans, lack of privacy. This tour was his worse nightmare, but he’d never tell her that. Never.
She nuzzled against him. “I thought you’d be disappointed.”
He was disappointed, but that emotion was selfish. He didn’t want her to see that side of him, the selfish side. He wanted to be the man who showered her with affection, understanding, and tenderness—expecting nothing in return.
He ran a hand down her arm. “Your happiness is paramount to me, Sam.”
She relaxed against h
im. He batted back tears at the thought of losing her to the road. Tears? Bloody hell. He needed a distraction and fast. He damn sure wasn’t going to cry in front of her.
Her sandcastle was a crumbled ruin at their side. “What happened to your castle?”
“I kicked it down. It looked stupid anyway. I’ve never been great at making castles.” She sat up and grabbed a handful of sand and let the grains sift through her fingers.
“Castles are my specialty.” He pulled away from her and rose to his knees. “Cardiff is the castle capitol of the world. There were over 600 castles there at one time. In fact, I have a view of Cardiff Castle out my front window in Wales.”
He gathered a large mound of sand and sculpted the shell keep, moat, and clock tower, then closed his eyes and tried to recall the details of the remainder of the castle grounds. She fetched him a bucket of water to moisten the sand. He pushed all other thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on building her a realistic model of the Cardiff Castle. He wanted to impress her, and he desperately needed to occupy his mind with something other than her inevitable departure.
Once he’d finished, they stood hand in hand, observing the creation from all angles.
She said, “You’re a master at this.”
The gleeful sound of her voice warmed his heart.
This was living in the moment. “I’m glad you like it. It’s not an exact replica of the Cardiff Castle, but fairly close.” She looked so mesmerized by this mound of sand, it made him wonder how she’d react to seeing such castles up close, running her hand along the stone walls, dancing in the grassy courtyard, climbing to the top of the towers. “I’ve seen more castles than I can count. Each one is unique, but this particular one holds the aesthetic of a proper sandcastle, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Oh yes. It’s perfect. I adore the round towers and the squared and notched trim at the top.” She circled the castle and took pictures of it on her phone.
“I’d love to show you the real thing.” He didn’t mean to let that slip.
She lowered her phone and looked deeply into his eyes. “I’d like that very much.”
“Maybe you’ll have a gig on my side of the pond one day.”
Her face went sullen.
Blimey. He’d said the wrong thing.
SAM HELD PRINCESS in her arms and petted her. “I know, but I can’t ask him to wait for me.”
Leah poured some more wine in her glass. “Timing is a bitch. How long is the tour?”
“That’s the thing, it’s open ended. The manager keeps adding gigs daily. He just added a concert to the schedule this morning, in Montreal, Canada. That concert is set for next May. Almost an entire year is booked solid.” Sam downed the last of her wine and held her glass out to Leah who gave her a refill.
“What if he went with you?”
“Not possible. Tox was adamant about no boyfriends, girlfriends, or spouses on tour. He said it was unprofessional to make others put up with the lovey-dovey antics or the bickering. And he’s right. I wouldn’t want to be on the road with Spider’s wife nagging him nonstop. That woman never shuts up.”
“Maybe you can negotiate some breaks in the tour so you and Brock can have some time together periodically.”
“You haven’t seen the schedule. We’ll be either gigging or en route to the next gig. There are no breathers.” Swirling the wine in her glass, Sam said, “I finally meet the most wonderful man and fate steps in and says, nope, life has other plans for you.”
“Listen, you don’t have to go.” Leah covered her mouth as if she didn’t mean to say that out loud.
Sam gulped down the last of her wine. No. She didn’t have to go, but it’s not like Brock had asked her to stay. He seemed happy about the tour. She was glad he was happy for her, but disappointed that he didn’t show any resistance. She stared down at the unsigned contract.
Leah leaned close. “When do you have to make up your mind?”
“Tox didn’t say exactly. We’re supposed to load the bus Thursday morning and head to Raleigh. Our first gig is at the Pavilion. I suspect I’ll have to give the signed contract to Lance before I get on the bus.”
“Next Thursday. Wow. “ Leah stared into her wine in silence for a few moments then faced Sam. “I know you need to do this. You’d be crazy to pass it up, but I’m going to miss you so much.” She threw her arms around Sam.
Sam stuffed her tears deep inside as she embraced her best friend. If she let one tear fall, they’d all gush forth. There’d be a freaking sob-fest.
When they both lowered their arms, Sam said, “Thanks for taking care of Princess while I’m away.”
Leah wiped her eyes. “Sure.” She reached for another bottle of wine.
Sam prepped the corkscrew and studied Leah’s face.
Leah met her eyes with a grim smile. “This is a three bottle night.”
“Maybe four.” Leaving Brock was hard enough, but Sam was having to leave everyone she loved. She should be ecstatic about the big tour, but her heart wasn’t jumping for joy. It was pouting in the corner of her hollow chest.
BROCK MOTIONED FOR everyone to duck down when Sam approached the front door of Reel to Real Good.
As soon as she stepped inside, everyone jumped up and yelled, “Surprise.”
With hand to her heart, she stumbled backward. “Oh, my God.” Scanning the room, she smiled. The restaurant was packed. They’d told her it was Carl and Myrtle’s engagement party so she wouldn’t be tipped off by the lack of available parking when she pulled up.
Leah had set everything up. He was grateful he’d been included.
“Happy Birthday!” The crowd cheered, party horns blasted and confetti filled the air.
Brock held out his elbow to Sam. She rested her bass against the wall and took his arm. As he led her over to the head of the long table decorated with flowers, Myrtle waved her arms like a conductor and everyone sang Happy Birthday.
He sang softly, a bit intimidated for a fine musician such as Sam to hear his singing voice.
Leah pulled out the chair with the balloons attached to the back. “Right here, party girl.”
The way Sam looked at everyone gathered in her honor told him she was deeply moved by their attendance.
Later that evening, when it was time for her to blow out her candles and make a wish, she said, “I’ve had the same wish every year since I was eight years old. Tonight, I realize it’s come true. I have a family again. Each and every one of you is part of that family. I haven’t the foggiest notion what to wish for now.” The candles on her cake cast a glow upon her face, and he saw the love in her eyes, love for him and for every person in that room.
Mazy wrapped her arms around Sam and sniffled. Leah and Kendal joined in the group hug.
Sam said, “Help me blow out these candles, girls. One, two, three…” They blew the flames out in unison.
Myrtle called out. “You got to keep that wish a secret. So don’t nobody ask her what she wished for. Got that?” Myrtle glowered at the faces in the crowd. Most people nodded in response, others just smiled in agreement.
Leah had told him that Sam never liked receiving expensive gifts, that it made her uncomfortable. So she’d asked everyone to put a limit of twenty dollars on the gift they chose to bring.
He’d thought about buying Sam some sexy lingerie, but decided that might embarrass her. Plus, the lingerie would have been more for his benefit anyway. Instead, he found something he hoped she’d get a kick out of, and something that he suspected would garner a few chuckles.
She’d opened a dozen or so birthday presents before she finally picked his up from the pile.
The poorly wrapped ring box sat in the palm of her hand. Her mouth twisted. “No name tag? Anyone want to fess up?”
Not a peep came from the crowd, and he wasn’t about to say anything.
Picking at the tape, while searching the eyes of all who’d gathered around her, she finally removed the shiny red paper and gasped at the
black velvet ring box.
All eyes focused on him.
He nodded for her to open the gift.
She lifted the lid and gasped then cocked her head. With a pinching motion, she reached into the box and pulled out the post it note he’d folded into a square the size of a dime. She unfolded the paper and read the note aloud. “Would you do me the honor of wearing this mood ring? At all times. I mean, never take it off. Ever. Sincerely, Brock.”
The crowd burst into laughter, including Sam.
She slipped the ring onto her middle finger and flipped everyone in the room off as she modeled her new piece of jewelry.
The large center stone in the sterling silver setting went from grayish white to blue within seconds of being on her finger. Playful and lovable. Yes, she was definitely lovable. He couldn’t wait to see the stone turn lavender. Lovestruck and passionate.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Hammock
After a morning of making love, Brock sat on the balcony writing some poetry while Sam packed. He lifted his head from the love poem he’d just written and noticed a crowd gathered by his back deck. “What in the….“He sat the notebook aside and went downstairs to see what was going on.
Sam parted the crowd like a traffic cop, wearing bright yellow rubber gloves and matching yellow bikini. So much for packing. Two rows of people faced one another, Sam knelt and disappeared behind a dune. Everyone flanking the pathway she’d cleared smiled, watching whatever she was doing behind the dune.
He quickened his pace as he walked down the sandy path, his feet slipping in the silt-like earth. As he neared the gathering, he spotted tiny, waddling hatchlings scurrying between the rows of people. The dark-bodied, tealight-sized creatures bobbled and scuttled toward the waves. The turtle nest Sam had marked off with stakes and colored ribbon had hatched at last.
“Amazing,” he mumbled to himself, referring to both Sam and the hatchlings.
