River of Love

by Melissa Foster

  He glanced at the door she’d just gone through and wondered what had made her rush off. Was it Cole or was it him? Why did he care? There were plenty of other women in the room. Usually having so many options would steal his focus, but all he could think about was the look in Faith’s eyes right before she turned to leave. It was a determined, almost frightened look, and that bothered him. He wasn’t a scary guy by any stretch of the imagination.

  Dude, really? Okay, maybe he was scary to a girl like Faith. He wasn’t exactly the suit-wearing, relationship-committing type of guy she probably went for.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Sam relented.

  Cole’s jaw loosened a little.

  “I don’t want to mess up her life. It’s just that she…intrigues me.”

  “Half of Peaceful Harbor intrigues you, Sam.”

  He scoffed. If you only knew the truth. The women he went out with didn’t intrigue him; they only turned him on. There was a big difference, one he hadn’t even realized himself until this very second.

  “There’s something different about Faith.”

  “You’re right there is. She’s off-limits, and you’ve always wanted what you can’t have.” Cole draped an arm around Sam and turned to face the rest of the guests. “There you go. A bevy of women, all thrilled to have a shot at you. Take your pick. Just keep your zipper up around my employees, will you?”

  Sam glanced around the room. His reputation had never bothered him before. In fact, he was proud of it. Sam was good to the women he hooked up with. He treated them with respect, tried to make them feel special in the few hours they shared. But as he met the glances of several pretty girls, he didn’t get the same urges he usually did. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Faith had said: Have you run out of girls already? Everything was rubbing him the wrong way now, including Cole’s ribbing, which he’d heard his whole life. And though he could hardly believe it, even his reputation was rubbing him the wrong way.

  The itch in his hands disappeared, apparently unwilling to be scratched by just anyone tonight. Sam turned back toward the bar, wondering how many drinks it would take for him to stop thinking about Faith.

  **

  FAITH DROVE STRAIGHT to her apartment. She threw her keys on the couch and stomped into the kitchen, opened the freezer, and stuck her head inside.

  “If you’re looking for the Chunky Monkey, I finished it.”

  “Not looking for it,” she said to her best friend, Vivian, who was visiting for the weekend. “Just need to cool off.”

  Vivian scooted up onto the counter. “Oh, do tell. If you have to cool off, then the wedding didn’t suck?”

  Faith slammed the freezer shut. “The wedding was gorgeous, just what I expected. It felt like an intimate gathering of Cole’s closest friends and family, and about six dozen single women swarming over Sam.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Hot and single tend to draw women,” Vivian teased.

  “Not helping. I told you I didn’t want to go.” Faith sighed. “At least it’s over. I can check off that duty box for work and focus on tomorrow’s WAC event.” Two years ago, after a painful breakup and after too many shots and not enough sleep, Faith had started the online forum for women who had been cheated on. Vivian had been right there, egging her on. The next morning, hungover and still just as hurt by the breakup as she’d been before the alcohol, Faith had decided the forum was a solid idea, and a meaningful one. She’d set out to create a safe place for women to vent about the wrongs that had been done to them, and it had quickly grown to be a nationwide community of women supporting women. They’d since created chapters in different cities. Tomorrow’s car wash would include women from all over Maryland, and the proceeds would go toward hosting fees and, at some point, site redesign.

  “You should have put me as your plus one for the wedding, like I told you to,” Vivian said. “I would have reminded you of how hot you looked. So, tell me what you’re not telling me, because you look like you’ve been made out with and left hot and bothered.”

  I wish. “I didn’t think we both needed to suffer through my work obligation.” She went to her bedroom with Vivian on her heels.

  “Sam asked me to dance.” She took off her jewelry, gazing at her reflection in the mirror and wondering what Sam had seen when he was standing so close he could have crawled beneath her skin. She thought she’d been in control of herself and her responses, but now that she had room to breathe and air that wasn’t full of him, she remembered she’d asked him if he’d already gone through all the women there. Real cool, Faith.

  Vivian crossed her arms, her smile turning to a serious scowl. “You didn’t dance with him, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t dance with him.” Vivian had spent last summer in Peaceful Harbor with Faith, and she’d seen Sam in action a few times at Whispers, a nightclub. Over the course of that summer she’d scoped out his super-sexy brothers, too—Vivian’s words, not Faith’s. Faith had filled Vivian in on her fantasies about Sam but agreed with Vivian’s assessment that Sam was not the man for her.

  Faith changed into a pair of shorts and a comfy shirt, avoiding Vivian’s gaze. They’d been best friends forever, having both grown up in Oak Falls, Virginia, where Vivian still lived. They’d bonded over skinned knees and Sadie Hawkins dances, broken hearts, and after Vivian’s ex cheated, and JJ followed that same dickhead move, their bond grew stronger over renewed determination never to be cheated on again.

  “Good, because as kind and generous as Sam and his family are, he takes personal generosity to a whole new level. And that’s a level you don’t need, Faith. It can only end in a broken heart.” Vivian took Faith’s hand and dragged her out to the living room. “Let’s talk about tomorrow. It’ll keep your mind off not dancing with him.”

  “I’m not interested in Sam. I just like to look at him. And smell him.” What is wrong with me?

  Vivian arched a brow in disbelief. “No one stops at looking and smelling.” She sank down to the couch, bringing Faith down beside her. “You know I love you, but that man is not for you. You created WAC because of men like him.”

  “I know. Don’t worry. I left, okay? I didn’t dance with him. And, by the way, I can’t believe you ate all my ice cream. How’s a girl supposed to bury her lust in anything else?” Faith reached for the WAC event binder.

  “It’s called a vibrator, my friend, and you bury it in you.” Vivian waggled her eyebrows. “It lives in your drawer, so it can’t cheat. It has no eyes to gawk at other women and can’t suck the life out of your self-esteem. And best of all? You get to come as many times as you want without worrying it’ll blow its load before you’re done.”

  All true, but…“Don’t you miss being in the arms of a man?”

  Vivian rolled her eyes. “Like those guys you’ve been dating are real men? They’re not. They’re like placeholders, itch scratchers. They’re foreplay for real men.”

  “They are not! They’re nice and reliable and they would never look at another woman, much less cheat.” She had dated only a few men since she’d moved to Peaceful Harbor, each of whom were the antithesis of Sam Braden.

  “Boring.” Vivian whipped her blond hair over her shoulder with a shake of her head. “Give me my three-speed, battery-operated boyfriend any day of the week.” She took out her cell phone and smirked. “Let’s ask Charley.”

  “Don’t get my sister involved in this! She’s probably busy dissecting a crab or something.” She reached for the phone, and Vivian jumped off the couch with the phone to her ear. Charley was five years younger than Faith and studying marine biology. This summer she was working part-time for the Brave Foundation in Harborside, Massachusetts, where she went to school, and also working part-time at a bar. She almost never dated, and definitely wouldn’t have time for this foolishness.

  “Char! Hey, how are you?” Vivian smirked at Faith as she listened.

  She covered the phone and said, “She’s not dissecting a crab. She’s at a bonfire.”


  “Really? Good for her. She needs a break.” Faith opened the binder and added, “Tell her I love her and please don’t tell her why you—”

  “Faith said she loves you,” Vivian said to Charley. “And she wants to know if you think the men she dates are boring.”

  Ugh! She and Charley didn’t talk about their dating lives often. Besides the age difference, Charley was always so busy, she tended to only half listen when Faith brought up men, unlike Vivian, who could analyze a dating scenario for hours.

  “She says they’re smart,” Vivian said with disappointment.

  “Thanks, sis!” Faith yelled.

  “And that you shouldn’t let JJ the asshole keep you away from guys who don’t wear ties.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Faith said halfheartedly, but her mind clung to the advice and drifted back to Sam. They’d never spoken more than a few words to each other when he visited Cole at the office, nearly every week, until tonight. A man like Sam doesn’t need words.

  Unfortunately, he spoke the universal language of lust, aimed at every woman around him.

  Chapter Three

  AFTER A FITFUL night’s sleep with Faith invading every dream—and every waking moment—Sam took off for a predawn run, then hit Rough Riders early to organize the paperwork that was piling up in the office. He could barely keep up with the company’s recent growth. Ty had always helped him out when he was in town between mountain-climbing excursions and photography assignments. For years that had been enough. Last year he’d hired Patrick Fisher, the younger brother of Nate’s fiancée, Jewel, part-time, and this summer he’d taken Patrick on full-time. A few weeks ago he’d had to hire another full-time employee just to keep up with the number of customers and boat repairs. Tex Sharpe was turning out to be a worthy investment, but Sam still needed to hire an office manager. His desk was littered with release forms, itineraries for upcoming adventure outings, invoices, and other paraphernalia that needed to be dealt with. Not to mention the administrative preparation for next month’s annual Rough Riders barbecue. He’d been trying to hire someone for weeks, but most of the applications were worthless, and there were too many other things that needed his attention to focus on finding a viable candidate.

  He swiped his forearm across his sweaty brow and squinted up at the sun, guessing it had to be close to noon. Tex had met him around ten, and they’d been checking gear, cleaning boats, and organizing equipment while they hashed out details for the barbecue while Patrick handled customers. He’d hoped the physical labor would help take his mind off of Faith and what she’d said last night. Have you run out of girls already?

  Chuckling under his breath, he dragged the boat he was working on back into the boathouse. She’d looked hot last night in that tight little dress. Faith was something, all right. Flustered as could be every time he saw her in Cole’s office, and then she came up with that when he asked her to dance? Have you run out of girls already? Did she think he made the rounds everywhere he went?

  That thought grated on him like nails on a chalkboard.

  His cell phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. “Hey, Ty. What’s up?”

  “You tell me. You cut out early last night.”

  “I wanted to get an early start this morning,” he said.

  Sam tapped Tex on his tattooed shoulder and motioned with his thumb over his shoulder up to the parking lot.

  Tex lifted serious dark eyes and nodded.

  Sam headed up to the parking lot, smiling when he saw his bike. Usually he drove his truck, but this morning he’d been restless and needed the freedom his motorcycle offered.

  “Like that’s ever stopped you from having a good time before,” Ty said sarcastically. “Want to tell me what’s really going on?”

  “Not really,” he mumbled, grabbing his helmet off the back of the bike.

  “Cole was pretty annoyed last night. Did he get to you?”

  Sam had chewed on his brother’s comment all night. As if the women he slept with intrigued him? What was intriguing about women who threw themselves at a guy? Hell, they were after one thing. A good time, just as he was. They all played the same games. Different faces, different names, same overt come-ons. Not that he didn’t appreciate them. Sex was better than any drug out there, but strangely, it hadn’t been his drug of choice last night. He had yet to meet a woman who made him want to get to know her better, or seek her out.

  As he straddled the bike, he thought, Until Faith.

  “Dude, you still there?”

  Ty’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Sorry. Don’t worry about Cole. He’ll have plenty of time to get over it on his honeymoon. I’m sure by now he’s lying out on the beach at Treat’s resort in Tahiti with a drink in one hand and Leesa’s hand in the other.” Their cousin Treat Braden owned resorts all over the world and had generously offered Cole and Leesa a stay at the resort of their choice.

  “Probably so. What’re you doing now?” Ty asked. “Want to hit the trails for a while, or are you buried in paperwork?” He was home for a few weeks between climbs, and like Sam, he rarely sat still. In addition to women, hiking, biking, rafting, and climbing were just a few of the interests they shared.

  “Can’t. Sorry. I’m headed home to shower. I’ve got plans this afternoon. But I’ll catch up with you tonight. Whispers? Around eight?” Although their brother Nate owned Tap It, one of the busiest restaurant and bars in town, Sam and Ty liked to hang out where there were live bands, hordes of single women, and less familial eyes keeping tabs on them.

  An hour later, freshly showered and still confused about his rampant interest in Faith, Sam was determined to figure it out—and not to get blown off again. He climbed into his truck and drove over to Harbor Park. Two bikini-clad women held up signs for the Women Against Cheaters Car Wash and guided Sam into one of two long lines of cars.

  What the hell? Women Against Cheaters?

  He pulled up behind a blue sedan to wait his turn, his eyes searching for Faith. Girls wearing skimpy shorts with bikini tops, one-piece bathing suits, or tanks and shorts soaped, scrubbed, and hosed down the vehicles. Normally Sam would sit back and enjoy the view, only he wasn’t seeing the view he wanted.

  He wondered if he’d misunderstood when Faith had said she was hosting a car wash at Harbor Park. When it was his turn, a big-busted blonde stopped by his open window and smiled up at him.

  “Thanks for coming out to the car wash. You might want to close your window so you don’t get wet.”

  “Thanks,” he said absentmindedly, still looking for Faith. He finally spotted her across the parking lot, focusing intently on her phone. Faith’s hair was pinned up in a ponytail, and she wore a pink bikini top and a pair of white shorts, awakening every inch of Sam’s body. He stepped from the truck, wondering what she was so enthralled with. A text from a boyfriend? His muscles corded tight with the thought.

  “What about your window?” the blonde asked.

  Sam barely registered the question. He handed her the keys with an offhanded thanks and rounded the truck toward Faith.

  **

  THE CAR WASH had been busy since they’d opened, and Faith couldn’t be happier with the turnout. She was glad to finally meet some of the other members of WAC in person after getting to know them on the forums. It was oddly beautiful that awful circumstances brought them together. The bonds they formed over their hurtful pasts were strong and lasting, and after meeting them in person, her desire to help them was even stronger.

  It had been a long time since she’d had this much fun, and as she finished posting a few pictures across social media for the group, she was excited to dive back in with the girls. She shoved her phone in her pocket as Lira, one of the members from a neighboring town, approached with a worried look in her eyes.

  “Everything okay?” Faith knew from their online discussions that Lira had suffered the kind of broken heart that not many people would easily bounce back from. Her husband of three years had
not only cheated on her, but he’d cheated with her sister, who was also her babysitter. In exchange for babysitting, Lira had let her sister use her car. Now she'd lost her husband and her babysitter, and if that wasn't enough, as soon as her ex moved out, he stopped helping with their bills and hadn’t been back to see their eighteen-month-old baby, Emmie, in weeks.

  Lira fidgeted with the fringe of her shorts, which looked about as old as her paper-thin flip-flops. Her straight dark hair was parted to the side and fell over one eye. She tucked it behind her ear as she spoke. “Can we talk for a minute alone?”

  “Of course.” Faith led her farther away from the group. “Is something wrong?”

  “I was wondering if you knew of any free therapists. I see my ex everywhere around town, and between that and barely having enough money to pay my bills, I feel like I’m getting a little lost. And it’s more than just what happened. I can’t stand thinking about Emmie growing up around my sister and thinking what she did was okay. I also don’t want her to choose the wrong guys when she’s older, like I did. I think talking to a professional might help me figure all that out.”

  “Oh, Lira. I’m so sorry you’re going through such a hard time, but Emmie’s a lucky girl. You want to break the cycle of destructive behavior, and wanting it is the first step to making it happen.” She embraced her, mentally going through the names of therapists Cole’s office referred their pain patients to. Unfortunately, they were all in Peaceful Harbor. “Have you talked to your insurance company about finding a therapist or a counselor of some sort?”

  Lira’s face reddened with embarrassment. “I don’t have insurance. I had to leave my job because they paid so little I couldn’t afford a full-time babysitter, and finding a job in my small town is like finding a needle in a haystack. I make enough with my part-time job to pay for health insurance for Emmie, but it’s too expensive to cover myself, too.”

  It was one thing to hear about the WAC members’ stories online, but to actually meet Lira, to see the fear in her eyes and hear the embarrassment in her voice, brought a lump to Faith’s throat—and strengthened her desire to do more.