by Ev Bishop
Rick sat back down and Sam’s composure returned. He was good looking. He was rich. And he saw all the qualities in her that she wanted to possess.
She pushed her doubts away and beamed while he ordered for her—drinks and everything and she didn’t even get ID’d. She was already looking forward to the after dinner party. He was going to introduce her to some of his friends. That had to mean something, right?
“Ugh, you were an idiot.” Aisha’s sharp groan of disbelief cut into Sam’s story, pulling her back to the porch and the dregs of her tea. She wrapped both hands around her mug. “Yeah, and you don’t know the half of it.”
“So it wasn’t rape or anything like that?”
“Nope. Just pure stupidity, I’m afraid. That was the first night we had sex, and I was on the pill. . . . I just didn’t know antibiotics I was taking for something else basically cancelled it out.”
“So you got blitzed when I was pregnant?”
Sam winced. “A few times, but only before I found out. And you’re fine.”
“Does this Rick guy know I exist?”
Truth or lie, Sam pondered. She nodded slowly.
“And he didn’t care?”
“No. Denied you were his, and a paternity test? Well, it wasn’t even something that entered my head as a possibility.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but are you positive it was him, not—”
“I’m sure. I was a vagina-virgin until I met him.”
“A what? That’s an awful thing to refer to anyone as.”
“I’m sorry—and I’m sorry I don’t have a nicer story to tell you about your conception, something involving young love or star-crossed but genuine lovers.”
“Is that why you broke up, because of me?”
“Not even close. We carried on for a bit because I didn’t know I was carrying you until I was almost four months in. It was something that happened later.”
“What—or is that too personal?”
Sam smiled ruefully and shook her head. “This is your story too, for better or worse. Of course it’s not too personal.”
Aisha poured them more tea.
“We went to a small party—in a huge, fancy house up on the bench. It was held in this big rec room in the basement that had a leather bar counter and everything. I was young enough to think it was ‘awesome’ and ‘cool,’ not tackier than hell.”
Aisha laughed, sounding a bit nervous to Sam.
“It took me a few minutes to realize something was strange—then I pinpointed it. I was the only girl at the party.”
Aisha made a concerned noise.
“I know, right? Anyway, Rick took my jacket and within all of three minutes I knew I’d made a huge, stupid, embarrassing mistake.” The heat in Sam’s cheeks told her she was blushing again.
“As he took off my coat, he gave me a little spin. I was wearing a fitted white dress with a diamond shaped cut out in the front—hello, eighties!—that he’d bought for me. I smiled, feeling flattered, like we were dancing or something . . . and then he said, ‘So what’d I tell you, guys? Can you believe it?’”
Aisha looked perplexed and Sam ran her finger along the rim of her mug. “It wasn’t what he said so much as how he said it, his tone or something, and the way the men in the room looked at me. I . . . it was just . . . ” Sam broke off, shaking her head.
“Anyway his oiliness there was just the cake. The icing on the cake was that at the same moment, a petite blonde—the guy who owned the house’s wife, I found out later—came down the stairs with a huge tray of snacks.”
And suddenly, just like that, Sam was back in that excruciating moment.
The woman’s cool, penetrating eyes caught Sam’s and she shook her head.
“Just a poker night with the guys, hey? No wives, but dates are all right? What is she, all of seventeen? You’re disgusting.” The woman had put the tray down on a counter and started back up the stairs when her husband hollered, “What’s the problem, honey? You see the girl you used to be and feel a bit left out?”
Aisha made an exaggerated gagging sound.
Sam started. “Too much? I’m sorry.”
“Not too much. I just feel a bit homicidal right now.”
Sam nodded.
“So that’s when you figured it out, that you should end it, when you saw what a pig he was?”
Sam shook her head. “No, actually, it was the expression in the woman’s eyes when she looked at me, sad. Sad and resigned.” What Sam didn’t say—and God-willing would go to her grave with—was who the woman was. Caren Archer. As in Callum’s mother. It had given her a real turn when she’d shown up in Greenridge to deal with her Uncle’s estate and she realized old Duncan was still around. She, of course, had flirted with him and acted like she didn’t know him at all—just in the off chance he remembered her. Who wanted to look like some lame, taken advantage of kid?
Aisha was talking again and Sam pulled herself, with difficulty, back to the present once more.
“Have you ever married?”
“Nope. Came close a few times, but no cigar.”
“Because your heart was broken?”
Sam was about to say yes, but then a nugget of truth choked her. Why hadn’t she seen it before?
“Yes and no. My heart was broken long before I met creepy Rick. I think it was pride. I was so ashamed of being so dumb that I kept everyone at a distance after that. I never wanted to be that weak—or that humiliated again.” Sam saw the expression in Aisha’s eyes and attempted to lighten the mood with another truth. “Don’t feel too badly for me. I’ve also had a lot of fun.”
Aisha’s eyes narrowed at Sam’s grin. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”
A low gurgle and half cry came from the cabin. Aisha cocked her head, listening. Sam couldn’t believe she’d practically forgotten little sleeping Mo. “Do you have to get her?”
Silence from the cracked door. “Not yet, but soon. I have one more question.”
“Yeah?”
“Why’d you keep me if the situation surrounding my conception was so messed up?”
Sam smiled. “I guess, despite all my cynicism, I liked the idea of some Kendall girl living the good life somewhere.”
Aisha snort-laughed. “Well, sorry to disappoint you.”
Convoluted emotions made Sam’s voice a little sharper than she intended. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not disappointed at all. You’re all I hoped you’d be and more.”
Aisha blushed and laced and unlaced her fingers.
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“I still don’t think you and my dad are a good idea. I’m sorry.”
Sam laughed. “That makes two of us, but I’m not backing off. And I’m sorry about that.”
In the cabin, Mo let out a blood-curdling scream.
“Alrighty then,” Aisha said. Sam didn’t know who triggered the comment: the baby or her.
But Aisha didn’t disappear immediately. “Do you mind?” she asked.
Sam was confused at first. Then Aisha gave her a hesitant one-armed side hug. She wrapped her arm around Aisha’s waist and squeezed back just as cautiously.
When Aisha stepped away, she nodded once and headed into the cabin. Sam waved a crutch at her daughter’s retreating figure. Life was a surprising thing sometimes. And not always in a terrible way, either.
Chapter 29
Dog sprang to her side from behind the cover of a nearby hedge as if to check where Sam was, making Sam giggle.
“I’m here. You’re fine. Go play.”
Dog bounded off with almost as much giddy joy as Sam was feeling. She leaned her crutches against the deck, gripped the handrail, and did a one-legged hop up the stairs, trying to be as quiet as she could so she wouldn’t lose the element of surprise. It was no use though. The door whipped open before she made it across the porch.
“Sam.” Charlie’s voice was like hot chocolate or coffee with heavy cream, smooth and comforting, warming her from th
e inside out. “You came back.”
“I did.”
His eyes squinted in a smile and he held the door wide open to her.
“So you checked your phone messages I take it?”
Sam shook her head, accepting the arm he offered her for balance. Heat coursed through her at this simplest of physical connection. “Not yet. I wanted to know—and I wanted you to know—that I returned on my own volition because I decided I was being a twit.”
“Hmm, sounds like you gave yourself quite a harsh lecture.”
Sam laughed then sighed deeply as Charlie slid his arm around her waist and helped her to the couch. How could this silly cabin and this man feel so solidly like home after such a short time? She shook her head—then tuned into what Charlie was saying.
“. . . so yeah, if you don’t mind, I’d love it if you’d just delete those messages and spare me the humiliation.”
“Say what?”
“They’re . . . mortifying. Full of desperation and lovesick whining.”
“Lovesick whining, hey?”
He bowed his head. “Yeah.”
“Well, now you’re talking. A full team of warriors couldn’t keep me from listening to them.”
Charlie settled onto the couch, tucked her against his side, and sighed softly.
“What?” Sam asked.
“Nothing—just that I’ve been so stupid.”
“Oh, just that, hey? How so?”
“I actually thought I might not be up to loving you, that I couldn’t handle the risk.”
Sam laughed, earning a confused look from Charlie. “It just seems to be the theme of my life right now,” she explained, and shot a look up to the ceiling. “I get it already. I get it.”
“And?”
“And I agree, Charlie. There’s nothing of value without risk.”
He nodded. “I know it’s early days, but I think . . . no, I know. I love you, Sam, and I want to see where our feelings take us. And if we fall out of love, I will never stop working until we fall back into it, and if you stop loving me, I’ll love you—”
Sam put a finger to his mouth. “Is that the type of stuff your messages are full of?”
He winced. “Maybe.”
She clapped. “Oh, goody. We can listen to them together, every night and—”
He grabbed her wrists and tugged her gently forward, then pressed his lips softly to hers, then harder.
Sam was dizzy in a lusty, blood surging sort of way when she pulled back. “Before we get too distracted—about what you were saying. That’s how I feel too. It’s sort of a miracle, isn’t it?”
But Charlie’s focus had moved on. “You think you can distract me?”
“Sweetie, I can frigging hypnotize you.”
A low chuckle poured from Charlie’s throat—then choked to a stop when Sam pressed her palm against his thigh, and ran her hand up. . . .
“I can’t wait for you to give it your best shot,” he murmured against her mouth.
Epilogue
River’s Sigh was an oasis of every shade of green the mind could conjure—emerald and jade, evergreen and lime, moss and fern, you name it, and the flowerbeds Jo had knocked herself out in all spring were a parade of joy and color. To heck with being a writer. Maybe he’d take up painting.
Charlie cut the engine and he and Sam climbed out of the Mercedes, accompanied by Dog who took off at a full run for Hoover who came out of the main house with Jo.
Sam headed for Jo right off too, and Charlie followed slowly, letting the rushing gurgle and sigh of the creek fill his senses with the peace every niche and cranny of the place seemed to offer. The sweet scent of nicotiana filled the early evening air but the bright blossoms weren’t decked out any finer than Sam was, and the August sun was still hot and life giving—again, not unlike his new wife. His wife.
His phone beeped and Charlie read the incoming text from Theresa with a smile, then fired off a quick reply: “Great news, thanks. I’m stoked they like the two books and the new series idea. Just into River’s Sigh. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He turned his phone off, shoved it into his pocket, and continued his trek, marveling again at his mind-blowing luck—and Sam’s sweet ass—as he trailed behind her and Jo and the dogs down the path that led to Silver.
Dog ambled back to him and nudged his leg as if to say hurry up—and Sam looked back and winked like Dog was her private, psychically sent messenger.
“It’s just so great—but also so surprising,” Jo was saying. “You’ve only known each other six months.”
Sam’s laughter tinkled and cliché or not, Charlie felt like his heart might burst—and then Sam was replying. “Well, good grief, Jo—did you think I’d wait forever? We need to enjoy our S.B.S.G.B. ending, while we can.”
Charlie caught up to the sister who held—and would always hold—his undying love and affection. Then he hugged her from behind. “Not a chance. There will be no stopping because there will be no shit that gets bad. We’re definitely getting an H.E.A.”
“A happily ever after, hey? For sure?”
“Yeah.” He nuzzled her neck for emphasis. “For sure.”
Jo stepped away from them, laughing. “I have no idea what gibberish you guys are speaking, but if you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“I really am,” Sam whispered.
“We both are,” Charlie added, as Sam leaned into his body with a sigh.
“Oh, good grief, get a room,” Jo said.
Sam winked. “Oh, we got one. Don’t worry.”
“Yeah,” Charlie said. “And rumor has it that it sports a tub that fits two people just perfectly.”
“I still can’t believe you’re the mysterious couple who rented Silver for all of August and into the fall,” Jo said. “Or that Aisha actually managed to keep it a secret these past few weeks.”
As if cued, Aisha appeared on Minnow’s small porch, chubby little Mo perched on one hip. “I’ll come visit after work,” she hollered.
“Sounds good,” they called back.
“Honestly, we just got married so we could honeymoon in that gorgeous tub,” Sam said a moment later.
Jo smacked her. “Too much information. Too much.”
Sam laughed throatily. “It’s too easy. I can’t resist.”
They were in front of Silver now and Charlie’s head was filled with memories of the first time they’d shared the space together—how simultaneously tantalized and tortured he’d felt. A tremor of happiness and desire quaked through him. This time they’d share the space properly.
Sam crossed her arms over Charlie’s and studied the posh cabin too. “And just think, once our new place is finished next door, neither you, Callum or the poor guy will ever be free of me.”
“I’d better be the poor guy you mean,” Charlie said.
“We’ll see,” Sam said coyly, and turned to face him. He loosened his hold on her just enough to accommodate the shift.
“Well, that’s my cue.” Jo placed the keys on Silver cabin’s railing, whistled for Hoover, and sneaked away.
“Wait!” Sam called.
Jo turned back. “What’s up?”
“On the phone, when I called to give you the heads up about when we’d get in, you said there’s some big mess with your in-laws and Callum’s black sheep of a brother is coming to River’s Sigh for a visit?”
“Gag, don’t remind me—and don’t give it a thought. It’s your honeymoon. Sufficient unto the day is the evil of the senior Archer men and all that. We’ll talk later.”
“Are you sure?”
Charlie held his breath. Of course he’d share Sam tonight if he had to, but that didn’t mean he wanted to.
“I’m sure. Thanks though.”
Sam waved and her full attention rested back on Charlie. He swooped her up and carried her over the threshold.
“I love you,” she said after he settled her back on the ground and she stopped laughing. “No holds barred. No alternative route or exit plans. Thank you.
”
It was on the tip of Charlie’s tongue to say I love you too, but he got confused. “What do you mean thank you?”
Sam shrugged, but didn’t avert her eyes. “I . . . just never believed love would happen for me. I’m so grateful to you for showing me it exists in so many different ways.”
“Well, you’re welcome,” Charlie said, his voice husky. “But from the moment you flipped me the bird on the highway, it never occurred to me that you wouldn’t know how immensely loveable you are.”
Sam laughed. “Uh huh.”
“And not only do I love you today, Sam. I will love you for all of our days.”
“Can I hold you to that?
“You’d better.”
“I can’t believe I ever thought I could do anything but love you,” she said seriously. “I think I was waiting for you all of my life.”
He kissed her. And then he kissed her again. And then he whispered, “Thank you.”
Dear Reader,
I adored spending time with Sam and Charlie at River’s Sigh B & B, my own dream getaway. If you enjoyed it too, you’ll be happy to know their story, and the stories of so many other people living in or visiting Greenridge, continues in Spoons, River’s Sigh B & B, Book 3—available now!
I’d love to hear from you, so please visit evbishop.com, sign up for my newsletter, find me on Facebook or follow my Tweets. And on a similar note, reviews really, really help authors. Please consider leaving a rating and a few kind words on GoodReads, your blog, Facebook, or anywhere else you like to hang out when your nose isn’t in a book. Thank you so much for reading.
Wishing you love, laughter and adventure—inside the pages and out of them,
Eager to enjoy more River’s Sigh B & B? Me too! For a taste of what’s ahead, dig into SPOONS now.
Chapter 1
Noelle’s girdle chewed at the flesh under her ribcage and the chub at the top of her thighs. And speaking of thighs, an itchy friction rash was forming. How on earth could her legs chafe when she wasn’t even walking? Good times. Sweat trickled under the unintentional cleavage bursting forth from the cotton V-neck she’d thought would travel well—thought wrong. Over the barren miles of highway, it became a stretched out, shapeless mess, like the rest of her come to think of it.
