“Christ, Samantha.” He let out a long, shaky breath and stilled.
“Shh. Let me love you.” His body was hot, hard, and ready.
Dalton didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He gripped the bedspread in his hands and held on for the ride.
She stroked him with the heat of her mouth. Taking as much of him in before she hummed a song.
Dalton released a low and throaty groan that was so sexy, it made her body quiver to give him such pleasure. As he tensed beneath her touch, she increased the pressure, quickened the pace. His hands threaded through her hair, guiding her where he wanted her.
She looked up to see his eyes closed and a look of pure pleasure on his face. His breath quickened, and his muscles tensed.
“Samantha, I’m—” He tried to pull her away. He sank his hips deeper into the mattress.
She ignored him and continued until her efforts wrenched a groan. His muscles tensed, then shook, and he came with a curse. She didn’t let up until his body finished shuddering and his muscles relaxed.
He reached for her and pulled her up and next to him. “God, Samantha. That was … everything.”
Samantha knew the sentiment well. Each time Dalton loved her body, it was everything. She feared without him, she’d have nothing.
“I’m sorry I left you. I really thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Dalton, we are stronger together.” Samantha curled into his side until she heard his breath deepen and slow. When she knew he was asleep, she rolled out of bed and sat in the chair in the corner with her phone.
Deanna had been texting her regularly throughout the day. Each hour, she’d sent a message with the name of the newest sacrificial lamb. Dave was firing a person an hour. Samantha was hiring a person per hour. By the end of the day, she’d have her own crew. All she needed was a label and a recording studio.
The next hour, she traded messages with her accountant. He wasn’t pleased with the turn of events, but he wasn’t a fan of Dave’s, so he understood her need to protect those loyal to her.
She dozed for a minute, dreaming about a future that didn’t seem possible. In the dream, she and Dalton walked hand in hand down Main Street. It was spring, and her friends peeked their faces out of the shops to say hello. Children played in Hope Park. Businesses moved into the Guild. It was perfect until she woke up and realized it was a dream. The beauty of dreams was, they cost nothing and anything was possible.
Dalton stirred, and she rushed to his side, climbing onto the bed to snuggle next to him. “You okay? You need anything?”
He wrapped his free arm around her. “I’ve got everything I need.”
For three days, they hid out at the bed and breakfast. No one was the wiser that Dalton had returned to Aspen Cove or that Samantha had left her cabin. Sage and Katie pretended to visit each day. They’d stay a few minutes and bring clean clothes. Bowie made a middle-of-the-night visit to Dalton’s and picked up a few things he needed.
Three beautiful, blissful days were spent in each other’s arms. It was like putting her life on pause while they caught up. It was easy to get to know a person when you spent every minute of every day with them. She liked what he did for her body, but she loved what he did for her soul. She’d come to Aspen Cove to find clarity. For those hours Dalton was gone, nothing was clear. The minute he returned, it came together. She may have had it all, but she had nothing without him.
Come Sunday, they had to vacate their room at the bed and breakfast. Sage had a group arriving that afternoon. Samantha and Dalton braved the world together. What was done was done. She was getting a lot of backlash from her relationship with Dalton, but if she let society decide who she could date, she was no better off than when she allowed Dave to be a dictator.
She had heard nothing from him in two days, which was simultaneously nice and terrifying. Dave was not the type of man to go down easy.
Dalton was stiff and sore, but each day he moved more fluidly. At night when he made love to her, she couldn’t even tell he was injured.
They looked outside. They had two choices: They could walk proudly out the front door and up the street into the throng of persistent reporters, or they could sneak back along the edge of the water to their cabins. Samantha decided their path when she said she would not hide the best thing in her life.
Hand in hand, they left the bed and breakfast and walked down Lake Circle. About a half dozen photographers turned in shock to see the couple appear. Shutters clicked, and the questions came nonstop.
When they reached the front of Dalton’s cabin, Samantha’s heart dropped to the hard ground. Spray painted in red over the exterior of his cabin was the word ‘Killer’.
She turned toward the reporters. “Where were your cameras when this was going on?” She stomped forward until she was in front of Jake. “I expected more from you. You have a responsibility to report the truth. Report the damn truth, and do it with fairness and integrity.” Her voice rose until it hit near hysteria. She pointed to Dalton, and then looked back at the reporters. “He killed a man, and by definition that makes him a killer, but do your damn homework. He’s not a killer. He’s the best man I know.”
She marched toward Dalton and threaded her fingers through his in a sign of unity. “My house or yours?”
“Mine. I’ll make you an edible meal.” She followed him inside. The cameras clicked, and she knew the next picture posted would be of her and Dalton walking into his home, beside them the red paint, running down the wood like blood.
In minutes, Dalton was in the kitchen whipping together a meal worthy of Michelin’s highest three-star rating. Samantha set the table. They sat in front of the window overlooking the lake. Days ago the water was solid, but today cracks and fissures marred the once smooth surface, proving that everything changed.
“In a few weeks, you won’t even know the lake was ever covered in ice.” Dalton poured them a glass of white wine and sat down next to her to enjoy the salmon and grilled veggies.
“Hopefully in a few weeks, all of this other stuff will be a memory too.” Samantha laid her hand on top of Dalton’s. “I’ll get someone to fix your house.”
“It’s not a big deal.” Though his words were positive, the lines on his face were etched with concern.
She sipped her wine. Actually gulped it. She needed the alcohol to numb her anger. Name-calling was one thing. Destroying someone’s property was another. Why did his crime count and the vandal’s didn’t?
“It’s a big deal to me. If I wouldn’t have come here, your life wouldn’t have changed.”
He dropped his fork, and his tight expression softened with such love and passion. “If you hadn’t come here, Samantha, my life wouldn’t have changed.”
“Yes, that’s what I said.” She picked up her glass and emptied it.
“Change isn’t always a bad thing.”
“I don’t want to be bad for you.” She forked a bite of perfectly cooked fish.
“Baby, you’re so bad, you’re good.”
“Get me drunk, and I’ll show you how bad I can be.”
He topped off her glass.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dalton left his house early in the morning. Thankfully, the paparazzi weren’t early risers. The only cameras present belonged to the reporters sleeping in their cars. In his rearview mirror, he watched as the red paint on his house faded from sight.
Not wanting to cause his mom or his business problems, he snuck into the kitchen from the back entrance and went to work. He liked to visit their patrons, but he knew he’d be stuck in the kitchen all day.
When his mother walked in, she did what all good mothers do. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug. It was the same hug she’d given him seven years ago after sentencing, and the same hug she gave him last year when he came home. The hug that said, “I love you unconditionally, and I wish I could improve your life.”
No words were exchanged. They didn’t need words. It was al
ways them against the world, and both knew they had each other’s back.
Maisey stood back. “How’s the road rash?”
“Feels better than it looks.” He’d inspected the scabbing after his shower. There were a few deep places where he’d scar, but all in all, considering he’d slid about fifty feet across the pavement, he was in good shape.
“How is Samantha?” Maisey had visited them in the bed and breakfast several times. Dalton wasn’t sure if it was to spend time with him and Samantha or save them from frozen lasagna, because she always came with food. One night it was chicken fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy. The second time, it was spaghetti and meatballs, the kind that simmered on a stovetop for hours.
“She’s good. Her life is a mess. Her manager is a jerk. The press continues to hound her. They’re trying her for my crime.”
“She seems tough enough to handle it all.”
“For a tiny thing, she’s filled with tough stuff. I worry that my presence in her life will ruin her career. Fans are fickle.”
Mom prepped several coffee filters, filling them with grounds and stacking them up so they were ready when she opened the door. One positive thing about the influx of press was that it would bring more customers to the diner. So far, no one had put two and two together and figured out that Dalton was Maisey’s son. She was a Bishop now, and that would help. Plus, they were too focused on Samantha and Dalton to give other family connections much thought.
He hated that one act years ago would define his life forever and possibly ruin the lives of those he loved.
“I like her, Dalton. It takes courage to be the one percent.”
Samantha was part of the ‘one percent’ that saw him for the man he was, and not the man the press made him out to be.
“I like her too.” He liked everything about her, from the way he fit inside her body to the way she sang when no one was looking. Those were the songs from her heart. She spent hours each day curled up next to him, scribbling on a notepad. She said she was writing her next album and that it would be a secret.
Maisey took the stack of prepped coffee filters and walked through the swinging doors. It was seven o’clock and time to open.
Business was booming. Dalton didn’t have time to slow down until the doors closed at two. He was scraping the grill when the back door opened and Samantha walked inside.
“How did you get away?”
“The sheriff came and got me. He said he had some errands to run and thought I might like lunch. He told the reporters that if they followed him, he’d cite them for interfering with an investigation. When they asked him what kind of investigation, he spouted off a dozen things that started with invasion of privacy to slander. They packed up their bags and left. If I wasn’t there, there was no story. I’m sure they’ll be back.”
“Are you hungry?” Dalton lifted her and set her down on the stainless-steel prep table. He stepped between her legs and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I can make you that omelet you like. Or how about a waffle?”
“I hoped you could start your culinary school and make me your first student.”
“You want to learn how to cook?”
“I want to learn how to cook something you like to eat.”
Dalton’s mind went straight to the gutter. His hands traveled up the thighs of her worn jeans and settled at the juncture between. “My favorite thing to eat requires absolutely no prep. The only ingredient is you.”
“Men.” She shook her head. “One-track mind. Besides, that’s dessert.” She winked at him and slid from the metal table to the tile floor. She wrapped her arms around his waist. He expected her to squeeze him tight like she always did. Instead, she removed his apron and tied it around her waist.
“Your student is ready.”
He laughed. The hem of his apron reached the tops of her tennis shoes. “You’re going to trip.” He rolled it up and retied it to her waist. “Can you boil water?”
She fisted up and slugged him in the arm. “I’m not Sage. I’ve got water boiling down to an art. I can also make a mean grilled cheese and an awesome mystery loaf.”
“Mystery loaf?”
She smiled. “Like you, when I was a kid, I did some cooking. Mom worked all day, so I made dinner, but I was limited to three things. It was cheesy potato and ham casserole, meatloaf or what I called mystery loaf because I tossed in whatever we had, or grilled cheese. I can’t say I mastered any of them, but grilled cheese was the best. The rest, I mostly ruined.” Her shoulders slumped forward. “I’m good at ruining things.”
He lifted her chin and kissed her sweetly. “Not everything.”
The sound that left her was a cross between a snort and a groan. “Look at your life now. Two weeks ago you were living a happy, quiet life, and now everything is a mess.”
“Sweetheart, two weeks ago I wasn’t even living. I didn’t know it until you arrived.”
She pulled a hair tie from her pocket and fastened her hair into a high ponytail. “You can’t say it’s been boring. I mean, I’ve brought a lot to Aspen Cove.” She said it in a tongue-in-cheek fashion. “There’s the pestilence that camps outside our cabins.” She walked around the kitchen, checking out the spices, the equipment, and him.
He nodded. “There’s that.”
“I sang you a song or two.” She hummed something he didn’t recognize.
Dalton thought about how much he liked her humming when her mouth was full—of him. “I like it when you sing.” He reached above the grill for a loaf of bread.
“And we can’t forget about the art.”
He placed the bread on the counter and pulled a block of cheese from the refrigerator below. “The art?”
She opened her eyes and tilted her head. “I like the band The Killers, but I wouldn’t have chosen to spray paint it on my cabin.”
He laughed even though it wasn’t funny. No one wanted to live in a place that was vandalized in such a way. “No accounting for taste.”
“Speaking of taste, what are you going to teach me to cook?”
“I thought we’d learn from each other. You teach me how to make a mean grilled cheese sandwich, and I’ll teach you how to make roasted creamy tomato soup from scratch.”
They went to work side by side. Her secret recipe was to throw in several varieties of cheese, and instead of butter, she slathered the bread with mayonnaise and cooked it to a golden brown. Dalton fire roasted several tomatoes, added them to the blender with stock and cream and a few spices.
Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in the diner with Maisey and Ben eating the best grilled cheese sandwich of his life with passable tomato soup. In a perfect world, this would be his forever. Sadly, the world was imperfect, but not in that moment.
Once the kitchen was cleaned, they piled into his truck. They didn’t return home right away because going back to the cabin meant ruining this perfect moment, so they headed to the other side of the lake to visit Sam and eat ice cream.
Today’s flavors were Bee’s Knees, with honeycomb chunks and mini chocolate chips; Bloody Sundae, with vanilla ice cream and raspberry sauce; and Monkey in the Middle, with chocolate ice cream with bananas. Sam sprinkled them all with his ‘ants’.
Samantha sat on Dalton’s right side, afraid she’d bump into his left and hurt him. He loved the way she looked out for him even though all thoughts of his injuries were gone the second they hit the sheets.
They finished their ice cream, and he helped her into the truck when his phone buzzed. Cannon messaged him and told him to pull between their cabins and park on the lakeside of his property.
“I think the press is back in full force.” He handed his phone to Samantha.
She read the text and groaned. “I’m so sorry. Maybe I should leave.”
Before he started the truck, he turned in her direction. “You are not leaving me. We’ll figure it all out. Eventually, they’ll get bored and leave us alone.”
She raised her perfe
ctly plucked brow like she didn’t believe him. He had to get her to believe because he wanted her to stay.
“I didn’t come to Aspen Cove to ruin the town.”
He unbuckled her seat belt and pulled her to his side. “How have you ruined anything?” She straddled his lap, and he bit back a groan when her shoe scraped along the deepest part of his injured leg. “You make everything sweeter.” He kissed her passionately and pulled back. “You are the Bee’s Knees.”
She touched her forehead to his. “That’s the ice cream you’re tasting.”
“Doubtful. I’ve tasted you and the ice cream. You are infinitely more satisfying.”
“Remember that when something else goes wrong.”
He cupped her frowning face. “Samantha, life will never be easy. I knew that before I met you, but you make whatever we have to face worthwhile. We are better together.” They sat in the truck for another five minutes and held each other. They were enjoying their time together or maybe getting the courage to face what was to come.
When they arrived back in Aspen Cove, things weren’t as he expected. Gone was the word ‘Killers’. In front of his cabin was Wes Covington, the town’s resident contractor. He stood in front of the newly sandblasted cabin, winding up the cord to his equipment. Dalton waved as he passed.
Samantha turned her head and watched the reporters run for cover.
“Are those bees?”
In front of his cabin was Abby Garrett in full beekeeping gear, setting up her hives.
One thing he loved about the town was how the locals circled the wagons around their own.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Bees?” Deanna said. “Your security system is bees?”
“That’s right,” Samantha replied. She took a diet soda from the refrigerator and walked to the front door, where she watched Abby shake bees from the hive. Swarms of them flew in every direction. The last of the diehard photographers took off running. “It’s quite effective.”
One Hundred Wishes Page 16
