by T. F. Walsh
“My apology. I’m not sorry I ogled you like a stupid teenager. Not if it led to this. This . . . was not something to be sorry about.” With a last, searing look he went back downstairs.
• • •
“Can sleep deprivation make a person horny?”
Sam managed to scrape his chair back in time to avoid being sprayed with coffee . . . and equal amounts of spit.
“You’re so cleaning that up, dude. Geez.” Riley set his mug down on the kitchen table and swiped the back of a hand across his mouth.
“Yeah, that probably could have come out better.”
“Or not at all?” His friend gave him a look that said he’d clearly lost his marbles.
Getting up to retrieve the roll of paper towels from the counter, Sam clenched his jaw and rolled his shoulders. Maybe he was losing it. He was starting to believe that Wynter had feelings for him. Okay, feelings of the shallow, wanna-get-in-your-pants type. But that was a start, right?
He wiped up the mess on the table and the floor, looking up only when he realized how quiet it was. Riley was still watching him carefully. Sam shrugged, getting up off his knees to toss the dirty paper towels. He left the roll on the table in the unfortunate event he should suffer from another case of verbal diarrhea.
“Didn’t we already establish that you liked her?” Riley finally broke his silence.
“I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about Wynter.”
“She’s horny? And you’re complaining? What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“I’m not complaining.” A gusty sigh lifted Sam’s bangs as he raised his arms and let them fall loudly into his lap.
“You think you’re taking advantage of her ‘addled’ state?” Riley queried.
“Huh. Hadn’t really thought of it that way.” Now Sam felt like a heel.
He should have pushed her away the minute she kissed him. She wasn’t in her right mind. She was tired and clingy, unaware of what she was doing. He should have turned away and run downstairs. Instead, he’d enjoyed it. Oh, yeah, he’d really enjoyed it. If Charlotte hadn’t woken up, he wasn’t sure what might have happened.
“Dude, if you could see your face right now.” Riley’s smirk told him just how pathetic he probably looked.
Yeah, he was hooked.
“She kissed me. I mean, I would have, I was going to, but she beat me to it.”
“Aggressive. Nice.” His friend drawled the two words out, making them much more sordid than the situation called for. Sam shot him a dirty look.
“But how do I know it was genuine? I mean, things are pure chaos over there right now.” He looked up from his cold cup of coffee. “I shouldn’t even be here. She might need me.”
“Hold on there, cowboy. Wynter can take care of her own kid for a few minutes while you explain to me what has you so freaked out.”
“I’m not freaked out.” Sam frowned through the lie. So what if he was.
“She’s a beautiful woman with a rack like—” Riley snapped his mouth shut when Sam leaned across the table, his dark eyes menacing. “My point is, she’s single, and you’re single. Go for it.”
“She’s my best friend. Who happened to have been married to my other best friend.”
“A friend who is no longer in the picture.”
“Holt died, Ri. It’s not like they got divorced. If he was still alive, Wynter wouldn’t even be here.”
“And you’re sure it was all hearts and roses and cupid stabbing them in the butts with his arrows?”
“It doesn’t matter. She belonged to him.” Sam slumped down in his chair.
Riley chortled. “Oh, I think Wynter’d kick your ass for that one, boy. She belongs to no one. Of that I am 100 percent certain.”
Riley was missing his point. You didn’t horn in on a friend’s girl. It just wasn’t done.
“What happened to taking care of them for Holt? Doing your duty as a friend?”
“That’s getting pretty darned hard when I am finding it more and more difficult to think of Wynter as just a friend.” Sam sat up in his chair, only to prop his elbows on the table and drop his head into his hands.
“Just do it.” His friend pushed.
“Just do what?” Sam mumbled into his cupped hands.
“Have sex with her. Clear the air, so to speak. Get rid of all this tension. You’ll feel better. She’ll feel better. Well, as long as you don’t knock her up again.”
“Jesus, Riley, you are so crass!”
“Thanks.” The man had the nerve to sit there and grin, proud as could be. Jerk.
“Anyway, I can’t.” He looked up sadly.
“Oh, enough with this Holt stuff. The guy is gone. His widow needs comforting. Just do it.” Again with the Nike slogan. Ugh.
“That’s not why.” Sam studied his blunt fingernails, refusing to look Riley in the eye.
“You got some kind of erectile dysfunction?” Riley looked equal parts smart-ass and discomfited to be having such a discussion.
“Oh, yeah, thirty years old and I can’t get it up.” Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. Until he realized that he’d been incredibly insensitive. Could Riley still . . . ? Did his disability extend . . . there? He smacked a palm against his forehead, refusing to even glance at his friend.
“Don’t even think it, computer geek! All my man parts are in tip-top working order.” Riley glared. “So what is your issue? What’s keeping you from jumping her bones?”
Aside from a deep respect for their friendship? Sam sighed.
“I haven’t been with a woman . . . ” he broke off, embarrassed to be admitting this to anyone.
“You haven’t been with a woman in a while and you’re scared of rushing it?” At least Riley had the decency to keep the mocking tone from his voice this time.
“No, you weren’t listening. I haven’t been with a woman. At all. Ever.” Okay, now he really couldn’t meet Riley’s gaze. Go ahead, let me have it. Give it your best shot.
“Holy crap! You’re a virgin? How the heck does that even happen?”
Sam scowled. “I wanted Wynter to be my first. I just kind of assumed that when I told her how I felt about her, things would progress and we’d be sleeping together by the end of that summer. Only the telling her part? Yeah, never actually got around to that.”
“But you went off to college. You were young, unsupervised. That was your time to let your hair down.”
“I was unsupervised anyway, Riley. My parents had just died!” He snapped at his friend.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean . . . ”
“No, I’m sorry. I know what you were trying to say.” Sam pushed his coffee mug to the center of the table, watching the cooled liquid slosh up against the sides.
“I had strong feelings for Wynter. And apparently stronger morals than I would have ever realized.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Casual sex with just anyone, for the sake of losing my virginity? Held no interest whatsoever.”
“Then you moved to this charming town, where casual sex is no longer even an option,” Riley growled.
“Bitter much?”
“Bite me.”
“I just figured that when I met the woman I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with, then I’d be ready.”
“Yeah, and she’s there, living right under your roof. Go for it.” Riley leaned out of his chair, cocking his head to the side. “You scared she’s gonna get turned off when she learns you’re a virgin?”
“No. Maybe. I dunno. But you’re forgetting one thing. Wynter and I have no future. She wants more than I can give her. She wants Scallop Shores and my grandma’s old bookstore. She wants to raise Charlotte in her old hometown.”
“The hometown you refuse to ever step foot in again.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“Something’s gotta give, dude. Either your morals or your hangups. Otherwise, you’re going to explode.”
That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? He wanted to c
onvince Wynter that they could be happy together—in Vermont. But then he’d be cheating her of her dreams. And if he really loved her, he couldn’t do that to her. If he really loved her, he had to let her go. But it sure would make the parting easier if he had some intimate memories to keep with him once she was gone.
Chapter 10
Sam was up to something. He was acting peculiar, and not in that awkward post-first-kiss way. Wynter stretched out on the couch, Charlotte snoozing on her shoulder. Sam was cooking dinner and it smelled delicious. Sweet, with a touch of cinnamon. It smelled more like breakfast to her.
Wynter’s favorite meal of the day was breakfast. French toast with extra maple syrup, a tall glass of orange juice, heavy on the pulp, and berries, any kind of berries at all. Her stomach started to rumble. Berries wouldn’t be in season for quite a while. More’s the pity.
She stroked her daughter’s silken head, watching that tiny mouth purse up like she was suckling in her sleep. So precious. So innocent. All the anxiety Wynter had felt about becoming a single mother vanished the moment she held her baby in her arms. She could do this. She was born for this. Yes, they would still make arrangements to move back to Scallop Shores. But she was perfectly content to stay with Sam. As long as she could.
“Want to eat in front of the TV? Income Property is coming on.” Sam had popped his head around the doorframe, his smile innocent. A little too innocent?
“Why not.”
Her favorite breakfast . . . for dinner. Her favorite show on her favorite cable channel. Wynter eased off the couch, setting the baby in the secondhand bassinet they had found. Touching that soft, warm cheek with her knuckle, she slipped quietly from the living room to the kitchen.
Sam had tucked a dishtowel into the waistband of his jeans. He stood at the stove, flipping French toast on a griddle. A slow, lazy smile stretched across her cheekbones, crinkling the skin around her eyes. Maybe she ought to watch the Food Network. Something about a man cooking her dinner . . . She licked her lips.
“So what’s the occasion? You have to be just as wiped out as I am.” Wynter stepped into the kitchen and took a deep sniff, groaning. “I would have been happy with a bowl of cereal.”
“What occasion? No occasion. Can’t a guy cook dinner without getting grief about it?”
His movements became jerky, agitated. He dropped a piece of battered toast on its way to the griddle. It bounced off the counter and landed on the floor. Sam bit out a four letter word. What was going on here?
“Sam? I wasn’t giving you grief. You okay, bud?” The guy wouldn’t look her in the eye. Something was definitely up.
“Just go back and sit on the couch. Dinner’s almost ready.” He stooped to pick up the French toast.
Holding it out in front of him, he added, “I’m not serving this one.” As an attempt at humor, it fell flat. His smile looked strained.
Wynter shrugged her shoulders, gave him one last worried once-over and scuffed out of the room in her fuzzy, pink slippers.
Maybe he was regretting their kiss, after all. She pondered that one. Sure, she’d been the one to make the first move, but if he hadn’t been looking at her the way he had . . . She tucked her legs under her as she flopped back down on the couch. Biting her lip, she stared, unseeing, across the room. Now he wouldn’t even look at her. What a difference a day made.
“Hope you’re hungry. I made enough for an army,” Sam trumpeted as he carried a tray loaded down with all her favorites.
“Shh. You’ll wake the baby,” she admonished.
“Nonsense.” He set the tray down and spared a quick look at the infant sleeping a few feet away. “If we start out giving her absolute quiet sleeping conditions, that’s what she’ll come to expect—to need. Right now they can sleep through anything, and it’s best to take advantage of that.”
“Honestly—you know way more about parenting newborns than I do.” She sighed.
“It’s like I explained before. Paulie had her first son while I was home for winter break, my first year of college. You could say I got immersed in a crash course on Newborns 101. Found out I was pretty good at it, actually.” He grinned.
She’d forgotten Sam’s sister had been pregnant when their parents died. It would have been a few months after Sam had disappeared from her life. Pauline and her husband had lived a few towns over from Scallop Shores. He’d been so close to home.
It was the logical choice, really. If Wynter hadn’t been so emotionally shell-shocked, she would have known that. And still she would have stayed away, respected his need for distance.
“I’m glad you didn’t push everyone away. At least not right away.” She spoke gently.
He ignored the comment, setting out the plates and glasses quickly and efficiently. Still he wouldn’t look at her. She took a sip of the juice once it was set in front of her. Fresh squeezed. What had she done to deserve this?
“Sam, you made OJ from scratch? Is it my birthday?” She giggled.
“You haven’t turned the TV on. You’re missing your show.” Deftly, he wielded the remote, flipping the television on and turning the channel to a home improvement show featuring a hunky guy that didn’t look too much different than Sam. Wynter grinned as she realized the similarity. She knew there was a reason this show was her favorite.
Sam carried his plate to the wingback chair. That was odd. They always sat together. Quizzically, she watched him as he propped his bare feet up on the coffee table and focused his attention on balancing his plate while cutting up his French toast.
“So, I’ve gotta tell ya. On one hand, I feel like I’m being spoiled. And on the other, I kind of get the feeling I’m being set up for something bigger.” She popped a thawed blueberry in her mouth. “Got anything you want to tell me, Sam?”
“Want to? Nope.” And to illustrate the point, he stuffed a forkful of food into his mouth, chewing slowly.
“Need to?” She licked syrup off the tip of her finger as she studied her friend.
She was starving, but this whole air of mystery was distracting her. She had to find out what was going on.
“You’re missing the show, Wyn. I don’t think we’ve seen this one before.”
“I don’t give a da—”
“Uh uh uh. Tiny, impressionable ears . . . ” He waggled a finger then gestured toward the bassinet.
Oh, good grief.
“Samuel Dennis, you tell me what is going on. I’m not stupid. Why are you bribing me with French toast?” She watched him squirm in his chair. “What did you do?”
She set the plate down on the coffee table, her appetite having altogether disappeared. Her stomach had begun to twist itself into knots. Her skin felt prickly, right up to her scalp. She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to keep her panic in check. Her gaze flew to the baby, sleeping so peacefully. Suddenly, nothing seemed more important than Charlotte’s welfare.
“You were napping. You needed your rest. I was heading past your door and I heard your cell ring. I didn’t want it to wake you.” He stuffed another bite of food into his mouth and she was forced to wait until he swallowed.
“It was your mom. She was concerned about you. She said you hadn’t spoken to her since the day after you got here.”
Wynter closed her eyes; her racing heart felt like it was ten times too big to fit inside her chest.
“I thought she ought to know. Her granddaughter had arrived. I sent her a photo from your phone.”
“Sam, you had no right.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “She doesn’t know where you live, though. She can’t find us. She can’t come get us.” She looked up wildly. “Can she?”
“She will never take you back to Florida with them. I promise you that.”
“That’s not what I asked, Sam.” Wynter ground her teeth and tried again. “Can she find us?”
“I invited them to visit.” This time she noted he had tears in his eyes. But she’d be damned if it made her any more inclined to forgive him.
“Well, Charlotte, it looks like my dreams of a perfect life for you are over.” She spoke to the baby but her eyes glared daggers at Sam.
“Now just stop it right there!” He set his own plate down and stood up, hovering over her angrily.
“I told you I would protect you. I told you they would not take you away from here. Not unless you want to go.”
“Why Sam? Why did you do it?”
“Because they have a right to meet her, Wyn. She’s their flesh and blood. She’s their legacy. They might not have been the best parents in the world. But that doesn’t mean they forfeit the right to try to be the best damned grandparents they can possibly be.” He was breathing hard.
“This was my choice to make. I wasn’t ready for this.” Her entire body trembled from fear, from emotion. This was a scenario she hadn’t wanted to visit—possibly ever.
“My parents never got to meet Paulie’s kids. My mom never got to hold the baby she’d been knitting a whole freaking wardrobe for.” He turned away, his shoulders quaking.
She’d been so selfishly absorbed in her own reasons for not wanting her parents to know about Charlotte that Wynter hadn’t given any thought to Sam’s motives for taking that call. Oh, Sam.
She went to him, pressing herself into his back, resting her cheek against his ratty sweatshirt and wrapping her arms around his chest. His body was rigid. It was taking every ounce of willpower he had not to cry. She knew it.
“We’ll figure this out, Sam. We’ll let them see her. We’ll protect her. Together.”
He reached up and grasped one of her hands that rested just over his ribs.
“I’m sorry. I had to do it.”
“I know, Sam. I know.” Terror unlike anything she had ever known filled Wynter. This was not going to be a pleasant visit. She had to be strong. Attila the Hun and Genghis Khan were coming to town.
• • •
Sam clamped his mouth shut when Wynter pointed out a smudge he’d missed on one of the windows in his office. His office, for crying out loud! Her parents weren’t even going to see the inside of this particular room. Why? He swallowed the words he would have liked to utter, their taste bitter on his tongue.
