Make Me Stay (Hope #5)

by Jaci Burton

  He had a firm grip on her head, his fingertips massaging her scalp in a way she could only define as Oh-God-keep-doing-that. His other hand roamed her back, inching ever lower until he reached her butt.

  The man was definitely not shy. He grabbed hold of her butt and drew her close against every rock-hard part of him. And some parts of him were definitely harder than others, a fact her body definitely noticed and reacted to by firing up even hotter.

  She was afraid she was going to self-combust. She pressed the palms of her hands against his chest, needing some air. He pulled away, igniting her with the desire she read in his eyes.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  His voice had dropped an octave. Who knew that was such a turn-on?

  “I’m hot.”

  His lips ticked up. “Yeah. I noticed. I’m hard.”

  She reached between them, unable to resist testing him out for size. He was . . . very impressive. “I know.”

  “So . . . you’re hot and I’m hard. Should we do something about that?”

  She looped her arms around his neck. “Most definitely. If I can manage to breathe through it without dying.”

  He frowned. “Asthma attack? Do you need a breather or some meds?”

  “Uh, no. You just steal my breath.”

  He splayed his hands over her back, then lifted her shirt, his fingers playing over her skin. His hands seemed to be everywhere.

  Reid had always struck her as so laid-back. Suddenly he seemed so . . . urgent. And she had to admit, the fact he wanted her rather . . . urgently . . . was firing up her own need in a rather urgent way as well.

  Was there anything hotter than a man who desperately wanted you?

  “Take a couple of deep breaths.”

  She did, shuddering. “You touching me like that isn’t helping.”

  “Like what? Like this?” He teased the top of her pants with the tips of his fingers, dipping just inside the back of them to toy with the top of her underwear.

  Yeah, there went that breathing thing again. “Yes. Like that.”

  “If I took your clothes off, maybe you could breathe better.” His fingers snaked along her rib cage, coming to rest just below her breasts.

  Clothes off. Definitely. “That might help.”

  “Lead the way to your bedroom and let me take care of that for you.”

  She took his hand and started toward the hallway.

  Then her landline phone rang.

  Crap. Only one person called her landline these days.

  “That’s Grammy Claire,” she said. “I have to answer it.”

  He let go of her hand. “Go ahead.”

  She dashed into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

  “Samantha? Is that you?”

  “Of course it is, Grammy Claire. Are you home?”

  “No. I’m . . . I have a question.”

  Something wasn’t right. Sam could tell from her grandmother’s voice. “Okay. What’s your question?”

  “How do I get home from the grocery store? I don’t quite remember what street to turn on out of the parking lot.”

  Sam closed her eyes and leaned against the kitchen counter for support. “I’ll be right there to get you.”

  “No need, dear. I just need a few directions.”

  “I was about to go out anyway, Grammy Claire,” she said, giving Reid a look. “So I’ll just meet you at the store and guide you home, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “You stay right there in your car and I’ll be there in about five minutes. Promise me you won’t leave the parking lot at the store?”

  “Of course. I’ll be right here.”

  “I’m leaving the house now. I’ll see you soon.”

  She hung up. Reid had his keys in his hands. “Something’s wrong with your grandmother.”

  Sam had her shoes in her hands. “I should drive. She won’t recognize your truck.”

  He put his hands over hers. “Your hands are shaking. If you want to take your car, that’s fine. But how about you let me drive?”

  She hesitated for only a second, but realized he was right. “Of course. Keys are on the hook in the kitchen.”

  He grabbed them while she slipped into her shoes. Then they were out the door.

  When they pulled into the grocery store lot, she directed Reid to Grammy Claire’s car. Her grandmother was still sitting in the car, looking out the windshield.

  Claire breathed a slight sigh of relief, pushing the major concern to the back of her mind—for now. She slid out of the car and went over to the driver’s side, letting her grandmother notice her rather than knocking on the window. She didn’t want to scare her.

  Her grandmother smiled at her and rolled down the window.

  “Hello, Samantha.”

  “Hi, Grammy Claire. Are you ready to go home now?”

  “Yes.” She looked over at Sam’s car. “I see you have Reid McCormack with you. Did you two have a date?”

  “We just shared a pizza together. How about if I drive?”

  “That’s totally not necessary.”

  “Of course it’s not, but you mentioned you had that engine problem the other day and I wanted to listen to your car, so how about you let me drive it?”

  “All right.”

  Her grandmother got out and moved to the passenger side and Sam got in, deciding to wait for later to have a discussion with her grandmother. Right now it was important to get her safely home.

  Sam pulled into her grandmother’s garage, and Grammy Claire got out of the car. Sam popped the trunk, then went to the back of the car, only to find no groceries. She looked in the backseat and didn’t see anything there, either.

  “Did you stop at the store for something, Grammy Claire?”

  “Um . . . I thought so. Did I forget to buy the groceries?”

  Yet another concern about her grandmother.

  “I’ll be inside in just a second, okay?”

  “Sure, sure.” Her grandmother waved her hand, then went inside. Sam walked down the driveway to her car, where Reid had stepped out, waiting for her.

  “I need to spend some time with my grandmother. Something is definitely not right. She has never not been able to find her way home. Or forgotten to get groceries.”

  She tried her best to tamp down the swell of panic in her chest.

  Breathe, Sam. Breathe.

  “Do you need me to stay with you?” Reid asked.

  She saw the sympathy in his eyes, and she was damn glad he’d been here with her tonight. But she had to deal with this by herself.

  She shook her head. “No, but thanks for being so nice about this.”

  “Hey, it’s family, Sam, and family always comes first.” He brushed his lips across hers, then laid her keys in her hands. “Take care of your grandmother. I’m going to go grab the dog and head out.”

  She nodded. “Front door’s unlocked. Just hit the button to lock it when you close it.”

  He nodded. “Will do. Let me know if there’s anything you need, okay?”

  “I will. Talk to you later.”

  He walked away and down the street. She watched him for a minute, then turned on her heel and went inside to talk to her grandmother.

  Chapter 15

  SAMANTHA SAT WITH Megan inside Megan’s bakery and coffee shop, which had closed for the day. Megan shoved a latte and a cranberry muffin in front of her. She wasn’t hungry, but she had to admit, a strong cup of coffee and a sweet treat was something she really needed right now.

  Megan pulled up a chair and sat next to her. “Okay, talk to me. How did the doctor’s appointment go?”

  Sam sighed. “About like I thought. First, Grammy Claire didn’t want to go, but I explained to her about not remembering how to get home, and then no groceries when she’d specifically gone to the store to get some, meant something was up. I told her I was concerned for her well-being. You know how stubborn she is. She said that it had been a momentary lapse and she
was fine.”

  Megan had taken a sip of her coffee. She set the cup down. “But then you insisted, right?”

  “I did.” She picked at the muffin, unable to resist a taste of the cranberry. One didn’t just turn down something Megan had baked. After she swallowed and took a sip of the latte, she said, “Grammy Claire finally relented, so we went to see her doctor. When I told him about her memory, he was definitely concerned. He ran some blood work and did a simple neurological exam, and he said she seemed fine. But depending on the results of the blood and urine tests, he wants to send her to a neurologist for a further workup.”

  Megan grasped her hand. “I know you’re worried about her.”

  “I am. And other than routine health issues for someone her age, she’s been fine. Until now.”

  “Here’s hoping it’s nothing too serious. She was just confused. Older folks get confused sometimes.”

  She knew Megan was trying to be positive and pump her up, but they both knew there was something wrong. Something serious.

  “She’s the only family I have left.”

  “Not true. You have me.”

  Tears pricked her eyes and she squeezed Megan’s hand. “Thanks. And thank you for always being here to listen.”

  Megan smiled at her. “Always. And if you need any help with Grammy Claire, you let me know.”

  “Thank you. Now, anything going on with you and the hot body guy?”

  Megan frowned, then her eyes widened. “Oh, Brady Conners?”

  “Yes. You two looked fantastic together at Des’s party.”

  “He is a hottie. And super nice. But very quiet. He took me home and walked me to my door, told me he had a very nice time, and waited for me to let myself in. I invited him in for coffee and he politely declined. He didn’t even try to kiss me. Not once. Dammit.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. He doesn’t have a girlfriend, does he?”

  “I would think if he had a girlfriend he would have brought her to the dinner instead of me.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I think he’s still troubled over what happened with his brother.”

  Sam sighed. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Me, too. I think I’ll bake him some muffins and bring those to him. That man needs to smile more. He has a gorgeous smile.”

  If anyone could make someone smile, it was Megan. And her baking. “Good idea.”

  “In the meantime, how about we ditch these coffees and go get something a little more . . . substantial?”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  “I need to finish cleaning up here. Meet you at Bash’s bar in an hour?”

  Sam nodded. “It’s a date.”

  It would give her just enough time to dash home, check on Grammy Claire, then get ready.

  For the past few days she’d been overwhelmed with thoughts of her grandmother. A night out was just what she needed right now.

  Chapter 16

  IT HAD BEEN a grueling day. Reid had butted heads with the engineer, disagreeing over structural walls, even though he’d already had his design approved once.

  But no. Just like in most of the projects he worked on, it was a constant argument about design versus engineering. And a giant pain in his ass. He and Deacon had met with the engineer and discussed a twelve-foot beam that needed to be replaced on the main floor before they could remove any more walls.

  It was already in the plan, he’d gone over it with the original engineer, and he knew every load-bearing wall in the building. But this engineer was being tough on them and wouldn’t approve the next stage until they replaced that beam. So despite a header not being in the plan, he was going to have to go back to the drawing board and come up with a revised drawing for the main floor—one that would have to include either posts or a header. Which meant delays he didn’t have time for.

  He was so irritated by the end of their afternoon meeting that Deacon had insisted they stop at a bar so Reid could unwind.

  What he really needed to do was spend the evening reworking his drawings, so those could be approved.

  “You can take an hour for a few beers. Then you can go home and work,” Deacon said.

  Reid finally relented, and he followed Deacon to the No Hope at All bar. Deacon parked next to him, and they both got out of their trucks.

  “You know Bash lets his dog have the run of the bar. I don’t think it’ll be a problem for you to bring Not My Dog inside, especially considering how well-behaved he is.”

  With a shrug, Reid hooked the leash to Not My Dog’s collar and led him through the doors. He was immediately greeted by Bash’s dog, Lou, a tiny-sized terror of a Chihuahua, who dashed up to them and started sizing up Not My Dog, who wagged his tail and sniffed the little dog.

  “Hey, you two,” Bash said, coming around the bar to shake their hands. “Glad to see you back here, Reid.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I fenced an area out back for Lou to run around in if you want to let your dog roam out there with her. There’s water and plenty of chew toys, plus they can bark at traffic.”

  “Sounds good.” He followed Bash out the back door to a fenced-in yard area. He let Not My Dog off the leash, then gave him a stern look. “Behave yourself.”

  The dog didn’t even look back at him as he ran off to play with Lou.

  “Heard you got yourself a dog,” Bash said as they came back inside.

  “The dog kind of claimed me. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

  Bash laughed. “Yeah, I know how that is. What are you going to do with him when you head back to Boston?”

  Reid shrugged. “No idea. I guess I’ll worry about that when it’s time for me to leave.” Reid looked around at the construction area tented off from the main building. “How’s it going?”

  Bash crossed his arms. “Right now it’s messy. And noisy. Fortunately, the bar is loud at night, and by the time the place really gets going they’re done for the day, and they don’t work weekends, so there’s been no complaints.”

  “Great. Can I take a look?”

  “Not much to see yet, but the foundation is poured and they have framing up, so sure.”

  They stepped through the white tarp. Bash was right in that there wasn’t much to see from his standpoint, but from an architect’s viewpoint, Reid could see the vision that he and Bash had talked through several months ago. The foundation was down, and it would offer space for the kitchen and the outdoor eating area off the side of the bar. Walls would separate the bar from the kitchen, and there’d be a doorway leading outside, perfect to enjoy outdoor eating in the summer. Plus Bash had an eating space carved out separate from the bar, a spot that would be less noisy.

  “It’s looking good so far,” Reid said as they wandered around.

  Bash nodded. “It’s still pretty bare-bones, but now that the framing is up, at least I have a vision where everything’s going to be.”

  Reid smiled. “Excited?”

  “I’ll be excited when it’s all done. My chef is breathing down my neck to get started. He’s already pushing for the new restaurant and he hasn’t even started here yet.”

  Reid patted him on the back. “Progress is always a good thing.”

  “Speaking of the restaurant, I might want to . . . accelerate things on that end. Since you’re here, and I hate to ask . . .”

  Reid had actually hoped he would. “I’d love to sit down with you and sketch out your restaurant plans.”

  Bash looked relieved. “You would? That’d be great. I know you’re busy as hell with the mercantile, so I didn’t want to presume.”

  “I don’t know how official we can make it, and we had only spoken in general terms when I was here last time, but if you’ve got a vision, then yeah, let’s talk.”

  “Thanks, man. You did such a fantastic job helping me refine the drawings for this expansion. I know you’ll be able to help me figure out what I want for the restaurant.”

  “I’m happy to help. Wh
y don’t you text me what you’ve got in mind in terms of time for next week? We’ll schedule something at the bar and you can give me free beers while we talk.”

  Bash laughed. “You’re on.”

  They headed inside. Bash went back behind the bar, and Reid took a seat at the bar next to Deacon.

  “I stopped in and looked at the expansion the other day when I was in here,” Deacon said. “Bash is pretty stoked about it.”

  “He should be. It’ll be good for business.”

  “Beers?” Bash asked as he came back to where they were sitting.

  “Two,” Deacon said.

  “Okay, and what is Reid having?”

  “Funny,” Deacon said. “Though considering the day we had, maybe four beers is about right.”

  Bash pulled two beers, popped the tops off and handed the bottles across the bar to them. “One of those kind of days, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Reid took two very deep swallows of beer, then, as the cold brew sailed its way down, realized Deacon was right. This was just what he needed. He was already relaxing.

  Bash laid his palms on the bar. “So which one of you is going to tell me about your shit day?”

  Deacon grabbed his bottle of beer. “I’ll let Reid tell you.”

  Reid explained to Bash about the meeting with the engineer.

  “It never goes smoothly, does it?”

  “No, but I was hoping we had everything on this building lined out in advance. I guess I was wrong.”

  “Hopefully this will be the last of it,” Deacon said.

  “I’ll drink to that.” Reid raised his bottle and tipped it in Deacon’s direction. “We can’t afford any more delays, or bullshit additional costs. The way I drew it up the first time was suitable. It’s just this engineer’s idea to cost us more money and time so he can justify his damn job.”

  “Well, God forbid he say we did it right the first time,” Deacon said, signaling to Bash for two more beers.

  Reid’s lips curved. “Yeah, the world might come to an end if an engineer agrees with the architect or the contractor.”