by Jaci Burton
But Sam still shot her a look.
Chelsea just shrugged. “What? It’s the truth. You are sleeping with him, aren’t you?”
“Once.”
“So far,” Megan said.
“Which means you intend for there to be more than just once, right?” Des asked, leaning forward.
She looked at all her friends, not sure if she really wanted to get into this with them or not. She wasn’t even sure where things stood with Reid, so it was difficult to talk about. Still, some advice couldn’t hurt.
“I don’t know. I mean, yes, I’d like to see him again. But the way we left things the other night—I don’t know. We haven’t managed to get together again. I had an issue with Grammy Claire and he’s got work that’s sort of all-consuming for him at the moment. We’ve both been busy, so that could be why . . .”
Chelsea frowned. “Sounds confusing as hell, if you ask me. A man either likes you or he doesn’t. And once he’s gotten into your pants, if there’s no follow-up after, then maybe he doesn’t intend to get into them again.”
“Chelsea,” Emma said, frowning.
Sam held up her hand. “No, it’s okay, Em. Chelsea’s right. I think it was just a one-time thing that neither of us expected to happen. We’re definitely attracted to each other. Or we were. And maybe now that the itch has been scratched, it could be Reid isn’t interested in scratching it again.”
“Oh, please,” Megan said. “Men are always itchy. All they ever think about is getting scratched.”
Des laughed. “I have to agree with Megan. He was probably busy, but I still think he should have called or texted you.”
“Oh, he did text the other night. That night he went to see the house you and Bash were interested in buying,” she said to Chelsea. “I had to cancel because Grammy Claire had gotten sick.”
“And was the texting hot?” Chelsea asked, waggling her brows.
“Well . . . not exactly. He texted to check on how Grammy Claire was feeling.”
“Oh,” Chelsea said. “That’s disappointing. I mean, yes, that’s nice he did that, but you didn’t talk about anything hot or sexy or romantic?”
“Not really. He said he missed me.”
“Well, that’s something, right?” Megan asked.
“Not enough, if you ask me,” Chelsea said.
“Wow, you’re tough, Chelse,” Des said.
Chelsea shrugged. “Hey, a woman needs to feel pursued, especially after sex. There has to be some substance beyond just the sex, and it should never be a one-time thing. And if you’re not interested in just being his booty call when he’s itchy, then tell him to kiss off,” Chelsea said.
Now Sam was more confused than ever. But her friends were right. She was interested in Reid, but maybe not in the way he was interested in her.
“Thanks, all of you. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
Now she just had to talk to Reid.
About his itchiness and when and how or if he wanted to scratch it.
Or something like that.
Chapter 21
“WHAT DO YOU think they’re all talking about?” Reid asked as he finished off a beer and loaded up another set of ribs into a pan, then piled up another set onto the grill.
“I think they’re talking about how all men are assholes, how lousy we are in bed, and how our communication skills suck.”
Reid arched his brow and looked over at Bash. “Or is that just what Chelsea says about you?”
Bash grinned. “I can guarantee you that Chelsea is lording it over the other women, saying her man is a stud in bed, always listens to her, and is the greatest guy she’s ever met.”
Carter Richards pulled his beer away from his mouth and laughed so hard he went into a coughing fit. “Goddammit, Bash. I nearly choked to death.”
“While Molly is likely telling her sad story about how her fiancé, Carter, has a tiny dick.”
“Fuck off, Bash,” Carter said.
Bash laughed. So did Reid and the rest of the guys, who for some reason had ended up gathered around the grills—and the beer.
No surprise there.
He enjoyed catching up with the guys. Before he’d left town, many of these men had been his friends. Some of them were friends of his brothers, but he’d known a lot of them most of his life. They were as much his brothers as his own brothers were. He trusted them as much as his family.
With Luke and Logan in charge of the grills, he carried a pan of fully cooked ribs into the house. Martha took them from him and laid them in the ovens to stay warm.
“How’s it going in here?” he asked, taking a moment to slide into a spot next to Sam’s grandmother, Claire, as well as a few other women close to Claire’s age. They had several decks of cards laid out across the kitchen table.
“We’re playing rummy,” Claire said. “Care to join us?”
Reid grinned and rolled up his sleeves. “I’d love to.”
Three games later, he’d had his butt soundly kicked, once by Claire and twice by Faith.
He got up. “You ladies are too good for me.”
Claire smiled up at him. “You need to play more often.”
“I do. I haven’t played that game in years.”
“Which is why you were so bad at it.”
He laughed. “You’re right about that.”
He wandered off, intending to head back to the barbecue, but literally ran into Sam as he rounded the corner of the kitchen.
She was juggling a few empty pitchers, and they all went tumbling in the air when they collided. Sam grabbed one, and he lunged for the other two before they hit the floor.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t see you coming around the corner.”
“It’s my fault,” she said, rubbing at a wet spot on her shirt, which just so happened to be on her left breast.
Not that he had been staring at her breasts or anything.
“Need me to help you with that?”
She lifted her gaze to his, and he was instantly lost in the blue depths of her eyes. She gave him an easy smile.
“I need to refill these pitchers, and now I need to borrow a shirt from Des.”
Wow. That was a quick shutdown.
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you around, Reid.”
Before he had a chance to say anything else, she was gone.
Huh. A definite brush-off. He thought about going outside, but then changed his mind, turned around, and went into the kitchen.
Sam was in there talking to Martha.
“I, uh, need to go find Ben,” Martha said after she saw Reid.
“Last I saw him he was out with the guys by the grills.”
“Thank you, Reid. I’ll be back shortly.”
Martha left the kitchen. Sam was refilling pitchers with iced tea and lemonade.
“Need some help?”
“No, I’ve got this, but thanks.”
He shifted his gaze to the women at the kitchen table. They were talking loudly and laughing, totally engrossed in their card game and ignoring Sam and him.
He leaned in closer. “So what’s with the brush-off?”
Sam frowned. “Brush-off? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Just now, in the entryway.”
She straightened and leaned a hip against the kitchen island. “Reid. I have two more pitchers to refill and I dumped some of the tea and lemonade on my shirt. Which reminds me, I need to go find Des and have her loan me a shirt.”
Just as he was about to think she was going to run out on him again, she grasped his shirtsleeve. “Oh, but I do want to talk to you later, if you have a minute.”
“Sure.”
“Great.” She gave him a bright smile. “See you around.”
She grabbed the pitchers and walked out. He heaved in a deep breath and let it out, then made his way back to the grills, deciding it was best if he didn’t try to figure out the mind of a woman. It would only give him a headache.
Chapter 22
DES HAD GIVEN Sam one of her T-shirts. After she had changed, she was much happier not having a giant wet spot on her breasts. Not that she minded attention of the male variety, but she preferred it not be because of boob stains.
She checked in on her grandmother, whom she’d seen yawning. Martha suggested the ladies move into the living room, so they settled in there with their glasses of iced tea and were now watching television. Sam had clicked to a classic movie channel, but Grammy Claire wanted to watch a new show about vampires. When she explained the premise about the hot vampire and how he was torn between two women, one a vampire and the other a human, all the women decided they wanted to watch that show as well.
Sam shook her head. Her grandmother was nothing if not unpredictable.
Satisfied her grandmother was settled for a while, she made her way back outside. She found her friends clustered at the same table as before. Some had gone and others had showed up. It would likely be that way for the remainder of the day now that they’d claimed their spot.
Right now it was Chelsea, Molly, and Megan.
“Where did Emma and Des disappear to?”
Chelsea shrugged. “Somewhere in the house. And Emma said something about Will and Jane and the kids being late because of Will’s schedule.”
Sam poured herself a glass of lemonade and they all started a conversation about Molly’s wedding, which then brought up a conversation with Molly about wedding flowers—again. Once she assured Molly everything was under control, the wedding convo moved on.
“Are you excited about the wedding, Molly?” Chelsea asked.
Molly grinned. “Beyond. Thank you all for being so supportive and for putting up with my neuroses.”
“You? Neurotic? No way,” Megan said with a smile.
“Okay, so I might have checked and double-checked and triple-checked venue and flowers and cake and I’ve looked at my dress sitting in the closet about a thousand times. And I’m certain I’m driving Carter crazy asking him to make sure he’s taken care of the tux rentals and that the hotel reservations have been made for family members and friends coming in from out of town. And poor Emma, she’s probably going to regret ever agreeing to be my matron of honor. She’s probably rethinking being my sister right now.”
Megan squeezed her hand. “You sound like a normal bride to me, honey.”
Molly sighed. “Thankfully, my mother has lists. Lots and lots of lists. And she loves being in charge of nearly everything. When Carter and I set the date and selected the venue, I was so happy to shove it all off on Mom. I thought I’d never have to think or worry about the wedding again.”
“But it’s your wedding,” Chelsea said. “So inevitably you’re going to obsess about every minor detail.”
Molly nodded. “That’s an understatement. I intended to be all laid-back about this whole wedding thing. Carter and I love each other. It took us a lot of years to make our way back to each other. We just want to get married and be official and all that nonsense.”
“And then the wedding bug hit,” Samantha said. She’d seen it countless times from brides-to-be who came to order their flowers, all nonchalant about how their weddings were going to be no big deal. Until they became a really big deal.
Because that’s what weddings were to a bride—a big deal.
“Oh my God, yes,” Molly said. “That’s exactly what it is—the wedding bug. Anyway, I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
“And you’re sure you don’t want a bachelorette party?” Chelsea asked. “Because we can throw one hell of a party for you. It’s a great time of year for Vegas.”
Molly laughed. “Thanks, Chelsea, but Carter and I are having enough issues just dealing with work at the auto repair shop plus wedding planning. We’ll party plenty on the honeymoon.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind, I know people who can make us a great group deal at the last minute.”
“I think Chelsea wants to go to Vegas,” Megan said.
Chelsea slid a smirk Megan’s way. “Maybe.”
“Get your hot boyfriend to take you,” Sam said.
“My hot boyfriend is busy with the bar. And the expansion to the bar. And we’re house-hunting.”
“And there’s school for you,” Molly said.
“Yes. Why aren’t we millionaires who don’t have to work?”
“You’d hate that, Chelsea,” Sam said. “You love teaching.”
“I do. But I wouldn’t mind the millionaire part.”
Sam laughed. Then Bash came over and pulled Chelsea away, and Molly got a phone call from her mother, Georgia, so she stepped away, leaving just Sam and Megan, whose attention was somewhere off in the distance.
Sam followed Megan’s gaze and caught sight of a very hot guy riding up the driveway on a gorgeous motorcycle. He parked and got off, then removed his helmet.
Oh. Brady Conners.
Megan sighed.
“That man is so damn hot,” Megan whispered.
Sam couldn’t deny the truth of that statement. He was tall, with dark hair and amazing green eyes. As he strode toward the men, his worn jeans showed off one great butt, and his tight T-shirt showcased well-muscled arms and some rather amazing tattoos.
Sam leaned into her. “You should do something about that drool problem, Megan.”
Megan looked over at her. “I’d like to butter him up like my best batch of cinnamon raisin bread and lick him all over.”
Sam burst out laughing. “Well. That was nicely descriptive. I can tell you’ve given this—or should I say Brady—a great deal of thought.”
“You have no idea.”
Since they were currently ogling the group of guys, her gaze settled on Reid. “Oh, I think I have a fairly good idea.”
“And what have you done about Reid? Anything yet?”
“No. We haven’t really had a chance to talk yet. Hopefully at some point today.”
But that some point never came around. She hung out with the women until dinner was served. Which, by the way, was amazing. The ribs were sweet and tender and probably the most amazing food she’d ever had. Everyone had brought side dishes, so she had her fill of various types of salad, along with corn on the cob and beans and rolls, and she was so stuffed she didn’t think she could eat dessert.
Until she spotted the dessert table filled with her favorites. Not only the things Megan had brought, which she knew would be melt-in-your-mouth incredible, but old-time favorites like hummingbird cake and chocolate sheet cake. Of course she had to have small pieces of each of those. And then Megan had made chocolate chip mini muffins that Sam could swear were made of butterflies, unicorns, and angels. They melted in her mouth and were so good she wanted to weep with joy.
When she finally got up to help clear plates and put dishes back into the refrigerator, she was so full she wanted to die.
But she was happy to see her grandmother in there covering dishes with foil. Grammy Claire liked to stay active and feel like she served a purpose. Sam sent a very grateful smile over to Martha for allowing her grandmother to help out in the kitchen.
Martha came over to hug her. “How was dinner?”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to eat for a week.”
Martha laughed. “I feel the same way. Those boys know how to grill ribs, that’s for sure.”
“Not just the ribs, but everything else, too.” Sam gave Martha a squeeze. “Thanks for looking out for Grammy Claire.”
“It was my pleasure. She’s told us all a lot of stories today about the early days in Hope. Did you know my great-grandmother was her high school music teacher?”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yes. We’ve had fun talking about that.”
“How was she today?—you know.” Sam wasn’t sure how to reference her grandmother’s possible illness, but she had mentioned her grandmother’s medical issues to Martha, and she knew Martha understood.
“She was fine. I didn’t notice a
ny memory lapses. She seemed sharp as a tack to me today, honey.”
Sam breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“Hey, y’all,” Reid said, popping his head in. “Logan wants everyone outside. They’re going to start the bonfire.”
“We’ll be right out.”
Grammy Claire and some of her friends decided it was too chilly to go outside for the bonfire, so Sam made sure they were settled in the living room with their card games and the television.
“Are you doing okay?” she asked her grandmother. “If you’re tired, we can go home.”
Her grandmother waved a hand at her. “Go have fun with the other young people, Samantha. Quit fussing over me. We’re all fine here.”
“Okay.” She kissed her grandmother’s cheek and headed outside.
There was a giant woodpile in the dirt, and several of the guys had started the fire. It had already gotten dark and Sam was glad she’d grabbed her hooded sweatshirt. Though the day had been warm, fall in Oklahoma meant cooler nights.
Perfect time for a bonfire.
Sam mingled with the crowd, finding Megan standing among Molly and Chelsea and Jane, who’d finally shown up with Will and their kids.
She snuggled in next to Megan. “I’m cold.”
“Me, too,” Megan said.
“You both need hot man bodies to keep you warm,” Jane said, leaning against Will.
“Oh sure, rub it in, why don’t you?” Megan said.
“And yet my hot man is at the edge of the bonfire playing caveman with the other boys,” Chelsea said.
“You can come snuggle with us.”
“Thanks, Sam.” Chelsea inched over to Sam’s open side.
Now Sam was definitely a lot warmer.
The fire licked higher and higher, consuming the giant woodpile. Soon the chill left the air and everyone settled into the chairs they’d dragged near the fire.
Logan and Luke brought out more coolers, a couple of the ranch hands following with boxes of glasses. The coolers were filled with . . .
Champagne?
“What’s that all about?” Megan asked.
“I have no idea,” Sam said.
