Sam snickered-giggled at the thought, and Ryan barked out a good-natured laugh.
“Dude! Seriously? I didn’t think you liked sharing.”
“What?” Kyle demanded—his head snapping up as he fixed his cousin with a fierce scowl. His eyes blazed with possessive anger.
“I’m all for the natural look,” Ryan continued to tease, “but I think your folks would have a stroke.”
For the longest moment, Kyle looked like he was going to freak the hell out, and then Ryan smacked his big hand on the table, making the silverware and glasses jump. In a choked laugh, he drawled, “Man, you should see your face! Samantha,” he wheezed with a throaty laugh, “where’s your phone? Quick! Take a picture. This shit is Instagram crack!”
They must have all had an alcohol jolt at the exact same time because next thing she knew, their table was howling with laughter.
Wiping his hand under an eye, Kyle made short work of the tears a good laugh brought. “Fuck you, Ry.” Then he fixed her with a long, assessing look. Sam felt like an animal on a dark country road frozen in a car’s headlights. “Would serve your moldy ass right if you ended up with some polyamorous chick who liked the occasional strange.”
Ryan stiffened at her side. All hints of amusement vanished, and a weird tension filled the air.
A bunch of things happened all at once.
First, she felt a fierce urge to slap the shit out of someone. Anyone. Especially anyone female who got close to Ryan.
As Kyle sneered, Andi murmured to him to, “Play nice.”
She was powerfully aware when Ryan shifted, and his leg rested against hers. The move closer felt oddly territorial. She’d never been the subject of anyone else’s boundaries before and found the whole thing intoxicating.
And then, well. . .and then the shark swam into their midst, and she had to hang on tight or else drown in some surprisingly turbulent waters.
“My, my. Isn’t this cozy?”
Fuck my life, Sam thought. With her lips pressed together to stop from sneering, she fixed a bland expression on her face. She didn’t know what Tara was up to, but she recognized the battle-cry tone and knew some kind of shit was about to go down.
Did everyone at the table recognize the warning in Andi’s tone when she replied? “Tara. What’s up?”
“Hey, Tara,” Kyle added. “What’d you think of dinner? It was great, huh?”
Andi didn’t move a muscle as her fiancé tried to be friendly. All of Sam’s antennae went on high alert. She’d never seen the two business partners be anything except polite and supportive of each other. Almost to a fault. Ever. This was new, and she hoped it was her mojito-swollen imagination overreacting to what Sam sensed was blood in the water.
Something brushed against her arm. She looked down.
Warmth spread across her shoulders as Ryan’s arm slid behind her and rested on the back of her chair. His fingertips moved softly on her bare skin, making a riot of goose bumps bloom on both arms.
The gangly, unsophisticated, braces-wearing fourteen-year-old of her youth, who was sometimes the voice of Sam’s inner dialogue, chose that moment to giggle. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
Tara gave her a look that would liquefy metal. Doing a double take, Sam frowned at the obvious intimidation tactic. What the hell had she done to deserve such scorn? Geez. With all she had on her maid-of-honor plate at the moment, she really didn’t need whatever Tara was serving up.
Ryan’s fingers moved again. Tara’s expression turned to ice.
In a practiced move that made Sam grind her teeth, Tara smoothed her hands down the sides of her hips, drawing everyone’s attention to her rail-thin figure in the obnoxiously vibrant, flamingo pink wrap dress she wore.
Once assured all eyes were on her, she launched a shark attack. Sam was waiting for it. Only, to her shock and bewilderment, it was directed at Ryan. What the hell did Kyle’s cousin have to do with Tara?
“Ryan,” Tara cooed in an unctuous tone.
Right away, Sam knew something was up.
“You never told me how delightful your folks are! I didn’t know your mother collected teapots. What a charming quirk. She told me all about the antique Limoges tea service you found for her.”
Ryan’s fingers never stopped stroking her skin. She was beginning to put two and two together. Tara saw Kyle’s cousin as much more than Andi’s family by marriage.
The revelation did not sit well with her. Who the hell did Tara think she was? Why she oughta. . .
And then Ryan spoke, and Sam stopped breathing.
“My mother is the friendly sort, Tara. And you and I both know there’s no reason why I would have told you anything at all about my parents.”
Oh, shit. These two have a prior history. Fan-fucking-tastic. She balled her fists in her lap and glanced at Andi, but before they made eye contact, Kyle moved and sat forward. He reached for Andi’s hand and held on. His touch broke the spell of Andi’s focused stare, which left Sam still trying to figure out what was happening.
Tara smirked slightly but ignored Ryan’s brush-off. She saw the other woman’s eyes flash with something that made Sam’s stomach dip.
“Don’t growl, Ry. You can be such a bear at times.”
The suggestion of familiarity in Tara’s voice finally stopped Ryan’s fingers. His hand closed over her shoulder and ever so slightly pulled her closer. Her legs were awkwardly crossed so when his grip insisted she move, Sam had to reach out quickly to stop from falling over. What she gripped to keep from toppling off her chair? His thigh.
Tara’s sudden trills of laughter made the hair stand up on the back of Sam’s neck. It had a creepy, cackling quality to it.
“Weddings are all about the schmooze. And your parents are delightful. Lighten up.” Tara snorted as her bony hand reached out and touched the side of Ryan’s face.
It got so quiet Sam coughed slightly just to be sure she hadn’t suddenly gone deaf.
“Are you trying to fuck with me, Tara?”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Sam reached for her mojito. This was getting uncomfortable. She blinked, and in that instant, Stan materialized out of thin air.
“Tara,” he murmured. There was an edge of menace in the way he said her name.
With the green straw between her teeth, Sam took hefty sips of her drink and watched the scene play out.
“Oh, look,” Tara sniped. Her evil laugh gave Dolores’s a run for the gold. “My watchdog has arrived.”
Andi hissed, and Kyle shot out of his chair. Whatever this was, the men were all over it and then some. “Cut it out, Tara.”
Still sipping, Sam’s eyebrows shot up at Kyle’s tone. That must be his alpha growl, she thought. Andi said it gave her the shivers whenever he used it. She could see why.
“You brought this on yourself,” he bit out.
It was clear Stan thought Kyle’s angry involvement was enough when he grabbed Tara by the arm and gave her a good yank. “Sorry, guys,” he said apologetically before shuffling her away.
Sam kept quiet, but her mind was clicking on all cylinders. What was the name of the reality show Kelly loved so much? Oh, yeah, yeah. The Hills. Or Laguna Beach or some such bullshit. Scripted reality. Whatever! Her point was that this bizarre scene played out a lot like that. High drama. Maximum interest. Hooked audience. And she was the mesmerized spectator.
Cautiously setting her drink down, mostly because the alcohol was beginning to make her head feel loose, she noted the way Tara’s retreating ass seemed to be saying, Eat Shit and Die. Or rather, the pink flamingo she strapped to her carefully managed body was saying that.
God. She hated the color. It said, ‘Look at me, look at me.’
Sam eyed the muted dusty rose of the dress she fell in love with earlier in the day. This dress didn’t need to ask for attention. The soft, slightly ashen hue to the warm color was sexy and reeked confidence without even trying.
She wasn’t blind. Or stupid. She saw the way Ryan loo
ked at her. The man certainly didn’t hide what he was thinking.
Hmph. The thought gave her pause. She looked again at Tara, peeked at a furious Andi, and took in how peeved Kyle appeared. Then she quickly scanned the man sitting at her side.
Ryan Sommerfield exuded a confidence she found compelling. This guy was nobody’s fool. And he didn’t like Tara. That much, at least, had been clear. But beyond that, she hadn’t a single clue what his overall involvement was when it came to Andi’s business partner.
None of that did anything whatsoever to poke a hole in the bold zap of assertiveness and self-confidence that his unwavering attention sparked. He made her feel fascinating and alive simply because he saw her.
Tara could choke on Sam’s dust as far as she was concerned. Eventually, she’d make Andi tell her the backstory, but the truth was—at this moment? With his piercing gaze pinning her to the spot? She didn’t care.
Returning his blunt gaze, she didn’t back down for a second. She knew who she was. As a person. Thought she knew who Tara was too, although her little performance had been a surprise. And the bottom line for Sam was easy to understand. Competing with fembots like Tara was a waste of time for a girl like her. And if competing were on the table, she’d tap out anyway. Guys who thought like that didn’t interest her.
But Ryan’s expression and the pulsing light she saw in his eyes made it pretty clear he was in a category by himself. A little shaky quiver tickled her nerve endings. Had he seen it? Maybe. Because in the next instant, he sighed and reached for her hand.
“You’re too trusting,” he murmured.
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t been expecting that.
“Aren’t you interested in what that was all about? With Tara?”
She shrugged and made a mental study of how he held her hand. The confidence he carried was present in his touch.
“Do I want to know? I mean by that, am I curious? Of course! But it’s none of my business. And I know Tara. Not well, but I think we understand each other. So I’m just going to assume some kind of Tara-fuckery went down and somehow you were involved.”
“Perceptive.”
She laughed. “Not really. It’s more like Andi and I being hardwired. Her reaction roared like a stadium full of sports fans. That’s all I needed to figure out ol’ plastic surgery Barbie stepped over some kind of line.”
He struggled not to laugh at her joke, but she wasn’t having any of it. While he kept control of her hand, she elbowed him playfully and jokingly teased, “Nah. Go ahead and laugh.”
“Oh, fuck,” he wheezed as a constrained laugh made his face turn red. “Plastic surgery Barbie.”
He squeezed her fingers for control and then let the bark of laughter free. “Honey, seriously,” he choked out between chuckles. “You can’t say shit like that around me.”
Really? She didn’t understand. So why was he laughing? “Um, why?”
“Because, you sweet thing, I’m an artist. Two seconds after hearing something so evocative, I’ve created a graphics design for an imaginary plastic surgeon’s practice. Barbie is top of the list of options.”
A wave of fall-down laughter burst from her with such power that people turned and stared.
Between giggles, she slapped him on the leg. “Option two. . .duck lips.”
There was no hope of them getting it together after that. Ignoring everyone else, they hurled one-liners back and forth until she begged him to stop before she peed herself from laughing so hard. Tara glaring at them was like icing on the cake.
Andi and Kyle sat like indulgent parents smiling and offering the occasional thumbs-up. They didn’t stop until sounds of a kerfuffle breaking out intruded on their amusement.
Ah, damn. She was enjoying herself. Ryan had a wickedly funny sense of humor, and she truly couldn’t remember if she’d ever laughed so much with a guy.
From the corner of her eye, Sam saw the wedding planner levitate over the tables and zoom across the room as if she was on a wire. What the hell?
Stiffening because she sensed a disturbance, Sam’s head swiveled sharply as she squinted and searched for the cause of the commotion.
“I won’t have it,” she heard an icy voice announce. “This is about family. He shouldn’t even be here.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Dolores was going off, and there could only be one cause. Steve must be making his appearance. Instinct and habit made Sam shoot up from her chair. The mojito fog softened the floor and made it wobble slightly. She muttered a dark curse under her breath and waited for the room to hold still.
“Sami.” The distressed voice came from Andi.
She had to do something before the pleasant gathering turned into a shit show.
Ryan rose and stood next to her. She felt his arm wind around her waist. “What is it? Tell me quickly.”
Regretting every sip of the coconut delight, she inhaled sharply to clear her brain. “Um, I think Steve’s here.”
“Andi’s stepdad?”
“Yeah and it sounds to me like Dolores is pitching a fit.” She added, “Fucking bitch,” and hoped it was under her breath. “I have to stop her before Andi gets upset.”
“Here,” Ryan murmured so only she could hear. “Take my arm, okay? I’ll stick with you, honey.”
Oh, dear god. She’d never been so relieved in her whole life. Sliding her hand between his body and the crook of his arm, she relaxed just a bit at the comfort his nearness caused.
They crossed the room without wiping out or upending any tables. Halfway there, she caught sight of Steve’s stricken expression. Dolores was having an ugly field day at his expense. Just like that, she was stone cold sober. Or so she hoped. Dealing with Dolores’s occasional freak-outs was second nature to Sam. Even so, right about now she shared Andi’s wish that her own mother was around. She always knew how to defuse evil Dolores’s nastiness.
“Samantha,” Andi’s mother snapped as she and Ryan walked into the swirling vortex of toxic negativity that Andi’s mother wore like a gown. “Why is he here?”
Chomping down on her bottom lip, she considered the emotional explosion going off in front of her eyes. Why’s it gotta be this way? Steve Carmichael had been in Andi’s life for a dozen years. He was a decent, hard-working guy. His only shortcoming had been that he fell in love with Dolores. Her acting as if he was a menace to society was a bit beyond the pale.
She’d cut Dolores down to size later. Right now, she had to welcome Steve and make sure he understood Andi wanted him to be a part of her wedding.
“Steve!” she cried out with genuine affection. “It’s been forever. You look wonderful, Mr. C. The climate agrees with you.”
Probably lame, Sam knew, but it was the best she had on such short notice.
Steve Carmichael gave her a look that told her he was grateful for the enthusiastic welcome. Ryan surprised her when he followed along.
“Mr. Carmichael? Ryan Sommerfield,” he said as his hand went out. “I’m Kyle’s cousin and best man. Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Steve jumped on the handshake as if it was a life preserver, and Ryan used his advantage to disengage from Sam and pull the beleaguered man away from Dolores’s spitting rage. It might be the rum talking, but she was pretty damn sure she loved Ryan right then.
It was a shame you couldn’t always act out the alternate narrative swirling inside your head because Sam was hard pressed not to do a leaping high five with a belly bounce in gratitude for Ryan’s intervention. First—it’d be funny as hell, and she knew Andi and Kyle would be the first to laugh. Second, it just seemed right, a reaction that surprised her because when in God’s name had she ever felt like belly bumping and high-fiving anyone?
When Ryan turned his charming man smile on Dolores, a tiny shake of her head was necessary to dispel the fanciful impression of the tight-assed queen of evil melting a wee bit.
Ooooh, he was good.
“Mrs. Carmichael.”
Good grief. What
the hell tone was he using? Was this some of the Sommerfield juju that Andi insisted she couldn’t resist?
With a sly wink, he complimented her in a low growl that made Sam’s underwear sticky. “I see where Andrea gets her natural beauty.” Switching to a manly but goofy grin, he finished Dolores Carmichael off with a near-perfect ego stroke. “If Andi has half your charm and sophistication in the years ahead, then my cousin is a lucky man.”
Don’t roll your eyes, Samantha Evers. Do NOT roll your eyes.
Taking the opportunity Ryan and his brilliance afforded, Sam stepped up and took Dolores by the arm as if they were dear old friends. “Let’s go check with the wedding planner, okay? I want you to weigh in on some of the ceremony details.”
She shot Ryan a look of thanks—that he returned with an irreverent wink. Then he stared at her really, really hard for about ten seconds. He was trying to communicate something, she was sure of it.
His eyes darted briefly to Dolores, and she understood. He was reluctant to leave her alone with the unpleasant woman. Wasn’t he just adorable?
Sam rescued him from the horns of a dilemma with a simple request. “Ryan. Would you mind bringing us something to drink while we chat with Pam? We could use a Diet Coke, right, Mrs. C?”
He looked relieved. She smiled at him and then they went off to attend to business. As she swept Dolores to the side of the room where she knew Pam, the event planner, was hovering, she caught Andi’s eye for a second. When her best friend put both hands over her heart and mouthed, “I love you,” Sam felt a surge of warmth rush into her chest. Not everyone was lucky enough to have friends like hers. Andi was one-of-a-kind. They’d been in each other’s pocket from the time of their first memories.
She saw Steve approach his stepdaughter with arms open wide, a second before Andi leaped from her seat and threw herself into the kind man’s embrace.
Everything would be fine if she could just keep redirecting Dolores Carmichael’s venom.
“We can’t thank you guys enough.” Kyle chuckled, and Andi let out a sharp grunt. “Took a couple for the team tonight, kids. Good work!”
The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) Page 10
