Dusty's bushy eyebrows drew together. “This isn't what I meant. Amy, I thought you were a good girl; different than your mother. Please tell me this isn't your way of… helping Sam.”
“No. It's my way of loving him,” Amy countered, stung by the unfair comparison. But is it unfair? She let herself be used too.
He raised an eyebrow. “You sound like Tara.”
Amy's temper started to flare. “This is nothing like my mother.”
“She thought every guy she bedded loved her and was going to marry her,” Dusty blurted in frustration. “How is this different?”
“I never said he loved me,” Amy countered in a controlled voice. “And who mentioned marriage?”
“So you're saying Tara didn't love all those men?” Dusty demanded. “Because, I can assure you, she believed she did.”
“My mother didn't know how to love,” Amy replied quietly.
* * *
Dusty winced, his face twisting into an apology for mentioning Tara and dredging up memories. It had been wrong to say what he had, unfair and untrue. He knew that Amy was nothing like her mother except for one flawed trait; she trusted too easily and with blind devotion, giving herself completely and almost killing herself to compensate for what her partner lacked or was unwilling to give. If only Tara had lavished that love on her daughter instead of the long line of undeserving men.
“Amy,” Dusty sounded apologetic, but he looked lost as to what to say next.
“Come on, Mr. Wallace. It's never been a secret that I've loved Sam since I was fourteen.”
His lips stretched into a grimace, dragging his handlebar moustache wide. “No. Not a secret.”
“Then what's the big surprise?” Amy demanded.
* * *
For once Dusty appeared to have been rendered silent for the space of several seconds. His mouth opened and closed uselessly before he firmed his chin and spoke. “Nothing,” he told her tightly. “I just wasn't expecting… this.”
“Me,” she found the courage to finally confront him with her long-held fear. “You weren't expecting me.”
“Amy, it's not that I don't care about you,” Mr. Wallace began, but he sputtered to a halt when he saw the face she was making.
“I don't care, Mr. Wallace. This isn't about what you need. It's about what he needs and he needs someone to be close to him,” Amy insisted. “Someone soothing.”
Dusty gulped. “He's bad, isn't he?”
Amy nodded. “Yes. I don't know what happened, but he's not eating or sleeping nearly as well as he should be.”
“And this is the help he needs?” He gestured up the length of her body.
As her boss scrutinized her underclad figure, shame coursed through her. She gripped the lapels of her bathrobe, closing the fabric tighter over her skin. Feeling slightly indignant, she straightened herself a little taller and braced herself more firmly. “It's what he can take right now,” she explained.
Dusty regarded her another long moment and then nodded in agreement. “Take care of him, Amy.”
“That's what I aim to do,” she vowed. Then she paused and hesitantly added, “So you're okay about this… about me?”
“No,” he replied, and her heart sank before he added, “but not because you're a secretary. I don't want you to get hurt. My objection to your involvement with my son isn't because of you, but rather, it's because I've seen what he's like with the women he dates.”
Amy's mouth opened in surprise. Dusty was usually a blunt man, but she was seeing a side of him she hadn't realized was there. To see him stumble yet again was not only unusual, but unsettling. Amy struggled, trying to understand what it all meant.
“I…” Dusty sputtered. “I've seen how he's… mistreated you in the past.”
“Oh,” Amy replied, a little shocked by this new revelation.
She'd never witnessed Dusty speaking negatively about Sam before. She had always assumed her station as a hired hand rendered her unsuitable as a potential partner for Sam. It had never occurred to her that it might be Sam's shortcomings instead of hers Dusty found offensive. Amy would have to think about this more, when she was alone with nothing to distract her.
“Yeah,” he said, looking around uncomfortably. Whether his discomfort was because of his admission or her lack of appropriate apparel, she wasn't sure.
“You don't have to worry about me,” she told him with the same brutal honesty she'd used on his son the previous night. “The truth is that it would hurt far worse to not be with him.”
“All right then,” he said as he shifted a bit in place. “I hope you don't get your heart broken.”
“Me too.”
Then Dusty did something that blew Amy's mind completely. He approached her quickly, kissing her on the forehead, and said, “I could think of a worse daughter.”
Amy felt stunned. She watched in silence as Dustin stalked out of her apartment. After taking a moment to collect herself, she hurried to use the bathroom and dropped her robe before sliding back into her bed. She pressed her body against Sam, grateful for his warmth once more. Without waking, he cuddled her close, nuzzling into her as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Chapter 4
A couple of hours later, Sam began slowly to wake up. He couldn't remember feeling this well-rested in ages. Something warm and soft lay cradled comfortingly in his arms; something that was breathing deeply. Where was he, and who was he holding?
An image of Jorge, the last time he saw him, flashed across his mind, and his arms tightened. His heart began to race and every muscle seemed to constrict against the unwanted memory. A sense of dread and anxiety twisted through his mind until a soft, feminine squeak drew his attention back to the present. His eyes shot open to reveal he was looking into a lovely face with big blue eyes, soft pink lips and long blond hair. “Amy?”
“Sam, I can't breathe,” she gasped.
He relaxed his grip immediately, chagrined. “Sorry.”
“It's okay,” she reassured him as she drew air into her lungs.
“Sorry,” he echoed again, feeling forlorn.
“Do you remember last night?” she asked, and he watched in fascination as her pale cheeks took on a pinkish hue.
He kissed her forehead. “Yes, baby. I remember. That was some really great sex.”
The faint blush deepened, turning the rosy color to a dark crimson. Its beauty, her beauty, sank deep into the darkness inside him and provided a hint of illumination.
“It was,” she agreed, and the spark flared brighter.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked.
“Okay how?” Amy appeared puzzled.
“Sore?”
She smiled shyly as comprehension replaced confusion. She giggled nervously as she replied, “No, I'm fine. It's been years since I lost my virginity.”
“I know, but you were really small and tight.” The memory of how her wet, luscious passage had enveloped him had him instantly hard and throbbing again.
“And you fit just fine anyway,” she pointed out.
“Hmmm,” he waggled his eyebrows. “Do you think I would fit again today?”
She laughed. “Seems likely. Want to try?”
“I think that would be good.”
And just like that he rolled her under him and cupping her. Finding her wet and relaxed, he pressed back inside, groaning at the sweet, tight embrace of her body.
He rocked in her slowly as she clutched him, her legs around his hips, her arms around his back. Because the loving was so gentle, her orgasm was soft. She made a quiet little sound of pleasure against his ear. He came with her as they found mutual gratification in each other's arms. The experience was as new for him as it was for her; he had never known sex to be so tender. The fact that it was also so satisfying left his mind reeling. This means something. Damn it, why am I so muddled. I should understand what it means.
A while later he gently withdrew his softening sex from her body, maintaining thei
r connection with a sensual kiss. “Do you have plans this afternoon, Amy?”
“Not really,” she replied. “Why?”
“I'm meeting some friends at the sports bar,” he said. “Would you like to come with me?”
Amy gave him a puzzled look. “You would be okay with a sports bar? They're pretty noisy.”
He quirked his cheek in acknowledgement of her oblique reference. “I wasn't sure, but I think I'm relaxed enough to handle it now.” And I sure do want you there, honey. “Wanna come?”
“I already did,” Amy quipped, her eyes twinkling with naughtiness.
He laughed. It feels so good to laugh.
She sobered quickly. “Okay, Sam, what gives? Why do you want me to come to the sports bar with you and your friends?”
Time to tell the truth, Airman, he thought to himself. Typical to screw around with an intense moment by playing games. “Well, you remember that guy, Ray… ah, Specialist Lozano?” he paused for long enough for her to nod in response. “He said you were my girlfriend, right?”
“So?” She looked more puzzled than ever.
“There's a reason he said that.” Sam swallowed hard. I hope she doesn't get mad.
“And that would be?” she pressed.
“I told him you were.”
Amy quirked an eyebrow.
“I told everyone you were.”
“Why?” she demanded, more astonished than angry.
“Because that's how I want it to be,” he replied. And that's the simple truth. Believe it, sweet girl. Know your worth for once.
Of course she didn't get it. “Okay, Sam, clarify. You just want me to help make them believe I'm your girlfriend, right?”
Sam smoothed a strand of golden hair back from Amy's face. “No, baby,” he said sweetly. “I want you to be my girlfriend.”
Her eyes widened, nostrils flaring as she drew in a sharp breath. “Uh, don't you think you might have mentioned this to me?”
“Well, I was planning to talk to you about it last night,” he explained, trailing one finger over the softness of her breast. “But I got distracted.”
“Okaaaaayyyy… but last night you acted like…” She broke off.
“Like what?”
“Like it was a one night stand or something.”
Sam smiled sheepishly. “I knew I wanted you, Amy. I've known that for ages. But you were a years-old memory. When I saw you, when you stood before me, real and alive, not a girl from a dream, I had a feeling that… that I wasn't sure I was in a good place to give you what you need and deserve. I was trying to do the right thing…”
She quirked an eyebrow. “What is the right thing?”
Sam snorted. “Damned if I know. All I know is that right now, I can't imagine ever wanting anything more than to claim you as my own. I want you, Amy. I want us to be together.”
The second eyebrow joined the first and she pursed her lips. What the hell does that face mean?
“So then?” he pressed. Please say yes, Amy. I need you in ways you can't even imagine. You're my peace.
“As if you need ask,” she told him and then coiled her arms around his neck.
“Don't you want to be asked?” he quizzed, not wanting his girl to miss out on anything that might make her happy.
“Yes,” she replied in simple sincerity. “That would be nice, actually… to be asked.”
Sam took a deep breath. “Amy Owens, will you be my girlfriend?”
Her eyes sparkled again, binding his heart in a way he could never recall having felt before. “Yes, Sam Wallace, I believe I will.”
Her simple confidence startled him. “Yes?”
“Did you expect me to say no?” she asked incredulously.
“I expected you to turn red and stammer,” he replied.
Amy gave him a mock evil stare. Then she laughed and said, “Well, I'm naked. Remember what that does for my confidence.”
“Ah, that's true. You may be the only one.” He traced a grapevine pattern over the slight convexity of her lower belly.
“The only one?” she questioned and pushed away the tickling finger. “What, because you've had so many?”
Sam chuckled, amused by her slight show of jealousy. “No, baby, but I do think I'd like to have you naked more often. You're feisty when you're not being restricted by your clothes!”
She gave him a suspicious look and said, “I like my clothes.”
He kissed her and said, “Yeah, you're weird that way.”
She smiled back at him, saying, “I'm a strange creature. Everyone says so.”
“So will you go?” he pleaded, giving her puppy dog eyes and a fake pout.
She broke out into giggles. “Yes, okay. Now then, should we go see if we can wheedle some breakfast out of Janie?”
Sam shrugged. “I'm not really all that hungry.”
“You should be,” she retorted. “If all that exertion doesn't rouse your appetite, what will?”
The thought of food does nothing for me. “No idea.”
She rose and tugged his hands. “Well, let's go anyway. At least have a piece of fruit or something.”
He sighed. I should probably try. “Okay.” He rose.
Amy pulled out some faded jeans and a button up shirt. It was Sunday and though it was late in the fall, forecast still called for heat in Central Texas, so she didn't bother with socks and shoes, just let the tile floor cool her feet. Sam put on his party clothes from the previous night, and then looked down at himself.
“If I go dressed like this, it's going to be obvious I haven't been back to my room.”
Amy shrugged. “Janie is my best friend. She's going to know sooner or later. Besides, did you really mean it about me being your girlfriend?”
“Yes.” He let his intensity bleed into his voice.
Amy shivered happily. “Well then, I think sharing with people is kind of part of the process.”
Sam grinned. “Okay. If it doesn't bother you, it sure doesn't bother me.”
But apparently something was bothering Amy. “Um, Sam?”
“What is it Amy? You suddenly look worried.” He touched the furrow between her eyebrows.
“Yeah,” she said nervously. “I'm not on the pill.”
Sam winced. “Why not?”
She gave him an incredulous look. “I didn't think it would be an issue.”
“Um, it is now,” he pointed out. “Can you get on it?”
She pondered and then shook her head, sending her golden hair tumbling. “I don't think so, not yet. I have to finish this cycle first.”
“Do you know where you're at?” he asked, pestering.
“It's not something I spend a whole lot of time thinking about,” Amy retorted.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, when we're out today I'll pick up some rubbers.”
“That's a good idea.”
Amy laced her fingers through Sam's. He raised their joined hands to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on her fingertips then they made their way slowly towards the kitchen together. As they moved through the silent hallways of the mostly empty ranch house, Sam let himself really think about what Amy had told him. He had never had unprotected sex with anyone… except Amy, that Christmas. She hadn't gotten pregnant then, so maybe she wouldn't now either. But maybe she would.
He imagined it. Sweet Amy, his best friend, now his lover. He imagined her slender belly slowly swelling, swelling. There was no other woman he could imagine spending his life with. She would be a wonderful mother… someday. He didn't want this just yet though. The timing was wrong, but one day… when he found his way past the darkness that consumed him… that dream image might just come true.
* * *
The kitchen was alive with wonderful smells. Janie was pounding chicken breasts for her chicken fried chicken Sunday lunch.
“Morning, Janie.” Amy said.
Janie looked at the clock and back at the counter without glancing at her friend. “You only have two hours to spare before
noon.”
“Yes, I realize that.” Amy replied in a cheerful voice.
“Amy, you never sleep so late,” Janie commented, her attention fixed on her chicken.
“I was tired. I had a late night,” Amy replied, trying to explain.
Her cheeks burned with embarrassed satisfaction and her heart sang with glee. Sam released her hand from his only to move in behind her. Standing at her back, he rested his head on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist. Amy had never felt happier in all her life.
“Ha. You left the party pretty early,” Janie replied. She never takes one bit of bullshit.
“I did,” Amy admitted.
“And so did the guest of honor,” Janie added, turning to idle conversation as her skilled hands dropped piece after piece of perfectly flattened chicken into a bowl of buttermilk . “No one could find him.”
“I know where he was,” Amy replied, unable to conceal a bit of a smirk from her voice.
“Where,” Janie asked absently.
“Good morning, Janie.”
Janie jumped. A piece of slimy raw chicken slipped out of her hand and landed on the floor with a moist plop.
“Oh, my Lord!” Janie exclaimed. Then she visibly shook herself, her startled face closing down into a neutral expression. “Good morning, Sam. Sorry, I didn't realize you were there.”
Amy smiled and Sam chuckled brightly. Amy couldn't help noting that Sam had laughed more in the last few hours than he had since he returned home. It made her feel good to think that she might have a part in making him happy. It also reaffirmed her decision, convincing her she was doing the right things to help him.
Janie looked at his disheveled clothes. “So that's where he went.”
“Yes.” At last Janie met Amy's eyes and at her friend's knowing stare, Amy blushed deeper than ever.
“Did Mr. Wallace find you?” What's that intensity in Janie's voice? And how did she know he was looking?
“Yes.”
Sam looked askance at Amy. She said nothing.
“That must have been embarrassing,” Janie commented dryly.
“Yes,” Amy agreed again, not wanting to remember being caught by her employer, naked and freshly bedded, cradled in a man's arms.
Saving Sam (The Wounded Warriors Book 1) Page 4
