As the cold water beat down upon his body, his anger disappeared and he got aroused at the memories of the night before and how wonderful making love with her had been. But if she won’t talk to you when she’s upset, do you even have a chance at a relationship? What if she runs away every time you have a little disagreement? Does she do that because she thinks you’re not worthy of her love?
His doubts turned his arousal back to anger and he exited the shower, determined to make her speak to him. He stopped outside her bedroom door and knocked once more. “Sam, open the door.”
Before trying to handle the knob he counted to ten, shocked when it turned at the first attempt. He opened the door and then stood, his mouth wide open. Her suitcase and all of her belongings were gone. She dumped you.
His anger grew. She’d not only dumped him, but also his parents, who were looking forward to meeting her. Her running away would humiliate him in front of his parents and his youngest siblings, Allison and Terrence.
The thought of cancelling crossed his mind, but his family was too important to stand them up over a woman – even if that woman was Samantha. He jumped into his truck and drove to his parents’ house, where his mother was waiting for him at the front door. “Where’s Samantha?”
Grant had been expecting this question, and gave her the only reasonable explanation he could think of. “She received an urgent call from her agent and had to return to New York right away.” He wasn’t positive that was exactly what had happened, but she wasn’t at the beach house and he assumed she’d gone straight to airport and caught the first plane back to New York.
His mother looked skeptical and disappointed. “And it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? I would have liked to see her again.”
“I guess not.” Spying his sister and brother across the room, he excused himself and joined them. Grant was in a foul mood the rest of the night and didn’t talk much.
His sister Allison filled the void, her vivacious energy helping to cover up his silence. Allison lived next door to his parents and absolutely loved the small-town life of living in Sandy Beach. She was a budding artist, specializing in watercolors and landscapes, and during the day worked in a souvenir shop at the Marina.
She and Terrence were the only kids who had inherited their mother’s creative gene. The others, including Terrence’s twin sister Reese, took after their father Mitch, who owned a windsurfing and sailing school and didn’t have a creative bone in his body.
Allison knew every single person in town and most of the visiting tourists. She regaled the family with story after story, but Grant barely listened. He’d thought he was in the clear, until his mother pulled him aside after dinner.
“Grant, what’s really going on?”
Grant played dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mom.”
“Don’t give me that. I know you. You’ve been sullen all evening and have hardly spoken a word unless it was to answer a question. What’s going on between you and Samantha?”
“Nothing.” he told her. He’d thought maybe there was, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore.
“I’m not buying it. There’s definitely something different about you; and while I like Samantha, I don’t think she’s the right girl for you.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Mom, but this is my business. Not yours.”
“Grant, I love you and don’t want you to get hurt. If Samantha hasn’t learnt to control her temper, you’re better off without her.”
“I love you too, Mom. Thanks for dinner. And thanks for the advice.”
He’d learned from experience it was best not to argue with his mom. Grant drove back home, worried to death because Sam hadn’t called him. She always carried her phone either in her hand, or in her purse, so when she didn’t respond to any of his text messages, he grew even more worried.
He called her phone, frustrated when it went straight to voicemail. He didn’t leave a message, but sent her one last text. Sammie. Please call me. Worry about you. Love, Grant.
Shit. When had this relationship with her become so complicated?
Chapter 17
Samantha had secured a seat on the next flight to New York. She waited until she got off the plane and into the terminal before calling her agent Madison to come pick her up at the airport.
While she waited for Madison to arrive, she spent a few moments trying to process her thoughts about Grant. Finally he showed his real face. He’s envious about your success, just like Craig was.
The other voice in her head tried to tell her that wasn’t true, but she pushed it away, holding onto her anger. Not that she liked being mad, but right now it was something to hold onto and was keeping the immense hurt at bay.
But even though she was bashing Grant and comparing him to Craig in her mind, her body showed her real emotions. It heated up just in thinking about him and the night before. His touch, his scent, the way he caged her body beneath his and watched her with his brown eyes…
When she saw Madison pull up, she pushed all thoughts of Grant and Sandy Beach to the back corner of her brain, because she had to focus all of her energies on the bigger problem at hand. Besides, I’m better off without a man. I am.
She read his text message for the millionth time, but still wouldn’t answer him. Who was he to be so mean to her? He’d called her on her biggest weakness. He was supposed to support her and be there for her. Not tell her it was her own fault, because she couldn’t control her temper. What kind of friend or lover did that?
Madison honked her horn to get her to stop daydreaming, “Sam. What are you doing? Get in the car.”
Samantha shook her head, pushing the thoughts back once more; ignoring the small voice inside her head that continued to tell her she was making a mistake about Grant.
She tossed her suitcase into the trunk of Madison’s sleek little sports car and then dropped into the leather seat. “Thanks for coming to pick me up.” It wasn’t the apology her agent deserved, but Samantha hoped Madison would not start in on her right away. She was tired, angry, and not sure she could stand her ground without losing her temper once again.
No such luck. Madison didn’t spend any time on small talk, but got straight to the point once Samantha was seated in the car. “I spoke with Sara Newsom, the owner of the magazine you blew off yesterday, and apologized profusely for your absence.”
“What excuse did you give her?” Sam asked, cringing upon hearing the name of the magazine owner. Sara Newsom was the fashion goddess and though Sam had never met her, women didn’t get to her level of respect in the industry without being ball breakers.
“I told her you had a family emergency and had to fly back to Chicago. In your haste to get back home, you totally forgot about the shoot.”
“Madison, you know how I feel about lying. Couldn’t you have made up something else?”
Her agent tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Kiss my feet for saving your ass and don’t criticize my means. The only way to justify your blowing off this shoot was to play the family emergency card. Sara is a firm believer in putting family first and she was very gracious about the whole thing.”
“Really? Given her reputation she should have been furious at the delay.”
“She was. But your fantastic agent Madison Delacrux paid her a visit and she calmed down considerably once I spoke with her. She’s different than other people, more human, if you know what I mean.”
Samantha swallowed hard at the fact that a lie had saved her. “So, are they shooting tomorrow?”
Madison nodded. “Yes. They started today with the other models and they will be ready for you tomorrow morning. By the way, I told Sara you won’t charge them for the shoot.”
“I won’t?”
“No. Honey, I needed to do some severe damage control. That was the best I could offer. You really have to get a grip on that temper of yours.”
“Thanks, Madison. What would I do without you?”
What di
fference did it make if she got paid for this shoot and never worked in the industry again? If working for free tomorrow helped salvage even a small portion of her career, so be it.
“Don’t mention it. Now, talk to me about Silueta.”
Samantha beat the back of her head against the seat and groaned, the shame about her behavior making her shiver. “You heard?”
“I heard. So did half of New York City.”
“Gosh, I was totally pissed off. Thank god I didn’t physically attack that man or you might have had to bail me out of jail for assault and battery.”
Madison was the most cutthroat model agent in the city, but she had a big heart hidden beneath the surface. At the next traffic light she took her steel-blue eyes off the road for a moment and transfixed Samantha. “Honey, we’ll fix this.”
Samantha swallowed hard and bit back tears. “I don’t even know where to begin to fix this horrible mess. I really blew it.”
“Well, this is what you have me for. I have been thinking...” Madison outlined her plan that included a personal apology, several days of community work, and sessions in anger management. All accompanied by the right kind of press.
Samantha sunk further into the leather seat and paled at the enormity of the task. But despite her shame she felt a glimmer of hope that her agent’s plan might work. At least she doesn’t want me to go along Fifth Avenue on my knees.
Madison pulled up outside Samantha’s downtown apartment with a screech of the wheels.
“Thanks for everything, Mad.”
“No problem. See you in the morning. Get some sleep tonight. You look like hell.”
“Thanks for that, too.”
She retrieved her suitcase from the trunk and headed up to her tenth floor suite. She unlocked her apartment and then wished she’d stayed somewhere else for the night. Everything around her reminded her of Craig.
In a burst of energy, she grabbed two large trash sacks from beneath the kitchen sink and tossed his stuff into them. She cleaned out the closet and dresser drawers of his belongings, tossed his shampoo and other bathroom items in on top of his clothing, caring little about the open lids and possible leakage.
She walked through the living room and got rid of the few items there that were his, and then threw out the food items she found in the refrigerator, along with his beer. He insisted on drinking the dark stuff and she hated it.
Once she finished, she tied the bags up, dragged them down the hallway to the end, and then opened the door to the trash chute. It took some work, but she managed to get both bags into the chute and listened with a satisfied grin on her face as they slid down the metal corridor to the trash dumpster below. Good riddance.
Returning to her apartment, she slammed the door shut and made a mental note to get the locks changed as soon as she could. She grabbed a glass of cold water, gulped down the entire glass, and then looked around her apartment once again. Not one thing left that reminded her of Craig. Success.
She settled on the couch, pulling a throw pillow into her lap as she tried to make sense of the last forty-eight hours. She sat there for a while before grabbing her phone and reading Grant’s text message once more. Sammie. Please call me. Worry about you. Love, Grant.
It softened her resolve and her heart danced with excitement. But she’d decided to stick to her guns about not rushing into a new relationship. Especially one with Grant. He deserved better.
But she couldn’t ignore his attempt to reach out to her. He’d been her best friend for too long, and friends didn’t treat each other like that. Even when they were fighting. She quickly tapped in a response.
Sorry for leaving and for the fight. I’m back in NY, rescuing my career.
She started to put her phone down, but his response came right back.
I was worried. Glad you’re fine.
She waited for him to mention the fight, but he didn’t. I have to tell him. Her fingers barely obeyed her commands to send him one last text.
Sleeping with you was a huge mistake. Friends?
Chapter 18
A flash of grief ripped through Grant when he read her message. He dialed her number, needing to hear her voice and try to reason with her, but the phone went straight to voicemail once again.
He wandered around the house for a few minutes, but everywhere he looked he saw her beautiful smiling face. The beach house was meant to be a getaway, a place to wind down and relax, but now that house would always carry the memories of her. The one woman in the world he wanted, but couldn’t have.
Grant desperately needed a distraction so he headed into town, stopping at The Lighthouse bar and having a few beers. His brother’s band was playing for a second night in a row, and after their first set, Terrence joined him for another beer.
“Spill it, what about Sam?” he asked.
“She had to leave. She’s back in New York.” Grant tried to keep his voice neutral as if that fact didn’t sting like crazy, but he couldn’t fool his brother.
“Been fighting?”
“No, she had an urgent call from her agent…”
His brother interrupted him: “Grant. Stop telling me that bullshit. You two have been fighting.”
Grant sighed. Sometimes he hated having family around. They always had to stick their noses into his business. “If you insist. But we’re good again.”
“So, since when are you a couple?” Terrence asked.
“We’re not. She’s my best friend.”
“Ah, c’mon, man. I saw the way you watched her last night. And I see your wounded puppy face now. You can tell me, I won’t say anything. Not even to Allison.”
“There’s nothing to tell. We’re not together. We’re best friends like we’ve always been.” He gave his brother a cold stare.
“Well, in that case, you might want to meet Jenny. She was asking about you last night, but I told her you were already taken.”
“No, not taken.”
“I’ll send her your way. Good luck, bro. She’s a real looker and likes to fool around. No strings attached.”
Grant watched his younger brother retake the stage, and then out of nowhere, a gorgeous blonde slid into the chair next to him.
“Hi. I’m Jenny,” she said, bouncing in her seat so that her burgeoning breasts bounced in time with the music starting up. Grant let his eyes stray downward. It was obvious she’d been enhanced, and the sight of her artificial boobs turned him off. I love Sam’s breasts. They’re not as huge, but they’re natural. Soft and sensitive.
“Grant,” he told her absent-mindedly.
“So, Grant, what do you do for a living?” she asked, shoving her breasts into him, her nasal voice already grating on his frayed nerves. He’d hoped to forget Sam, at least for tonight, but Jenny wouldn’t do the trick. None of the women he’d been with back then had helped him to forget her. And now, after he’d slept with Samantha, how could he have the slightest hope that another woman would erase the memories of their pleasure from his body?
He looked at Jenny, saw the desire in her eyes to find a nice guy to fool around with, and realized how shallow these types of relationships were. I’m not interested in playing those games any more.
“Jenny, sorry Terrence gave you the wrong idea, but I’m not interested in a one-night stand.”
Jenny pouted. “Well, thanks for not making me waste my time.” She walked away, stopping at another table full of young men who seemed to welcome her attentions.
Grant emptied his beer in one gulp. Thank god she didn’t make a scene. This town is small and word travels quickly.
He nodded to Terrence and the other guys in the band and left the bar. Heading home, alone. But he couldn’t sleep once he got there. He and Samantha had never had a fight before. They’d had disagreements, like most longtime friends do, but never an actual fight. Of course, they’d never slept with each other before, either.
You’re a fool, Grant. Now you’ve ruined any chance of having a romantic relationship w
ith her, and ruined your friendship on top. The worst case had happened and he’d lost her completely.
He was sitting on his porch overlooking the lake, feeling sorry for himself when his cell phone rang. He grabbed it, hoping Samantha had come to her senses. “Hello?”
“Hey, man. What are you doing?”
Grant glanced at the clock and then shook his head. 11 o’clock? Grant had thought it was much later. “Patrick! Not much. Long time no see. What’s been going on?” Boy, and I’m glad I didn’t say “sweetie” into the phone. That would have been hard to explain.
“Finishing up a big project. I heard you bought a house up at Sandy Beach.”
Grant wondered who’d told him. “I did. That’s where I am right now. It’s pretty run-down, but nothing a little elbow grease won’t set to rights.”
“Do you ever do anything besides work?” Patrick asked with a laugh.
“Of course I do. And that’s not work, it’s even fun. What about you? I’m sure you didn’t call me at this time of night to chit-chat.”
“Well, with the time difference, it’s not nighttime over here.”
“You still in parts unknown?”
“Yes, Vietnam. We’ll be heading back to the States next week. We need a break.”
“Great. If you get into Chicago, call and we’ll make time to get caught up. Now, stop stalling and tell me why you called.”
“Okay. You sitting down?”
“Yeah.”
There was a slight pause as if Patrick was saying, Wait for it. Wait for it. Finally, the silence had gone on long enough and he said, “I’m getting married.”
“Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, man. Angela is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”
“I can’t wait to meet the woman who finally has tamed you.”
“No, man. You’ve got it all wrong. I tamed her.”
Grant laughed out loud. Patrick waited until the line fell silent again and then shocked his friend with his next statement: “I want you to be my best man.”
Explosion of Love (The Armstrongs Book 6) Page 7
