Tell Me What You Feel
Page 9
“Congrats!” Riggs shook his hand. "Didn’t take long for you to turn into the shit husband. Leave your wife at home while you live it up.”
“Don’t be a jackass. She forced me to come, told me to give Grace a hug.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed.
“Easy.” Dorian pulled him off playfully. “Don’t you get enough attention at home?”
The more Riggs saw his friends settling into married life, or at least in long-term commitments, the more appealing this choice became. With Skylar by his side, this was going to be a lot more fun than he’d dreamed.
Something shuffled behind them, and someone called out a few choice words.
Renner turned to see the commotion. Then sighed. “Hang on.”
Riggs edged sideways to see around Dorian’s broad frame.
At the bar, Bennett and Roarke stood a little too close to each other, the larger man with a vicious scowl.
Ben wore an annoyed expression, not giving an inch. Only their party took up the patio, so thankfully, the dueling bulls didn’t interfere on anyone else’s dinner.
Renner coolly stepped between them, breaking the tension.
Dorian shook his head. “They’re still doing that shit?”
“What's going on?” Skylar asked quietly.
“Long story.” Riggs flicked an oak leaf off the table from the massive trees billowing overhead.
“Let me guess, a woman?”
“No, much more stupid,” Dorian replied. “Their attitudes are like oil and vinegar. Bad ass mentality. If Roarke doesn’t watch it, he’s gonna get a jab to the jugular.”
Skylar blinked, and lowered her voice. “Are you kidding me? Roarke’s twice his size.”
Riggs shrugged. “Ben’s a former MMA fighter.”
“No contest.” Dorian took a swig of his beer. “Roarke’s a good guy, but a loud mouth.”
“I know someone like that.” Skylar winked at Riggs.
“You’re pretty gutsy for a woman under my touch.” He tickled her side, making her yelp into laughter. He didn’t let up until she was nearly on his lap. Then he stole a kiss.
A waiter dropped off their dinners. Steam billowed off the plates of fajitas and enchiladas, and the sizzle drowned out the music.
“This is what I’m talkin’ about.” Riggs grabbed a tortilla from the warmer.
“What did Duane have to say when you told him you were leaving?” Grace asked. “That’s four Knights he’s lost now?”
“He, uh…wasn’t happy, that’s for sure.”
“I invited him tonight,” Dorian said. “We still see each other every now and again.”
“Yeah, I don’t expect him to show.” Riggs finished assembling his fajita from the smoking beef and vegetables. “You were his favorite, not me. Besides, he was pretty stressed.”
“That’s a bloody understatement,” Bennett interrupted as he sat across the iron table. “We still have to put up with him.” He adjusted his black shirt with a silver crown embroidered on the breast pocket. “Did he tell you about the new recruits coming in? I think the first one is from L.A.”
“He probably wouldn’t like you hanging out with us now,” Riggs sighed. “Might think we’ll entice you to quit, too.”
Bennett scoffed. “I’m happy you found your rhythm, mate. Skylar, Grace, you both are fantastic. But not everyone is made to settle down.”
“You don’t believe in happily ever afters?” Skylar asked candidly.
“This is my ever after.” He winked, and downed a shot.
Roarke and Renner finally came back to the table, both holding a beer.
Renner held up his. “One last toast, to Riggs.”
Everyone grabbed their drink.
“Congrats on your new adventure with Skylar.”
A chorus of 'cheers' echoed around the group.
“We’re proud of you for getting the help you needed,” Renner continued, his expression serious. “You know we’re always here for you if you need us.”
The women nodded.
The men bowed their heads.
“And to Skylar…” Renner smiled. “May you never wise up to the horrible decision dating this SOB. Good luck.”
Skylar laughed.
“Dick,” Riggs muttered.
A tall woman barged through the restaurant doors, her heels clicking on the stone pavers. Dark, pixie-cut hairstyle accentuated her green eyes, the same color as in her tattoos covering her shoulders. She gazed across the patio.
“Wren!” Skylar jumped up, and threw her arms around her sister.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!” She hugged her back. “I can’t figure out the highways around here.”
Skylar brought her over to the group. “This is my sister, Wren. She’s moving here from Chicago.”
Bennett and Roarke both straightened a little taller.
Riggs almost snorted.
Boy, am I glad I don't have to mess with that rivalry anymore.
Wren looked at him first. “Good to see you again, Riggs.” She gave him a one-armed hug. “Thanks for taking such good care of my sister.”
“Of course.”
“Since you both ended up permanent with each other, does this mean I get my money back? Finders fee?”
He snorted. “Where do you think that money went?” He nodded to Skylar. “I spend it all on her.” He blew her a kiss.
Riggs introduced her to the other Knights, both current and former.
Wren shook everyone’s hands. Then hugged Skylar once more. “I need a drink. Want something?”
“I’m taken care of.” She grinned.
Wren beamed. “Looks that way.” She retreated to the bar for a drink, followed closely by Roarke and Bennett.
Riggs pulled Skylar over to the fountain. Her lavender perfume reminded him of her bath salts, and the image of her gloriously naked body took the forefront of his mind.
“You ready to go?”
Her eyes widened. “Already?”
He leaned in, and fluttered kisses under her ear. “I have a strong urge to really take care of you.”
She reached around and squeezed his ass, her fingernails digging in. “Damn right, you will. After one more drink. My sister just got here.”
Her shamrock gaze dazzled under the moonlight.
“Tell me one thing,” Riggs asked.
“Anything.”
“Do you feel safe here? Have I helped you acclimate to your new surroundings?”
Her smile almost knocked him over.
She pulled him in closer, her breasts pushing against his chest. So warm, so soft. “You make me feel like I’m home.”
He kissed her. Deeply, his tongue melding with hers, with the promise of much more. “Score one for Texas.”
THE END
Read more of the Knights of Texas series here!
Susan Sheehey writes contemporary romance, and romantic suspense adventure. Water plays a crucial element in all of her novels, and she's a strong advocate for Autism awareness & acceptance. She squeezes in writing time between chauffeuring around her two boys, and guzzling down French vanilla coffee. Her beloved husband keeps her relatively sane, and full of laughter. She and her family live in Texas.
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Other Novels by Susan Sheehey
Audrey's Promise
ROYALS OF SOLANA series
Prince of Solana (Book 1)
Jewel of Solana (Book 2)
Crown o
f Solana (Book 3)
Royal Wedding (Novella 4)
KNIGHTS OF TEXAS series
Tell Me What You Want
Tell Me What You Crave
Tell Me What You Need
Tell Me What You Feel
STEAMY VACATION series co-authored by Mia London
Dry Spell - Coming Soon
Hot Spell - Coming Soon
Cold Spell - Coming Soon
Read a sneak peek from a new super-steamy series from Susan Sheehey & Mia London!
DRY SPELL
CHAPTER ONE
SAMANTHA CALLAHAN SLAMMED the lid closed on her laptop. The most satisfying sound known to mankind. Who would ever use a tablet when the closing of a lid felt so final . . . so complete?
She smiled for the first time in three days. Her project was finished and, glancing at the clock, with thirty minutes to spare. Her boss would see it first thing in the morning, and love it, of course. Next, nail the presentation and get one step closer to her promotion.
I’m at the top of my game.
Time to celebrate.
She reached into the fridge for one of her favorite California whites. After a generous pour, she hammered the cork back into place with her fist, and strode to her living room to binge on Netflix. In the distance, outside her living room window, the Golden Gate Bridge gleamed with spotlights illuminating the suspension cables, despite a thin layer of fog.
The same view she’d loved when she’d toured this apartment six years ago, and the deciding factor in signing the lease. But as she huddled into the couch with her overfilled glass of wine, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked out the window. Work was her obsession.
Only a few minutes into the first episode, her cell phone chimed. She ignored it until she heard it again. Sam glanced at the screen. An email from her boss. Something about scheduling a meeting with the client to close the deal.
Instead of reading his more-than-likely verbose critique on her little screen, she grabbed her laptop from the coffee table.
Sam’s boss was an even bigger control freak than her. But after this proposal, she was certain he’d have no choice but to let her run point for this new client. Thereby, earning that coveted new director role.
Finally, I have my chance.
The second she opened the lid, the computer screen flashed an ugly blue.
Samantha’s heart froze. A gasp lodged in her throat.
The blue screen of death.
Her life was on that computer. Her project proposal, her presentation, all her sales leads . . .
No matter how many times she pressed the escape button, or control-alt-delete, nothing worked. Until the little black bar in the center popped up.
Deleting files...
“No!” she screamed, lunging forward. Her wine spilled all over the keyboard. The subtle lights under the keys flickered, then died.
Her computer shut off, the hard drive’s faint hum dwindling into silence.
Oh God, no. This cannot be happening.
She smashed her lips together, and inhaled through her nostrils. Think.
She opened her email on her phone, and all her messages were still there. No crisis. Thank God.
She could fix this. All she needed to do was take it in to the computer nerds. They could fix anything. This wasn’t the first time the geniuses had to fix the blue screen of death for someone, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. This would be easy to repair, right?
At least that’s what she kept telling herself.
Sam grabbed a towel from the kitchen, blotted what she could, and turned her laptop upside down to let any remaining wine drip out.
She stood with hands on her hips, mourning her beloved laptop. Well, that’s just great.
****
“DON’T DRINK AND drive goes for computer work as well.” The repair guy snorted at his own joke. Far too ornery on a Friday morning for Sam’s tastes.
She glowered. Comedian of the century, this one. “It was an accident.”
“It always is. Here’s the important question,” he sighed behind his black-rimmed glasses. “Did you backup your data?”
“Of course, I did . . . ” She scoured her mind for the last time she’d synced up her external hard drive. Her heart sank. “Last Christmas.”
Trevor, from his nametag, audibly winced. “You need to do that more often—”
“I know,” she barked back, then bit her tongue. “I’m sorry. There’s just a lot of important stuff on this hard drive. Can you save that?”
“Maybe. We won’t know until we get in there and poke around. Give us until next week.”
She blinked. “Next week?”
“We’re pretty slammed, and it’s a holiday weekend.”
Of course it is. Shit!
He entered her contact information and passwords, and followed with, “We’ll give you a call.” That was it. What more could she do?
She released a breath and headed to the car.
At her car door, she let the cool air calm her heated face. A warm breeze blew, chasing off the fog across the bay, allowing thin sunbeams to dance across the water’s surface. The radio forecast had hinted at a warm front coming this week, and tourists were sure to flock to San Francisco. Mocking her current dismal situation. She wanted to crawl under a rock and die.
The nerd’s words replayed in her head. You need to do that more often.
A little late for that.
You’re a smart woman, Sam. In thirty years, you’ve learned nothing?
Before she could berate herself any further, her phone rang. The screen displayed “Jordan Beck,” her best friend, along with her picture, reminiscent of a smiling Mila Kunis.
“Hey, Jordan. This really isn’t—”
“Morning, sunshine. With you, it’s never a good time. But we love you anyway.”
God, she was more chipper than usual. “Morning. What’s up?”
“Guess what?” Jordan didn’t wait for a reply. Her excitement about something sizzled over the car speakers. “I found us an incredible deal on a beach house in Santa Cruz for the week. A last minute cancellation, and we’re taking advantage.”
Her eyes narrowed on the display screen in her car. Was this really her BFF talking? “For a week? Are you crazy?”
“Nope. You’re crazy because you work too damn much. Your boss wants you to take a break. How much vacation time do you have accumulated, Sam? Ten years? And it’s Fourth of July weekend, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Actually, she had. Nerd had to remind her.
“So, get your bikini and toothbrush, and be outside your place in two hours.”
What?! “You cannot be serious, Jordan.”
“Like a heart attack. Liddy is already on board. We’ll work on our tans, shop, snorkel, flirt with the hotties, and dance our asses off. So, pack your bag.” Jordan was adamant.
Sam let out an exasperated sigh. Really, she had no good reason to stay home. Any meeting with the client would be at least a week or two away, and certainly not over the holiday. Besides, a dead computer meant work would have to wait.
Did she want to miss this trip? Her last beach vacation had been eons ago. Sam had even missed Christmas with her parents because of a big presentation for another new client worth twice her salary, which she’d nailed, of course.
She was justifying.
Her sigh felt like an anvil on her shoulders. “I don’t know, Jordan.”
“Perfect. See you in one hour fifty-eight minutes.” The line went dead.
Shit!
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