by Marti Shane
“You might be.” He stabbed two fingers toward Jax’s eyes.
“Awe, so you admit it’s not all business?”
“It will be for you.”
“Travis vouches for her. Says she’s first-class.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Travis isn’t trying to sleep with her.”
“Neither was I,” Jake countered. “At the time.” The bathroom door opened, the hair dryer silenced.
“We covered this.” Sam sauntered out, her snug tank displaying her slender shoulders. “I work for Jax.” Silky dark hair flowed behind her, feet gliding over the open space. She took the stool across from Jax, who straightened, mirroring her perfect posture. “If you have time tomorrow, we can cover the contract,” she offered. “I can get started as early as Monday.”
“Take all the time you need,” Jax offered. “We’re just moving dirt the next few weeks.”
Jake shook out three ibuprofens, offering them to Sam. Eyeing the bottle and inspecting the pills carefully, she turned up her palm.
“Kay didn’t mention any construction. What are you guys working on?”
“First priority is a guardrail after we patch that road,” Jake answered.
“You’ll want Red’s approval on that. You slap a metal rail up there and he’ll tear it down. It has to blend with the environment.”
“Good to know,” Jax said. “I like how undisturbed the land is here.”
Jake opened the fridge, snagging two flavors of Gatorade for Sam to choose from. She frowned at his favorite, picking white over blue.
“The second priority?” she asked.
“An access road on the Northeast side.” Jax pointed in the direction, turning his attention to Jake. “Travis rode me up there. I’m thinking four weeks.” Turning his attention back to Sam, he asked, “Are you planning on working from Atlanta?”
“I’ll be wherever we decide you need me at first.” Jake loved the way she made it sound effortless, and knew she’d make it look effortless, too. Mason inflated his worth, making everything sound bigger and harder than it was. Sam was the opposite, exactly what Jax needed.
“Like I said, take all the time you need.” Jax stood, snagging his beer in one hand and rubbing his gut with the other. “Oh yeah, we’ve got blackberry cobbler, too. Travis got into it already, so you better hurry up.”
“Right behind ya.”
Jake barreled out of the bathroom after the quickest, coldest shower he’d ever taken. His shirt still lay on the bed, the sight disappointing. On the bright side, he liked how her tank hugged her, showing off the lean muscle in her arms. Pulling the shirt over his head, his stomach gave a roar. His empty beer bottle clanked, Sam tossing it in the trash. Her upper body was swallowed in a gray hoodie, his hoodie. “I borrowed a sweatshirt.” She pulled at the neck, a slight tan line on display. “I get a chill from new sun.”
“How’s your head?”
“Fine.” She slid her feet into flip flops, holding the dresser for balance. The thin black leather straps against her bare skin made his cock stir. “Coming?” she called over her shoulder. “I’m starved.”
Sam led them across the lawn to the side steps of the Victorian. His palms itched to explore the old woodwork he knew would be inside. Double screen doors led to an expansive outdoor space wrapping three sides of the old home. They walked through outdoor furniture groupings with conversation throw pillows and side tables for snacks and drinks. He could imagine the place packed with people, families enjoying the lake.
A long bar with ten or so stools separated the space from the exterior wall of the old home. Sam stepped behind it, pulling a glass from the rack overhead. She pressed the lever to the Coke dispenser, partially filling the glass. She sipped the brown bubbly tentatively, her hand pressed to her stomach.
“I think I swallowed lake water.” She took another sip before dumping the rest down the metal sink. “Gram’s trick. Keep the Coke on the less bubbly side for mixed drinks. Keeps you from bloating and it’s good for settling your stomach, supposedly. We’d pretend our stomach hurt just so she’d give us Coke.”
Jake inspected the wall of photos, one guests would see if they bellied up to the small bar. Sam and Mick were everywhere in the collage of frames. Nick and Travis, too. Bright smiles, sun-kissed cheeks, giant fish proudly held by mouth and tail, even giant pumpkins carved in funny shapes.
“This is you guys?” He pointed to the four of them lined boy, girl, boy girl, hands locked in mid-air as they jumped off the dock. Nick and Sam were dangerously frail compared to Travis and Mick.
Sam moved next him, her expression unreadable as she gazed into her past. “Took me all summer to jump. I was terrified of being under water, but I didn’t want to be left out.” He remembered her on the water today, fearless and carefree. He’d dunked them under and she didn’t seem to mind.
“Exposure therapy?” A cold prickle stood up the hairs at the base of his neck remembering the car. Sam’s hand reached out to the photo, a finger tracing the platinum curls straight over Mick’s head.
“She’s infectious.” Affection laced her tone. “She breathes life into everyone around her. She can make you feel invincible.” Her chin lifted, eyes leisurely strolling across the individually framed memory lane.
“What’s this one?” He pointed to a group photo, balloons falling and everyone’s hands in the air, mouths all forming the same word. Sam was in the middle, smiling wide. “Easter my senior year. They have a huge egg hunt. I was being a tyrant because I hadn’t heard back from the colleges applied for.” She pointed to the paper in her hand.
“They put ‘em in the eggs?” Jake guessed from the creases in the paper.
“Mick knew I’d get in, and she wanted to make it a big deal.”
“Ivy league, full ride. That’s a very big deal.”
“Says the major leaguer.” She shifted her gaze to his.
“I was a walk-on in college,” he admitted. “Cross City’s a football town. Jax got a full ride, but not a lot of baseball scouts come around to 2A schools looking for players.” Mitch and Mason were from Atlanta, riding full scholarships.
“Jax played football?” He liked her hand wrapping his, expression curious as she led them around the corner. “We used to both play everything, but in high school grades were more important and my mom wasn’t going to let us slide anymore.”
“And you picked baseball?”
“We picked opposite seasons so one of us could play sports and the other could focus on school.”
“You cheated?” She frowned up at him.
“Tutored. Turns out you learn it best when you teach it to someone else.” The space opened to rows of tables with mismatched chairs. “I guess I assumed you’ve always been awesome. Who knew?”
“Jax. Guess he’s my Mick. She called, by the way. Said for me to kiss you for her.” Sam reached instinctively for her phone, frowning when she came up short. He’d purposely left his in the cabin. He liked them being unplugged, and he knew from Nick there was no laptop on the way. “I smell lasagna.”
Sam pushed through what he assumed was the kitchen, the space more like a foyer. The second set of doors were true to the old Victorian style. She knocked, Travis opening the door wide. He was in jeans and a gray ARMY t-shirt with a dishtowel tossed over one shoulder. “We ate it all.” He rubbed his belly forcing up a belch.
“You’re disgusting.” Sam pushed past him.
“I need to look at that, Knothead.” He thumped the air by her head as she passed by. Slapping his hand away, she walked through the industrial grade kitchen. “I’m serious. Where you going?” he called after them, Jake tight on her heels. Passing by the farm-style table in the center of the room, Jake peeked over Jax’s shoulder eyeing his sketch. He smiled inside, seeing him doing what he loved. Sam hung a right down a short hall.
Traditional flat board paneling lined the walls, sconces lighting the space with the flick of a switch. Hanging a left,
they were in the reception area. The faint lemon scent told him they spent time maintaining the wood. He took in the surroundings, admiring the antique reception desk while Sam typed a code in the eight-panel door. The bronze plate read “Private,” making him pause. She was in and out, a white box with a familiar apple logo clutched in her hand.
“You have no idea how many people drop their phones in the lake.” Tearing at the plastic to get to the phone, she led them back towards the kitchen. Catching her wrist, he pulled her gently to him. He sought out her waist through the thick cotton fabric, her hair silk against his skin.
“For Mick.” He pressed his lips to hers, too short but sweet.
“You want me to brag about that?” She met him half-way, her hand pulling his face to hers.
“This one’s for me.” Her lips were soft but firm, her taste as sweet as her smell when he dipped inside. Her hand climbed his neck, his erection following suit. He broke the kiss before things got out of hand, loving the extra nibble she gave his bottom lip.
“Hungry?” He sank his teeth in her lip in return.
“Starved.”
Putting distance between them, he had to shift in his jeans. She shoved her hands through the pocket of his sweatshirt, cheeks a new shade of pink. Her slip on the dock today revealed her inexperience. Travis was her first and last kiss before Mitch, meaning she’d only been with one man who was fighting to get her back. That would never happen.
Travis scowled at the phone Sam was plugging in.
“Nick said he’d ship you a phone.”
“Right.” She shot him a knowing glance, fingers tapping the screen. “Nick doesn’t say, he does.” Travis lifted a brow in contemplation before nodding in agreement.
“I can cut the wifi,” he warned, setting the lasagna on the table.
“Chill, it’ll take hours to download,” she argued, leaving the phone to charge.
“Good. Get over here and eat.” Travis pulled out a chair, one for each of them.
Jake imagined the whole group, seated around the large table for breakfast before starting their summer jobs for the day. If you’d asked him who Sam’s friends were before this week, he’d never guess to put the scowling red-bearded soldier on the list. And Mick was way off base from what he would’ve imagined. As Sam described her, she’s infectious, bursting with life. He was curious why she didn’t see herself the same way? The woman he met in Boston years ago was an image for A. Premier, not the free-spirit he witnessed today.
“You’re mom’s a sweet lady,” Travis said, scooping a generous portion to his plate. “She made a whole spread for breakfast this morning.”
“She loves cooking for people.” Jake took his first bite, watching to make sure Sam did the same. They mostly talked about the equipment yard, Jax filling in the blanks when Travis didn’t know the right names. When he dove into the half-empty pan for a second helping he noticed Sam had only managed a few bites. Her skin paled, almost a shade of green.
“Sam, Mom made you some soup if the lasagna’s too heavy.” Her smile was weak.
“That’s so nice.” She pushed her plate to Travis. “Don’t let this go to waste.” When Jax got up for the soup she held up a hand. “That’s okay. I’m going to let my stomach settle.” She pushed her chair back, hands clutching the edge of the table when she rose too quickly.
Wood skidded over tile, Jake and Travis in unison to get to their feet. Travis went to the orange bag by the back door, Jake easing her back down to the chair.
“I feel sick.” She opened the neck of her sweatshirt with a pull, fanning some air into the fabric. Grabbing the hem, he lifted it over her head being careful of her bump. “Really sick.” She said almost in a panic.
The garbage can slid next to them, Travis having kicked it over.
“I’m gonna fix that, but then you’re on twenty-four hour medical hold.” He slid out the chair on the other side, Sam’s eyes widening as the needle punctured the meat of her shoulder.
“Vertigo from a concussion.” He pushed the clear liquid into her arm, removing the needle and swabbing the injection site. “You’re going night-night and you’re on restriction from your toys, including your phone.”
“What did you give me?” Sam didn’t seem to mind, her weight leaning into Jake.
“Phenergan,” he said, coming at her with a pin light.
“Don’t.” She closed her eyes, avoiding the light.
“Real quick, look at me,” Travis insisted. “One, Two-“ Sam’s lids popped open on three, Travis shining the light in each one. “Okay.” He clicked off the light, tugging her up under one arm. “You’re sleeping upstairs so I can check on you every few hours.” Jake stood with them, ready to protest. What the hell had he’d done the past two days? Travis didn’t need to check on her.
“I’ve got the good stuff for pain.” He looked over to Jake. “She’ll need it in a few hours.” Jake scooped her in his arms, nodding to the small hall they’d been down before to lead the way. He followed Travis, Sam clutching the discarded sweatshirt to her chest as they climbed the stairs. There were so many twists and turns he thought he should sprinkle breadcrumbs. They stepped into what looked like a guest room, Travis pulling back the hand-made quilt for Jake to settle her gently on the bed.
Sam’s lids were closed, her knees pulling into her chest as she curled on her side. Covering her, he eyed the other side of the bed. “Let her sleep. Her head needs it.” Travis’s footsteps were already down the hall and, after dropping a quick kiss to her cheek, Jake followed.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Travis grumbled as they fell in step on the stairs. “Jet skiing with a head injury?”
“She didn’t have a concussion from the accident.” Jake defended.
“Did you get too many fastballs to the head?” Travis rounded on him at the bottom of the stairs. “She slept for two days.”
“She hasn’t slept for months. You said yourself she didn’t have a concussion. Are you even qualified to give her that shit?” Travis’s copper eyes glowed with anger in the dark space. His massive chest pumped up and down under the word ARMY.
“Believe me,” Travis pushed past him, “I’ve seen worse.” They marched in silence back to the kitchen, Jake dialing back his temper. Travis’s broad shoulders were tight with tension, Jake’s feeling the same. He knew exactly where things went wrong, Sam launching about five feet in the air before she smacked the water. He knew the danger of repeat concussions, but he had no idea how fearless she’d be.
Crossing into the bright light of the kitchen, the buzzing coming from Sam’s phone caught both their attentions. Mitch. So much for it taking hours to download. Jake gripped the phone ripping it from the charger.
“Don’t answer that.” Travis caught his arm.
“Get off me.” He stepped toe to toe, his height advantage making Travis look up. Jax shoved between them, his face an inch from Jake’s.
“Back off, man. What’s up?”
“It’s Mitch.”
“None of your business. Put down the phone.” Travis growled.
“He didn’t tell her.” Jake sent the call to voicemail, tossing it to the table.
“Fucking prick.” Jax removed his hand from Jake’s chest, the other still cautiously holding Travis.
“Tell her what?” Travis leaned in on him, Jax pushing him back.
“I pulled him off some slut in D.C.”
“When was this?”
“Before they busted.”
“And you didn’t tell her?”
“I told him to tell her.” Jake’s hands fisted, wanting to wrap them back around Mitch’s neck.
“Did you kick his ass at least?” Travis turned a fierce gaze on Jax. “You couldn’t tell me this?”
“We thought he told her because they broke up. It wasn’t our business.” He dropped his hand from Travis’s chest.
“I never liked that guy,” he said through gritted teeth. The phone buzzed with a voicemail notificat
ion, Travis diving for the device. Jake beat him to it, tapping Mitch’s name and pressing send.
“Sam.” Mitch’s voice was surprise and relief when the call picked up. Jake’s grip tightened on the phone, the prick’s voice in his ear feeding his rage as he strode for the porch.
“It’s Jake, you piece of shit.”
Chapter Eight
Jake could never get enough. Her taste, her curves, her sweet sex gripping his dick as he thrust in and out of her. Driving deep with every thrust, he broke their kiss wanting his name to spill from her sexy mouth. Her lips were plump from his assault, her nails in his back telling him she was close. His hand scaled her side, loving the hourglass curve from her waist to her hip. Hooking his hand under her thigh, her quad was tight from pushing her heels to the bed. She was close, seeking leverage to make it last.
Lifting her thigh, her long leg wrapped him, his dick sliding impossibly deep.
“Jake.” Her sultry plea fed the sizzle at the base of his spine. His molars clamped tight, heat crackling through every vertebra, popping waves of sensation free. His balls drew painfully tight, his dick begging to pick up the pace. “More.” Sam was right there with him, her hands gliding to his ass and dictating the pace. “Harder.” She begged, his body in complete compliance as his vision blurred.
Sam’s body crashed into his, lifting from the bed. Her soft breast molded to his chest, his hand finding her back as her thighs cinched his waist. Sinking her teeth into his shoulder, her grip on his ass stilled his retreat, her pussy suckling his shaft and pulling his release. He felt Sam’s orgasm rock through her, sexy noises spilling from her lips. He welcomed the orgasm slamming into him, spilling his seed in hot streams. He wanted more, hips moving on their own accord in short thrust to finish his release. Hot jets shot violently with every thrust, making him curse the condom. Never having come this hard or this much, he doubted the thin latex.
Sam protested along with his dick when he pulled from her quivering channel. He dropped a kiss to her pouty lips, fighting off the come-coma threatening to take hold.
