He rocked her against himself. "But I don't want to be the one bruising you."
She lifted her head and peered up at him, her eyes full of determination. "And I don't want to let you go and wonder for the rest of my life if I made a mistake."
"Red…"
She rose onto her toes and brushed her lips across Sam's.
"Be careful what you invite," he said. "I've wanted you more than anything from the moment I saw you."
She smiled and pressed her lips to his. He sucked a breath, parting his lips, accepting the full ardor of her mouth—accepting all she offered him. Everything he ever wanted could be his. She could be his. All he had to do was let it happen.
The music changed to something more upbeat, stealing away mood—his fantasy. Self-conscious, he glanced about. To his amazement, they were alone.
"Where'd they all go?" he asked.
Dixie chuckled, her arms still around his neck, her body still pressed against his. "Home. To bed. Wherever. Most importantly, I doubt we'll see any of them until tomorrow."
Afraid to read too much into the flirtatious invitation of her voice, he murmured, "Okay. Now what?"
She raised her eyes to the ceiling—toward the bedroom above.
"What about Ben?" he asked.
"Knowing Nana, Ben is already bunked in with her."
"Are you sure about this, Red?"
"So sure I'm about to throw you across one of these tables and have my way with you right here."
He scooped her up in his arms, carried her up the wide front stairs, the music still playing in the distance. He carried her into her bedroom, kicked the door shut behind them, and tossed her onto her empty bed. She laughed.
He grinned, toed off his boots, and jumped onto the bed beside her. There was no thought to how they removed their clothes, just action driven by need.
They explored each other in a frenzy of hands, mouths, and tongues. He took her to the moon first with his mouth. Then sank into her hot wetness and took them both to the stars.
Afterward, he savored the feel of holding her until they both fell asleep, curled into each other's embrace.
Sometime during the gray hours of false dawn, something woke Sam; a sound, a stirring of air. He couldn't place what. But it was enough to remind him he shouldn't be caught in Dixie's bed by Ben.
He looked down on her, head pillowed in the crook of his arm. With her hair in disarray about her head and her full lips puckered ever so slightly, she looked like a wanton angel. A well satisfied wanton angel.
He smiled and brushed his lips across hers. She stirred and her lips curled around a throaty purr. She looked up at him through dreamy eyes.
"I better get back to my room before Ben wakes up and comes running in here," he said.
She slid a hand around his neck, her fingers threading into his hair. "Not yet."
"Keep that up and we'll have a repeat of last night."
"I like the sound of that," she said in a sleepy voice.
"But you wouldn't want Ben to walk-in on that, would you?"
Her fingers slipped from his hair. Elbowing herself up, she pulled his face down to hers and gave him a long, sweet kiss.
"See you later in the kitchen," she said when their lips parted.
#
After Sunday brunch, Sam and Dixie cleaned up the barn, teasing each other and stealing kisses. Later, while she and Nana put the house to order, Sam played with Ben in the sandbox. For supper, they opted for leftovers from the restaurant kitchen. Come evening, they watched a movie on TV, Ben snuggled up with Nana, Dixie and Sam on the couch surreptitiously holding hands.
It all felt so perfect to Sam, maybe too perfect. But he was determined not to think beyond the moment.
When Ben fell asleep, Sam carried him upstairs. When he turned down the hall toward Dixie's room, Nana stopped him. "Put the boy in with me."
"You had him last night."
"And a warm little bundle he was. Felt good against my arthritic back."
"Arthritic back, right," Sam murmured under his breath. He'd seen the twinkle in Nana's eye. She was still playing matchmaker. He smiled. Fine with him.
He rejoined Dixie on the couch for the end of the movie. This time, though, they skipped the hand holding and snuggled into each other, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. She slid a leg over his, settling her slippered foot just below his knee.
The crimson scuff seemed to wink at him, reminding him of how the red high-tops she worked in had winked in and out of the folds of her long skirt the first night he'd followed her upstairs—the night he realized what a fool's errand Stuart had sent him on. He chuckled.
"What's funny?" she asked.
Not wanting to ruin things by bringing up Stuart, he asked, "What's with all the red foot-gear? First the high-tops, then the rubber barn boots, and now the fuzzy slippers."
She waggled her crimson covered toes in the air. "Christmas gifts from my brothers."
"And they all decided on red footwear why?"
"As a joke."
He may lack her brothers's machismo but humor he understood.
"Let me guess," he said. "Your stunt riding brother Renn gave you the boots for mucking out stalls."
"Wrong. Roman's gave me those."
"Of course, the practical brother."
"Renn gave me the high-tops. He believes a person should always have fun while working."
"Okay. Does that mean Mr. Hollywood gave you the slippers with the flash and dazzle?"
"Now you're catching on," she said.
He thought a moment before venturing further. "There seems to be a pair of footwear missing. What did Jake give you? Or are they top secret given they're from Mr. Seal?"
She smiled widely. "Jake gave me ruby red, four inch heels."
"The most impractical footwear of all from the Navy Seal?"
"Former Seal, and yes."
"I wouldn't have guessed that one in a hundred years," he said.
"He wasn't being impractical…or funny." Her smile grew wistful. "The note he sent with the shoes read, 'for when you're ready to dance again.'"
It hit Sam then that Mickey had died two years ago in January. The joke footgear had been meant to lighten her spirits her first Christmas without him. Jake's had been meant to remind her she had a future to look forward to, one beyond being a mother, a care-giver, and restaurant proprietor—a future in which she would wear ruby red high heels.
But, was he the man for whom she should—would wear those shoes? When they headed up to bed themselves, he paused in the hall outside her bedroom, no longer certain of where he fit into the grander scheme of Dixie's life.
When she looked at him expectantly, he shrugged. "I didn't want to assume—"
She yanked him into the room and shut the door behind him. Maybe he was the man for whom she'd wear the, for when you're ready to dance again, shoes.
#
Monday was idyllic. Ben riding the pony, Dixie leading the animal, Sam carrying a blanket and picnic basket with Bear bringing up the rear, they headed for the woods across the pasture.
They played hide and seek among the trees, Dixie making sure Sam always found her first so they could sneak a kiss before heading off to find Ben who always hid with Bear beneath the draping branches of the same evergreen tree. Though they pretended not to notice, they drew out the game until Ben's giggles gave him away.
Dixie and Sam fed each other cold parmesan baked chicken and sweet seedless grapes while Ben munched on home-made chicken fingers, occasionally sharing one with a drooling Bear. They drank chilled apple cider and ate thick slices of lemon Bundt cake for dessert.
They watched Ben and Bear search for pollywogs in the shallows of a pond, while they sat on the blanket, Sam with his back to a tree, Dixie between his spread legs with her back to his chest. Sam pressed his lips against the strip of skin behind Dixie's ear.
"You know that drives me crazy."
"Yeah," he murmured against the bac
k of her ear.
Playfully, she pushed him away. "There'll be none of that here."
He came back for a quick nip of her earlobe. "Never say never."
She tipped her head back against his chest and peeked up at him. "Not with Ben here."
"Didn't you once say it would be good for Ben to see us kissing?"
"Kissing yes, but—"
He closed his mouth over hers, silencing her, while he trailed his fingers down her throat, over her collarbone, and into—
She caught his hand before it went any lower. One errant fingertip traced a soft circle against the tender skin just above where her t-shirt dipped between her breasts. Her giggle rippled across his tongue and vibrated against his lips. Then, for a moment, her laughter stilled and her hand came up to stroke the side of his face. He threaded his fingers through her hair and cupped her head, holding her in place.
"Mommy, mommy." Ben's voice rushed at them all excitement and wonder.
They broke from the kiss and Dixie straightened on the blanket between Sam's legs just as Ben stopped in front of her, water sloshing from the plastic cup he carried.
"Look," he said, thrusting the cup at Dixie. "I found a pol—pollywog."
Sam looked over her shoulder at the lone would-be amphibian squiggling through the water in the cup.
"You sure did," Sam said.
"Amazing," Dixie said with all the enthusiasm of the nurturing mother she was. This was the kind of mother he would want for his children.
His children.
He'd never before thought about having children. Wrong. There'd been a kernel of a thought when he played with Ben in his sandbox, or when he'd pick up the kid and he'd throw his arms around his neck, or when the kid fell asleep on the couch and he'd have to carry him to bed. He'd felt responsible in the best of ways, involved and included. He'd felt like part of something much bigger than himself. And it struck him now, that if this was what it was to be a parent, he wanted it.
"What do you want to do with it?" he heard Dixie ask.
"Take it home and watch it turn into a frog," Ben said.
"I don't know that the pollywog would like that," Dixie said.
"But I would," Ben said.
Feeling parent-like, Sam interjected, "It probably won't survive without its pond."
Ben frowned.
"We can come to the pond and visit your pollywog here," Sam said. "Watch him grow."
"What do you say, Ben?" Dixie asked.
He shrugged. "Okay."
And he trotted off toward the pond, cup in hand.
Dixie peered over her shoulder at Sam. "That was very good, Sam."
"Was it fatherly?" he asked.
She studied him a couple long seconds before answering. "It was the response of a very good father."
Something inside his chest swelled. A heart? Maybe he had one after all.
With Ben back pond-side, Dixie reclined back into Sam's arms once more. She sighed. "I've been thinking. What am I going to do with two chefs?"
Sam grinned, liking that she still thought of him sticking around even after hiring a new chef. Still, he teased, "You're assuming a lot?"
"What am I assuming?"
"I promised only to stick around until a new chef was trained."
Dixie ratcheted up so fast she nearly clipped him on the chin. "You aren't really going to leave when that boy is trained, are you?"
So she still harbored some uncertainties where he was concerned.
"Where's my you-can-leave-anytime Dixie?"
She studied his face. "You can't be serious."
He sobered and gathered her across his lap. "No. You are everything I could ever want, Red. You and this family."
She smiled. "I knew we were what you needed."
Her words should have heartened him, but that she still saw him as a cause didn't sit right with him and he murmured, "I bet you did."
But, whether she saw it or not, she and Ben also needed him. "So," he ventured, "how about making this thing permanent?"
She gaped at him. "Are you proposing to me?"
He smiled but not as widely as he would have had there not been a note of panic underlying her question. "Yes, but relax," he said. "I'm not proposing what you think."
She raised an eyebrow at him.
"A business partnership," he said. "The restaurant could use an infusion of capital."
"You know how I feel about handouts."
"A partnership isn't a handout. I expect to be able to live off my investment."
She eyed him long and hard.
"You know Stuart will cut me off as soon as he finds out we're together," he said.
"Been there," she said.
"Mickey."
She nodded.
"And, if I can remain the grownup you seem to have inspired me to be, this is going to be a permanent partnership."
"Don't put too much pressure on yourself, Sam. Give what's going on between us time."
What is going on between us, he wanted to ask. Instead, he said, "No matter what, I'll still need to make a living." He looked her in the eye, but not too deeply for fear of what he might see…or not see. "Partners?"
She shook his hand. "Partners."
She snuggled into the cradle of his arms. "Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"We need you in more than financial ways. You realize that, don't you?"
Did he?
"Nana seems sharper since you came along, like you inspire or challenge her in some way. Ben adores you. And you've been my knight in shining armor."
Not quite the endorsement he hoped for.
"That's me, good old uplifting Sam."
She peeked up at him. "I'm afraid to say more, Sam—afraid what I really want to say will scare you off."
He grimaced. "I do scare easy, don't I?"
"We're good together, Sam. We're good for each other. Somewhere in there, there is love."
Love. She'd just offered him everything he ever wanted. Why did he feel like the ground had opened up beneath him?
"You looked horrified, Sam. Does the word love scare you that much?"
He shook his head.
"Is it my brothers' and parents' impending visit?"
The Fourth of July celebration. He'd forgotten all about it.
"Are you afraid their upcoming visit will make me want more of a commitment from you than you're ready or willing to give? That's not the case. I just want them to meet you."
And when they did meet him, one if not all of them was bound to see him for what he was. There was the fly in the ointment. Time to run?
No. Not when he'd just promised to be her partner.
But way past time to confess why he'd come to the farmhouse in the first place. Now he just had to figure out how to do that without making her want to kick him out. Best if he waited until he'd at least invested in the business, bound them together at least in that way.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sam peeled off his sodden t-shirt as he strode from restaurant kitchen through household kitchen.
"Is that blood?" Nana asked as he passed the table where she and Ben ate their afternoon snack.
"Tomato sauce," he said, heading up the stairs to change. "Had an accident while opening an industrial sized can and got splattered."
As he hit the top step, he heard giggling coming from Weston's room. Impossible. Weston was downstairs occupying her usual chair on the back porch. He'd caught a glimpse of her through the living room window on his way upstairs. Maybe she'd left her television on. He rapped on the door just to check. The giggling stopped. Something wasn't right here.
He opened the door and found the twins standing between the desk and window on the back side of the room. "What are you girls doing in here?"
The girls exchanged looks and both spoke at the same time.
"She has two cells phones."
"We were playing games on her computer."
"Yeah," rushed out the first. "It's a rad gaming comp
uter."
He glanced at the laptop on the desk beside them. It looked like a top of the line gamer. He frowned at the girls. "I strongly doubt Miss Weston gave you two permission to play with her computer, let alone be in her room."
The girls glanced at each other, guilt written all over their faces.
"Out," he said, stepping back, motioning them likewise into the hall. "And don't let me ever catch you girls in this room again."
They nodded and fled down the stairs. He continued on to his room where he found his cell phone vibrating on the dresser. He knew who called without even looking at the readout. The same man who'd been calling repeatedly ever since he'd taken the cell phone out of his pocket and left it on the chest of drawers two days ago.
Sam dug out a fresh shirt without checking the cell. He wasn't going to let Stuart ruin his happiness. But, somewhere in his subconscious, an old fear haunted him. All good things must come to an end.
#
The beginning of the end came the following day after Wednesday service. Annie and the girls had set up the dining rooms for the next day then went home. Jessie had cleaned the kitchen and headed out. Dixie had spent a little one-on-one time with Ben before heading up to her room to check emails and change into her barn clothes.
Much as he'd liked to have followed her and helped her out of her restaurant clothes, Sam joined Ben in his sandbox where they rearranged sand piles with the dump truck and frontend loader Sam had bought the kid the last time he'd gone to town. By summer's end, Sam intended to have filled the sandbox with every imaginable construction vehicle there was for Ben.
By summer's end. The notion of still being at the farm come fall made Sam smile. He just needed to survive the Fourth of July visit by Dixie's brothers and parents and keep her from finding out Stuart had sent him here. His smile slipped. It was a big order.
The dust churning arrival and screeching halt of Annie's car in the driveway broke into his thoughts. Something major had to be wrong for Annie to come barreling back to the farm after her shift was finished—to make her practically vault from car to porch and race into the house.
Slowly, Sam rose from the sandbox. "Time I go change into my barn clothes, kid." Ben looked up at him, apprehension filling the blue eyes the kid raised at him. The kid sensed trouble, too. Sam could tell. He'd been a kid who'd learned the hard way to read when something was wrong, too. He'd be damned if he'd let Sam know it to the extent he had.
Finding Home (St. John Sibling Series Book 2) Page 17
