Give It Up

by Lee Kilraine

  “Damn it, Sam, I’m sorry,” I said, slamming the truck door shut and making quick strides up the sidewalk to the porch. I leaned down a hand to help her up from where she sat on my front step, wrapped an arm around her shoulders while I fished my keys from my pocket, and let us inside.

  “It’s not a big deal.” She squeezed her arm around me to comfort me. “I don’t mind sitting out on the porch on a lovely warm summer night.”

  I sure as hell minded that I’d left her sitting alone in the dark.

  “Hey, Ash’s goal won the game! I heard it on the radio while I was driving. I bet he’s happy about that.”

  “Oh, yeah. The only thing worse than a grumpy Ash after a loss is a cocky Ash after a win.” I locked the front door behind us and pulled Sam in for a kiss hello. I was still pissed at myself, so the kiss had a bit more everything. I wrapped her face in my hands and took her lips in a wild, out-of-control kiss. Couldn’t help it.

  Tonight there was no how-was-your-day talk in the kitchen. No watching an episode of Chopped or the tail end of a ball game. There was just fire, and passion, and clothes coming off in a trail down the hallway. There were frantic touches, electric gazes, and waves of pleasure as we connected on some higher astral plane until we collapsed in a twisted knot.

  The next morning before she left, I slipped a key to my house on her key ring. I wasn’t ever going to put her in that situation again.

  Chapter 19

  Samantha

  “Well, what do you think?” I held my iPad at arm’s length for Margo and Beck to look at while we stood in Lila’s family room attempting to decide on the furniture. This was the one room that was challenging me. Every other room either I’d known instantly what furniture it needed, or Beck or Gray had. Part of the problem was the room needed to flow well with both the kitchen and the dining room. It needed to be beautiful, functional, and elegantly casual for everyday use.

  “Huh, I just don’t know.” Margo squinted her eyes at the photo, then moved her gaze around the room trying to envision it in the space. “If the designer had a track record, I’d say it was a no-brainer. But…”

  “I know. She’s a start-up and I can’t guarantee the quality without seeing it.” I swiped to the next page on the website. “Here’s another piece in her new collection.”

  Gray walked in with a nod, his attention immediately honing in on the iPad. “Nice, but I don’t recognize that line. Who is it?”

  “Brand new designer I met during the High Point Market in April. Nice, right?” I flipped to the next page, and each piece was unique and seemingly perfect. “I really think it’s what this space needs, but I don’t have time to be wrong about it.”

  “So drive to High Point today and see the collection in person,” Beck said.

  “I agree.” Margo nodded. “Only I can’t go with you. Dharma called and said Sunshine’s due to go into heat any day, so I’m heading over to the Love Shack to wrap it up today.”

  “The Love Shack?” Beck’s lips twitched.

  “Right? I’m out, since I’ve got a meeting with clients this afternoon.” Gray shook his head. “Damn, if I didn’t have the meeting, I’d go just to hear about that job.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Beck shrugged. “It’ll give me an opportunity to look at the iron chandeliers Gray and I were thinking about. And get the lowdown on the Love Shack.”

  So Beck drove his truck while I told him about the sad llama love story we were hired to help solve with interior design. We ended up sharing all our crazy client stories, making it feel like my fastest drive ever to the furniture capital of America.

  * * * *

  “What about this one?” Beck was standing in front of a large sectional couch that I knew with a single glance wouldn’t work. It just wasn’t—

  “That one’s a beauty, isn’t she?” A voice at my back had us both turning toward a sweet looking elderly gentleman shuffling down the aisle toward us in old loafers and a three-piece suit. When he got close, he slid a business card from the breast pocket on his vest and leaned forward, handing it across to me. “John Truitt. I’ve been working here for over forty years, so if you need help, you just give me a holler.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Truitt. We sure will.”

  “Newlyweds, right?” He shuffled closer, his eyes twinkling with good humor and friendliness. “My Nancy always said I have an uncanny way of reading people. I’m usually right.”

  Well, heck, I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t want to burst the sweet man’s bubble. I guess Beck didn’t either because he took my hand and gave it a light squeeze and then proceeded to melt my heart by making the elderly salesman his new friend and accomplice.

  “That is uncanny,” Beck said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side. “That’s us. A couple of newlyweds all right.”

  I tilted my head to look up at Beck, and he gave me a soft wink. I couldn’t help but smile and wrap my own arm around his waist.

  “I knew it.” The man snapped his gnarled fingers and pointed at us. “I still remember my wedding like it was yesterday. We danced to ‘La Vie en Rose’ by Louis Armstrong and ate lemon cake.”

  “It sounds beautiful.” What was beautiful was the love shining on his face for his wife. Wow. I’d never seen that between my own parents, even in the years before the divorce.

  “Okay, well, you’ve got me beat there, Mr. Truitt.” Beck shook his head with a rueful grin on his lips. “I talked Sam into dancing to ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ and now my mother-in-law isn’t speaking to me.”

  “Not always a bad thing, son.” Mr. Truitt laughed and shrugged. “My mother-in-law moved in with us for five years. I call those my drinking years.”

  “See, honey?” Beck turned to me, an I-told-you-so look on his gorgeous face. “I tried to tell you I was doing us a favor. If your mother moves in, she’ll bring her pet pig, Herschel, and she lets him sit at the dining table for meals. Not going to happen, sweetheart.”

  “What?” I clamped my lips together until I could control the laugh trying to escape. Where did this silly side of Beck come from? “But, Boo-bear, you told me you loved Herschel. Isn’t that why you let him be the ring bearer at our wedding?”

  Beck huffed out an exasperated breath and looked at Mr. Truitt, even throwing up one hand in a “what am I going to do” plea for help.

  “That’s a tough one, but honesty is vital if you want a marriage to last.” Mr. Truitt’s face crunched in pain. The poor man was caught between a rock and a hard place having been unable to escape his own mother-in-law. But he gave Beck an encouraging nod in my direction.

  “Right.” Beck turned to face me full-on, taking my hands in his. His blue eyes serious on mine. “Angel eyes, sugar, sweet thing… Herschel’s not the problem. It’s your mother. The way she sets her dentures on the table next to her sweet tea sort of takes my appetite away.”

  I stifled a laugh, and what escaped sounded like a moan.

  Mr. Truitt reached out and patted my forearm gently. “A little honesty now saves a lot of hurt later.”

  “I also dislike when she pretends she can’t hear us unless we talk like Mr. T…especially when we’re out at a restaurant.”

  My eyes watered trying to keep a straight face.

  “We scared the waitress last time. I wish you’d talk with her.”

  “Well, I would except she’s not talking to us, remember?”

  “Righttt.” Beck smiled and threw a wink over at Mr. Truitt who ran a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. “Have you got another trick to get me out of this, Mr. Truitt?”

  “A trick? No.” Truitt laughed. “I was married to my wife for fifty-one years. Do you want to know the secret to a long, happy relationship?”

  “Absolutely.” Beck nodded.

  “Coffee.”

  “Coffee?” I tho
ught for sure he was going to go with one of the standards like, never go to bed angry, or, a happy wife is a happy life advice. Coffee?

  “Yep, coffee. First, if a couple takes the time to know how the other likes their coffee, it says a lot about how carefully they pay attention to each other.” His smile went wider and his eyes softer. “Second, make time to share a cup of coffee every day. No matter how busy things get. Or crazy—once the kids start coming, it’ll get crazy—trust me. But you sit down in the middle of that craziness and share a cup of coffee. One day you’ll appreciate every moment of that time together.”

  He tugged on his ear and inhaled a deep breath. “Listen to me. I’m supposed to be selling furniture, and instead I’m spouting sentimental gibberish. So, about that couch…”

  That’s how I bought a couch I didn’t need or have space for. And Beck didn’t even give me a hard time about it. Thankfully we’d also found the designer I’d been trying to track down. Her furniture was wonderfully crafted and looked even better in person. I bought that too and set up the delivery date before we left.

  “I’m ridiculous. I’ve got no place to put that couch.” I shook my head at myself.

  “You’re adorable.” Beck wrapped an arm around me as we headed out to the parking lot and his truck. “And you can store it in Wyatt’s office until you have a client for it.”

  “Wyatt’s not going to be happy,” I said.

  “Wyatt’s a grown man and is going to have to learn to deal with change in his world sooner or later. Trust me when I say one day soon the couch will be the least of his worries.”

  “Oh, poor sweet Wyatt.” Out of all the brothers I’d met so far, Wyatt was the quietest. Very controlled and careful.

  “Poor sweet Wyatt, my ass. That boy’s going to have to let go one day, and I want to be around to see it.”

  I looked over at Beck where he sat behind the wheel navigating early rush-hour traffic home. He had sunglasses hiding his eyes, but the tight grin on his face was visible. “Y’all sure are a bloodthirsty bunch.”

  “Bloodthirsty? Not sure about that. I’ll cop to goal-oriented and hard-driven.” He shrugged. “And maybe a little rough around the edges.”

  Rough around the edges. Yes, that sounded about right. But I’d just spent an afternoon seeing a softer, smoother side of him and it only made him sexier.

  Just sex, Samantha. Not coffee.

  Chapter 20

  Beckett

  September brought cooler temperatures, but Sam and I managed to heat up the nights. In fact, with the work progressing at a steady pace and different subcontractors rolling through like airplanes landing on a runway, Sam and I saw a lot less of each other during the week. I had HVAC, painters, cabinet guys, carpenters, and flooring scheduled with precision to rotate through on the inside, while the stone masons, pool technicians, and landscapers kept busy on the outside.

  It was because of that tightly packed schedule that I ended up at Lila’s house by myself one night hanging drywall. I’d been hung up at the SBC office all day and only made it by the house around nine that night. The painters were scheduled to start taping and texturing first thing in the morning, so I wanted one last walk-through to make sure we were ready. I hired only the best in each trade, which meant they were in high demand with full schedules. If our job wasn’t ready for them, they’d have to move on to the next job and we’d be out of luck.

  Everything looked ready until I got to the small half-bath tucked back behind Lila’s office. Somehow the room had been overlooked and was missing the drywall on one wall and the ceiling. Well, shit.

  There was no point in calling the crew back at night when I could knock it out in an hour. I’d hung plenty of drywall in my day, I just didn’t want to be doing it at nine o’clock at night after a full day in the office. With a sigh, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.

  After gathering my tape measure, utility knife, drill, and screws from my truck, I got busy measuring and cutting the gypsum board. Of course the wall they’d missed was the wall with the sink and light fixture which meant more measuring and cutting.

  And it may have been cooler out, but working in the small space with the work light shining on me had me sweating. I finally pulled my shirt off, too, rather than sweat through it.

  I was standing on the six-foot ladder, screwing the final piece on the wall before moving to the ceiling, when I heard Sam’s voice behind me.

  “Whoa, what’s going on? Did you lose a bet or something?”

  “It feels like it.” I climbed off the ladder and turned to Sam, wiping a bead of sweat from my temple. “I stopped to make sure we were set for the painters and found Jack’s crew had missed this room.”

  Sam’s gaze darted over my chest and arms before finally meeting mine. I raised an eyebrow at the soft pink blush flushing her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

  “I had a meeting with a…uh, friend of my mother’s, and I saw your truck. How much longer do you think this will take?” We both ran our gazes up over the ceiling.

  “Not long. It’s only one more piece.” I shrugged and swiped at another bead of sweat streaking down my chest, and noticed I’d caught Sam’s attention again. I might have flexed my muscles a little as I climbed up the ladder to take measurements.

  “Ah… How about I stay and help?”

  “Sure. Have you ever hung drywall before?” I measured the long side of the ceiling.

  “No, but I’ve seen it done plenty.” She handed me the pencil before I even had time to ask for it.

  “Thanks.” I jotted down the measurement onto the drywall in front of me. “Okay, let’s measure and cut. This really will go quick. The only tricky part is holding it up with the high ceiling.”

  “Then it should be easier with two of us.” Sam shrugged. “Or at least more fun.”

  You’d think. But between the high ceilings, the tight fit of two ladders in such a small space, and the fact that I got distracted when Sam’s ass passed my eyes on her way up the ladder, it didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped.

  I climbed up with the piece of drywall, and hefted it around Sam and up over our heads where we could both grab on to it close to the ceiling. The compact space forcing us close together, the heat, and her soft floral perfume all conspired against me, and the drywall slipped from my hands and conked Sam on top of her head.

  Sam squeaked in surprise. “Ouch.”

  “Crap, Sam. That was my fault.” I rested the drywall on my head so I could reach out and run my hand over her head to check for bumps. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m good. Let’s just…” Her gaze roamed over my shoulders and chest before she grinned across at me, her eyes sparkling with heat. “We should hurry and finish.”

  She had a streak of drywall dust across one cheek and her chin, and looked sexy as hell. “Damn, Sam. Hanging drywall turns you on?”

  “Heck no. But seeing you doing construction without a shirt does. I’ve never been into roleplaying in the bedroom before, but I might need to have you meet me in the bedroom wearing just your jeans and a tool belt.”

  I have never screwed so fast. The drywall and Sam.

  As soon as the last screw went in, I snagged Sam off the ladder and had her back against the wall.

  It was definitely more fun hanging drywall with Sam.

  * * * *

  Lila’s job moved smoothly into the next phase. Sam and Margo were ordering all the furniture, lighting fixtures, and decorative items with Gray pitching in. We no longer thought of the rooms as “hers” and “mine,” since we’d managed to collaborate. Oh, we managed to collaborate a lot.

  It turned out getting along in bed helped our working relationship. Our aesthetic visions melded together, and we were creating a beautiful space. One Lila thought was so stunning she arranged a photo shoot in House Beautiful. Lila even had both me and Sam pose
with her for the magazine article.

  The point was, yes the house was coming together and turning out better than I’d hoped, but I missed seeing Sam every day at work. I’m guessing she missed seeing me too, because at night we couldn’t get enough of each other. Even on the nights when we didn’t make love (rare), and Sam fell asleep with her head resting on my shoulder while I watched the end of a game. Or I passed out with my arms wrapped around her body while she read because she’d gotten to a good part and couldn’t put it down yet.

  We’d agreed when the job was finished, we’d go our separate ways. But until then, I was enjoying the hell out of our time together. So much that even though I was the one who’d insisted what was between us was just sex, I was the one who crossed that line.

  “Hey, I’ve got this thing to do tomorrow. My brothers and I volunteer with a group of foster kids—sort of like big brothers. Anyway, the Roughnecks have an annual day for kids out at the rink. Would you like to come, and we could get a bite to eat after?” What the fuck are you doing, Beckett?

  What am I doing? I don’t do relationships. “It’s not a date. Just something that might be fun, and then since we’ll both be there—getting a meal after is just something two people can do together. Is all.”

  Sam looked as surprised as I felt. Right? Where the hell had that come from?

  “I’d love to go to the ‘not a date’ skate. And food afterward seems practical and reasonable in a very noncommittal way.” Her green eyes studied me until I felt like she was seeing too much.

  “Okay.” I nodded, feeling like an ass. But not enough that it stopped me from anticipating seeing Sam somewhere beyond our normal limits of at work or in bed. “Do you mind meeting me there? We’ll be driving the kids over in a mini-bus.”

  “Sure.” Sam smiled at me, her eyes laughing at watching me struggle.

  “Great. Just two people getting together.” Holy God, shut the fuck up, Beck. She said yes, you jerk. Just walk away and let it ride. “Friends hanging out.” Damn it, no more. Keep it up and it’ll seem like you’re trying to convince yourself and not her.