Table of Contents
Broken Pieces
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Epilogue
Fitting The Pieces
Copyright page
Dear Reader:
Broken Pieces
By
Janine Infante Bosco
The Riverdale Series
Book Two
Nick and Samantha’s Story
Chapter One
It was Friday night, and as a ritual Samantha Lanza and her colleagues, ventured out to Rudy’s Bar and Grille. It didn’t matter that it was summer recess, and that the three of them were in fact off from work for the next two months, they still continued the Friday night tradition as if they had just spent the last five days in a classroom with the Common Core curriculum. She sat at a table with two of her closest co-workers.
Mallory was a year older than her and taught fifth grade at Riverdale Elementary. She and Sam were complete opposites. Where Sam had long blonde hair and blue eyes, Mallory had dark brown hair that she kept chin length and brown eyes. Sam sometimes wondered what it would be like to look like Mallory. She was exotic and with a mere bat of her eyelashes she could have any guy fall to their feet and usually did. The funny thing was, Mallory was completely unaware of her effect on the opposite sex.
Sandwiched between Sam and Mallory, was Phillip. He blew the locks of blonde hair that fell into his eyes as he refilled their margarita glasses. He was the art teacher in their school. Once, the three glasses were filled to the salted rims, he put the pitcher down and ran his hand through his golden hair, pushing it out of his face. Phillip was a better confident than her usual go-to list of female friends. Phillip had no filter and often spoke his mind. He was gay and proud, not to mention opinionated. It seemed as if his lifelong goal was to find the perfect mates for Sam and Mallory.
Phillip cleared his throat after taking a healthy gulp of his margarita. It was their third pitcher this evening, and Sam peered at Phillip through one eye. Yep, he was just as sloshed as she. This should be interesting.
“Now back to Samantha, I think the most important attribute we need to be looking for is swoon factor.” Phillip’s eyes lit up and he quickly jotted down the first quality one must possess in order to be the perfect match for Sam.
“Swoon factor?” Sam asked between hiccups.
Phillip turned to Mallory. “Tell her how important the swoon factor is.” He looked back at Sam. “I’m disappointed in you Samantha.” He shook his head to emphasize his dismay.
Sam wrapped her arm around Phillip. “I’m sorry, forgive me sir.” She said as she stuck her lower lip out and begged for his forgiveness. “Did I mention how much I love you guys for calling me Samantha?” She purred.
“That’s your name isn’t it?” Phillip asked sarcastically.
“It is, but no one ever calls me it.” She frowned and detangled herself from Phillip. “I like that you call me by my full name. Usually it’s just Sam, and it reminds me of the days I gave up being a girl to be a tomboy and chase my brothers and Nick around begging them to notice me.” She covered her mouth surprised at herself for admitting something she thought she buried. Humph, well alcohol will do that to you, she supposed.
“Nick?” Phillip asked, trying to place him. Sam had never mentioned the Nick saga to Phillip or Mallory.
Sam waved her hand, dismissing him. “Forget about Nick, he doesn’t matter. Can you explain the swoon factor to me, or what?” She asked, hoping she had been successful in steering clear from a territory she was not in the mood to visit. Her eyes flew to Mallory, ignoring Phillip as he stared at her in wonderment.
Mallory leaned forward, swaying on her heels, a side effect of her drunken state.
“Swoon factor is another term for panty dropper.” She said specifically and then leaned back in her chair. “Samantha surely you’ve had someone give you a look that your first instinct was to drop your panties and beg him to take you.”
Sam closed her eyes and felt the room spin. She wanted to blame it on all the alcohol she had consumed, but she knew better. She knew the minute Mallory had opened her mouth and defined swoon factor, there was only one person who emerged in her brain. There was a time she’d have dropped her panties for him, hell she had been willing to drop her entire life for him at one point. Just like that her thoughts had her slipping into the territory of her heart that was scarred by Nick Foti. He definitely had the swoon factor. Too bad, she hated him and swore him to hell.
Phillip nudged her. “Earth to Samantha, I can’t believe she’s falling asleep in the middle of us slaving over her list.” He spoke incredulously to Mallory.
“She wasn’t sleeping Phil.” Mallory grinned as she studied Sam’s face intently. “She was just about to tell us who she’s been dreaming about dropping her Victoria Secret’s special for.”
Phillip raised one eyebrow, amused and looked back at Sam. “Oh girlfriend, do tell!” He sighed dreamily. “Is he alpha? I picture you with a total alpha male. Does he have big bulging muscles? I can see it now arms so big you could swing from them.”
Sam looked back and forth between Phillip and Mallory, wishing she could crawl underneath the table. Why couldn’t they work on Mallory’s list first?
“Fine, don’t share, Samantha. We thought we were your friends.” Mallory said, laying on the guilt.
Sam blew out a breath and propped her head on her hands, her elbows resting on the table. She looked over towards the bar, and her heart skipped a beat. She sat up straight and watched him lean against the bar. His eyes were on hers and she wondered how long he had been watching her.
Nick lifted his beer to his lips and took a sip, his eyes didn’t leave hers. Not for a millisecond. He looked good enough to eat standing there in faded jeans that hung low on his hips. The black t-shirt he wore stretched across his broad shoulders. She imagined the seams were stretched and on the brink of splitting open to contain the muscular biceps that protruded through the fabric. She didn’t need a definition of swoon factor, or even panty dropping. The definition was in front of her, tipping his beer bottle towards her in salute.
Phillip’s eyes widened as he caught the stare down between Nick and Sam.
“Samantha! That, my girl is a panty dropper.” Phillip said dreamily.
“Don’t I know it,” Sam muttered miserably and shifted her eyes away from Nick’s.
“I say we forfeit the list all together and get you dropping.” Mallory said as she stood. She wobbled for a minute, getting her balance intact.
Sam looked up at her alarmed. “What are you doing? Sit down, please.” Sam said nervously, but she was too late. Mallory had a game plan in motion, and once that happened, no one stood a shot of getting in her way. Sam grabbed Phillip’s arm desperately. “You have to stop her!”
Phillip stuck a straw into the pitcher of slushy strawberry margarita giving up on refills. He helped himself to the entire batch.
“Phillip! Did you hear me? We have to stop her!” This would be a disaster of epic proportion unraveling before her very eyes. She tugge
d on Phillip’s arm again, this time with a little more force.
He rolled his eyes and looked at her. “I heard you, I just haven’t heard why.” He slurred.
“Nick Foti is my brother’s best friend.” She blurted out. She knew it sounded lame, but it was better than telling Phillip he was the first guy to break her heart, or the last for that matter.
“Mmm… Nick Foti is yummy.” Phillip said and licked his lips as he stared admiringly at Nick, who was now side by side with Mallory. Sam felt her palms begin to sweat, and the bile rise in her throat as Mallory grinned up at Nick. Sam swallowed her pride, and threw her hands up in the air exasperated. She pushed her chair out and stumbled towards the bar. She barely heard Phillip’s protest as she stalked to where Nick and Mallory were standing.
“There you are, come on we’re leaving.” Sam said as she grabbed Mallory’s elbow in an attempt to drag her away from Nick. She watched as he placed his empty bottle on top of the bar, and turned towards her. He leaned his hip against the bar. His eyes grabbing Mallory’s attention. Sam closed her eyes and begged for her not to bat her eyelashes at him. Slowly she opened her eyes and watched as Mallory bat her lashes. The grim line that Nick’s lips had formed threatened to curve.
“Sam, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend.” Nick asked, tearing his eyes from Mallory’s to Sam’s.
Anger boiled in her veins, as the past resurfaced and she remembered how many of her friends had intrigued him, but never her. He was immune to her. She gritted her teeth as she stared daggers at him, wishing that if looks could kill, he’d be dead by now.
“It’s Samantha.” Mallory sang, and then giggled. “She doesn’t like to be called Sam, first rule you must abide if you expect her to---“Sam covered Mallory’s mouth with the palm of her hand and groaned.
* * * * * *
Nick cocked his head to the side, his face a blank canvas as he stared at Sam. She was giving him the signature look of hatred, the one he had become accustomed to. He wondered if he would ever get her to smile at him, wondered if it was even worth his efforts.
“Samantha.” He let her name roll off his tongue, watching her eyes as he said it. He never knew that the nickname bothered her, and wondered if Luke and Jake knew. His eyes must’ve been playing tricks on him because he would’ve sworn they softened as he stared into their blue depths.
“I’m Mallory.” The brunette said as she shoved her hand in front of him. Nick reluctantly tore his eyes from Sam’s, and shook her friend’s hand.
“Nice to meet you.” He mumbled and then motioned towards the bartender. “What are you girls drinking?”
“Tequila.” Mallory insisted happily and took the seat beside Nick.
Nick watched Sam’s knuckles turn white as she gripped the back of the stool Mallory was sitting on. “Three shots of tequila.” He told the bartender, before he turned back to Sam. “What about your other friend?” He said, motioning to the table where Phillip was no longer sitting. He watched her nibble on her lower lip and then smile at the bartender.
“Make that four.” She said sweetly before turning towards the jukebox that was in the corner. “Phillip, come over!” She called out to him.
Nick studied the man that walked up behind Sam. Phillip draped an arm around Sam and smiled at Nick. Nick didn’t return the gesture, he was too busying sizing him up and deciding what his role in Sam’s life was.
“You rang beautiful?” Phillip crooned into her ear.
Nick narrowed his gaze as Sam glanced over her shoulder at Phillip. She looked confused for a moment and then recovered quickly once Phillip sent her a wink. Nick held back the laughter that threatened. Sam smiled up at Phillip lacing her fingers with his that hung over her shoulder.
“Phillip, this is Nick. Nick I’d like you to meet Phillip.” Sam settled against Phillip’s chest and smiled at Nick, her eyes blazing with fury. Nick nodded in acknowledgement toward Phillip and then threw some bills on the bar when the bartender lined up their shots. Mallory grabbed one before Nick could hand it to her. Nick handed one to Phillip and then held one just a little bit out of reach towards Sam. His eyes roamed her questioningly.
“You sure you want it?” He asked sincerely, knowing very well shots of tequila and Sam didn’t really go hand in hand.
She rolled her eyes at him and took the shot. “I’m not twenty-one anymore Nick.”
“Suit yourself.” He said and lifted his glass before throwing back the shot. The three musketeers, that’s what they reminded Nick of, downed the shots. Mallory and Phillip took the fiery liquid like champs, while Sam reached across the bar to chase the shot with Nick’s beer. Her body shuddered and she scrunched her face up as she guzzled the beer. He couldn’t help the smirk. It was nice to know as much as things changed there were a few things that remained the same.
She slammed the beer bottle against the bar and slapped Nick’s bicep. “Wipe that grin off your face Foti.”
Her hands lingered for a moment, her fingertips traveling along where his sleeves ended. He looked down at her hand and then back at her face. She retracted her hand as if she had just scorched her fingertips. He thought he heard Phillip mumble something, but wasn’t sure when he pieced together the words. Something about swinging from his arms, Nick shrugged it off.
Mallory turned to Nick. “So…” Mallory began before taking another sip of her drink, swallowing the gulp of alcohol she eyed Nick with a sassy stare, deciding to finish her thought. “Will you be making Samantha drop her panties tonight or what?”
Phillip threw his head into his hands and his shoulders slumped defeated. It was almost comical, Nick mused. Mallory looked at Phillip with innocence in her gaze.
“What? What did I say? Wasn’t this the plan?” She scratched her head confused.
Nick’s eyes wandered towards Sam’s, he brought his hand up to his face and scratched at the day’s stubble that covered his jaw. She had turned an awfully embarrassing shade of red, and he couldn’t tell if was from anger or shame.
“I’m all for Samantha dropping her panties for me.” He took a long sip of his beer, eyes intently staring into hers. He pulled the neck of the bottle down, and licked his lips. “What color are they anyway?”
“None of your business.” She said through gritted teeth and then surprised him by taking a step towards him. He bit the inside of his cheek to hide the smile. The fire in her blue eyes had him truly wondering what color they were. She poked his chest with one perfectly manicured fingernail. “Read my lips.” She whispered. “No matter how many times you say my full name, you’ll never see my panties.”
His hand closed around her wrist and he cocked his head. “I bet their black lace.” He leaned over and his breath grazed her ear, causing her to shudder. “Samantha.” He whispered against her ear. He decided he liked the way her full name sounded coming from him, and vowed to make more of an effort to use it.
Chapter Two
Sam groaned as she began to awaken. By the way her head was pounding, she figured there had to be a mariachi band playing over her head. She could picture the band stomping around dancing on her brain. She fought to open her eyes, wondering to herself if she would be able to lift her head that felt as if it weighed a ton. She recognized a scent, it was musky and woodsy yet fresh and clean. It smelt delicious. She didn’t remember her sheets ever smelling this good. She sniffed her pillow one more time, indulging in the scent, before rolling over and stretching her body along the mattress. She went to stretch her arms over her head when she noticed the long sleeve shirt she was wearing. Startled, she sat up and looked down at her chest, she had on a man’s button down shirt, and well, that was it. She pulled back the covers and lifted the shirt that was creeping up her thigh. Relief washed over her. At least she was wearing underwear.
“Shit! Shit! Shit! What did you do Sam?” She said as she buried her face in her hands. Okay, all she needed to do was think. Whose shirt was she wearing anyway? No, please God, no. She combed h
er fingers through her hair, or at least attempted to. Failing miserably, she figured her hair must resemble a nest of some sort. She jumped out of bed and took in her surroundings. Her clothes were nowhere in sight. Great. More good news. She was never going to drink again. She couldn’t remember a damn thing, other than… that son of a bitch!
The last thing Sam remembered, Nick Foti had been telling her and her friends he wouldn’t mind her dropping her panties for him. She suddenly felt sick as she glanced over to the chair in the corner. There were Nick’s jeans and shirt from the night before draped over the arm of the chair. Funny, how she was able to find his clothes, but not hers. She swung open the door and stomped barefoot out of his bedroom. She was going to murder him.
His apartment wasn’t that big, two steps out of the bedroom and she was in the open concept living room that led straight to the kitchen. If she wasn’t so damn mad she would’ve taken a moment to appreciate the fact that all he wore was basketball shorts. He turned around and she forgot what she was mad about. She hated that part of herself.
“Coffee?” He asked as he brought his own mug to his lips and took a sip.
“Are you kidding me? Coffee? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” She said, putting her hands on her hips to further emphasize her mood.
“I didn’t think you were a morning person. Good to know I’m two for two.” He said as he reached into his cabinet and pulled out another mug. He began to pour her a cup.
“What the hell does that even mean?” She asked as her brows furrowed in confusion. She couldn’t help but stare at his sculpted chest. He was a piece of male perfection, truly he was. Her breathing hitched when she noticed the brown hair that trailed from beneath his belly button down to… holy crap! He couldn’t possibly be wearing any underwear. She swallowed hard.
“First, you were in fact wearing black lace underwear. Second, your morning attitude is just as bad as your rest of the day attitude.” He slid the coffee mug across the counter.
She snapped out of her trance and glared at him. “You try waking up in a strange bed with someone else’s clothes on and tell me how your attitude is.”
Broken Pieces (Riverdale #2) Page 1
