by Sadie Sears
As if reading my mind, Sam glanced at me. "We'll see if Bill thinks we're faking it now."
I leaned into his chest and laughed. "Thank you." I fished out my cell, and we posed together for a selfie. He had his hand on my back and our heads were tilted together, but the picture made him look stiff, and like his smile was forced. Just like at Sprucie’s.
I gave the maître d’ who seated us a tight smile. Sam acted almost robotic until we got to the table, and then he quickly pulled my chair out before the maître d' had a chance to. This guy ran hot and cold. And I didn’t have any choice but to put up with it. We’d already gone too far to back out now.
The maître d' left us with the menus and a promise for the sommelier to see us shortly. I glanced at Sam. "The lobster salad and crab cakes sound delicious. Do you want to share an appetizer?"
He closed the menu and tapped his finger on the tabletop. "I’m good with whatever you’d like, Gretta."
If I had to pick a word to describe his voice, I would’ve gone with weary. Or bored. Either way, he was getting paid. He could be better than this. I needed Bill to move his stuff out of my place and leave me alone. Anything else didn’t matter as long as it worked.
“So.” He adjusted the silverware next to his place setting. Straightened it. He cleared his throat. “Have you lived in Spruce all your life?”
I nodded. “Yeah. My sister lives in the house we grew up in.”
Sam nodded and went back to fiddling with his spoon.
Thankfully, the waiter arrived, and the painful moment passed. Apparently, talking to the waiter wasn’t the same ordeal as talking to me. However, as soon as we were alone again, we went back to silence. And Sam wouldn’t look at me.
“Something on your mind?" I folded my arms and sat back. The question sounded curt because I was done pretending. It wasn’t doing any good anyway.
“A little. Sorry.”
But that was all I got. Sam gave no explanation as to why he’d been acting like he was bored. Instead, he made a few furtive glances around the room, but was then amiable to the servers when they brought the crab cakes, lobster salad, and the bottle of white wine he’d picked.
I took a sip of the wine, deciding I needed it to fortify my resolve to get through the night, regardless of how uncomfortable Sam was with me. But he took one more glance at the tables near us, and then stood, walking around the table to stand in front of me.
My heart dropped, and I was suddenly flung back to a memory of when a guy I’d dated in college decided to break up with me. Instead of picking somewhere quiet, like his dorm room or at night in a park—somewhere I wouldn’t be publicly humiliated—he’d stood up and told me while we were out on a celebratory dinner. Then, I had no idea what was coming. Now, I could almost hear Sam saying he’d made a mistake and he no longer wanted to see me.
But those were someone else’s words.
Sam pulled out a black velvet ring box.
He dropped to one knee and took my hand in his. “Gretta, I thought I’d lost you; thought I would never in my life have anything as perfect as I had with you.” He tilted his head and smiled, soft, gorgeous. “I love your eyes, your smile, your soul, and I have never felt luckier than when I found you again. Will you marry me?"
God, yes. What a speech.
Orange light reflected off of Sam's eyes again as the room swirled. When I didn't answer, he squeezed my hand. “You’re supposed to say yes,” he said in a tight whisper.
Oh, right. Fake engagement. Fake yes. I swallowed, and Sam smiled before he brought my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it before giving it another squeeze. I couldn't bring myself to look into his eyes again, so I focused on his perfect smile.
"Yes." I barely had the word out when our server squealed and clapped her hands. When applause erupted throughout the dining room, I noticed Phillipe yanking out his phone and dialing. Straight to Bill, I hoped.
"A toast!" The maître d' waved the server off as Sam slipped the ring on my finger. I couldn’t breathe as I stared at the hunk of stone on my finger. Holy shit. The ring weighed about a thousand pounds. It took all my strength not to let my hand fall to my side. But a woman at the next table grinned at me, and I pulled it together. This was a performance. Nothing more.
The waitress returned and handed us each a glass of champagne.
I barely noticed the golden bubbles; all I could do was look at the sparkle of sapphires and diamonds on my finger. "It's too beautiful.” And antique and woven with swirls of polished silver. Beautiful was a hundred percent the truth and ninety percent not enough.
He stood again and brought me to my feet. Then he clinked our glasses together before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss on my lips. I slipped my hand to his chest, felt his pulse, the warmth of his body, the hard muscle underneath all the clothes he was wearing. His arm wrapped around my waist, a glimmer of wicked in his smile. I didn’t know what he was up to, but we were ass deep in it now. I laid my head against his heart and inhaled the smell of cedar and woodsmoke—a combination that made me a little dizzy with desire.
"They’re eating it up.”
I lifted my head, and he threaded his fingers through my hair like he was going to kiss me again. Maybe if I hadn’t wanted him to do it so badly, hadn’t needed it, I wouldn’t have stepped back.
But I did and so I sat without responding. For a moment, I wished we weren’t supposed to be performing for an audience, that all of this wasn’t a fake date to set up a fake engagement with a fake fiancé. I felt bad for whoever I ended up marrying, because they had some big shoes to fill when they proposed. I wasn’t settling for less. Not after this.
I couldn’t stop glancing at all the other people who’d been so happy for us just a moment ago. They’d had their show, then gone back to their lives, real lives.
After a few minutes, Sam cocked his head. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, no. I’m just…” I searched for an explanation. Anything that didn’t involve me strangely melancholy that none of this was real would’ve been a lie. “Nothing’s wrong.” I twisted the borrowed ring to distract from my body’s buzzing awareness of Sam. "This is really quite beautiful. You didn't have to go to so much trouble."
"It belonged to my mother." He spoke so quietly I had to strain to hear him, and I noticed his statement seemed more introspective than something he meant to reveal to me. Still, this ring should have gone to someone he loved, someone he meant to be with, not me.
"I'll be careful and take good care of it.” The least I could promise. “We'll get Bill out of my life, and I’ll give it right back. Good as new.”
Sam glanced at me sharply and frowned. “Right. Good as new.”
I’d offended him. Or maybe this was more than he signed up for. Or maybe I was imagining it. I scratched the last one off the list. I wasn’t imagining the short huffy inhales. Or the twisting lips and narrowed eyes when he thought I wasn’t looking. But I had no idea how to fix it. So, I rambled. It was a personality quirk I’d never quite figured out how to control.
“I've been thinking about my application. Maybe I should forget it. Not waste time on it. I mean, what are the chances of me getting the position anyway, right?"
"You can’t forget it, Gretta. Absolutely not!"
I raised my eyebrows, surprised at his vehemence, and Sam quickly shook his head.
"I'm sorry. I know it’s your life, but you’re so passionate and extraordinary. If he doesn’t choose you, he’s a fool.” He placed his palms on top of the table and leaned closer, his eyes earnest and showing genuine interest. “This is your chance to use all your skills and schooling to help your sister. It’s your dream, remember?"
It was my dream. So, Sam had listened to me. That didn’t sound like a man who wasn’t interested in my life—like someone who was only here because he’d been paid to do so.
“Look, if you don’t get the position, fine, but you can’t let an opportunity to have your dream pass you by. Besides, y
ou’re invested. You have a reason to want this the way no one else does. You’ll work harder. Be better than anyone else.”
A lump formed in my throat. Bill had never encouraged me the way Sam did, and I’d only known Sam a few days.
Not once had Bill Holt inspired me. I smiled, Sam smiled, and all my earlier awkward apprehension died at the table. I talked about the project and about Lila. He asked about my favorite kind of case to work and I asked about some of his travels. We ate and finished the bottle of wine. He was smart and funny. Looser than I thought. When he suggested another bottle of wine, I didn’t object.
I’d spent most of the night talking about myself. "Anyway, enough about me. Tell me about the security agency you're creating." I took another sip of my wine, feeling more comfortable for the first time in ages. And if this fake fiancé thing got rid of Bill, I was going to give Justin the biggest hug he’d ever had.
“Some of the other guys have picked up small jobs, and they all seem to be enjoying it. It’s what we do.” He smiled and the room was brighter for it.
“You mean because you’re all ex-military?”
Spots of color stained Sam’s cheeks, and I wondered if I’d hit a sore spot. Maybe there was a reason they’d left the military. Perhaps some of them had PTSD, like Cameron. I was about to apologize when Sam smiled.
"Let’s just say we all have an instinctive need to protect. And I think you're doing the right thing in getting rid of Bill. He's no good for you, Gretta. You deserve someone who supports you and everything you want out of life."
Sam rested his hand on top of mine, and a burst of electricity shot up my arm. Time stood still. Sam leaned forward, and I moved closer. He was going to kiss me. A real kiss, a heat of the moment, perfect kind of thing. My heart raced and my palms went sweaty. My stomach tightened.
I almost closed my eyes, and my lips tingled as if Sam had already brushed them with his. His eyes flashed orange again, and I was fascinated by the glimpse of what looked like fire within their depths. I swallowed. If I kissed him or let him kiss me, our night was going to take a turn. I wanted it to turn, because I wanted to feel the weight of his body on mine, his hands smoothing over my skin. I wanted to see myself in his eyes.
And my cell phone rang. Damn it! No. No, thank God. I couldn’t sleep with him. It would be wrong. And good. But wrong. Sam sat back, blew out a breath, and nodded like he was answering a question I hadn’t asked.
Zoe. I slid my finger across the screen. “Hey, kiddo.” When she was older, we’d have a talk about timing. “What’s up?”
“My mom fell.” Her voice wavered. “I need help.”
Oh, shit. I’d been playing footsie with my personal security guard while Lila needed me. “I’m on my way.” I hung up and glanced at Sam. "I'm sorry, but I have to go help my sister; she fell. But please, stay, finish dessert and the rest of the wine." I assumed as the one who suggested the date, I should pay, but we didn’t have the check yet. I’d already shoved my chair back and was on my feet. “I’ll take care of the bill at the bar.”
"No, of course. I understand. Family is everything." He stood and threw a few crisp hundred-dollar bills on the table. “Let’s get you to your sister,” he said before he followed me out.
I turned to face him. "Really, you should've stayed. My car’s just across the park at my place."
He pushed a button on a key fob and a truck parked at the curb chirped. “Well, my truck’s right here.”
When I hesitated, he smiled—the one I was quickly learning meant he was fully in control of himself and his environment. Being active, doing something, was where Sam felt most comfortable.
I didn’t bother waiting for a verbal reply. I hopped into the front passenger seat, and once he’d gunned the engine, I gave him directions to Lila’s house. He glanced at me once, then again.
"What?" I tried not to panic as I pictured my sister splayed out on the floor, and Zoe trying to help her while she sobbed.
"Nothing. I was just out that way the other night getting some exercise. It's beautiful up there. Very peaceful."
"Yes, very." I sat in silence for a few moments. I’d misjudged so many things about him. And when he didn't turn on the radio, I smiled. Bill always had to have distraction and noise, even if he was supposed to be having a conversation with me.
I relaxed back in the leather seat and told myself Lila would be all right. "Thank you, Sam."
"For what?"
"For understanding. And for driving. And for just being such a good friend." I linked my fingers together and placed them in my lap, hyperaware I had a big chonky ring on the left ring finger.
"There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my future wife." Sam’s tone was so solemn, I turned to look at him. He waggled his eyebrows and made a funny face, and I laughed.
"And for being funny."
He shot me a side-eye. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me funny before.”
“I guess they just don’t know you like I do.” My stomach tightened. Sam actually had a list of traits that made my body hum. Not just his smile and his chiseled features. He was also intelligent, and now that I’d got to know him better, he was very nice. And his eyes were incredibly beautiful. Unique.
The other day I’d wanted to kick Justin for hiring him, but tonight I wanted to kiss him for introducing me to Sam.
I pointed to the driveway to Lila's house. "Over there."
He pulled into the horseshoe driveway and stopped. "Nice place." As soon as he parked, I shoved my door open as he climbed out and came around the front of the truck.
Zoe ran out of the house and flung herself at me.
"She's sitting up now, but she’s still down. I can’t move her.” She glanced at the truck then at Sam. “Hey, who's this?"
"I'm Sam. You must be Freckles, right?"
Zoe chuckled. "I'm Zoe."
"I could’ve sworn Gretta said your name was Freckles.” He cocked his head like he’d been done wrong. “I’ll have to speak to her about that.” He walked beside us up the steps to the porch and tried to break off and walk toward the wicker furniture. “I'll be out here if you need me, Gretta. Take your time."
Zoe pulled on his hand and shook her head. "Don't be silly. Come in."
Sam glanced at me, and I nodded in agreement. Zoe took his hand and guided him inside.
Lila sat on the floor in a yoga position, and I raised an eyebrow. “Is this you needing help?”
“This is me meditating. Or it was.” She had a bite to her tone that usually meant she was in pain. She glanced at me then Sam and cocked an eyebrow at me before she sighed. "Oh, geez, was tonight the big date at Xavier Red’s? Did I ruin it?"
"No, we weren't on a date. Well, not a real one." But as soon as I said the words, I wanted to take them back. Part of the date felt very real.
Sam frowned and ran his tongue over his teeth. "Hi, it's nice to meet you, Lila. I'm Sam." He’d lost a note of enthusiasm he’d had with Zoe. I glanced at the ring on my finger. His mom’s.
"What I mean is don't feel bad about cutting it short. We can make it up later." I looked back at Sam, and he smiled.
Sam crouched next to Lila. "Can I help you to the couch? May as well take advantage of me while I’m here.” He grinned at her, and she probably would’ve fallen had she not already been sitting. That was how I felt when he looked at me like that, anyway.
Lila's gaze brightened, and she stretched her arms to wrap around Sam's neck. I left to get her pain medication but as I walked out, he asked her about the singing bowl in the entrance, and they chatted about metaphysical things as he gently placed her on the sofa. I pulled my spare medical bag from the closet, and Sam offered to make us tea while I examined Lila. He promised Zoe he'd show her how to make the best hot chocolate in the world.
When Sam was out of earshot, Lila let her jaw drop open. “Where can I get one of those?”
I laughed a little. “He's the one helping me get rid of Bill."
"And
good riddance, I say, but you never told me he was so hot. Why would you keep that from me? What else are you keeping from me?” She tapped her finger against her chin and quieted down so I could listen to her heart and take her pulse.
"I'm fine, I’m fine." She shooed my hand away. "I lost my balance, that's all."
I knew better than to challenge Lila when it came to managing her MS, so I let it go. At least this time.
"I’m not keeping anything from you.” Instead of replying, she stared. Hard. “Fine. He’s a great guy who actually listens when I talk and makes me feel pretty. He holds doors and pays checks and pulls out chairs. Is that what you want to hear?”
"And he's smoking hot." She tilted her head and stared at me again. This woman should’ve gone into the CIA or FBI with her powers to extract truth with nothing more than a look.
“And he’s smoking hot,” I relented. Not agreeing would’ve been like lying. And this wasn’t something I could fib about when the obvious truth was standing right in the kitchen.
"I say take him home and let him bang your head against the headboard until you forget your own name." She smiled like it was the greatest plan that ever was.
“Lila!” Not that it was a bad idea or that I hadn’t thought about it a couple times tonight.
"Here you go, ladies. I hope I'm not interrupting." Sam placed the tray of tea on the coffee table.
Oh, God. If he heard… Lila snorted, and I shook my head. I busied myself by helping Lila sit straight with a pillow behind her and then handed her a cup of tea before I turned to Sam.
"I’m going to spend the night here, Sam.” Her suggestion aside, I’d already decided as soon as I saw Lila on the floor. “But thank you for giving me a ride. I really appreciate it."
"No problem." He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as if he had more to say.
I nodded to the hallway, and he followed me. A five o’clock shadow had come in along his chin and jawline—a fine blond stubble I had an urge to run my fingers over. And my lips. And my tongue. It was going to be a long night.
