That Last Summer (Whispering Pines Island Book 1)

by Sara LaFontain

  Incidentally, he later said he was again struck by my beauty when he saw me and he knew instantly and absolutely that coming here was the right decision—super flattering and romantic, right? I got me a good man!

  But anyway, I was pretty mad at first and told him I didn’t even want to talk to him. At the same time, my heart was just racing and all I could think was, oh my god, did he seriously fly halfway around the world for me? Really, for me? But is this enough to make me forgive him for cheating? You know my college boyfriend cheated on me, and I think cheaters are the lowest of the low, so obviously I was angry. But then he explained how he had researched American traditions for proposing, and he made me a ring with a diamond in it—yes, he made the ring himself (he showed you when he was in Texas, right? It’s stunning!!!!) and went to ask Dad in person. Then, he admitted he had been out drinking with ‘the little twins’ to celebrate, and told me all about what you girls did, and how he wasn’t cheating but he couldn’t defend himself to me because it would ruin the surprise, and he said he loves ‘to do surprises on people.’

  So even though I had dumped him, he didn’t care, and he was here because he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with me.

  Yeah, I cried. So did Cara (she watched the whole thing). Then I brought Fabio up to the inn, and we celebrated.

  Y’all need to get passports. I’m thinking we’ll get married in Italy. I’ve already scouted out a few places, and Fabio’s family has connections—we may be able to do it at a vineyard. I don’t know what color your bridesmaid dresses will be. It depends on if we have it this fall or next spring. I’ll keep you posted. And I’ll send you links to potential dresses for me. Maybe we can convince Mom to take us all dress shopping in New York?

  OMG I’M GETTING MARRIED!!!!!!!!

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  “Do you have a key for me?” Sam asked at the reception desk, trying not to sound impatient. He had rushed through the dinner cleanup as fast as his innate discomfort with messes would allow. It was time—he was off work for the night, and Cara was waiting for him.

  “Depends. Do you have something for me?” Amy responded pertly. She was in a much better mood than she had been earlier.

  “Amy, be nice to the man.” Fabio’s heavily accented voice came from the staff office.

  Sam wasn’t sure if that was appropriate, having Amy’s boyfriend—no, fiancé, apparently—hanging out with her behind the desk, but nobody else seemed to mind. “I brought you both dessert.” He set a covered plate down. He had been balancing two of them—the other, of course, was for Cara. He’d packed up her favorite vanilla panna cotta with berries, along with the bottle of wine he’d been saving all summer.

  “This is leftover cake from yesterday,” Amy complained, lifting the lid. “You’re getting nothing from me.”

  “I like cake,” Fabio told her mildly as he came out to stand behind her, and she turned and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Oh, fine. Here, Sam. Cara left you a key. I don’t think she’s in the room right now though; I don’t know where she went. She said for you to wait for her, but don’t be too upset if she changes her mind and doesn’t show up. Room 24.” She slid the key across the desk to him, but he didn’t pick it up right away.

  “Why wouldn’t she show up?” He hadn’t even thought about that possibility. Last night had been so full of promise, and he spent the entire day fantasizing about what this night would bring. All of those fantasies entailed Cara being in the room waiting for him.

  “Maybe she came to her senses? I don’t know. But if she doesn’t show, you’ll probably be leaving for Aspen soon, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” He took the key, and feeling unsettled, started down the hall, but Fabio called him back.

  “Samuel, wait. Amy has something she needs to say to you, don’t you, mio amore?”

  Amy shook her head, but, after a flurry of angry whispering in Italian, she finally rolled her eyes and said, “Fine. Sam, give me that key back. She’s in 16.”

  ....................

  It was the moment of truth. He put the key in the lock, turned the knob and . . . yes! She was there. Cara had folded back the comforter and was reclining on the sheets. She had changed out of the jeans and T-shirt he saw her in earlier into leggings and a soft-looking sweater. He took a moment to admire her as his eyes traveled up her body to her face and . . . damn it, she was asleep!

  He had no idea what to do. He let the door swing closed behind him, but it didn’t slam, so it wasn’t loud enough to wake her. Neither did the sound of the plate being set ungently down on the room’s table, nor the unnecessarily loud noises he made taking the wine bottle out of his backpack and thunking it onto the table.

  Had they been in a relationship longer, he would have slipped off his shoes and climbed into bed next to her, wrapped his arms around her, and fallen asleep himself. But that would be too presumptuous right now, when they’ve never been in a bed together before, and he didn’t even know if she still wanted him. Amy did say she might have changed her mind.

  He unpacked his bag, put his toothbrush in the bathroom and then considered what to do. He couldn’t sit on the bed, he hadn’t earned that right yet. Should he leave? And why was he so nervous? He had known Cara for years. He thought of her as his closest friend, but this change in their relationship made him so unsure of himself.

  He finally gave up and sat down on a chair to wait. And he didn’t mean to do it, but it had been a long day. He hadn’t slept well the night before so, just like Cara, he fell asleep.

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Another nightmare, Phil, again. I told you what would happen if you cheated on me. I think you’re fucking the chef. He reached for her, and Cara tried to run. You’re dead, Phil. It’s not cheating if you’re dead, but of course he didn’t agree, and he was so much faster than her. As his hands wrapped around her throat, there was a loud crash followed by swearing . . . and then strong hands, real hands grabbing her.

  “Wake up, Cara, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

  And then she was awake, and Sam was holding her in his arms, comforting her. It took a moment to come into the reality of the situation. Sam was here, not Phil, and she was safe. She took a few deep breaths and her heart rate gradually slowed. Safe. I’m safe.

  “When did you get here? What time is it?” She couldn’t believe she had fallen asleep. Well, no, she could believe it. She had been exhausted, but she had been really anticipating their ‘fifth date’ plans. It was a good thing she had already bribed Tyrell to take her shift tomorrow—this was going to be a late night.

  “I don’t know,” Sam said. “I fell asleep too. Oh, shit, I hope it wasn’t too long. I brought you panna cotta, and it shouldn’t be sitting at room temperature. It’s supposed to be eaten chilled.” He climbed out of the bed and almost tripped over a chair, which he had apparently knocked over in his earlier haste.

  “Sam, it’s fine. I can eat it anyway.”

  “No, you can’t. Damn it, I promised you dessert, and now it’s ruined. I can run down to the kitchen and get another one . . .”

  He looked so disappointed she almost laughed at him. After her nightmare about Phil and the complications of that relationship, it was refreshing to be with a man who was so focused on such inconsequential things.

  “Really, Sam, you brought wine, and do I see berries? I think we’ll be fine. I’m just glad you came.”

  “Me too. I almost didn’t.” Second thoughts already? Had he planned to run, again? He must have realized what it sounded like because he explained, “Amy tried to give me the wrong key. But Fabio stopped her. I think I like that guy.”

  “So do I. But I like you better.” She crossed the room and kissed him, and he kissed her back so deeply she could feel it in her toes. When they finally broke apart, her lips were tingling. “How about you pour me a glass of wine?”

  He did, and one for himself. “To us,” he said, looking in her eye
s and making the toast. But unfortunately, looking into her eyes meant he wasn’t quite watching what he was doing, and he sloshed wine on her sweater.

  “I can’t believe I did that. This evening is not going as I’d hoped. But don’t worry, I can get the stain out before it sets. Quick, take your top off.”

  “Subtle, Sam, really subtle.”

  “No seriously, I just need some salt and hot water. Do we have salt in here?”

  “Why would we keep salt in the rooms? It’s fine.”

  “The wine stain . . .”

  “Seriously, it’s okay. I borrowed this sweater from Amy anyway.”

  “Oh, well in that case . . .” He pretended to pour the rest of his glass on her, and laughing, she ducked away.

  “Here, you really want to remove the stain?” She slowly took the sweater off and tossed it at him. He caught it but didn’t move. She could feel his eyes travel over her body, and her pulse quickened. That was pure desire she was seeing.

  “Nice. Black lace bra? Really nice. Not what I would have expected, but very nice. Can I see what you’ve got under it?” His voice had gotten husky and he dropped the sweater on the floor, the spilled wine all but forgotten. That was okay. Her cousin owed her anyway.

  “What did you expect?” she asked as he pulled her toward himself.

  “I don’t know, beige, maybe?” His hands slid down to her waist, and she felt goosebumps and a flash of annoyance.

  “Beige? What?”

  “The way you dress, with those polo shirts all the time, I just thought that’s the kind of thing worn with beige bras.”

  “You mean my uniform? You know that’s not how I always dress. I can’t believe that in your wildest fantasies you picture me wearing a beige bra.”

  “No,” he corrected her, his breath hot in her ear. “In my wildest fantasies, you’re taking a beige bra off.”

  She felt his hands reach behind her toward the clasp, and she pushed him away. Much as she wanted to do this, there was a conversation they had to have first. “Not so fast, Sam. This isn’t a fair situation. Take off your shirt.”

  He complied with alacrity and reached for her again.

  “Nope, still not fair. I’ve seen you shirtless before. Maybe you should take your pants off?”

  He certainly had no problem doing so, and swiftly too. He was still wearing his clothes from work, and those pants were designed to come off quickly in case of fire or spills of boiling liquids. He had once told her he could strip in less than five seconds in the kitchen, and he proved those skills came in handy here as well.

  “Hmmmm . . . white boxer briefs, not what I expected,” she teased, taking a moment to look him up and down. He was well-built, that was for sure. Well-built and rather turned on.

  “It’s easier to bleach the stains out of white,” he told her.

  “Gross, Sam, that’s disgusting. I don’t want to hear about that!”

  “What? Oh, shit, no,” he said, with a panicked look on his face. “I mean, not shit. That’s not what I meant. It’s for spills in the kitchen, and since my pants are white I wear white underwear. I swear, it’s not what it sounds like.”

  “Even so, maybe you should take them off too.”

  “Really? Already? Wow, I like fifth-date Cara.”

  Cara waited until he was completely naked. She took the opportunity to take a good long look—a hard look, she thought to herself, and inwardly giggled. But she knew better than to laugh out loud. Men never liked that. “Very nice, Chef Vervaine.”

  “Your turn.” He smiled a wicked smile and reached for her again. But that would have to wait.

  “Just a minute. We need to talk.”

  He looked down at himself. “I’m naked in a hotel room with a beautiful woman. Clearly, talking is the last thing on my mind right now.”

  “I can see that, but I have something I need to say first.” She picked up her glass and finished the wine in one large gulp.

  “Hey, don’t chug it. That’s an expensive wine. You’re supposed to savor it,” Sam protested.

  She poured herself another glass for strength. “We need to talk, Sam,” she told him again. “Please sit down.”

  He did, seating himself on the edge of the bed and pulling a pillow over his lap. Good, that covered up the distractions.

  “Do I have to be naked for this?” he asked.

  “Yes. That’s how I can guarantee you won’t run away immediately. Call it insurance.” Using her foot, she kicked his pants and briefs out of his reach. “There’s something I need to say. It’s about Phil. He and I . . . well, we had sex . . .” She was interrupted by a snort of laughter.

  “I know that Cara! You’re thirty, I’m not expecting a virgin!”

  “I’m twenty-nine, you jerk!”

  “Really? But I thought you were older than Amy and she just turned twenty-nine.”

  “Do you understand how calendars work, Sam? I’m only two months older than her.” She shook her head and took another swallow of wine. He was distracting her, and she needed to focus on what she had to say—the painful secret she had been carrying around for so long. “Sam, can we please be serious? I need to tell you something. When Phil and I had sex, it wasn’t . . . it wasn’t always consensual.” It took a moment, but she could see the instant when understanding hit his eyes.

  “Are you kidding me? What the fuck, Cara?” Sam’s voice sounded incredulous.

  Cara closed her eyes, waited for his inevitable departure. He was going to walk away, she just knew it. She was too damaged for him. It was her fault anyway, for staying with Phil for so long, for not leaving him when the monster first emerged, for not letting him die sooner. She had bought him two more years of life, but at what cost to her?

  She heard Sam get up, but she kept her eyes closed so she didn’t have to watch him leave. Suddenly, though, he was there, strong arms wrapped around her, hugging her very tightly.

  “I am so sorry, Cara. I wish that son of a bitch wasn’t already dead, so I could murder him. But first I’d castrate him and make him eat his own dick—and I would cook it very badly, no salt or anything.”

  That was a sweet offer, sweet, but kind of gross, and in spite of herself, in spite of the seriousness of the conversation, she giggled.

  “Cara, I mean it, I’d kill him and happily serve time. Nobody should get away with doing that to you, nobody.”

  “It’s a little late for that sentiment,” she told him. “And the reason I’m saying something now is because as much as I want to move forward with you, I’m frightened.”

  She hadn’t wanted to say anything, afraid she’d hurt his feelings, but it was true. Earlier, when they had been walking from the hospital to the docks, he had pulled her into an alley, shoved her up against the wall and kissed her. At first, it was fine, exhilarating even, but then her body clenched with fear when she had the sudden realization that she was utterly helpless. He had seven inches and at least eighty pounds on her, and his weight pressing against her reminded her that no matter what she did, she’d never be able to fight him off; she would always be at his mercy. She tried to manage her fear, she even pulled him into an alley later herself just to prove she had some measure of control, but it didn’t help. He was always going to have the physical power.

  He looked wounded. “Cara, you know I’d never hurt you. Well, not intentionally. I mean, I am kind of clumsy. And if you ever try to take me dancing, I might break your toes. But I’d never hurt you on purpose. And we don’t have to do anything tonight. You can probably tell I really want to have sex with you. Really badly. It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day, but I’d never force you. If you don’t want to, we won’t. End of story. I have a safe word, and it’s stop. That’s all you have to say. Just say stop and I will, I promise. I love you!”

  “See, that’s part of the problem, you saying you love me.” She forced herself to continue speaking, even though it was difficult, even though he was holding her and he was naked. She could fe
el her heart pounding and half of her just wanted to push him down on the bed and take him for a ride. “Phil told me he loved me on our third date. He said he was so in love with me, he’d never felt that way about anyone before. It made me feel so special, so good. And what I didn’t recognize at the time is that it was typical abuser’s behavior. They come on so strong in the beginning, and they convince you they love you and they kind of magic you into falling in love with them. It’s part of the trap. And I know that now, so it scares me to hear you tell me you love me, because I know—”

  “Cara, you’re wrong,” he interrupted her. “Look at me. Listen to me. I’m not Phil, and I never will be. He may have told you he loved you on the third date, but even though I’m only saying it now, I’ve loved you for a long time. I realized it years ago, when you were sick and I made you all that soup . . .”

  “You made gallons of it, Sam. It’s all we ate in the staff house for two weeks.” She found herself crying again. It seemed that’s all she had been doing for days.

  “Yes, because I was in love with you. But it wasn’t just a passing thing, and I’m not trying to manipulate you or trick you. I fell in love with you when I got to know you. When I first met you, I thought you were kind of, well, not dull exactly, but not my type at all. But after weeks of living with you and having breakfast with you and going on all those hikes and talking behind the reception desk, I saw you for who you really are, and you shook me to my core. You’re an amazing woman, beautiful and smart, and perfect. I’ll never quite feel like I deserve you.”

  “But Sam, now you’re putting me on a pedestal. That’s just as bad.”

  “No, I’m not. Maybe I shouldn’t have said perfect. I know your faults. You cry too easily, and you’re kind of a perfectionist, and you don’t know how to cook, and fuck, Cara you wear shoes in the house. Do you know how much dirt that tracks in? So you’re not perfect, but you’re wonderful. And it took me time to realize it. But once I did, there was no turning back. Even when you rejected me last summer, it didn’t change how I felt. I love you, for real, but I can wait longer for you, I mean it. I’m already telling everyone you’re my girlfriend, and I so badly want to have sex with you. Well, I’m not actually telling people that last part. But if I’m being honest, that’s all I thought about all day. No pressure though. I’ll wait until you’re ready, I promise.”