Jason had been making noise about leaving the Navy when his time was up and Ash had been trying to recruit him ever since. With no luck.
“Don’t you worry your pretty head about my tactics. I’m gonna get him. I’m this close,” he said, holding his fingers an inch apart. “Wanna bet me on it?”
“Hell, yeah. I need a new box of Cubans.”
“You’re asking me to bring illegal contraband into the country? Commit a federal offense?” he scoffed, as if offended. As if he hadn’t done it before. “I’m a law abiding citizen, Sammy. Besides, you’re not gonna win this one. Eventually, it’s gonna happen and when it does, I want the beach house for a full weekend.”
“You want my house? For two whole days? I’d ask you why, but I’ve got a pretty good idea and while I’m disgusted by the potential debauchery that would take place in my home, I’m in.” Sam was confident Jason wouldn’t leave the Navy unless his CO physically escorted him to the door or he was zippered into a body bag.
Caroline strolled into his office, interrupting the stakes of their wager to set a soggy bag of tepid take-out and a white envelope in front of him. Lunch had come and gone hours ago, sometime during Ray’s blustery, ass-kissing speech, so even room temperature chicken salad held real appeal.
“The food is from the deli across the street. The other is from a super hot babe wearing animal print and a pretty blush.” Before Sam could get the words out, she answered his question in a sing-song voice as she walked right back out. “It’s not my fault you closed your door.”
Hearing Ash let out a rare chuckle, Sam spared him an irritated look.
“There were boots, too. The kind that went up to her knees. And a whole lotta leg was still showing.” Ash grinned when Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You made the rule, man.”
“I think that wall will stand on its own, if you want to leave now.”
“I’ve exceeded my spoken word count for the day, anyway,” he said, heading toward the door, “and damn, I’m gonna enjoy the hell out of that weekend at the beach.”
Sam didn’t reply, his mind already focused on the surprise visitor he’d missed. Opening the envelope with care, he pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper along with a personal check, made payable to Scorpio Securities, Inc. and written for a sizable amount of money. Five figures and some change. Payment for services rendered.
As much as he deserved this, and had insinuated to her that he expected it, the money was still a punch to the gut. As if he really had been hired to do a job and the last few weeks—which had honestly been the best of his life—were simply the fulfillment of a contractual obligation. Bordering on outraged, he dropped the check down on the desk, telling himself he should cash the fucking thing just to see what kind of rise he could get out of her.
Grabbing the folded sheet of paper, he scanned the words, written in a pretty, feminine scroll that made his chest tighten. Or maybe it was the words themselves that hit him squarely where he was hurting the most.
Dear Sam, You don’t know me, but I know you. My name is Ali Ross. I moved into the house next door to you. I watch you run every morning, just after the sun rises. I would like it very much if you and your dog would come over tonight for a drink. I have never been a very interesting person, but I have a story to tell you. Best, Ali.
They were the words she should have said when she’d called him to purchase her security system. Or when he and Pete had come upon her, on the beach that fateful night of their first face to face meeting. Or a dozen other times since. Her words were long overdue, but damn, they made him feel good, anyway.
They were an introduction. A fresh start. Another beginning.
And Sam wasn’t the least bit surprised when later that evening, just as his bare feet hit the beach and he followed an excited Pete toward Ali’s back door, he instead found her sitting on the sand, in that very same spot. Appearing lost in thought, she stared out at the darkening sky as the sun slipped behind the horizon, the reflection off the water making it look like rippled glass.
Pete and his boundless energy beat him to her. Nudging her with his wet nose, a smile lit her face as she wrapped an arm around the dog, murmuring something that Sam couldn’t hear, but caused a lot of tailwagging. When her eyes met his, he could see the nervousness.
“Hi,” she said quietly, brushing sand off her backside as she stood. “I’m glad you came over. I wasn’t sure you would.”
“I’ve never had an invitation quite like that one. How could I refuse?”
Relaxing a bit at his casual tone, she gestured toward her house and he nodded, enjoying the sexy sway of her hips as he followed her inside.
“Thanks for sending someone to fix my door today,” she said, closing it behind him.
Sam had hastily nailed a sheet of plywood over the broken door last night, intending to send one of his guys out today to repair it for good, although Beckett, who was their best computer expert—no one who valued his junk dared to call him a hacker—hadn’t done it without some bitching. Using swear words like only a former sailor could, Beck reminded Sam that he wasn’t a handyman for hire, although his carpentry skills were being finely honed while he restored a historic but rundown old Craftsman bungalow in the Mission Hills district. Every veteran had his own way of reintegrating back into society after years of non-stop deployments. Thinking of his earlier conversation with Asher, Sam hoped to hell it was only power tools and wood stain helping Beck.
He spared the door a brief glance, noticing the wood only needed a few coats of paint and it would be good as new. He also noticed that Ali didn’t bother to reset the alarm, and that it hadn’t even been set to begin with. A first in his experience.
Standing in the center of the living room, which looked the same as it always did minus the large area rug, Ali bit her lip. “Do you want a beer?”
He shook his head and sat down on the sofa.
Looking toward the kitchen uncertainly, she added, “Do you want wine? Water?”
“Ali. I think you know what I want.”
Dipping her head, she lifted a throw pillow from the corner of the sofa and sat down facing him, hugging it tightly to her. She stared at him and sighed, her pretty blue eyes soft in the shadowed light as she reached out, smoothing a finger over his brow in a gesture so loving it made his gut clench. “I want to tell you a story. It’s not a fairy tale, though. It’s real life.” Her eyes welled and she tightened her lips, smiling uncertainly. “But I have high hopes for a happy ending.”
She sat back, took a deep breath, and in a no nonsense voice, proceeded to tell him her life story. The abbreviated version, he gathered, because she was hitting only the high points. And a few of the low ones, too, even though he knew she was glossing over the uglier details, diminishing their significance. As if it would hurt him less by not knowing the frequency and intensity of her suffering. Sam was no fool, though, and he was well versed at reading between the lines. The longer she spoke, the lower her voice got, and he could feel her embarrassment, along with a healthy dose of despair. It was a palpable feeling and he wanted to reach out and wrap her in his arms. Tell her to stop talking about it, stop reliving it. That he was here to protect her now, to make sure no harm would ever come her way again.
But his beautiful, brave Ali—and make no mistake, she was his—needed to finish this as much as he needed to hear it. It was a purging of the past that once done, would bring forth renewal. And Jesus Christ, if anybody could read his mind right now, they would think he spent his days buffing his nails and watching Oprah show reruns.
“The ironic thing was, I didn’t even want to go to that office party. I wanted to stay home and crochet a blanket. That’s another thing you don’t know about me. I like to crochet.” She let out a half laugh and shrugged. “It’s a lost art. Anyway, Danny said we needed to make an appearance so we went. After a few hours, I was ready to leave. The champagne had given me a headache. He’d disappeared so I went to look for him, hoping he would call a c
ar service and stay at the party without me, but I couldn’t find him. I finally checked his office and when I pushed open the door, I saw him with someone. In a position that, thankfully, he hadn’t had me in, in a long time. And I found out the real reason why he was so angry with me all the time. And himself, too, because he spent the majority of his time being mad.”
“You recognized her, then?” he asked, to fill the silence.
“I recognized him.” She tilted her head and smiled sadly. “And the pieces of the puzzle started to fit. Why he never wanted a physical relationship. Not that I cared, I was more than happy living a celibate life. His hands on me felt revolting not long after our marriage began, anyway. But, now I knew why he was so secretive and why he would disappear for days on end and then come back as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I was his cover story. A front he presented to everyone. The picture of a happily married, heterosexual man with no worries that his private life might hamper his professional one. Status and popularity, and what the partners at the law firm thought, was very important to him.” She paused, her eyes searching his face before she reached down, dipping her fingers into her waistband to touch the scar on her hip. “That was the night this happened.”
Sam’s body went rigid in anger. “He did that to you, didn’t he? I knew it.” Not needing her confirmation, he stood, hands fisted at his sides. “I want to kill that mother fucker all over again. Slowly and methodically. And make him beg for his worthless life before I take it.”
Ali stood and reached for his clenched fists, her touch reassuring. “Sam, it’s okay. It really is. This,” she guided his hand to her hip, “is what made me finally leave him. I stayed, hoping that things would change, waiting for them to get better, for far too long. Yes, he hurt me, and yes, it was a terrible experience. But it was my last straw and it’s what brought you to me. I look at it and feel only happiness because without this scar, I wouldn’t be standing here with you right now. I would’ve gone to Oklahoma after the divorce instead of coming to California.” Ali squeezed his hand tightly. “And I would willingly be cut a thousand times more, if it meant that I would find you. That I could be with you.”
***
There it was, in all its ugly glory. Her life history.
The goods news, Ali thought to herself, was that Sam was still standing here. He hadn’t given her a sympathetic look, tapped her politely on the head and said nice knowing you before showing himself to the door. So, now what? Oh, that’s right. This was where she offered up her heart and soul on a silver platter. And putting it out there, where he could crush it with the simple shake of his head, was just about as scary as anything Danny had ever thrown her way.
Giving a little shrug, she knew there was no way to sugarcoat it. “He was going to find me, Sam. And hurt me again. I needed somebody to stop him.”
When Sam remained poker-faced, she took a deep breath and continued, knowing he wouldn’t accept anything less than full disclosure. “I don’t know why Donna showed me this house. It wasn’t even close to what I was looking for. But she did, and that was the day I found out about you. She told me who you were and I bought this house because of it. My options were limited and I needed someone close by who could scare Danny. Based on my research, you were qualified. We didn’t meet by chance, Sam. It was because you were right there,” she said, motioning toward his house, “next to me.”
“Jesus, Ali. What the fuck—”
She cut him off, mid-question. “All I wanted was for him to leave me alone. You’re a strong and intimidating man, and I knew Danny would think twice if you were here with me, so I lied to you. I couldn’t risk telling you the truth about myself because you would’ve walked.”
He opened his mouth to speak, to disagree with what she knew was true, but he closed it without uttering the denial.
“Desperation can make you do irrational things,” she said, her confession coming out in a long winded rush. “Fear changes the way you think. It isn’t an excuse, it’s just a fact. But... after that first night? Everything changed for me, Sam. You walked in here and told me my hair was pretty. And you listened when I talked, like you actually cared about what I was saying. And you looked so good naked. I had this whole, stupid plan, but something happened that I hadn’t counted on. I started to like you. I mean, really like you. But by then, the lies were so deep and I had told you so many that I didn’t know how to dig myself out. I wanted to come clean and confess it all to you. I wanted to make you understand that it wasn’t about him anymore. That it was only about me and you. About how badly I wanted to be with you, and have a future with you, no matter what happened with Danny. And that’s what I still want, Sam, even though I hate myself for lying to you, and you probably hate me, too, because I know you hate liars, and because of the awful thing you had to do last night and—oh, my God, I’m screwing this up so badly...” Groaning, she buried her face in her hands. “I knew I should’ve written all this down or something.”
The corners of his mouth turned up. “I think you’re working up to the good part, Ali.” He rolled his hand. “Keep going.”
Surprised, she let out a watery laugh. “You see? That’s why I think you’re so wonderful. Because you make me laugh, even when I want to cry. Because you apologize when you’re only a minute late. Literally, one minute, Sam. Who does that? And you notice when I’m cold and get me a sweatshirt before I can think to get it myself. Because you praise Pete even when he pees in your new car. And you care more about Dwayne Jackson’s family than you do about the money you lost by firing him. And so many other reasons that I don’t even know of yet. That’s why I want to be with you, Sam.” She took a fortifying breath, oxygen filling her body where her guts used to be. “And I’m so, so sorry.”
He said nothing. Just held her eyes with a half ass grin on his face. She shifted on her feet, impatiently waiting for his verdict, hoping for absolution. The smile was reassuring, the silence was not. In fact, it was kind of infuriating.
“Well?” Damn it, she hadn’t meant that to sound so bitchy.
“So, you know everything I said to you last night was bullshit, don’t you?” Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms. Touching his lips to hers, he added, “Because it was, Ali. My nerves were shot and I was worried sick. And pissed off is the one emotion I do well. That’s no excuse. I’m an asshole. And I’m the sorry one, babe.”
Once Ali was sure he’d really said what her brain had just registered, she sealed her mouth to his before he could change his mind, sinking into his arms and basking in the glory of his acceptance and forgiveness. The fates that she had once questioned, once cursed, now shone down on her brightly and for the first time in years, Ali felt an easy peace settle into her bones.
“Wow,” she said breathlessly, “it seems the truth really does set you free.”
He murmured his agreement, his tongue barely losing its delicious contact with hers as he shuffled her backwards, following her gently down when she fell onto the sofa. “We shouldn’t do this,” he said, running a finger lightly across the bandage on her neck. “Don’t want to pop a stitch.”
She snorted. “You better be kidding, right? Pop away, baby.”
His smiling mouth went to her earlobe, softly sucking the sensitive flesh and making her crazy with lust as she pushed his t-shirt up, exposing the hot skin on his muscular back. Letting out an impatient growl, he raised up and yanked his shirt off first, then reached for hers, carefully avoiding the wound on her neck as he ripped the cotton fabric along its seam. She was too far gone to care, even though it was her favorite ruffled eyelet lace tank. Their fingers tangled as they hurried to get his jeans and her shorts out of the way.
“Wait a minute, babe.” He pulled back, his jeans completely undone, the open placket showing a mouthwatering amount of flesh that she desperately needed to get her hands on.
And the man had just told her to wait.
“No... don’t wanna wait.” Biting along his tatto
oed shoulder, her hand brushed the hair roughened skin as she reached inside the tight denim. “I don’t think you should ever wear pants. I’m instituting a new house rule. When you’re here, you can’t have any pants on.”
He grunted, fumbling in his front pocket. “Ali, look.” Dragging her gaze up his long torso, which was chiseled to perfection, she saw him holding her check. “If I tried to cash this, it would clear, wouldn’t it?”
He knew damn well it would, but she nodded anyway.
As if it was no big deal, he tore the check in half, then again, laying four, evenly torn pieces on the coffee table next to them.
“Sam!” Unable to hide her shock, she lightly punched his arm. “That check was for real.” Pushing herself up on her elbows, she ignored his bare chest and the fact that her boobs were overflowing the cups of her red lace bra, and spoke sincerely. “I gave it to you so we could be even again and go back to the beginning. So I could just be a normal woman who moved into a dusty, old beach house and,” she paused, hoping he could see into her soul, “fell helplessly in love with the neighborhood hottie next door. And who now spends all her waking moments wishing that hottie would fall in love back. I just wanted us to be square.”
His lips quirked. “I’m not sure how I feel about being labeled a hottie.”
She laughed. “Umm... how about sweet piece of man meat?”
“Even worse. Definitely not that.” Leaning over, he gave her a thoroughly deep kiss, the kind that made her lady parts throb, before trailing his tongue down to her exposed nipple. “And I already did, by the way. Fall in love back. Hell, I probably fell first. So now we’re square, babe. And we’re gonna be horizontal, too, in about three seconds.”
EPILOGUE
“I’ve been thinking about hyphenating my name.” Ali tilted her head back, rubbing her cheek against his late day stubble. “What do you think?”
Sweeping her blonde hair to the side, Sam gave her neck a nibbling kiss then rested his chin on top of her head. Arms banded around her, he pulled her back against him tightly as they sat watching the white capped waves roll in. “As long as Gleeson is in there somewhere, I really don’t care.”
NEXT TO ME (A Love Happens Novel Book 1) Page 21