by Justine Dell
Many times? What on earth for?
“Coffee table is fine. I’m not much for eating in the kitchen.” It reminded her too much of family dinners with Ryan and Ava. Those days were long gone, and she couldn’t really stomach eating alone at the table anymore.
When Lance bent over the table to set down the pizza, Samantha tried to pull her eyes off of his firm backside, attempting to convince herself that she shouldn’t swoon over him after what he did to her.
“Drinks?” he asked as he turned around and caught her gawking at him. The smile that played at the corner of his mouth made Samantha curse the day someone created hormonal urges.
“Kitchen. I’ll get them.” She spun around and scurried away, a flash of heat covering every inch of skin. How was it she could be turned on and upset with Lance at the same time? He’d proven he didn’t care about her feelings, and she could do without her body going into a teenage frenzy just from looking at him.
Get yourself together, Samantha. She could handle a simple dinner with Lance and Jax. She’d learned a long time ago how to have a respectable dinner with a man who made her feel less than human. She and Ryan had plenty of those when Ava was around. She grabbed two sodas and an apple juice from the fridge and headed back to the living room.
“Here we go.” Samantha set the drinks on the table and took a seat next to Jax on the floor. Jax shoved a piece of pizza into his mouth, and Samantha suppressed a laugh, wiping the mounds of sauce from his cheeks. “Do you always make such a splash at dinner time?”
Jax nodded, his cheeks full like a chipmunk’s, and Samantha’s heart warmed. It’d been a long time since she’d been able to care for a child. She’d always wanted children of her own, but since it hadn’t seemed to be in the cards, she’d focused on Ava. Losing her had almost killed Samantha, and watching Jax munch on his pizza was almost too much. It brought back memories she’d tucked away to protect her heart.
She sighed, and out of habit, reached out and stroked the side of Jax’s puffed cheek, just like she used to do to Ava. Cute as button and dangerous as a firecracker, she mused. Tucking a stray hair from her ponytail behind her ear, she turned her gaze to Lance. He studied her, eyes squinted and lips in a tight line. She didn’t understand the flicker of emotion that crossed his face before he broke eye contact and focused on his own meal.
After Jax swallowed, and before he could shove more food into his mouth, Samantha asked him, “Other than pizza, what brings you by?”
“Dad said we’re doing some work on Grammy’s house.”
Grammy’s house? Lance had even more explaining to do. Of course, and she hated to admit this, he owed her an explanation after she profusely apologized to him for smacking him. She’d save that conversation for later.
“So, Jax. Tell me, what does your mommy do?” As soon as the question left her lips, Lance coughed, sounding like he was choking.
Jax’s face paled, lip trembling like she’d just kicked his puppy. He slowly swallowed his last bite. “I don’t have a mommy.”
She couldn’t breathe around the foot shoved down her throat.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Samantha tugged Jax in for a hug. “I didn’t know.”
When Jax pulled away, the sadness was erased from his face, though his eyes glistened. “That’s okay. Daddy says that not everyone needs a mommy when they have a daddy like him.”
She almost laughed. Of course Lance would say something like that.
She tapped a finger on the end of his nose and smiled. “You know, you’re right. You have the best daddy in the world.” God, it almost killed her to say those words, but the smile it put on Jax’s face made all the difference.
“Yup! And he bought me a new dinosaur today, too.”
“Did he? Can I see?”
Jax’s eyes lit up. “Sure! I’ll be right back.” He jumped up and flew out the front door. Samantha kept her head down, willing herself not to look at Lance. In seconds, Jax was back, T-Rex in hand. “Here it is!” He shoved it into Samantha’s outstretched hand. “Isn’t it great? I named him Spike ’cause he’s got sharp teeth and claws. See?”
“Yes, he’s quite scary looking.”
Jax giggled. “He’s not scary. Daddy says he was at the top of the food chain ’cause he was so big and smart.” He plopped down onto Samantha’s lap, making her tense up. A child hadn’t sat on her lap in a while. The warm, cozy feeling made her smile. “And he had sharp teeth and claws to eat. Daddy says he was a predator.” Jax sounded out the last words as if he wasn’t sure of the pronunciation.
“Your daddy is also very smart.”
What harm would a little white lie do if it was to please a child? Samantha was sure Lance was a good father, make no mistake, but she didn’t like having to admit it front of him. She spared him a glance, and the snicker he was trying to hide made her fingers itch to drop her half-empty soda in his lap.
“Yup.” Jax stood up and ran over to Lance. “Can I go over to Doug’s now and show him? Can I please?”
“Sure, but just until I help Samantha clean up and then I’ll come over to get you, okay?”
“All right.”
“What do you say to Samantha before you go?”
Jax turned around and gave Samantha another heart-melting smile. “Bye, Samantha. Thanks for letting us come over and eat pizza.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for bringing the pizza.” She gave him a quick hug and pat on the head before he ran out the door. When the door clicked shut behind him, Samantha realized she and Lance were alone.
Lance came up behind her and placed his hand on her back. She went rigid.
“I guess I should say thanks, too,” he said. The deep baritone of his voice trickled along her bare neck. He was close to her. Too close for comfort.
“Don’t bother.” She whirled away from him and headed toward the kitchen. His boots thudded on the floor right behind her.
“Now, that’s not very nice, Sam.”
She threw the pizza box into the trash, placed the dishes in the sink, and turned toward him.
“You want to talk about nice? All right. It wasn’t nice of you to stride in here tonight after I told you not to.” She blew out a ragged breath. “Okay, first…you have no idea how bad I feel about slapping you. I shouldn’t have done that. However, there’s this part of me that thinks you deserve it for what happened between us when we were younger.”
His mouth dropped open. “What?”
“That’s beside the point tonight, though. One, you should’ve told me you had a son. And, two, you should’ve told me he didn’t have a mother. Did you see that look on his face when I asked him?”
He nodded and leaned on the counter. His thick arms and ruffled hair had her mind wandering to places it shouldn’t have gone.
“I didn’t hide anything from you. If you’d ever done this thing called talk with me, I would’ve told you. But you’ve been pretty good at avoiding any and all conversation with me.”
“Yes, but—”
“Why do you avoid talking to me?”
She ignored him and wiped down the counter for the third time. He took hold of her wrist and turned her around. It felt like fire ants ate away at her skin where they touched.
“Why is it every time we talk, I feel like I’ve committed some terrible crime?” he asked.
Because I hate what you did to me twelve years ago. I hate the fact that my body responds every time you are around. I hate that you think you can use your off-kilter charm to get to me. She shook her head. She couldn’t say any of those things out loud. Not that he would care. Then again…maybe he would? Time can change a person; she was living proof of that.
“And while you’re at it,” he continued, “can you please tell me why exactly you smacked me today?”
“I said I was sorry.”
He shrugged. “You’re forgiven. But I still want to know why. Do you think I deserve that?”
No. Oh hell…yes. But she wasn’t ready to go t
here. She was just learning to take baby steps, not gigantic leaps. She didn’t know if she could handle talking about why he’d done what he’d done to her. Why he had held her so tightly, loved her so tenderly, so completely, and then said those nasty things.
“Why did you bring Jax over tonight?” she asked.
The grip on her wrist loosened. “Fine, I get it. You don’t want to talk about it. Believe me, one day we will talk about it—whether you want to or not.”
“Why did you bring Jax over tonight?” she repeated.
“Candice told me you met him the other day at the diner. She said you two hit it off, so I thought I would bring him by.”
She cocked her head. “So you thought you would use him to soften me up? Convince me to let you work on Gram’s house?”
He let go of her wrist. “Did you ever stop and think that maybe your grandmother means something to someone other than you?”
“Well…no, I guess not. But that doesn’t give you the right to push me around and manipulate me.”
“Is that what you think?”
“Well, what else am I supposed to think after the way you’ve treated me since I arrived?”
“You mean trying to help you?”
“I wouldn’t call what you do help.”
His sardonic laugh rolled through the kitchen. She grabbed the washcloth from the sink and wiped down the counter again. And again.
“When was the last time you looked in the mirror?” he asked.
She gripped the washcloth tighter and scrubbed with all her strength, knuckles white. “What?”
“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe the problem is you?”
She froze. Hell. She certainly didn’t need a therapy session from Lance.
“Get out.”
“No. You need to understand that I’m trying to help you, but you won’t let me in. There must be something wrong with you.” He crossed his arms. “If you’d had half the mind to ask me about some things instead of assuming, maybe you wouldn’t be so damn cold.”
“There’s nothing I need to know from you.”
“I find that hard to believe. Why not just ask and be done with it? Get out all the anger and move on?”
Move on? Unlikely. Since he’d crept back into her life she could hardly think, let alone move on.
Oh my God. That’s it. He was the reason she couldn’t move on. He was the reason she couldn’t let go of the past. He’d been the catalyst of it all, and now that she was back, being constantly reminded of how he hadn’t wanted her, her temper flared just beneath the surface, ready for any moment to attack. In order to move on in Burlington and really start fresh, she would have to talk to him about it. Not forgive him, but lay the cards on the table so they each knew how much the past had woven part of their future. Surely she was strong enough to do that?
She threw the rag into the sink and turned to face him, a frown on her face. “Fine then. What’s the deal with you and my grandmother?”
“That’s it? That’s what you want to ask about?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
He shook his head. “Nothing, if that’s what’s really bothering you.” He eyed her, waiting for some sort of reaction.
“Fine. There are lots of things bothering me, but that’s between me and my therapist.” She cringed. Now he would think she was some loony.
One of his brows arched. “A therapist?”
“Forget it.”
“If you say so.” He dropped his arms to his side. “Your grandmother helped me a long time ago, and I’ve spent the last several years helping her in return.” He took a step to the side, giving her more space.
Every part of his body flexed with the movement, and her limbs went weak. She had to force her eyes to look at something other than his chest.
“Good enough?” he asked.
She swallowed, trying to make sure her inappropriate thoughts didn’t roughen her voice. “For now.”
“Anything else?”
A million other things, but they would have to wait. “Is that why you want to do the work on her house?” She had looked over the estimates. The labor cost was far less than it should’ve been.
His eyes searched her face. “One of them.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Should she ask what the other was? Or would that just be wishful thinking?
“It’s getting late,” he said. “I need to get Jax home and cleaned up before bed. I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow, and we can talk about getting started.”
“Wait—” And that’s all she had. She didn’t want him to leave. She wanted to know more. Much more. She finally wanted some answers and was finally ready to ask the right questions. She had some serious groveling to do for being such a bitch to him, but fresh starts had to begin somewhere.
“Yeah?”
She drew her bottom lip into her mouth. “Forgive me?”
He cocked his head. “For what?”
“Being me.”
He continued to study her without saying a word.
“Say something,” she whispered.
He stepped closer, his warmth swamping her senses. His hand came up to her face, his fingers skimmed down her cheek. “I’ve known since the day you got here that something was wrong; it’s not all just me. Because of our history, I’m a bit confused, but willing to take a chance I wouldn’t have taken before.”
His lips brushed across hers. Slowly. Softly. She nearly collapsed to the floor from the gentleness of it—gentleness that she didn’t deserve. His head lifted, and his eyes skimmed down the length of her body, making her shiver.
“Why did you do that?” she asked, breathless and confused.
He grinned. “I’ve wanted to do that since you got back into town. Only I wanted to do it while you weren’t yelling at me.”
She dipped her head, ashamed at her behavior toward him, but still mad at what happened between them. “You and I still aren’t friends, you know.”
“I know. And, thank you…for letting me do the work on Dorothy’s house.”
“Well, goodnight,” she said.
He walked past, his broad frame brushing against her shoulders. He stopped and looked down at her before bringing his hand up to cup her cheek. She froze as all her senses came to life again, a ripple of unwanted excitement skimming over her.
“Goodnight, Sam.”
Men. That was all she could think when the door shut behind Lance. His rejection was still etched in her heart as though carved in granite. The same heart knew his touch, his taste, the way their bodies had fit so perfectly together. The way she’d loved him.
She almost smacked herself for that last thought, but why did the man who broke her heart still make her yearn for his touch?
Lance helped Jax up into the passenger side seat of the truck. “Did Doug like your T-Rex?”
“He sure did. He showed me a vellaceerapter he just got.”
Lance laughed.
“Velociraptors are cool,” he replied as he scooted into his own seat. “Did he show you the sharp claw they have?”
“Yeah! Man, it was huge.”
“Glad you had fun.”
“Yeah, it was all right.” Jax’s shoulder lifted and fell. “Dad, why don’t I have a mommy?”
Lance’s chest tightened. Jax had only asked that question once before, and Lance thought he’d answered it fairly well. Granted, the whole thing about having a super dad so Jax didn’t need a mom would only go so far. He’d known that, but he hadn’t expected a trip to Sam’s to raise the question again.
How could he even begin to explain to Jax that his mother left him just days after he was born? To burden a child with that knowledge would be cruel.
“You had a mommy.”
“Where is she?”
Lance blew out a breath. He needed to answer so Jax wouldn’t be crushed. “Do you remember when we learned about T-Rexes and their babies at the museum the last time we went?”
Jax perked up. “Su
re, both the mommy and daddy take care of the baby until it’s big enough to take care of itself.”
“That’s right. Well, your mommy didn’t want me to help, so she left.”
“She didn’t want you to help?”
Lance shook his head.
Jax’s face scrunched as he considered that. Seconds stretched between them before Jax spoke again. “It’s okay, Dad. I’m glad I’ve got you.”
A twist deep in his chest told Lance he had said the right thing to help Jax understand. Lance didn’t know if he could ever give Jax a mother, but he could give him unconditional love.
With that thought, someone else came to mind.
Sam.
Chapter Eleven
“Sometimes a little shift can change the big picture.”
~Unknown
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The jarring noise jerked Samantha out of unconsciousness. The hammering had interrupted a perfectly good dream—one about Lance, no less. She flung herself out of bed, ashamed for having such memorable and pleasurable dreams about a man she was still trying to get over.
Bang! Bang!
The sound was coming from inside the house. She looked at the clock; it was only seven a.m., so she went in search of the infuriating sound. The person causing it was going to suffer serious bodily harm.
She padded across her room, into the hallway, and paused, wondering briefly if she should be frightened. No, it was probably nothing. But if it was her schmoozing brother, she was going to kill him. She found a brass candleholder and snatched it up.
Samantha padded across the cool wood flooring toward the staircase. She put one hand on the rail and peeked over the edge, but saw nothing.
Bang! Bang!
The damn ringing in her ears made certain she was awake. She gripped the handrail and propelled herself closer to the noise. When she reached the bottom, she still didn’t see anything.
The sound of male groans and wood splintering echoed up the hallway followed by another loud thump. She edged down the hallway, candleholder at her side.
A light flickered near the bathroom in the hallway. Another thump. Another groan.
“Christ!” a voice roared. “For the love of—”