All-American Girl

by Justine Dell

  He focused more intently. Her eyes never left the screen, but her face flashed a million different emotions while she was concentrating. Fear. Anger. Surprise. Happiness. It looked like she was on a roller coaster ride and couldn’t settle on any one emotion. Whatever she was doing—the clicking of the keys, the swift changes in facial expressions—it was magic to him.

  When she twisted in her seat and readjusted, the smirk on her face made him chuckle. Her head snapped up, curious eyes gleaming over the laptop screen. She looked like a rabbit coming out of its hole. He laughed again.

  “What’s so funny?”

  He continued to laugh, amused at her concentration and how easily it could be broken. “Nothing,” he replied.

  She pushed the laptop to the side and crossed her arms. “I doubt that.”

  “No…no, I was just amazed at how your face looks when you’re doing whatever you’re doing over there.”

  “Oh.”

  Her hand came to her face as she blushed. The pink in her cheeks once again reminded Lance of the night before. He tried to focus on measuring the cabinets but curiosity got the best of him. “What were you doing?”

  She scrunched her face. “I’m writing. Trying to anyway.”

  “No, what are you doing with your face?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “When you were typing, your expression changed every few seconds.”

  “Oh.” She gave a half-smile. “Well, when I write, I’m in the head of several characters at different times. I guess my face reacts to what I’m typing. One character might be happy and the next one might be angry.” She blushed again. “I guess you’re seeing their expressions on my face. I didn’t realize I did that.”

  “It looks exhausting.”

  Her arms stretched out, and she rolled her shoulders. Lance had the sudden urge to rub any knots out for her. His hands twitched at the mere thought of touching her again.

  “It can be tiring,” she replied. “Not the expressions, but the writing. It sometimes wears out my brain.”

  “Maybe you should take a break.” He looked around the barren kitchen. “I can go get you some coffee or something.”

  “That’s okay. Thanks, though. I think I’ll go take a shower, loosen up my shoulders, and then get back to work.” A bright smile lit up her entire face. “I’ve got the ball rolling on this story and I don’t want to lose momentum.”

  “I’m sorry about what happened with your brother last night, Sam. But I want you to know I enjoyed the time I spent with you.” The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them. When he looked at her, he saw a brand new shade of red in her cheeks. She put the laptop back on her lap, almost as if she was using it as a shield.

  “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  He rose and leaned against the counter. “Why?”

  Her fingers clicked furiously at the keys. “Because I haven’t worked out what happened between us yet.”

  “What?”

  She shook her head and pounded harder on the keys. “Cole.”

  “I was telling you the truth.”

  “I never said you weren’t. But that’s something I need to hear from the horse’s mouth.”

  “I understand. But…” When he walked toward her, she bunched herself in a tight ball, clutching to her laptop. “Listen, Sam. I know we have a lot of stuff to work through so, uh, why don’t we just, uh, date?”

  Her head jerked up. “What?”

  “Date.”

  Her eyes combed over his face. She threw her head back and laughed hysterically.

  His jaw muscles tightened. “Why is that funny?”

  She stopped laughing and gaped at his grim expression. “Oh, you’re serious.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry, I thought—”

  The front door burst open. Cole stumbled in and collapsed on the woven rug. Samantha threw her laptop on the couch and ran to his side. From the looks of it, Cole was worse off than the night before—far worse. Lance ground his teeth as he knelt down beside Samantha.

  “Cole,” Samantha said, voice shaking.

  Her brother was face down, limbs sprawled awkwardly. Her hands trembled when she tugged his shoulder. He didn’t move.

  “Cole,” Lance called out as he flipped Cole on to his back. “Cole.” Lance dipped his head and put his ear to Cole’s chest. His breathing was shallow, skin pale and cold to the touch. “Call 9-1-1, Sam. Now.”

  She didn’t argue. Lance held Cole’s head, hopefully making it easier for him to breathe. He’d seen people like this before, his stepfather to be exact. Lance should’ve known something was wrong when he went to check on Cole that morning. There’d been no answer at his door, but the porch had been littered with empty bottles. And Cole had retrieved his car. Lance figured he’d hotwired it or something. It, too, had been filled with bottles.

  Samantha stumbled back into the foyer, trembling. Her hair had fallen from its ponytail, and auburn wisps stuck to her tear-lined face. There were no words that would soothe her. Lance’s only fear was that Cole wouldn’t make it to the hospital; Samantha wouldn’t be able to take a blow like that.

  The hospital room was a stark place. The chairs were uncomfortable, with straight backs, sticky leather-type covers, and legs that were too close the floor. The clean scent tingled in Lance’s nose. He didn’t mind the hospital, but he did wish the environment was more comforting. He looked down at Samantha, who was stretched across two chairs, head lying in his lap. After Cole was admitted and Lance got Samantha calmed down, she’d zonked right out.

  His legs were falling asleep, but he didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to. There was something about having her tucked in next to him that made him feel at home, like she always should have been there.

  He shook his head. He shouldn’t think about things like that. Right now his main concern was to make sure Samantha was okay, and to help out with Cole. Cole had a long, hard road ahead of him and Samantha would need all the support she could get, especially since Dorothy was still in recovery. Lance hoped this wouldn’t be a setback to Samantha in dealing with her anger.

  He’d noticed a change in her the past few days. When Jenny came to town, a new Samantha had emerged, sweet and caring—the one he remembered from his childhood. He hoped she could keep caring long enough to deal with whatever was troubling her. And he’d be right there.

  Samantha stirred, her soft features almost giving way to a smile. Maybe she was dreaming. She really did look adorable when her face wasn’t a raging ball of fire. Hell, even then she looked good. Her body shifted and came back to life with a fluttering of her lashes and a long, cat-like stretch. He smiled.

  When she looked up at him, sleep still fresh in her green eyes, his heart did an unsettling flip in his chest. Well, if that didn’t make things more complicated, he didn’t know what would.

  “Hey,” she said softly as she moved off his lap. The loss of her warmth made him want to tug her back down.

  “Hey.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to doze off.” She rubbed her eyes and tightened her ponytail before glancing at her brother lying in the hospital bed. “How is he?”

  “He’s doing better.” Lance tucked a stray hair behind her ear. When their skin met this time, it felt like a lightning bolt flashed between them. His chest tightened more, and he knew he was in trouble. Lance jerked his hand back. “The doctor said the alcohol will be out of his system in a few hours. They started a heavy dose of antibiotics to help with the pneumonia.”

  Samantha closed her eyes and rubbed her thin fingers over her face. “I can’t believe he was that sick on top of everything. He could’ve died.”

  “But he didn’t. That’s what matters.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Her eyes made their way back to his. There it was: vulnerability. The eyes of a child who was unsure of her next step. Her next words. Her next act. “Thank you. Your help means the world to me.”
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  Those words stole his breath. They were simple, yet they meant so much coming from her.

  “What do we do now?” she asked.

  “We wait.”

  “Ah, yes. Waiting. I can do that.”

  Lance almost laughed. In the past few days, he’d decided patience wasn’t high on Samantha’s list of fine qualities.

  “I really want to talk to Cole when he wakes up.” She turned her head toward her brother. “I need to know how he’s feeling.”

  “The doctor’s said he’ll be awake soon, hopefully. Why don’t we go get something to eat? You haven’t eaten anything all day.”

  “I don’t want to leave him. Besides, I’m not hungry.”

  “Fine, but promise me you’ll eat right after he wakes and you get the chance to talk to him.”

  After several silent seconds, she replied, “I promise.” She settled back into the uncomfortable seat and drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly.

  “So what do you think?” he asked.

  She turned her head, her face twisted in confusion. “What do I think about what?”

  “Us.” He watched the color drain from her face as she hugged herself tighter. Then the blush returned and she looked away. He didn’t quite know what to make of it. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have asked you now, here,” he said when she didn’t answer.

  “No, it’s just…I don’t know.”

  “Can you at least tell me why you were laughing at my suggestion that we date?”

  She bit her top lip. “I thought you were joking,” she said softly.

  “I wasn’t.”

  She dropped her legs, shifted, and turned to face him. “Well, that was pretty obvious from the look you gave me after I stopped laughing.”

  “Why would I joke about that?”

  Her eyes fluttered to the bed and then back to him. “After the way I’ve treated you, why do you even talk to me?”

  His fingers found her cheek. “Because I remember what you used to be like.” He stroked her soft skin once, twice, three times. “And I think, deep down, she’s still there, but afraid to come out.”

  She blinked, inching herself back from his touch. “Even if that were true, it wouldn’t make up for anything.”

  “We could.”

  Was that fear in her expression? Or just plain shock? He didn’t know, but he wanted to kiss it away.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  He took her hand into his. She tried to pull it away but he gripped it tightly. When she stopped tugging, he rubbed over the back with his thumb. “Tell me, Sam, what’s made you this way?”

  Her eyes, which had been so mesmerizing a few moments before, now shot daggers at him. “What way?”

  He took her other hand and held both tightly on his lap. “Shutting people out. Keeping your emotions locked up inside. Fighting instead of talking. Doing everything that’s not you.” She put her head down, and a tear dripped from her cheek. “I want to help you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I care about you. Believe it or not, I don’t like seeing you like this, no matter how much dirt you’ve kicked in my face while you’ve been here. I think I can help if you’d just let me in, Sam. Please.”

  Her eyes went wide. “And you think dating will help?”

  “Well, not exactly—”

  “Let you into my bed and make me forget about everything?”

  “God, no—”

  “You’re right about the old me still being in here.” Her hand jerked from his and flew to her chest. “But the old me was the one trampled on by men. She is the reason I’m like this in the first place. I hate her. I hate me. I hate what I’ve become. Why would anyone else—you especially—want anything to do with me?” She jumped to her feet.

  He was dumbstruck.

  “And trust me, while your offer sounds tempting, I’m afraid I don’t have the strength to go down that road with you again. I’m afraid my heart has been broken enough and I don’t intend to have it broken, by you, again.”

  “Whoa. Wait just one damned second.” He got to his feet and went to her side. She kept her back to him so he grabbed her arm and flung her around. “First, if you think I just wanted to date you to get you in bed, you’re wrong. It’s more than that, and you know it. This is about getting over what you’ve been through so you can move on. And don’t ever think I’m like every other man and will so easily break your heart this time around. In case you forgot, I’m not the one who broke it the very first time. Or, from what it sounds like, the several times after that. The least you could do is give me a little credit.”

  He reinforced his grip when she tried to twist free. “What is with you? After what I told you last night, what happened between us, I’d thought you’d be different today. If this is the way you treat everyone, I’m surprised you have any friends. Wake up, Sam. See the big picture. See more than just ulterior motives.” He released her, and she stumbled back. “See me.”

  She didn’t move, didn’t look at him, and didn’t flinch. He strode past her, out the door, down the hallway, and out to his truck, cursing the whole way. He shouldn’t have let his temper get the best of him, but he didn’t understand Samantha’s sudden mood swing. It’d helped cure one thing, though—the ache in his chest was gone, replaced by a ball of steam ready to explode. That made him feel a little better. For a second there he’d thought…no. He wouldn’t even admit it; that would be like delivering the final blow. Once he admitted he loved Sam, there would be no going back.

  He pounded his fist on the steering wheel. He couldn’t leave her at the hospital; she didn’t have a car. Then again, she probably wouldn’t want to come within ten feet of him. Hell. Fine. He’d sit right there, blow off some steam, then go back inside. He owed her an apology, just as she owed him one.

  Samantha fought the urge to cry as Lance stormed out. How could she make him see that she truly wasn’t who she used to be? And now she had to protect herself—her feelings—from a man she knew could crush her more than any other. He wasn’t right for her. She wasn’t ready for him, and never would be.

  Volatile. That’s what she was. Unpredictable and unsure of her own emotions. Ready to push away the man she loved.

  Whoa. Stop right there. They hadn’t even dated. Hell, they hadn’t even really said anything nice to each other since she arrived, and she’d come up with love? Was she out of her mind? She paced a few short laps around the tiny room before plopping down in the chair next to Cole’s bed.

  Yes, she was totally, completely, absolutely out of her ever-loving mind. She rubbed her fingers on her temples. A faint headache stung behind her eyes.

  “Samantha?”

  She perked her head up at the sound of Cole’s hoarse voice. “Yes, right here.” She took his clammy hand into hers. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I got thrown from a runaway train, stomped on by some wild animals, and run over by a car or two.” He coughed, a deep, throaty sound that jostled his whole body, before giving her a weak, crooked smile. “How in the hell did I end up here?”

  “Long story.”

  Cole raised his arms, pointing out all the tubes and gesturing to all the beeping sounds coming from behind him. “Apparently I’ve got the time.”

  “Maybe later. You should rest.”

  “I don’t want to rest,” he snapped. “Call the doctor or something, I want to get out of here.”

  “I’m afraid you can’t do that. You’ve got pneumonia and the doctors have treated you for alcohol poisoning.”

  He snorted. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Time for me to go.”

  She gaped at him. “Are you serious?”

  “Serious as a politician. Now call the doctor.”

  “No.”

  “Fine.” He shuffled around on the bed, moving the covers and searching for something. “I’ll call the
nurse as soon as I find that damned button thingy.”

  “This thing?” Samantha held the call button in her hand. Cole reached for it, but she scooted back, just out of his reach. He scowled at her. “I’m afraid I can’t give it to you. You’re sick. You need help. Look at you. You could’ve died today and the first thing you say is ‘I need to get out of here’?” She shook her throbbing head. “Don’t throw your life away like this. Mom and Dad would be devastated if they saw you like this. And Gram? She’s been trying to help you and you’ve only been using her for money. Please. Don’t you think it’s time for rehab?”

  “God dammit! If you want to play all holier-than-thou like Lance does—get out!”

  Samantha flinched. “What does Lance have to do with this?”

  “Oh, he didn’t tell you that he’s been trying to get me off booze for years? Nosy bastard. He won’t let me keep my business to myself. Always checking on me and trying to get me into rehab.” Cole shifted on the bed and grabbed at the call button again. Samantha scooted back more. “Always talking about you—”

  “Me?”

  “He can’t shut up about nothing. All I wanted after you ran away and left me alone was peace. But he was always there. I shouldn’t have come back to town. I should’ve just stayed away permanently after breaking you two up. Nothing good can happen in a shitty town like this.”

  Samantha froze. “What did you say?”

  “That this town is a dump! I need to get out.” He snatched at the button again. “Give me the damn thing!”

  “No.” Samantha stood up. “What do you mean you broke us up?”

  “What? Oh…that. Yeah, well—serves you right for abandoning me.”

  She held the button up. “Tell me everything, and I’ll give you this.”

  Samantha walked from her brother’s hospital room, numb. Her limbs hung heavy; her chest felt hollowed out. She couldn’t believe what she’d heard. Actually, she did. Part of it, anyway.

  Cole had lied to her all those years ago. He’d been jealous and angry, much like he was now, and had wanted to drive a wedge between her and Lance. He’d done more than that. Cole had driven a whole state between her and Lance with a few words. And then there was the part that Samantha had never known about that night. A secret Lance had kept from her. She wanted to weep for him, the boy he once was. The pain he’d gone through.