She laughed. “Oh no, she said once was enough for her. My father wasn’t a particularly nice man.” Samantha recognized the knowing look that spread over Maisey’s face.
“I understand.” She lifted her hand to her cheek like she had remembered a painful moment. “I hope she’s happy.”
With a nice little nest egg and a fully paid for house, Samantha hoped she was happy too. “Seems to be.”
“You might know my son, Dalton.”
Oh boy, do I know him. “Yes, he’s my neighbor.”
“Is that right? He didn’t tell me.” She rose from the booth and picked up the pot of coffee. “I’ll tell him you’re here.”
“Wait. He’s here?”
“Of course. He’s the chef.”
Of course he was. It made sense. He told her he was a chef. Only he didn’t say where.
Samantha was thrilled with the coffee. Add in a side order of Dalton, and it was a perfect day. The only thing that could make it better would be some of that in-between stuff he spoke about.
She fidgeted in the booth while she waited. Without a stitch of makeup on, she wasn’t pretty to look at, but Dalton didn’t seem to notice last night. Then again, it was dark. She pinched her cheeks to pink and chanced a side sniff to make sure her deodorant was working. All seemed to be in order when Mr. Tall, Dark, and Delicious walked over.
“Good morning,” he said. Those two words that could have been a lover’s sonnet to a woman who had so much, and yet so little.
“Hey, you.” She knew she looked at him like he was breakfast. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
“The exchange of resumes didn’t seem necessary.”
She blushed under his gaze. “I suppose we shared enough.”
He laughed loud enough for the old man in the corner to lower his newspaper and frown.
Dalton hovered over her. “You think that was enough? Baby, that wasn’t even an appetizer.” His breath floated over her. Goosebumps rose on her skin, but the heat of desire pulsed through her veins.
She took him in from head to toe. His hair was covered with a dark bandana. The black cotton of his T-shirt stretched across his broad chest, reminding her of every muscle her fingertips skimmed over last night. Worn jeans hung low on his hips and led to black boots more suited for a motorcycle ride than a kitchen.
Her hands tingled to touch him. Afraid she’d act on her desires, she tucked them beneath her legs.
“Why are you hiding in the corner?”
“I’m not hiding.” In fact, she was. With her back to the window and her body pressed against the red vinyl, she hoped to disappear into the décor. One reason she chose Aspen Cove was because it was the last place anyone would look for her. Few people knew of her connection to the small town. “I smelled bacon and came in to investigate.”
“You hungry?” He licked his lips like he could taste her on the air.
“Are you going to stand over me and tease me or satisfy my hunger?”
His big body pushed into the booth, trapping her between him and the wall. His arm fell over her shoulder while his lips traced her jaw to the shell of her ear. “What are you hungry for?”
Laughter bubbled until it burst forth. “Does that work for you?” It worked for her, but she wasn’t ready to strip down and be devoured in a diner. Someone had to put an end to the madness before she asked him to kick everyone out and hang out the ‘closed’ sign.
He sat back and watched her with his soulful blue eyes. “I’m a little rusty in the seduction department.”
She twisted so her knee pressed into his thigh. “Are you now?” She lifted her hand and brushed it across his perfectly trimmed beard. “You’re selling yourself short. I loved the flowers. The eggs and milk were a unique treat but much appreciated. The wine and the kiss on the beach? That was foreplay.”
He twisted his lips in a thoughtful expression. “Flowers, food, and wine, huh?” He scooted out of the booth and stood. “I’ve got you covered.” He whipped around and walked into the kitchen.
Something told Samantha she’d unleashed a monster. As she drank her coffee, she powered up her phone and read through the next twenty-two emails that started with “Where the hell are you?” and ended with her agent pleading for her to contact Dave.
She knew she started a panic when she left. They wanted a new contract. A five-year deal that would give them control over her life again. It wasn’t happening. She’d given them enough.
She dialed Deanna and waited for her to pick up.
“Are you okay?” were the first words out of her mouth.
“I’m perfect. Still incognito. Getting hair color today.”
“Ooh, what color?”
“Boring brown.”
“Nothing about you is boring.”
“Oh please. Boring is my middle name, but I’m working on that.” She touched her lips and sighed. “I met a guy my first night here.” She refused to say he accosted her because what came next was far more exciting. “We shared a bottle of wine and an amazing kiss.”
“Does he know who you are?”
“No, and that was what made the kiss that much more amazing.”
“Don’t get your heart broken. You’re not staying there. Aspen Cove was supposed to be like rehab for your soul. You can’t keep him.”
Deanna was right. Aspen Cove wasn’t part of her long-term plan. The plan was to rest so she could get back into the recording studio to sing what she wanted to sing. She needed to find a studio willing to piss off Oliver Shepherd. Ending her relationship with the music mogul could blacklist her for life. It might come down to her starting her own label.
“I know, and it’s been good so far.”
“Tell me about that kiss.”
“The kiss,” she closed her eyes to remember it better, “was amazing.”
A plate of food appeared in front of her. “‘Amazing,’ huh?” His warm molasses voice seeped into her cells, heating her all the way to her core.
“Got to go, Deanna. The kisser is here.” She hung up before her assistant could say another word.
Dalton sat across from her and plucked a piece of bacon from her plate. She looked down at what he brought to the table. It was more like a platter than a plate.
“You better have more than a piece of bacon. Who do you think will eat all of this?”
“You are. You’re way too thin. While your ass is perfection, the rest of you is like a piece of knotty pine.”
Samantha’s chin nearly hit her chest. “That can’t work for you.”
He rose from his seat and moved next to her. “It’s not my intention to offend you, but you have to know you’re painfully thin.”
Barely over a hundred pounds, she was thin. “I have a killer metabolism.”
“Then eat up. You’ll need it.”
“For?”
“There’s a bonfire and barbecue tonight on the beach. We’re celebrating Sage and Cannon’s engagement. I thought maybe you could go with me?”
She looked up into his eyes. Eyes that threatened to melt her. “Dalton Black, are you asking my knotty-pine ass on a date?”
He thumbed her chin so she couldn’t look away. “No. I’m inviting the woman who has an ass created in heaven and hip bones as sharp as anvils on a date.”
“So, I’m not knotty?”
He pulled his lower lip into his mouth and rolled it between his teeth. When it popped free, he leaned forward and brushed his mouth over hers. “God, I hope you’re naughty.”
The bell above the door rang, and a large family entered.
“That’s my cue to leave. See you tonight?” His expression was full of hope.
“I’ll be there.”
She’d say whatever he wanted to hear in order to see that smile again.
Samantha glanced at the family and thought the mom and dad looked familiar, but she couldn’t come up with a name. The double doors to the kitchen swung closed when Dalton walked through them and opened again whe
n Maisey walked out and greeted the couple and their seven children. That was a couple who spent a lot of time enjoying the “in-between.”
Maisey hugged the woman and patted the telltale bump on her stomach. Baby number eight was on its way.
As a performer, she never had the time to consider marriage or children, but looking at the family in front of her caused a pang of jealousy to thread through her. She never asked for fame and fortune. She asked for a life. Maybe she should have been more specific.
Chapter Eight
An hour later, Samantha sat at her kitchen table while Marina inspected her hair. She talked about a two-step process that included bleaching and dying or something of that nature. All Samantha cared about was blending in.
“I appreciate you making a house call.”
Marina gave her a weak smile. “I could use the distraction.” She lifted her arms, making her shirt rise up. The bruises on her stomach had faded to a pale yellow.
“There are places you can go for help.”
At first, Samantha thought Marina would ignore her comment, but in fact, she considered her answer. “This is not what you think.”
“My imagination is pretty active and often accurate. My father abused my mother. We escaped but looked over our shoulders for years. How sad is it that the day he died was the day our lives began?”
Marina unpacked a bag of supplies and covered Samantha’s shoulders with a navy blue cape. Why did women insist on protecting their abusers? It was obvious Marina had suffered some kind of trauma. “Are you running from something? Someone?”
“Are you?” she countered. “There are many kinds of abuse. They all hurt the same.”
Samantha considered her words. Bruises healed, but the words stayed inside and beat you up repeatedly. Abuse was abuse no matter what form it came in.
Cool liquid gushed from a bottle onto her hair. “Why do you stay?”
“Why did you?”
She hated it when people answered questions with questions. “It took time to get a plan together.”
“Ditto.” That was the end of the conversation. Marina worked in silence as Samantha thought about her own life. Coming to Aspen Cove was the beginning, but not the end.
Two hours later, she looked at herself in the mirror. Samantha White was back.
Marina had breathed new life into her tired persona. She couldn’t wait to show off her true self. Would Dalton like her hair now that it was brown, or was it the edginess of the blue that attracted him?
“You have no idea what you did for me today.” Samantha handed her several hundred dollars.
“That’s too much.” She tried to pass back everything but a hundred.
Samantha closed her hand over the hand of the woman who had given her a fresh start. “Put it to work in your plan.”
Marina looked down at the pile of twenties. When her head lifted, tears filled her eyes. “You have no idea what this means.”
Samantha pulled her in for a hug. “You’d be surprised.”
As soon as the hairdresser left, Samantha found herself back in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. How had things gotten so out of hand that she’d let another person define who she was?
Her thoughts went to Marina. Desperation made people do crazy things. Samantha didn’t know why smart women stayed in bad situations. Society would say they were dumb, but when the options came down to living or dying, the choice got easier. When your choice is between dying by starvation or dying at the hand of an asshole, the choice was less clear because the outcome remained the same.
In many ways, Samantha had already experienced death. The beatings her mom took were the death of her childhood. Signing a long-term contract was the death of her choices. Now Samantha White was back and ready to live again.
She applied blush, mascara, and lip gloss before getting dressed for the bonfire. An internal debate warred inside her on whether she should wear nice jeans or worn jeans. It was funny how worn jeans cost twice as much for less fabric. A good shredding cost big bucks these days. She paired the torn jeans with a white T-shirt and hoodie. The weather had stayed in the mid-sixties all day and only now dipped down to the fifties. With a fire pit and a hot man, Samantha was certain she’d stay plenty warm.
Dalton said it was a date, but did he mean a date-date or a come-hang-out-with-me date?
Deanna’s words echoed in her head. “You can’t keep him.” Maybe not, but she could enjoy him for a while, couldn’t she? At least she could enjoy his kisses. That was probably the smartest plan. Don’t let it get past a hug or a kiss or two … or ten. He was an excellent kisser, and Samantha found no reason to waste those talents.
She heard voices and music coming from the lake side of her property. Her stomach grumbled, and she hoped they would serve food. All she’d eaten was the breakfast Dalton had cooked. It was enough to feed an army, but not enough to last her all day.
She grabbed a piece of bread and walked outside. Several people milled about the property two doors down. She leaned against the deck rail and watched as Katie talked and laughed with a tiny redhead.
A tall man came up behind Katie and kissed her on the cheek. She’d recognize him anywhere. Bowie Bishop always commanded attention. When he stepped around his wife, he handed her a baby.
Katie never mentioned a child, but then again they had shared little beyond baked goods and hair stories. The way she cooed over the infant twisted Samantha’s stomach into knots. It was obvious the child was adored, and the parents were in love. Had her mother ever had a single moment of such bliss? Would she?
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. A big lumbering bear of a man hopped off his deck and headed her way. She could smell his cologne before he arrived. It was a mix of clean linen and citrus.
“You ready?” He took the steps up to her deck two at a time. In front of her, he stood still and stared. “Wow.” He ran his fingers through the hair that floated over her shoulder. “Done with that phase of your life?”
Phase was right. “Yep, this is the real me. Still want that date?”
He pulled his lower lip between his teeth. It was the sexiest thing she’d seen in a long time. There would definitely be more kisses.
“You’re beautiful.”
She’d been told that a lot, but not by anyone that mattered, and somehow, Dalton mattered. Was it because she’d had a twelve-week crush on him as a kid? Or was it because he still didn’t know who she was and he liked her anyway?
“I am?” she asked sweetly. “I wasn’t sure you’d like it.”
He pulled her back from the rail and pressed her against the wall in the dark corner of her deck. “This is how much I like it.” Hidden in the shadows, he kissed her senseless. How his kisses could suck the air from her lungs and weaken her knees was a mystery. No kiss she could remember had ever been so powerful. It was like she found her next breath in his lungs. She never wanted to break the kiss.
He stood back and licked his lips. “Grape?”
She nodded. Cheap lip gloss was her guilty pleasure. Deanna bought it in bulk from Walmart. “I have watermelon, too.”
She felt like a teenager, not a twenty-nine-year-old woman.
“I’d love to taste that as well.”
“It can be arranged.” He looked over his shoulder at the group growing around the bonfire. “Are you ready to meet the gang?”
Am I? Indigo screamed, “No,” but Samantha stood tall and said, “Yes. I can’t wait to meet everyone.” A knot of fear tugged at her insides. Had Katie told anyone who she was? That was the problem with fame. It was hard to tell who were true friends. Hard to know who was trustworthy. Hard to get close to people.
Dalton ran his tongue across her lower lip. “I think I got it all. I’m ready to test the watermelon.”
She pushed at his chest. “You ate all my gloss.” She pulled the tube from her back pocket and applied a new coat.
“I knew you’d have me covered.” He dipped down
for another quick kiss before he folded his hand around hers and led her to his friends.
Katie was the first to rush over. She adjusted her hold on her baby and gave Samantha a side hug. “You came. Dalton said he invited you.”
Dalton let his fingers run languidly across her lower back. The touch sent a kinetic energy zipping through her. She felt truly alive. “I’ll be right back,” he said and disappeared into the house behind them, leaving her missing him already.
“I hope it’s okay that I’m crashing your party.”
“You’re making it better.” Katie’s eyes went to Samantha’s hair. “Marina has some skills.” She walked around Samantha, checking out the color from all angles. “It looks so natural.”
“She did a good job. It’s exactly how I remember my hair used to be.” Samantha couldn’t stop twirling a lock around her finger. It felt so soft and thick and … like her.
“Did she say much to you while she was at your house?” Katie looked down at her bundled up baby and smiled.
“No, she was friendly but reserved.”
Katie’s smile turned upside down. “I looked at her wish.”
“It’s none of my business, but is it grantable?”
She shook her head. “Not really. It was cryptic. All it said was she needed a plan B. Did you get the impression that she was in trouble?”
“The bruises on her face were my first clue, but she has to help herself before anyone else can help her.” Samantha knew that from experience.
She looked down at the baby sleeping in Katie’s arms.
“You want to hold her?”
As strange as it might be, Samantha had never held a baby in her life. They appeared so tiny and frail and complicated. “No, that’s okay.”
Katie had already shifted the baby forward, leaving her no choice but to offer up the cradle of her arms. “She won’t break. Her name is Sahara. She’s my little miracle.”
Samantha held the baby with stiff arms. Although differently shaped, she wasn’t much heavier than Deanna’s poodle—but Sahara was so much cuter. “How old is she?”
“About three months.”
“She’s beautiful.” Samantha lifted the bundled baby and smelled the scent everyone talked about. Babies had a smell all their own that was pure heaven. “You say she’s a miracle?”
One Hundred Wishes Page 6