Conversation ate up the rest of the trip, and before he knew it, they were pulling into a place where she could get a phone and a television.
When the salesperson offered to back up the old phone to the new phone, she said she wanted a new number. She said it with such desperation that Dalton was sure Samantha had secrets too.
Chapter Ten
The whole point of getting a new phone was so she wouldn’t have to see the sheer number of missed calls and emails from her agent and manager, not to mention auxiliary staff and the few reporters she knew well.
Turns out that walking into a crowd after a concert and disappearing wasn’t the way to lie low. Indigo was the new Where’s Waldo.
With a phone in hand, she followed Dalton to where televisions lined the walls.
“If you were trying to hide, you could have gotten a burner phone. It would have cost less than setting up a new account.”
Her heart hammered in her chest. Hiding was the objective, but she hadn’t realized she’d been so transparent with her actions.
“I’m separating work from my personal life. I’ve been here for a few days, and my phone has been on fire with a work-related crisis.” The crisis being her disappearance. No less than fifty calls and emails had been flooding her phone daily.
Desperate measures were propelled by desperation. At the risk of losing herself completely, she needed time to let herself settle back into a normal life. Getting a phone where the only people to call were vetted was part of the process.
With her brown hair and toned-down clothes, she hoped to blend in. After one glance around the electronics superstore, she realized no one paid her any mind. Maybe she considered herself more important than she was.
“They say size matters.” Dalton looked at her with a devilish grin. “How big do you like yours?”
She held in the laughter and played along. At the end were the small screens. She stopped and stared at the monitors no bigger than a laptop.
“This one lacks length and girth. While it would do the job, it doesn’t impress me. I fear the experience would be unsatisfying.”
Dalton barely controlled his laughter. His shoulders shook as she followed him down the row.
“What about this?” He pointed to a wide screen television. One that was long and narrow.
She stood in front of it and analyzed the proportions. “Do you really think length is more important than width?”
He rubbed his finely trimmed beard with his calloused hands. The scruffy sound filled in the surrounding silence. “This size makes sure in the long run you don’t miss an inch of what’s there. Having said that, I imagine having a balance between the two is more important.” He moved all the way to the end, where eighty inches hung on the wall in front of them. “Now this is a beast. It’s got it all.”
Samantha looked at Dalton. As much as she tried to keep her eyes on his face, they rolled down his body.
Tension skirted through her the second they talked length and girth. It appeared he wasn’t unaffected either. Hanging toward the right between his legs was the growing evidence. If Dalton Black had been a television, he would have been a high-definition big screen.
She cleared her head and looked at the beast hanging on the wall in front of her. “That would never fit.”
He moved behind her and rested his chin on the top of her head. She wanted to lean back into his body but was afraid she’d be poked by his specifications.
“You can always make room for what you desire.” He left her in front of the massive television with her mouth hanging open. Were they still talking about TVs? Had they ever been talking about TVs?
She couldn’t deny they shared a mutual attraction. She knew it before the first kiss. Hell, she knew it when she was twelve. He was like a live wire that skirted over her skin.
Hot.
Tingling.
Powerful.
When she got to where he stood in front of another large unit, she said, “I have little experience with this kind of thing.” Again, not talking about televisions. “I’m used to the standard size you find in hotels and such.”
He turned to face her. “You don’t want to settle for small. You’ll walk away feeling disappointed.”
“I get that, but if it’s too big, I may not walk at all.” She grabbed the salesman and asked him to ring up the size in the middle.
At the register, the cashier told her she owed $1842.36. She pulled out a brick of twenties wrapped with a purple band.
“Cash?” Dalton asked. The scar above his eye lifted.
She stared at him and smiled. “It’s easier to use.” She paid, and they took her purchases to the truck.
He helped her inside. While he rounded the front of the truck, she texted Deanna and her mother the new phone number.
“You hungry?”
“Starved.” Who knew electronics could give her such an appetite?
Ten minutes later, they pulled in front of a little hole-in-the-wall diner called Chachi’s. It was modeled after the sitcom Happy Days. He raced around to help her out. She loved how he could be so chivalrous and yet not. His talk was anything but gentlemanly, but he treated her like she mattered. Not as a means to influence his portfolio, but as a human. Her value wasn’t dependent on her net worth. He seemed to appreciate her for who she was in that moment.
“My treat,” Samantha said. She took the seat in the far booth where she could see everything around her. She was feeling brazen and brave having made it through a store without the slightest nod of recognition.
“You’re not paying. I don’t care how many bricks of cash are in your purse. I pay for my date.”
She felt giddy inside. “So exciting.” She’d never been on an actual date. She’d ordered room service and watched movies on pay-per-view, but all of those ‘dates’ ended up on her hotel tab.
“You’re easy.”
She giggled. “Yes, but not cheap.” She took the menu from the stand and looked over the offerings. She would be easy and cheap since the most expensive item on the menu was under ten bucks. “What do you recommend?”
“You want me to order for you?” He slid the menu from her hands and turned it to face him. “You trust me?”
She trusted him, which was odd because she didn’t trust most men. “It’s food. You’re a chef. I trust you.”
When he smiled, she knew her trust in him was important.
A young male waiter named Todd came over and stood in front of them. He looked at Dalton, then at her, but his eyes focused on her. He stared for what seemed like an eternity before a grin took over his face.
“You’re—”
“Starving.” She hoped that line hadn’t lost its magic. It worked at the bakery, and she prayed it would work here.
Todd nodded his head and pulled a pen from behind his ear. “What would you like?”
Samantha looked to Dalton who cleared his throat to get the waiter’s attention. “The lady will have the Joanie, and I’ll have The Fonz. We’ll share a plate of Happy Fries. Bring us two chocolate malts.”
Todd scribbled the order down and took one last long look at Samantha before he left.
She knew she’d been recognized but hoped he’d respect her privacy. She was on a date and didn’t want it ruined.
“You shouldn’t be carrying so much cash around. Purple bands means two grand. People get mugged for less.”
“How would you know what a purple band holds? Are you a numismatist?”
His long arms had no problem reaching across the table to hold her hands. His thumbs brushed over her knuckles. “No, I like money but not enough to collect it or study it. I had a roommate who knew a lot about how the banks bundled money. Talked about it all the time.” He ran his thumbs across her unadorned fingers. She’d never worn a ring. Had never been one for much jewelry.
The day her mom pawned her wedding ring to get food, Samantha promised herself she wouldn’t let a ring grace her fingers until she was one hu
ndred percent certain about the giver. It was an unrealistic expectation because it was impossible to be one hundred percent sure about anything or anyone.
“Yeah, money is good to have when you need things, but it’s not the panacea for the world’s problems.”
“If you had the solution to the world’s problems, you wouldn’t need money. You’d be filthy rich.”
“Is that what you want? To be filthy rich?” She liked that she could sit with a man who had no idea of her worth. At the last tally, it was over a one hundred and twenty million. It wasn’t like she had that much money in the bank, but her talent was bankable. She had enough that she wouldn’t have to work again. It wasn’t her future she worried about these days. Lots of people depended on her. Her mother and dozens of employees would suffer without her. It was their future that kept her on stage.
“I’m not motivated by money,” Dalton said as the waiter delivered everything they ordered at once. He picked up a fry drenched in a cheesy meat sauce. “I’m motivated by food.” He looked at Todd, who stood staring at Samantha. “We’re good,” he said and waited for the waiter to walk away before he looked directly at her with those beautiful steel blue eyes. “Oh, and kisses. Not any kisses though. I particularly like yours.”
She lifted the top bun to see what was hiding beneath. Turns out, the Joanie burger was a fully loaded cardiac arrest waiting to happen. Massive patty, covered in cheese, bacon, grilled mushrooms, and green chili. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to get it into her mouth. Then she remembered what Dalton said in the electronics store. “You can always make room for what you desire.” She wanted it all.
When Todd came back to collect their plates, he stared once more. “I like your hair.”
Dalton lifted his palms in the air. “Dude, are you trying to be annoying, or does it come naturally for you?”
He gave Dalton a look that could kill, and then he addressed Samantha. “I see why you’d need protection, but surely you can afford someone with better manners.”
Dalton’s fingers folded into fists. She wasn’t sure what he’d do if Todd continued. Didn’t want to find out.
“You have a phone?” she asked. “I’m not who you think I am, but what the hell. I get mistaken for her a lot.” She moved out of the booth and stood next to Todd who pulled his phone from his apron pocket and lifted it for a selfie.
“Who does he think you are?” Dalton asked.
Samantha waved his question away with a flick of her wrist and stood next to Todd. She put her standard peace sign in front of her chest and smiled. On tiptoes, she kissed his cheek while he snapped the picture.
“I’m a huge fan. Like, obsessive.”
“I’m sure she appreciates it.” Samantha turned so Dalton couldn’t see the wink she gave Todd. “Have a great day. Be cool.”
“Ready?” Dalton startled her with his voice whispering in her ear.
“I am.”
When they were both in the truck, he asked, “Does that happen a lot?”
She sighed. “More than you could imagine.”
Their next stop was Walmart. Samantha hadn’t been in one since she was a kid, but they were perfect because it was a one-stop shopping experience. Hell, she could have bought her phone and television here as well. Then again, it might not have been as much fun.
“What do you need?” she asked him.
“Food for an overnighter times two.”
“You’re leaving?”
“I’ll be close. Bowie, Cannon, and I will do some ice fishing tonight and tomorrow before it gets too warm. We like to fish the cove.”
“I’m kind of sad that you won’t be around. You’re like my guilty pleasure.”
“You haven’t seen pleasure yet.” He picked up a bag of oranges and a bunch of bananas.
“Like you, I like our kisses a lot.” She lowered her head to hide the blush of truth.
He pushed forward, and then waited for her to catch up. “That’s only the beginning, but here’s the problem. You’re leaving, and that means we probably have to skip the in-between. And I kind of like the in-between.”
She pushed her cart down the aisle and tossed in various varieties of fruit, from grapes to apples. This shopping stuff is awesome.
“Can’t we go with it and see where it leads?”
He left his cart alone and sidled up next to her so his body touched hers on one side. “You already know where this will lead. The question is, how long will it take for us to get there?”
“Since you’re leaving, at least two days.”
He nuzzled his beard into the crook of her neck. It felt deliciously good.
She ducked away from his touch. It was too ticklish and tantalizing. She wanted him in a place where she could savor every whisker that brushed against her skin.
“We haven’t hit the third date yet. You know there’s a third-date rule. Besides, outside of breakfast, I’m not sure you can cook. I haven’t seen it yet.”
“I’ll show you my skills, but you’ll have to wait until I get back.”
“It will be so hard.” She emphasized the last word.
He groaned. “You have no idea.”
She raced ahead, tossing whatever looked good in her basket. If she couldn’t have him, she’d have chocolate and cake and chocolate and pie and chocolate.
Chapter Eleven
What the hell was he doing? Dalton popped the cap off another beer and stared across the lake to the cabin next door to his. Shadows in her window caught his attention.
“What’s she like?” Cannon asked.
“She’s nice.” He took a deep drink and savored the bubbling burn as it moved down his throat. She was nice. Nice to look at. Nice to be with. Nice to talk to. Nice to kiss.
“Is this already a thing between you two?” Bowie pulled up a chair and sat next to Dalton.
It seemed funny they were sitting on a sheet of ice in the middle of a lake, but that’s where they were. How crazy was it that he left a woman happy to share her warm cabin—and most likely her bed—for the company of two dudes, a six-pack of beer, and a case of frostbite?
“Are we a thing? I don’t even know what that is. Do I like her? Yes. Is it going to get serious? No. She’s leaving.” His voice sank on the last word.
“You say that like it bothers you.” Cannon tossed a piece of cardboard onto the ice and sat on top of it. “She says she’s leaving, but so did Sage. That woman had nothing but an exit plan when she arrived. Maybe you can change Samantha’s mind.”
“You’re forgetting the details. Sage was unemployed. Samantha owns a PR company or runs it or works there. I don’t know exactly. All I know, is her life isn’t here in Aspen Cove.”
“You kiss her?” Now it was Bowie’s turn to ask the stupid questions.
“What am I, fifteen? I don’t need a year to get to first base.” He’d rushed straight for first, but held off stealing second and beyond.
The brothers looked at each other. “I guess that’s a yes,” Cannon said. “Since you’re our brother and all, we’re looking out for you.”
He cut them a sharp look that dared them to argue. “Like you did for each other? No, thanks. One of you went from monk to married. And you,” he pointed to Cannon, “are running to catch up.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it,” Bowie answered.
“Not happening.” He’d given it a lot of thought over the last year. He’d seen the faces of the women who heard about his past. One moment they were sharing a beer, the next he watched their taillights fade into the distance, never to be heard from again. “Marriage. It’s not for everyone.” Newlyweds surrounded Dalton. Like a bad case of the flu, no one in Aspen Cove seemed to be immune. “Can’t believe my mom ran to the altar again. I never thought that would happen—and not with Ben. Your dad is great, but he has an ugly temper.”
Cannon laughed and then slapped his hand over his mouth. “He only has an ugly temper when he drinks, which he no longer does. He’s never hit
a woman until Sage, and that was an accident.”
Dalton cringed at the memory of that day when both Cannon and Sage showed up to Bea’s funeral sporting black eyes. “Still, most people don’t forgive and forget, but my mom did.” He hoped he could get there someday. He craved the day when he could look at any person and see the good in them without trying to figure out their angle first. He wanted a day to come when people could see him for who he was, not the crime he committed.
Bowie nodded his head while an “Ahh …” left his mouth. “Samantha doesn’t know about your incarceration.”
“No, and I’m not telling her. If she were staying, it would be a different matter, but she’s not. It’s not like I’m Charles Manson and get off on killing people. It was a one-time event.” He considered Lucy’s advice and spoke it out loud. “I’m not going to strip down and blurt out I have herpes.”
Bowie leaned back too far, and his chair tumbled, sending him to the ice. He scrambled up. “You what? Who the hell gave you herpes?”
Dalton let out a growl that could frighten a bear. “I don’t have herpes. It’s a figure of speech.” He explained the conversation he had with his parole officer.
Cannon shook his head from side to side the whole time. “I definitely would not use that one again. If I were a girl, I’d much rather you be a felon than have an STD.”
Bowie grabbed another beer. “I don’t know. Take the proper precautions, and it’s no big deal.”
“So is this where I get the brotherly talk on safe sex?” Dalton finished his beer and tossed it into the plastic bag they’d set out for trash. “You know I’m older than you, right?”
Bowie handed him another. “You’ve got me by a month.”
“Still makes me older.” He lit the stove they’d set up to cook hot dogs. It wasn’t more than a Sterno can on a stand, but it worked. He glanced back to the shore and wondered what Samantha was up to. What was she doing? What was she eating? Most likely sitting in front of her big screen TV, eating fruit and chocolate, since that was what filled the bulk of her cart.
One Hundred Wishes Page 8