“Will do.” There was a breath of silence between them. “Any more of those hot kisses?”
Samantha smiled knowing Deanna couldn’t see her bigger-than-life grin, but she knew she’d hear it in her voice. “Those lips have skills, girlfriend. He’s so freaking hot.”
“I need pictures and details,” Deanna squealed.
“I’ll see what I can do. Are we good?”
“For now.” They hung up.
Samantha sat on the bed and thought about the high-handed tactics Dave used to get her to behave. There was so much abuse in the world.
Abuse of power.
Verbal abuse.
Physical abuse.
Emotional abuse.
She’d seen it all. Experienced much of it. It was time to stop it. Here she thought Marina needed to deal with her problem, and yet Samantha hadn’t dealt with her own. Things would be different from now on. Dave Belton could no longer hurt her.
She pulled her old phone from the drawer and powered it up. It sang with the ring of incoming messages for minutes. She ignored them all.
She thought about what she would say, but there was no way to say everything that needed to be said in a text, so she wrote what was in her heart.
Dave,
You have worked me to death for ten years. Add to that the verbal abuse and the total disregard for my general health and welfare, and you can’t fault me for wanting to take a break.
If you think firing my assistant will earn my submission, you’re wrong. You’ve fired the first shot in a battle you won’t win. Try to sell a concert without a singer.
My commitment to you ends after the charity event and the final album.
Let me rest and find clarity, and maybe we can negotiate a path forward.
Samantha
She powered down her phone with shaking hands. Not once had she had the courage to stand up to him. Even now, she took the coward’s way out by texting. If they were face-to-face, she would have seen the vein bulge in his forehead and she would have caved. That’s why she needed time and space. Dave Belton kept her close to keep her under control. Baby steps.
Walking off that stage and into the crowd was the bravest decision she ever made. But it was also a cowardly move because instead of facing the enemy, she hid from him in a crush of twenty thousand fans. Baby steps.
It took five minutes for her racing heart to settle. She calmed her nerves with a glass of wine and went to work getting ready for her date. They hadn’t categorized it as an actual date, but he texted her and reminded her that he’d be there at six. That sounded like a date.
She squeezed into a pair of skinny jeans, pulled on the softest sweater she’d ever bought, and slipped on the same ankle boots she’d worn at her last concert. Though the boots looked fine, she still wished she had the calfskin, leather thigh-highs.
Hair down, watermelon gloss applied, she waited by the door for Dalton. Something told her tonight would be one to remember.
Who would have believed that Indigo was nervous? Then again, Indigo wasn’t here. Samantha was, and she had a taste of perfection when she slept in Dalton’s strong arms. Arms that did nothing but hold her tight and cradle her while she slept. He asked nothing of her. He didn’t take advantage of her. He laid beside her and made her feel like she mattered.
At exactly six o’clock, he knocked. She counted to ten, not wanting to seem too eager. When she opened the door, he stood in front of her wearing jeans that made her body tingle. The denim hugged all the places she wanted to touch.
In his hand was a bouquet filled with yellow roses, irises, and baby’s breath—a beautiful combination of flowers. He pressed them forward.
“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” He followed her to the kitchen, where she filled the biggest glass she had with water and arranged the flowers before she set them on the table.
“They reminded me of you.”
“These reminded you of me?”
“Yes, the irises are so dark blue, they’re almost black, like your eyes. The yellow roses are like the sun, warm and happy—like your personality. The baby’s breath flowers are tiny, with a touch of innocence, but so beautiful. And …” He rubbed his hands over them, and they sprung back into place. “They’re resilient too.” He thumbed her chin so she looked up at him. He brushed a tender kiss over her lips. “Shall we go?”
She picked up her purse from the table. “Yes. I’m ready to hear you sing.”
“Not happening, sweetheart.”
She exaggerated a pout. “And I thought you would serenade me.”
“Later I’ll make your body sing, but me sing? Not on your life. Let’s go before I change my mind and lock us inside.” He stepped back and took her in. “You look so damn hot, I don’t think I want to share you with anyone.”
“We could stay here …”
“It’s karaoke night. No one misses it unless the owner is ice fishing, which he’s not, so it’s a go. If we don’t show up, someone will send out a search party, or the sheriff will come since he’s such a fan. This town takes its showmanship seriously.”
“We should go before Sheriff Cooper comes again with lights flashing.”
Dalton helped her into her jacket and walked her to his truck. Once inside, he leaned in and kissed her dizzy. “Just a taste of what’s coming.”
“Are you sure we have to go?”
“We do, but we’ll leave as soon as we can. You can claim to have a stomachache. Sage is bringing dinner.”
She reached across the space and gave him a soft punch to the arm. “That’s an awful thing to say.”
He pulled out of the driveway and headed downtown. “Tell me that after you’ve eaten her lasagna.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
He chuckled. “You’ll see.”
In minutes, they were there. Samantha was shocked to see how many people lived in town. The bar was full. Cannon, Bowie, and Sage stood behind the bar, pulling pitchers of beer and filling shot glasses.
The man she knew as “Doc” was on the stage singing “Hound Dog” rather poorly. They made their way to the bar, where a glass of wine and a beer sat waiting.
Sage took Samantha’s purse and served her a plate of lasagna. “I brought dinner.”
Samantha looked at the tinfoil baking tray on the back counter, then glanced at Dalton. He gave her an I-told-you-so look. She forked a bite from her plate and put it into her mouth. Not only was it horrid, but it was still frozen in the center. “So good.” She faked a smile and washed it down with a sip of wine, then passed the plate to Dalton. “I ate already, but Dalton said he was famished.”
He pulled her barstool next to him. “You’re going to pay for that.” He took a bite and smiled. When Sage turned around, he fed the food to Otis, who sat begging at his feet. The dog wasn’t picky.
When Doc finished his song, he called the next victim. It was a quirky Aspen Cove tradition to choose the song and the next singer. After much help from the girls, Doc chose Bowie as the next one up in the round robin. Then Katie took the stage to sing an old Freda Payne song called “Band of Gold.”
Samantha knew she was in trouble when Katie pointed to her and smiled. She knew she wouldn’t get away without singing. The question was, would she get away unrecognized?
Dalton reached for her. “Don’t go. It’s a trap. She’ll give you some impossible song to sing just to break you in.”
“I’ve got this.” She gave him a passing kiss and went to the small stage to take the mic. When the Whitney Houston song “Queen of the Night” played, she groaned. Katie would pay for this somehow.
There were two ways to attack this song. Belt it out like the pro she was, or croak it out like everyone expected. She’d given nothing less than her best performance, so why stop now?
The words flowed from her so raw—so true. As she sang, everyone in the bar faded until only Dalton remained. His eyes connected with hers. The lyrics poured out of her like they were written for him.
He had the stuff that she wanted—the stuff that she needed. She knew it was too early to feel such strong emotions, but he was the first man to see her as a person.
She couldn’t keep him—that was a certainty. Her life was so far removed from his. All she had was now. She would leave nothing behind and carry no regrets forward.
When she hit the chorus, the crowd cheered. Dollar bills floated through the air. She’d never been paid so little for a performance she enjoyed so much. The music had become a burden, but tonight it freed her.
When the song finished, she tossed the mic to Sheriff Cooper and walked over to Dalton. “I’m ready to leave.”
Dalton nearly fell off his chair. He pulled a twenty from his pocket and set it on the counter. Sage passed him Samantha’s purse, and all eyes watched them as they worked their way through the crowd. This time, she wasn’t running away but running to—the best night of her life.
Chapter Fifteen
Her beautiful voice continued to replay in his head all the way home. Her eyes pierced his soul as if she sang the words to him. A song about what she wanted and needed.
“Wow.” He reached over and held her hand. “That was … that was amazing. You have quite a voice.”
“Thank you.”
He couldn't believe that voice inside her tiny body could be so big. “You should be a singer.”
She giggled. “I sing. I am a singer. I sang to you.”
Knowing that song was for him filled him with warmth. Though she didn’t choose it, she sang it like she meant every word. He got all choked up when she looked at him like he was special. It felt so real that a lump the size of Wyoming lodged in his throat.
It was too soon to think about love, but he knew if there was ever a chance of falling in love with anyone, it would be easy to fall in love with Samantha. Hell, he was halfway there already. Bowie and Cannon were right. Dalton was whipped, and he hadn’t even been inside her yet.
He pulled up in front of his cabin and killed the engine. “I thought we could stay at my place tonight.” He held his breath. It was a forgone conclusion that they’d be together tonight. He wanted it. He thought she wanted it.
“Are you inviting me for a sleepover, Dalton?” She looked at him beneath long onyx lashes.
He wasn’t the blushing type, but he swore there was heat on his cheeks. “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”
Everything about Samantha was near perfect. She was by far too skinny, but he could solve that with home-cooked meals. Most perfect was her ability to take him out at the knees with a smile.
“Pancakes?”
“Are you negotiating?”
“I’d be silly not to.”
“Anything. You can have anything.” He jumped out of his truck and rushed around to her side to open her door.
“I need a few things from my place.”
He stood in front of her while she slid from the truck into his body. They walked hand-in-hand to her door. On the porch was a single daisy. She bent over to pick it up. “Must have fallen from my bouquet.” She twirled it around and brought it to her nose.
Dalton knew for a fact the flower didn’t come from her bouquet. He looked around and wondered whose ass he’d have to kick.
Once inside, she pressed the flower into the glass with the others and walked back to her room. The only thing she came out with was a toothbrush.
“Low-maintenance. My kind of girl.” In the silence of the cabin he heard her stomach growl. She’d only had a bite of poison lasagna. “And you’re hungry. I can fix that too.”
“Are you going to solve all my problems tonight?”
“I’m going to try.” He squatted down and wrapped his arms around her bottom before he stood. She lifted her hand so she wouldn’t hit the ceiling, but she knew he’d let nothing happen to her. When he loosened his hold, she slid down his body until they were face to face. One quick kiss in the middle of her entryway would not satisfy the hunger he had for her. A kiss wouldn’t fill her belly, but it was a kiss that spoke of their need for each other. When she ran her hands through his hair and pulled him deeper into the kiss, he knew he had to get her out of here or they’d never leave her cabin.
He loosened his hold until her boots hit the scarred wooden floor.
“Ready?”
She licked her lips like she was savoring the taste of him. “So ready. You have no idea.”
Every time she was near him, he got hard. That alone gave him plenty of ideas. Before he changed his mind and stayed, he led her to the doorway. He glanced back at the flowers on the table. Could there have been a daisy in the mix?
He held his breath when he opened the door to his world. He’d never had a woman in his house or his bed. This was his safe haven. A place where the outside world wasn’t invited in. And yet … here he was opening it up to her.
She walked past him into the entryway. He closed the door behind them. He’d never felt so right about something or someone.
“Wow. This place is amazing.”
He looked at his home through her eyes. It was pretty amazing. More so because while he sat in prison, the work on his house continued. His mom oversaw the laborers as they turned his run-down shack into a home. “That’s what moms do,” she told him when he tried to argue with her about the time and expense.
They were partners at Maisey’s, and during the tourist season they made a killing. The building was paid off. Other than utilities and taxes, the place was pure profit. He wasn’t rich by any means, but he didn’t need much to keep him happy.
“You like it?”
She held up her toothbrush. “I should have packed all my stuff and moved over here. Your house is a five-star hotel. Mine is more like a bunk house at summer camp.”
“You went to camp?”
Her head shook. “No, we couldn’t afford it, but I looked at brochures. Dreaming costs nothing.” That statement reminded her of Marina.
“Our lives weren’t much different. Abusive fathers and determined mothers. No camp for me either.”
She nodded. “And we survived.” She thumbed the scar above his eye.
“Yes, we did.” He lowered her hand and wrapped it in his. “Want the tour?”
“Absolutely.”
They walked across his shiny oak floors into the living room, where his leather couch took up most of the space. A wall of glass looked over the lake. He lowered the blinds to give them privacy. He had a big screen television on his wall hanging above the fireplace.
“Yours is so big.” She teased him, and he loved it.
“Size matters.”
“I’ve heard that.”
He squeezed her hand and led her into the galley kitchen. Only his was filled with top-of-the-line appliances.
“You have a microwave.” She never thought she’d ever get excited over something as simple as an appliance, but the stainless steel box sitting over his stove made her giddy.
“I’ve got it all.” He stood tall as he bantered with her.
“We’ll see.” She brushed past him, running her fingers over the granite counter.
“I’ll show you after I feed you.” He placed his hands on her hips and lifted her onto the countertop next to the stove. “Sit here. Watch and be amazed.”
“Is the tour finished already? I thought maybe …” She bit her lip. “Maybe I’d see your bedroom.”
“Sweetheart, if we got to the bedroom, we’d never leave it. Let me be chivalrous and feed you so I can keep you in bed until I have to go to work on Tuesday.”
“You’re making promises you better be able to keep.”
He drew an imaginary X across his chest. “Cross my heart. I’m a man of my word.”
She squirmed on the counter while he pulled the ingredients for chicken piccata from the refrigerator. After he put a pot of water to boil on the stovetop, he went about mixing the ingredients for the sauce.
He slid past her and pounded the chicken breasts thin.
“You
’re killing that chicken.”
He hit it a few more times. “That’s what I do. I kill things.” He was referring to food, but the irony wasn’t lost on him.
Each time he had to pass her, he stopped for a kiss. Each kiss became more than the one before it. She tasted like fine wine. It could be because he had poured her a glass while he cooked or maybe because she was a fine vintage all on her own.
“How is it that you’re not with someone?” He drained the pasta he’d cooked and plated up their dinner.
“I’m far too busy. My job takes me around the world, but I’m making some changes. It would be so nice to make a living and have a life.”
After the final sprinkle of fresh herbs, he lowered her to her feet and walked her over to his small dining table by the window that overlooked the lake like hers. Everything beautiful about the cabins could be found in their back halves, on the lakeside. The front door led to nothing more exciting than a hallway.
He pulled out her chair and served her dinner. Watching her eat was an orgasmic experience. She hummed and moaned, and each bite made him harder.
“I take it you like it?”
“Oh my God, can I keep you? You want to go on tour with me?” She swallowed a sip of wine. “I mean go on my business trips. You can be my personal chef.”
“Does the job pay in kisses?”
“Are you negotiating?”
Dalton chuckled. “I’d be silly not to.”
“Then I’d ask for more than kisses.”
He poured her another glass of wine and cleared her empty plate.
“I’ll interview you tonight before I decide what goes on my list of demands. A comprehensive benefit package can make a difference.”
She offered him her hand. “Shall we begin?”
Chapter Sixteen
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Samantha’s heart beat like a tribal drum. She wasn’t normally so forward and brazen, but her time was running out, and she wanted what she wanted. That was Dalton for as long as she could keep him.
One Hundred Wishes Page 11