by T. F. Walsh
But she didn’t feel the same way. Wynter kept her distance. She clutched at the neckline of her robe, whenever they were alone in his room. She snuck under the covers before she removed it. She peeked at him beneath her lashes, her expression awkward, uncomfortable, even. He wanted desperately to believe that it was the stress of her parents’ visit that was causing her to pull away from him. It was like their kiss had never happened.
Sam finished clearing off the bottom step and started on the driveway. The front door creaked open but he didn’t bother to turn around. He continued to shovel, his stiff shoulders making the movements jerky. He wasn’t in the mood for company. Eventually he heard footsteps shuffling toward him.
“This isn’t where I pictured her.” Gloria thumped down the steps to block Sam’s path.
“She won’t go to Florida with you.” It wasn’t his place to have this particular conversation, but the words came out, unbidden.
“She’s flighty. She doesn’t know what she wants.”
“Maybe you just haven’t been listening. Because it’s pretty darned clear to me.” Sam speared the shovel into the middle of a snow covered hydrangea bush. The handle quivered for a moment then held fast.
“Wynter wants to raise her baby in Scallop Shores. She wants to go home.” She’d kill him for admitting that.
“So this whole scenario is temporary? See? She’s flighty.”
“I didn’t say she’d be going alone.” Oh God. Could he pull off this whopper? “When we’re ready, we’ll all go.”
“You’d go back to Scallop Shores? Where your parents died?” He saw the determined glint in Gloria’s eyes. She was baiting him.
“My sister has moved back there and my grandmother still lives there.”
“Yes, but I heard you haven’t been back since that night. Now, all of a sudden, you’re going to set up house in the one place you’ve been hiding from your whole adult life?”
If the woman was smart, she wouldn’t try so hard to alienate the one person who had made a visit with her granddaughter possible. Did she know how to be kind to anyone? The loving and nurturing gene must have skipped a generation with her.
“So I’ve noticed you still haven’t asked for a copy of my bank statement. Can we just assume you think I have the financial means to take care of your daughter?”
“You certainly wouldn’t know it by looking at this house.” She sniffed disdainfully, raising her nose in the air as she took in Sam’s home.
“Bottom line, Gloria? It’s cold out here and I’d like to finish up this driveway before lunch.” Sam jerked the shovel out of the flower bush and turned away from the woman, getting back to work.
“That foolish Holt took her away from me. They didn’t have the money to visit. I offered him money. I offered him money before they even got married. He wouldn’t take it.” She pursed her lips, pacing a bit before adding, “I don’t like her being out here in the middle of nowhere. My daughter needs more than . . . this.” She waved her hands around, her expression one of distaste.
“Moving back to Scallop Shores is not going to get Wynter any closer to you in Florida.” He pitched a shovelful of snow just over Gloria’s shoulder, hiding a smile as she jumped.
“I don’t want my Wynnie to keep running from me. I want to see my granddaughter grow up.”
“Then stop trying to control her. You already pushed one child out of your life. Grant’s kids don’t know their grandparents because of you.” Sam watched her eyes widen in anger, an old pain lingering just below the surface.
“You don’t know your place, young man!”
“This is my place. And while you’re staying at my place, you will treat Wynter with the respect she deserves. She is an amazing woman and a phenomenal mother. She is doing the best she can for that little girl. She has big plans for Charlotte and it’s up to you whether you find yourself a part of those plans or not.”
“You love her then.” It wasn’t a question.
They stared each other down.
“Fine. Move back to Scallop Shores. Maybe her father and I will move back too.”
Wynter would have a heart attack if she heard her mother announce that. But Sam knew it for the bluff that it was.
“You’re welcome to visit us any time.” His unspoken conditions hung in the air between them.
“Florida seems like much more of a vacation destination, in my opinion. And since you claim to have all this money . . . ”
Ever the control freak. Sam lowered his gaze to the ground, before she could see him rolling his eyes. He tried to keep in mind that having a mother like Gloria was better than having no mother at all. The smile he pinned to his face hurt, as though he’d used actual thumbtacks to attach it.
“I’m sure I could talk her into the occasional sunny trip down south.”
“That’s a good boy.” Gloria climbed up one step then turned and spoke over her shoulder. “I’m making my beef stew tonight. Bring your appetite.”
Sam clenched his jaw, tightening his muscles to keep the shudder from jarring loose. He nodded through the stiff smile and prayed she’d hurry back into the house. Gloria’s stew was famous—for being revolting! Sam and Holt had suffered through batches of the stuff because it meant spending time with Wynter. Good God, how much longer was this woman going to be under his roof?
Gloria tramped up the stairs and opened the door, knocking the snow from her boots before she entered.
“I’ll make a double batch so you two won’t have to cook for a while, after we’re gone. Burt got us a flight out tomorrow afternoon.” She tossed back before she shut the door firmly behind her.
“Thank you.” He spoke to the closed door. Thank you for getting the hell out of my house.
Sam finished the driveway in record time. Knowing there was a light at the end of the tunnel gave him wings. He whistled as he worked, looking forward to getting his little family back to himself. Just Wynter and Charlotte and him, alone in the house again.
Only he’d promised he would move them to Scallop Shores. The tune he’d been whistling ended on a flat note. He had lied to Gloria. He couldn’t go back. Even if that was the only way he could hold on to Wynter, to his temporary family. There were too many memories, too much pain left behind in Scallop Shores. He had to let her go, eventually. He put away the shovel, heading back for the house. The clock that ticked down the time he had left with Wynter and the baby sounding ominously loud in the still, pre-spring morning.
Chapter 12
“I’d rethink that second brownie if I were you, Wynnie. Sam’s not going to want you if you let yourself go just because you’ve had a baby.”
Picturing the light at the end of the tunnel that was her parents’ departure, Wynter smiled brightly. Making sure to catch her mother’s eye, she added a dollop of ice cream to the top of the brownie and spooned up a big bite. Ignoring her mother’s hands on her hips and the ‘I’m-telling-you-you’ll-regret-it’ raise of her eyebrows, she focused instead on the mix of cold ice cream with the warm brownie, the melted chocolate chips sliding down her throat after coating her tongue with blissful sweetness.
Sam caught her eye across the table and winked. It brought back memories of growing up under Gloria’s thumb. Sam—and Holt as well—had made it so much more tolerable. On the one hand, she was happy, grateful she had Sam to lend support. But on the other she was frustrated that her mother could make her feel like a recalcitrant child. She was an adult, with an infant of her own, for goodness’ sake! She had to stop letting Gloria get under her skin. Enough was enough.
“So, when is the wedding?” Gloria looked from Wynter to Sam. The smug smirk peeling the corners of her mouth upward showed how pleased she was that she had managed to rattle her daughter’s cage . . . Again.
“Mother!”
Wynter sent a horrified look at Sam, amazed when he didn’t seem nearly as uncomfortable about the turn of conversation as she was. Gloria wasn’t his mother. She couldn’t push his but
tons as easily as she could her daughter’s.
“And do you intend to invite your brother? Because I don’t think it’s appropriate for him to attend when he hasn’t participated in being a member of this family for so long.”
“A wedding comes after a proposal, mother. A proposal comes after a good long courtship.”
“Oh, please. No one says courtship anymore. You’ve got a baby to think about now. If Sam is going to raise Lottie as his own, you need to move forward.”
“Sam, I want to apologize for my mother. Her conversationally-appropriate filter seems to be broken.” When mortified, resort to humor.
“My daughter will not just shack up with a guy because it’s convenient.” Burt’s voice thundered across the table. Oh, good Lord! Charlotte whimpered in her sleep, from the bassinette in the adjoining room.
“She didn’t say we wouldn’t get married, Mr. Allen. We just don’t see the need to rush. I love your daughter, sir. And I love little Charlotte. I intend to take care of both of them for the rest of my life.”
Wynter stood up from the table, ostensibly to check on her sleeping baby. She felt like a weasel, forcing Sam to lie to her parents. She didn’t feel bad lying to them. No, they had brought this all on themselves. But poor Sam was having to go above and beyond the call of even the closest friendship. This is not what she’d meant to ask of him when she showed up on his doorstep, pregnant, broke, and incredibly desperate.
When she returned from the living room, assured that the livelier-than-necessary conversation hadn’t woken Charlotte, her father had settled down. He was tucking into his third helping of dessert, not that her mother chose to point that out. Gloria’s smile, upon seeing Wynter in the doorway, was calculating. She wasn’t finished yet.
“So when do you think you’ll be moving back to Scallop Shores?” And there it was.
She stopped breathing. Did Gloria know this whole thing was a farce? The woman’s sharp gray eyes pinned her to the spot. Wynter’s brain shorted out. She couldn’t form words, just stood there with her mouth slightly open. Burt turned in his seat, also awaiting a response.
“We haven’t discussed the specifics, have we, babe? It’d be best if we waited until spring, when the snow finally melts and we can think about putting the house on the market.”
Oh, Sam. One lie just led to another. She’d really gotten him into a pickle.
“Mom, I promise we aren’t going to make any life-altering changes without giving you plenty of notice. Okay?”
“You mean like searching out a friend you hadn’t seen in over ten years, in favor of moving in with your parents when you were nearly ready to give birth?”
“Sure beats being completely shut out of your son’s life, and the lives of his children, though, because your control-freak ways pushed him away, doesn’t it?” That’s right. She went there.
Gloria’s face turned red, then slightly purple. Her eyes went from wide to a scrunched up mean. Her mouth opened, closed, the tight seal of her lips wrinkling like she’d been sucking on lemons. She whipped around, her focus now on Burt, urging him to get involved. He started to speak and Wynter cut him off.
“No, you both listen to me. If you want any kind of relationship with me or with Charlotte, you will stop with the smothering.” She stepped away from the doorframe, pointing a finger at her mother and then swinging it to include her father.
“You need to trust that I am a grown woman who can take care of herself. It isn’t Sam’s responsibility to take care of me. If he chooses to be a part of our little family, it’s because he wants to, not because he has to.”
Wynter suddenly realized her speech was really meant for him. She could care less whether her parents understood her need to be independent. But Sam? She didn’t want his charity. She didn’t want him to feel obligated to take care of her and her daughter.
She snuck a glance at him across the table. Even his eyes were smiling, and his expression bolstered her flagging confidence. What she wouldn’t give for this scenario to be real. That they really were headed for marriage. That Sam was finally willing to move back to Scallop Shores, to face his demons. He looked at her with such warmth, such affection. It was almost like—No. She had to remember they were putting on an act for the benefit of her parents. Her imagination was sending her down a path she had no business following.
• • •
This was the last night they would have to share a bedroom under the guise that they were a loving couple. Wynter should have felt relieved. Instead, she found herself following him with her eyes, watching him shuck his jeans to sleep in his boxers, wishing she had the nerve to invite him to share the bed.
Sam turned, as though he could feel her eyes upon him. He frowned. She schooled her features to hide her own turmoil, as he seemed to understand that something was up. She experimented with a shaky smile. His frown deepened. Hey, it had been a long day. As far as acting went, she was spent. He propped a pillow and lay down on top of the covers with her, thankfully leaving his T-shirt on.
“You feeling guilty for lying to your parents?”
“Not at all. They deserve it.” She didn’t even blink. “I’m feeling guilty that you had to lie. This can’t be easy for you.”
“I don’t know. I’m kind of surprised at how good I am. Should I be worried? Are you a bad influence on me?”
Wynter giggled, punching her friend in the arm before settling down to rest her head on his chest. This should have put her at ease. They’d snuggled like this so often in the past. Sam would climb the old oak and tap on her window. She’d let him in and they would talk the night away. He’d comb his fingers through her hair. It had always made her want to purr. Eventually, she’d fall asleep. Sam would let himself out the window, closing it as best he could, before sneaking back into his own house in the wee hours of the morning. Her parents had been none the wiser.
Sam was on the scrawny side in high school, his slight chest bony, his long arms skinny. While they had been apart he had changed. Her skinny computer nerd had filled out. Now her head rested on one well-defined pec, while her arm stretched across the wide expanse of his chest. He was her Sam, and then some. Instead of snuggling into his chest, ready to chat the night away, Wynter found herself distracted by the scent of his spicy soap. Her fingers itched to play with the hair that curled against his neck. She remained still, hoping the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her cheek would calm her heightened senses.
“I was proud of you tonight, standing up to your parents like you did.” His deep voice rumbled through his chest, sending shivers all the way to her curling toes.
Great. Now she just wanted to crawl up his body and whisper naughty things in his ear. Wynter stiffened against Sam’s side. What used to be as natural as breathing was now the sweetest form of torture. Every place their bodies touched tingled. Her skin wanted more surface area covered. Her brain wanted her to lift off and hover, removing herself from the temptation that was her scrumptious best friend.
“I’ll just be glad when they leave.” Wynter couldn’t resist rubbing her cheek against the worn fabric of Sam’s tee. His fingertips skittered up her arm before finding their way into her hair to massage her scalp.
“Mmm . . . Me too.” The gravelly tone of Sam’s voice caught her off guard. Had he meant that the way it sounded? Or were her own needs interpreting that as suggestive?
The pads of his fingers pressed little circles into her hairline. Wynter ground her teeth together, suppressing the moan that would betray exactly how she really felt about him struggling to escape.
“Sam, about Scallop Shores. You didn’t have to tell my parents you would come with me. I understand why you stay away.” Understood but hated it.
He used the pressure from his fingertips in her hair to force her to meet his eyes. His jaw was rigid, his eyes dark and dangerous. She opened her mouth to speak but it hung slack as she registered the hunger in his expression.
“I don’t want to talk about
Scallop Shores.”
“But—” Shut me up, Sam.
And he did. Sam hauled her up, bringing their faces into alignment before claiming her lips in a kiss that stole every breath, every thought, every last reservation she had. This time the moan did escape, slipping from her mouth into his. He swallowed it greedily, sharing a low sonorous growl of his own.
She wanted more. Her fingers became restless, darting over surfaces she hadn’t ever imagined touching. This was her Sam, after all, and she didn’t think of her Sam like that. Except that now she couldn’t stop thinking of Sam and sex in the same context. He made her want things she couldn’t have. He made her bold, ready to ask for what she needed.
His large hands cupped her bottom, pulling her against him right where the tightest bundle of nerves scraped against hard steel, urging her to lose all control and ride this wanton wave of lust to the finish. She couldn’t think. She could only need. Her body trembled with the force of it.
Then the toilet flushed in the hallway and her father exited the bathroom, whistling a tune. She knew, from memory, that he carried a rolled up magazine under his arm. Squeezing her eyes shut, she broke the kiss, trying to gain control of the situation. Sam held her chin up with one finger, and when she peeked through her lashes, she saw that he had no intention of letting her father interrupt what they had started.
She buried her face in his chest. This had gotten completely out of control. Never mind that it was what she wanted more than anything in the world. It was wrong. She couldn’t have Sam. She shouldn’t have Sam. Kissing Sam, touching Sam, it was all so good. And that was what made it wrong.
Wynter pushed herself off his chest and scrambled for the edge of the bed, shrugging off his hand when he reached for her shoulder. God, he’s going to think I’m nuts! How to explain the guilt, the wrongness of wanting her best friend? She’d been married to Holt for nearly ten years and had never felt this passion, this all-consuming desperation to share herself with him. This was wrong.