“Well, as you can tell, there’s not much to do around here.”
“Why aren’t you at the party with your friends?”
“I didn’t have a date.” The easiest answer.
“Neither do your friends, but that’s not stopping them from having a good time.”
“Have you come all the way down here to complicate things again?”
“No, it’s pretty simple actually. I have my sights set on a dance with the most beautiful girl tonight.”
My eyes look over his formal wear. Even with the missing bow tie, he looks as though his tux is designed especially for him. His collar is open and his hair is looking pretty messy—like he just woke up, tempting me to touch it. “I’m sure there are plenty of other girls who’ll qualify and who would like to dance with you.”
“Maybe, but I don’t feel like dancing with them.”
“And I don’t feel like dancing with you, so, end of story.”
He shifts his weight. “Are you always this hardheaded, or just with me?”
Then I remember those words of his that still get to me. Just turn around and walk away. “You asked me to turn around, Sam. To walk away and forget about you.”
His chest expands. “I was wrong. I should’ve asked you to stay.”
The lump in my throat is back. Only Sam can turn cool distance into pure emotion in the blink of an eye.
“I’m going to see if those hash slingers left any of that delicious homemade lemonade of yours,” Etienne says. He walks over to the stereo and studies the row of CDs. He picks one and replaces the CD. Then he turns up the volume, and suddenly the cheerful sounds of Moondance are blaring through the space. He walks back and whispers in my ear, “If you don’t dance with him, I will.” He steps out from behind the counter and looks at Sam. “She is always this hardheaded,” he says and then slowly saunters away.
Sam smiles.
Now that I’m left behind with just Sam, I become self-conscious of my sleeveless top and quickly fold my arms to hide my scar. Sam is still standing casually and stoically against the wall.
“Nice date you are.” I fall for the temptation to speak first again.
“Why?”
“Leaving your date behind.”
It makes him laugh. “You think I went to the party with a date? Then you don’t know me as well as I thought.”
“Oh right, silly, you’re engaged. What does she think of you wanting to dance with the most beautiful girl tonight? She’s pretty gorgeous herself.”
Graceful lines appear around the corners of his mouth. “I’d almost think you’re jealous.”
A dry laugh escapes my lips.
Sam’s gaze turns sharp. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t have a date tonight, I’m not engaged, and I don’t answer to anyone. Olivia forced me to come along.”
He’s not engaged? “And now you’ve left her behind?”
“Bastian is there too.”
“Ah, I hope the alcohol is locked away safely.”
With a playful smile on his lips, he studies his neat shoes before thoroughly looking me over again. He is still here. And he is not engaged.
“I understood that you don’t need a room, so if there is nothing else I can do for you, then I’ll…”
“Actually you can.” Sam pushes himself away from the wall and makes his way to the front desk. He offers me his hand.
I stare from his hand to his face. “What?”
“I’m not leaving until I get my dance.”
I push my chin up. “And if I refuse? You throw me over your shoulder?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
Sam gets behind the desk and grabs my hand. He pulls me into the lounge with him.
“Sam, I’m not wearing shoes. I… I’m not in the mood tonight, please leave me alone.”
Ignoring my plea, he stops in an open spot between the armchairs and pulls me into his arms. He puts my arm over his shoulder, takes my other hand in his and his free hand ends up on my back.
“There is no chance of me walking out that door before getting what I came here for.”
Without high heels, his face and mine are miles apart and I have to look up to talk to him. “I can’t do this,” I say hoarsely.
“Shall I lead then?”
Even before he finishes his question, I am flying across the room. I’m stunned. Brick by brick, he breaks down the wall I had carefully built around myself over the past few weeks and steps inside my buffer zone without asking permission. The arrogance. He knows very well I can’t resist him. He can get one dance, because I know now that he will leave me in the rubble after the fade of the last tune, and then I can start building that wall again from scratch.
He smells outrageously sexy. Woodsy. My, this is tantalizing.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Sam turns me around, lets me go through under his arm and pulls me tightly against him. I catch myself laughing. It’s almost as if we are happy and in love, which is partially true. For one of us. When the song comes to an end, I quickly free myself from his arms.
“No,” he says fiercely.
The CD switches to the next song, and that one is so slow that dancing to it is hardly even possible, but Sam tightens his grip. His mouth is close to my ear. I can almost feel his lips on my skin. The song is about a king and a queen, but the lyrics barely sink in. I feel myself getting weaker by the second. Just this dance.
Sam’s hand on my back slides over the thin fabric of my top and rests between my shoulder blades. His fingertips touch my neck.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I whisper.
“Us. I am doing this to us.”
“Are you going to leave me behind again?” I ask huskily and clear my throat.
“Yes, I am,” he says surprisingly honest.
“Why?”
“This is me, Laurel. Complicated. No relationships, no expectations, no promises. I can only live in the moment. Now… This dance.”
I fight back my tears. “That’s not fair,” I say softly.
“No, it’s not,” he admits. After a pause, he continues. “I am wrong for you, Laurel, but I can’t help myself. There is something about you that…”
Abruptly, he stops talking. His thumb trails over the hard tissue on my upper arm. I immediately tense up when I see him stare at my disfigured arm.
“What happened?”
I follow his gaze to the ugly healed scar. “Nothing.” I know how stupid that sounds. “A dog.”
“Is that why you’re scared of dogs?”
“Only of big, dangerous dogs.”
“Like Storm.”
“Storm is not a dog in my opinion, but I don’t think I’m afraid of him anymore.”
A gentle expression appears on his face and he pulls me closer. At some point we must have stopped dancing, but the music is still playing. We are just holding each other in the middle of the lounge. His forehead touches mine and Van Morrison is still singing about a queen. And then I suddenly experience a feeling that nothing matters anymore, not the future, certainly not the past. I only want to be in this very moment. Even if he is wrong for me, even if it’s just this dance, this holding tight… I’ll take whatever he’s willing to give.
I drape my fingers around the back of Sam’s neck and I can’t hold back a low throaty sound, as his hands slide to my lower back and push me closer to his rock hard body. We’re both breathing hard. Sam slides his hand under my hair.
“I don’t want you to get hurt, but I just don’t know how to stay away from you.”
“Then don’t hurt me and don’t stay away,” I whisper.
It feels like an eternity before he touches my lips and when he finally does, he immediately yanks his head up. The music has stopped. I have no idea what’s
going on, but then a horrid, familiar voice blaring through the lobby, suddenly rips me back into reality.
“What is going on in here?”
Still intoxicated, I push Sam away from me, but he doesn’t move an inch. “Mia… I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Yes, that much is clear to me. What if I were a guest walking in here? I am deeply embarrassed right now, you have no idea. And why isn’t Etienne behind the desk?”
I wring my hands. “Oh, ehm, Etienne went to get a drink. I’m sure he will be back any minute now.”
Mia’s wide eyes shoot from me to Sam and back again. She’s outraged.
“I will discuss this with your father. This isn’t over. I don’t tolerate you sneaking around here with boyfriends. If you wanted to dance so badly, or whatever it was that you were doing there, I’m not a fool, you should’ve gone to the prom instead of staying home feeling miserable. You’ve disappointed all your friends. Take an example from Renee, who has bravely continued with her life. It’s about time you do the same, young lady.”
My eyes burn, but crying is the last thing I want to do in front of her. More than anything, I am furious. “It was a dance, Mia… a dance! Worse things happen in this guesthouse.”
I feel a sting of tears as I turn around with my fists clenched and walk toward the exit. I have to get out of here, and fast, before I start throwing vases full of fake flowers.
When I arrive at the door, I look over my shoulder. Sam hasn’t followed me. What is he doing hanging around over there with his hands in his pockets? He’s not thinking about arguing with my stepmother, is he? Mia will never give in. She even growls at her staff in front of the guests. It wouldn’t surprise me if she might snap at a guest who dared to do something that didn’t meet her approval. Thankfully, Sam keeps his mouth shut, turns his back to Mia, and walks toward me. When he faces me, he turns around and walks back.
“With all due respect, Mrs. Harper…”
I want to run away, hide under a table, but instead I squeeze my eyes shut in sheer panic. He is on his own.
“Laurel didn’t want to dance, I forced her.” He pauses a moment before he continues. “You see, tonight was supposed to be special, like it probably was special for you and your daughter. A night that Laurel would have wanted to share with her mother.”
I slowly open my eyes. How does he know all that?
“And we can all demand from her that she go out and have fun just like Renee, but Laurel just isn’t ready.”
Mia’s chin is trembling, but she straightens her back and looks at Sam with a cold glance. She doesn’t dare say a thing. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
“I came here tonight, hoping to persuade her to go to the party after all,” Sam continues undaunted, “but since that was out of the question, I made her dance right here to distract her from the worries she is so obviously carrying. And you can try to make it look like something dirty, but I can assure you it was not.”
He starts to turn around, but changes his mind again. “Renee is a brave girl indeed, but she is not the only one. It’s a shame you can’t see that.”
Sam fiercely runs his hand through his hair and walks outside with long strides.
19
laurel
Sam is sitting on a rock, leaning forward and staring at the dark water. His tuxedo jacket is carelessly lying next to him. It’s still extremely hot and stuffy, but I can already hear the rumble of a distant thunder. It’s a starless night, and I shudder as though something bad is going to happen.
I shuffle through the sand toward him, and I put my hand on his back. His dress shirt is sticking to his body, and I can feel his shoulder blades tighten under my fingers. That’s all the response I get. I walk around the rock and sit down on the warm sand. “Thank you for what you said to Mia.”
I hear him exhale as though he has been holding his breath for a long time. “She had no right to talk to you like that,” he says hoarsely.
“Do you really think I’m brave?”
“Yeah.”
I smile. “It almost seems as though you know me better than myself.”
Silence.
“I don’t think I can live in the moment,” I finally say, to keep the conversation going.
“Most people can’t. Always thinking about the past, worrying about their future, while everything they have is right now,” he answers.
I smile and cast a sidelong glance at him. “So, tomorrow never comes?”
Sam smiles back. “Yesterday and tomorrow don’t exist.”
I sigh. “‘I guess I’m sort of the worrying kind.”
Sam moves off the rock and in a fluid motion, he lifts me and slides his body in behind me on the sand. He pulls me closer to him. His slow breaths caress my skin and when he touches my arm, the little hairs in my neck and on my arms stand at attention. His touch prickles, tingles, and burns, but I am no longer worried about it—although I have no clue why I feel those little electric jolts going through my body every time he touches me.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he says softly.
“It doesn’t.” It does, though, but not in a very unpleasant way. I want him to touch me. So badly.
Sam’s arms and legs are tightly locked around me, and there’s barely enough room to move. I try to relax against his chest, a chest that feels like a block of granite, a hard piece of stone that’s been warmed by the sun.
“Tell me about yourself.”
I want to turn around and look at him, but he keeps me in check. I close my eyes and surrender to the present. To this moment.
“I was born on the island, but I only lived here until I was four years old, so my memories of that time are vague. My last happy memory is getting a puppy on my fourth birthday.”
“What kind of puppy?”
“A shepherd.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh, a boy puppy, our neighbors had a litter. He came in a box, and had a blue ribbon around his neck. He was so adorable.”
“Did he bite you?”
“Yeah, he did.”
Sam kisses the side of my head and I freeze. It’s so unreal. His usual arrogant demeanor has changed into tenderness and warmth. It’s hard to wrap my brain around this radical change. “I’m so sorry, Laurel,” he says moved, like he was personally responsible for the dog-biting incident.
“Not long after that, my mother took me to Europe, to the Netherlands, where her family lives.”
“Because Martin never had time for you?”
“It’s almost impossible to maintain a marriage and a family, when you spend eighty hours a week in the kitchen and strive for perfection. My mom wasn’t from here and she couldn’t bear the loneliness. Eventually they divorced, but they remained friends.”
“So you kept seeing Martin?”
“He came to the Netherlands during the summers. Then we went to the Wadden Sea Islands.”
“Wadden Sea?”
“Five small islands in the North Sea, near the Dutch coast.”
Sam squeezes my arm gently. “Tell me more about them.”
“Well, there are old lighthouses, picturesque villages, and beaches. I remember one time, I went to the beach with Martin and we walked along the dunes looking for any washed-up treasures.” I laugh. “I still have a coat rack he made for me from driftwood. And of course, we looked for cockles and razor clams, so he could make chowder for us to eat. And there are always seals. I love seals.”
Sam chuckles softly. The entire time I’m talking, he’s playing with my tousled side braid. Twining a strand of hair around his finger.
“When did your mother pass away?”
I briefly wonder when I told him that. “Six years ago.”
He pauses and then asks, “You and Renee lost a parent at the same time?”
“Yeah, we did.” He
pulls me even closer to him, and suddenly I am overwhelmed by love for this extremely complex but beautiful guy. I would love to turn around, to see his eyes with that golden tinge, but he keeps me in place, and I am amazed at how perfectly our bodies fit. Nevertheless, an annoying voice in my head keeps saying that this night is doomed to go terribly wrong before it’s over.
Sam nuzzles my messed up hair. “You smell of far away islands.”
“Far away islands?” I repeat. It sounds poetic.
“The scent of your hair, what is it? Jasmine, yellow roses?”
Obviously, I am not surprised that he can name the exact ingredients of my rose shampoo. “All natural and organic,” I joke to remind him of the so-called alternative lifestyle he has assigned me to. I can feel his lips curl. Like that time, we are at the beach, but between then and now so much has happened that it feels like ages ago. I want so desperately to ask him about his background and all the strange things I’ve seen and heard. He is so tender that the timing seems perfect, but at the same time, I don’t want to ruin the moment. I’d rather cherish it for as long as possible. He’s going to leave you behind.
Sam’s hands move slowly from my shoulders down my arms, and with my heart pounding, I anticipate what will happen next. He grabs hold of my hands, lacing his fingers through mine.
Shamelessly, I let my eyes wander over his slim, straight fingers. His thumbs are rubbing my knuckles. Luckily, Sam doesn’t encourage me to tell him any more about my life—I’m done talking. The only thing I seem to be able to do is stare dumbfounded at our intertwined fingers. And then I get this urge, this terrible need, to touch him, to really feel him, more than just leaning against him. Can I make him shiver too?
“I don’t do physical contact,” he says hoarsely.
Once again, he has already guessed my thoughts, but that doesn’t seem difficult, given the position in which we find ourselves. I let out a mocking laugh—especially because he has just given off a very different signal in the lobby. Does he really think that I didn’t notice his arousal to that motionless dance—that I don’t notice it now?
House of Guardians Page 18