by Tawna Fenske
“You’re incredible,” he murmured.
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
“We should do that again sometime,” he said.
“Seriously?”
“What, you’re bored already?” He grinned, propping himself up on one elbow. “I’m tired of fighting it, Sheri. I’m nuts about you. You’re nuts about me. We fit together in more ways than just this. Your brothers are going to have to deal with this sooner or later, and I vote for sooner.”
She blinked, looking stunned by his words. Truth be told, Sam felt a little stunned by them himself.
“That’s my vote, too,” she whispered.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured against her hair.
“Me, too. From the first day you showed up here, I’ve been thinking about it.”
He laughed. “I have you beat by miles, babe. The first time I saw you—back when you were this sassy, wild-haired sister of one of my friends. I wanted you the first moment I laid eyes on you. I never stopped wanting you. Not just like this, but all the time. I want you when you’re laughing and when you’re crying and when you’re blowing up blenders or singing off-key in the shower. I want you all the time, no matter what.”
She swallowed, completely undone by his words. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll give me a chance. Give us a chance, to hell with your brothers.”
“I’m in.” She grinned and planted a kiss on his lips. He returned the kiss, then drew back, pulling her tighter against him.
“Good,” he said, closing his eyes again. “What do you want to do today?”
“How about the beach?”
“Perfect. But how about we enjoy this for just a little bit longer?”
“Deal.”
She snuggled against him, and every molecule of Sam’s body swelled with pleasure as he held her close and breathed her in. He stroked his hand over the curve of her hip, certain he’d never felt anything so soft. Certain he could lie like this forever.
Certain he was falling in love with her.
…
Sheri woke alone in Sam’s bed with the smell of bacon hanging in the air. She located her robe on the floor and padded into the dining area to find him cooking breakfast. Before she could insist on making her own food, Sam handed her a plate of bacon and eggs and pointed to a chair.
“Sit. Eat.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then decided against it. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She dropped into the chair and picked up a fork. “You know, you don’t have to feed me on weekends. Or any day of the week, really, but especially not weekends. You should take days off.”
“I have to eat anyway,” he said. “Besides, I told Mac I’d take care of you. This is taking care of you.”
She studied his back, broad and muscular, and shivered with the memory of what that back had felt like beneath her palms only an hour ago. She smiled as she watched him butter a piece of toast at the counter. He turned and handed it to her before sitting down on the opposite end of the table.
“You’ve been talking to Mac a lot lately?” she asked.
He hesitated, then bit into a piece of toast. “On occasion.”
“Is he checking up on me? Requiring you to give him up-to-the-minute reports?”
She hated the petulance in her own voice, but she also hated the idea of her brothers spying on her. Sam regarded her warily.
“No.” He bit into his toast again. “Any new phone calls or text messages from Jonathan?”
She shrugged and reached over to tickle Jackson in his high chair. The baby giggled and waved an arm, smacking himself in the face. Jeffrey wailed for a few seconds before dissolving into giggles.
“I had a text message from Jonathan in the middle of the night,” she said. “He wants to talk to me about you. I ignored it.”
“About me?” Sam frowned. “Did he say why?”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t worry he’s going to press charges or anything. Even if you punched him, he’s the one who broke into the house.”
“Right.” Sam frowned again and looked down at his toast. “I’ve got someone coming by first thing Monday to install new locks. You were right about something being wrong with the one on the front door. Until Jonathan leaves Hawaii, I’ll be sleeping in the living room to keep a closer eye on it.”
“Okay.” She thought about his long, solid body laid out on the sofa, a sliver of moonlight falling over the thin sheet covering him. She ached to pull the sheet back and crawl in beside him.
Stop it, Sheri.
“Still want to go to the beach today?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“Good. I’ll get our things together. Meet you at the car in thirty minutes?”
An hour later—hampered only slightly by a twin-powered baby meltdown—they were on their way to the beach. The boys slurped on their fingers in the backseat, while Sheri hunted around for her sunglasses.
“They’ve both got bottom teeth coming in,” he said as he turned the car off the main road. “They’re starting to look like jack-o’-lanterns.”
“This is where I confess that I’m glad the breastfeeding thing didn’t work out for me. I wasn’t looking forward to losing a nipple to baby teeth.”
“Why didn’t it work out?”
She glanced at him, surprised he’d asked the question. Sam took in her startled expression, then shrugged. “Sorry. I was just curious, but if you’d rather not—”
“No, it’s okay. All the mothering magazines make it sound so easy. The most natural thing in the world, and so healthy for the baby. But for some women, it just doesn’t work right.”
She saw Sam dart a glance at her chest and she couldn’t stop herself from giving a self-conscious laugh. “I know, I have all the necessary equipment. But I didn’t produce enough milk, and the boys just screamed and turned red and refused to latch on. My lactation coach finally suggested—”
“Lactation coach?”
“I know, it sounds weird.”
“Does she make your breasts do calisthenics?”
Sheri laughed. “No. And she finally agreed that it just doesn’t work for some women. I guess that’s me.”
She shrugged and looked out the window, feeling stupidly self-conscious.
“Is that why you’re always making those comments about not being a normal mom?”
“One of dozens of reasons, really. I love the boys to death. Sometimes I just don’t know that I got the right wiring, that’s all. Then when Jonathan shows up and starts making noise about how I’m not enough for them as a single mom…”
She shrugged, trailing off. Sam shook his head as he turned onto the small side road leading to PMRF. She started to point him toward the correct branch of a fork in the road, but he took it without needing her guidance.
“That’s bullshit,” Sam said. “Don’t let Jonathan’s crap get to you. You’re an amazing mom. Just one of you is worth a dozen of your so-called normal moms.” He rolled down his window as they approached the entry gate. “Did you ever think that’s the thing that’ll make you a really excellent mother in the long run?”
“What?”
“The fact that you aren’t some absurd Stepford wife of a mother who follows the imaginary rule book to a tee,” he said. “The fact that you’re not afraid to play in the mud or tell crude jokes or catch bugs. The fact that you can be firm and maternal, but you’re fun, too. That’s something the boys are going to appreciate when they’re older.” He hesitated, glancing away as they approached the entry gate. Then he looked at her again, his blue eyes boring into her. “It’s what I appreciate about you.”
Sheri swallowed hard, her throat suddenly tight with emotion. “Sam, I—”
“Morning, sir. Oh, hello.”
The gate guard approached the car and shook Sam’s hand like they were old friends. Then he nodded at Sheri. “Ma’am, good to see yo
u again.”
Sheri leaned across Sam’s lap and handed over her paperwork. “Morning, Thomas. We’re just here to spend the day at the beach.”
“Of course, Ms. Patton-Price. You know the way?”
“I already have my favorite spot on the beach.”
The man nodded and shuffled through the paperwork. “Okay then. Looks like everything’s in order. I’ll see you when you stop back by on your way out. Have a great day.”
“You too, Thomas.”
“Sir,” he said, nodding at Sam.
Sam adjusted his dark glasses and nodded back. “Mahalo.”
They drove through the gate and continued down the road. Sheri pointed out a few buildings, showing Sam where the family housing areas and skateboard park were as they made their way toward her favorite beach spot.
“You like it here, then,” he said, angling the car into a parking spot.
“Very much.”
“Good. It’s good to have a job you love.”
“Do you love your job?”
Sam grinned and stepped out of the car, stooping down to scoop up Jackson while Sheri bustled around to the other side and unlatched Jeffrey’s carrier from the car seat base.
She looked up to see him watching her with a smile that made her toes curl against her flip-flops. “I love my job more than you could possibly imagine.”
Chapter Eighteen
Once they found their spot on the beach, Sam made three trips back to the car to shuttle towels and coolers and enough baby gear to care for three dozen infants. Finally, he sat back in a beach chair to watch the boys fling sand around with the little green shovels. He was ready to grab them away if either baby looked ready to spoon up a mouthful of it.
“Would you mind if I went for a quick dip in the ocean?” Sheri asked.
He turned to look at her and felt a stir of arousal that was growing all too familiar. “Will that require you stripping down to just a bikini?”
She grinned. “If I say yes, are you going to ogle me as I walk to the water?”
“I’m going to ogle you no matter what.”
“I plan to hold you to that.”
“It won’t be hard. Speaking of hard things—”
She swatted him with a towel and stood up. “We were not speaking of hard things. By the way, did I tell you Mac’s coming to visit again soon?”
“He is?”
Christ, Sam thought. He’ll take one look at us and know in an instant we’ve slept together.
“I know what you said this morning about putting it all out there for my brothers, but if you’re not ready—” She bit her lip. “Well, I’m not totally sure I’m ready.”
“No, it’s great,” Sam said, ignoring the dread pooling in his chest. “Can’t wait to see him again. Speaking of things I haven’t seen for a while, why are you still wearing a shirt?”
Sheri laughed and pulled off her top. She wore a bright-red bikini top in sports bra style. More conservative than those stringy styles Sam saw everywhere in Hawaii, but somehow even hotter on Sheri.
“You’re beautiful,” he said without thinking.
“Thank you.” She smiled and stood up. “If all you can do is grope me with your eyes at the moment, then I guess I’d better make it worth your while.”
She shucked her cotton shorts and stood there for a moment with her curves silhouetted against the sun. Her hair was loose and wild, and the low-rise red bikini bottoms showed off her fabulous ass in a way that made Sam grateful he’d opted for loose-fitting swim trunks. “That’s worth every second of the excruciating agony my testicles will be experiencing for the next few hours.”
Sheri laughed and tossed her hair. “You’re such a romantic.” She turned and jogged off down the beach toward the water.
He watched her go, feeling an ache that was nowhere near his balls.
When she was out of sight, he glanced down at her beach bag. He’d seen her slip her phone into the front pocket, so he shoved his hand into it, fishing around for the glittery pink case. He pulled the phone out, glancing back toward the beach to see if she was watching him.
All clear.
Sam hit the power button and saw the new message alert from Jonathan.
Must talk to you. Don’t you want to know who Sam really is?
He frowned and looked back down the beach. She was waist-deep in the ocean, laughing as a soft wave splashed up and hit her in the belly. She turned and smiled at him, waving as the wind tousled her curls.
He waved back, doing his best to hide the phone in his lap.
The instant she turned around, he deleted the message.
…
They stayed at the beach all day, stopping to snack when they got hungry and taking turns watching the boys while the other napped or bodysurfed or explored the beach. It was an easy sort of partnership that made Sam ache to savor it for more than just a couple weeks.
The sun was beginning to drop low in the sky as they packed up their gear.
“I had a really nice time today,” she said. “Thanks for being part of it.”
“My pleasure. I had a great day, too. Toss me that towel over there and I’ll make the first run to the car.”
He’d just stood up with both arms full of gear when an older gentleman approached from the side. He tipped his red-and-white-striped derby hat at Sheri as he slung a fishing pole over one shoulder.
“Afternoon, ma’am,” he said to Sheri. “Nice to see you out here when you’re not too dressed up to enjoy the weather.”
She smiled back, warm and friendly, as a jolt of dread knifed through Sam’s gut. Wasn’t this the guy he’d met during his spy mission to PMRF a week ago? Sam pulled his baseball cap lower, trying his damnedest not to be noticed. Would the old guy remember him? They’d only spoken a few words, but Sam had admitted he was a Marine. That he was here doing a favor for a buddy.
He slid his sunglasses on and prayed the guy wouldn’t remember any of it.
“I just started working at PMRF on Monday,” Sheri was saying, “so it was fun to bring the whole family out here to enjoy the area. How’s the fishing today?”
“Can’t complain. Can I give you folks a hand?”
He turned to Sam, reaching out to take one of the beach bags. Sam watched as recognition lit up the old guy’s face.
“Hey there, I almost didn’t recognize you,” he said, sticking out a hand for Sam to shake. “Didn’t get a chance to introduce myself properly last weekend. The name’s Arthur Ziegler. Retired Marine sergeant, living here now with my son and his wife and their boys.”
Sam returned the handshake, glancing at Sheri to see a bewildered look on her face. “Um, pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m just going to run these things up to the car and—”
“I didn’t catch your name, son.” He smiled at Sheri. “Any of your names, actually.”
“I’m so sorry, this is Sam and Jackson and Jeffrey and I’m Sheri,” she said. “Did you say you’d met Sam before?”
“No!” Sam said a little too quickly. “Just now. We’re just now meeting, that is.”
Arthur turned and gave him a curious look. “That so? Maybe I’m confusing you with someone else.” He studied Sam a moment, his expression perplexed. “My memory’s not what it used to be, but I coulda sworn I met you out here last weekend. You’re a Marine here doing a favor for a buddy, right? I swear—”
“Nope, you must be thinking of someone else,” Sam interrupted before Arthur could describe Sam’s tattoo or repeat their conversation or give any further proof Sam had been here scoping out Sheri’s workplace.
His face felt hot and his hands were clammy and he was pretty sure he was going to lose it completely if he didn’t escape. He had to get Arthur away from Sheri. “I sure do appreciate your offer to help though, sir. Would you mind grabbing that cooler right there? The car’s just up here a bit.”
He started walking fast, hoping to God the old man would follow, that he hadn’t already done too much damage,
that his whole world wasn’t about to come crashing down around him.
“Sure thing, son,” Arthur said as he picked up the cooler. He fell into step beside Sam, and Sam heaved a silent sigh of relief. When they’d gone about ten paces, he turned back to look at Sheri.
She was staring after them with an odd look on her face and her phone gripped in one hand.
She wasn’t smiling.
Chapter Nineteen
A sour sense of uneasiness settled into Sheri’s gut and wasn’t budging. She hardly spoke to Sam the whole drive home, barely noticing his efforts to draw her out and engage her in conversation about what she wanted for dinner and when she thought the boys might start crawling.
Why had Arthur Ziegler been so sure he recognized Sam? The guard at the gate had seemed pretty friendly, too. Had Sam been to PMRF to check on her?
Or was there something more going on here?
It was the something more that niggled at Sheri all evening. She made a simple dinner of pork and beans and pineapple with cut-up hot dogs—another staple of her childhood—but she barely touched it.
“You okay?” Sam asked
She looked up to see him studying her warily. “I’m fine.”
“Is there something you want to talk about?”
“Is there something you want to talk about?”
They sat frozen in an awkward stalemate. She wondered how long it might have dragged on if it weren’t for Jeffrey squawking in the other room. Sheri hustled off to tend him, doling out bottles and kisses and all the motherly love she could muster.
By the time she returned to the kitchen, Sam had cleared the table. He looked up as she entered the room, a guarded look on his face.
“Have you heard from Jonathan again?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, but I left my phone in the other room.” She began loading dishes into the dishwasher, wondering what questions she should be asking. Did she really want to give a voice to her suspicions? Would that just make them real?
It was possible she was being paranoid. Jonathan’s betrayal had done a number on her, after all.