“Hold on.” Sam slapped a hand against his chest. “Say that first part again.”
“You’re slowing down the line,” he said, hitching his head toward the front of the plane.
She got out but kept looking over her shoulder as she moved up the aisle. “Say it again. Louder this time.”
As soon as they were in the airport, he reached a hand around her front and pulled her close. “You were right,” he whispered against her hair. “You were right. You were right. And I was an idiot.”
“Well, that last part is an added bonus,” she said and kissed him. “But I’ll take it.”
His phone rang and he picked it up as they walked toward the terminal. “Hey, sweetie, I’m so—” He paused when Dale Rogers spoke on the other end of the line. “Sorry, Dale,” he muttered. “Thought you were Grace.” He listened to his foreman then checked his watch. “It will take me at least an hour to get up there. I need to pick up Grace by five to get her to volleyball.” He looked toward Sam, who was also taking a call. “Meet me there in an hour,” he said and hung up.
“Everything ok?” Sam asked as she pocketed her phone.
“An issue on the construction site of the house we’re building. Can I ask you a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Would you have time to pick up Grace and take her to volleyball practice? She might need a ride home, too. I’m not sure how long I’m going to be tied up and—” He paused as he realized she was staring at him.
They got onto the train that would take them to the main terminal and were jostled toward the center by the other passengers. “It’s not a problem if you can’t. I’ll—”
“No.” She put a hand on his arm. “I can. I wasn’t . . . you’re asking for my help.”
He nodded slowly, not quite understanding her reaction.
“You’re trusting me to be responsible for your daughter—”
“She’s also your niece.”
“I know that.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just wasn’t sure when you were going to accept it.” She moved closer, stood on tiptoe so they were standing eye to eye. “Have you accepted it, Trevor? You say the words, but the actions mean more. Tell me now—am I in?”
He winced at the mix of hope and anxiety in her voice. Once again he was reminded of Kendall’s comment about Sam with her hard shell and gooey center. He understood she kept that center closely guarded and now he realized why. He had the power to hurt her. As scared as he’d been all these years of what she could do to him, he had the ultimate weapon if he chose to use it.
Grace.
Grace was his daughter. They both might fight him, but he could dictate the parameters of their relationship. He also realized that up until this moment he’d been a selfish bastard. He was so scared of losing his daughter that he’d hurt her. She should have known she had a bigger family. She should have had her aunt’s influence in her life. As much as he wanted to believe it, he hadn’t done his best because it was easier for him not to.
“You’re in,” he answered simply. What else could he say?
That seemed to be enough because she let out a loud whoop of delight and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him and not appearing to care that they were in the middle of a crowded shuttle.
Something let loose in his chest as he finally admitted that it was better not to be alone. It felt good to depend on someone and, for so many reasons, he was glad that person could be Sam.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sam paced back and forth across the camp’s large rec room the following week, stopping every few minutes to adjust the plates of food spread across the buffet table.
“Do you really think moving it one inch is going to make that plate of vegetable kabobs look like food those girls will want to eat?”
She turned to glare at Jenny, who was sprawled across the overstuffed sectional near the window.
“Obviously they were good enough for you. You have the crumbs from a vegan banana muffin all over the front of your shirt.”
“I skipped lunch today. I’m starving and desperate.”
Sam snorted. “I’ve watched you plan your day around the timing of your next meal, so I don’t believe that for a minute.”
“Maybe I had lunch, but I ate it in the car on the way to a meeting so it doesn’t really count.”
“It counts. Admit it,” Sam said, grinning at Jenny. “You like my food.”
“I’d rather have cheese doodles. Kendall always has cheese doodles.”
“I have snap peas.”
Jenny made a gagging sound and then sat up straighter. “Grace and Trevor are pulling up. Man, he makes me want to buy him a tool belt. He is one hundred percent construction hottie.” She winked at Sam. “Have you seen him in a tool belt?”
“No talk about tool belts,” Sam said on a hiss of breath, feeling color rise to her cheeks.
Jenny ignored her. “Oh, yeah. You’ve seen him in a tool belt.”
“I have not, and stop before I choke you with a bell pepper.” Sam glanced out the window and then back to the table, suddenly doubting everything she’d done to prepare for this afternoon. It had been a shock when Grace had asked if she could host the end-of-season volleyball team party at the camp, and even more surprising when Trevor agreed to it.
It should be easy. She ran a camp for kids so it shouldn’t be difficult to entertain a junior high volleyball squad. Interacting with the parents who’d also be attending the party made her far more nervous. She was too aware of what it felt like to have the parent who was an embarrassment, different than the other moms in the group.
She might not be Grace’s parent, but she didn’t want to be known as the former wild-child aunt. Her goal was to be a meaningful part of Grace’s life, and being accepted by the moms on the volleyball team seemed like an important first step.
She probably should have called Chloe for moral support. Her sweet friend was one of the most inherently likable people Sam had ever met. Jenny, not so much.
“You have to be nice,” she blurted.
Jenny stood and scowled at her, flipping her red hair behind one shoulder. “I don’t need these women to like me. I’ve got my hands full with the mom dragons at Cooper’s school. You have to be nice.”
“This was a huge mistake,” Sam muttered. “I’m bad at being nice.”
“You’re plenty nice.” She whirled at the sound of Trevor’s voice behind her.
“Where’s Grace?”
“Her friends pulled in right after us. She’s waiting for them.” He walked toward her slowly, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Are you nervous?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“If you consider basket-case crazy fine,” Jenny added.
Sam glared at her friend. “Why did I ask for your help?”
Jenny grinned in response. “Because you were desperate not to be alone with”—she waved her hands in the air—“the moms.”
“It’s going to be fine.” Trevor pulled her in for a hug, but she squirmed away.
“Stop. You can’t do that when Grace and her friends are around. She can’t know—”
He arched a brow. “Know what?”
“That Sam has seen your tool belt,” Jenny offered and moved toward the food table again.
“My tool belt?” Trevor chuckled.
“Zip it. Both of you.” She heard voices, and Grace bounced into the room a moment later, surrounded by several girls who looked just as young and bubbly as her.
Had Sam ever been that young? It was hard to believe. But there was no time for revisiting the past. A group of women followed the girls, glancing around the room before their collective gazes landed on her.
Sam’s shoulders automatically stiffened. Her normal reaction to a situation where she felt out of place was to fall back on her “I’m too good for this” attitude. She could put on a resting bitch face like nobody’s business and used it whenever she needed to keep people at arm’s length
.
“You’ve got this,” Trevor whispered at her back, and she forced herself to take a breath and smile. Yes, she could do this. For both herself and Grace.
“I’m so glad everyone could make it,” she said, holding out her hand as she stepped forward. “I’m Sam Carlton. I’m . . .” She paused, struggling to say the words out loud.
“Grace’s aunt,” Trevor supplied before moving away to join Jenny by the food table.
Traitor, Sam thought to herself. He couldn’t just leave her with these women. She was pretty certain every one of them was half in love with him, even the married ones. She understood since she . . .
Nope. Not going there.
She focused on the group of mothers. “Yes,” she agreed. “Grace’s aunt. Welcome to Bryce Hollow.”
The women returned her smile, a little tentatively at first, and introduced themselves.
“When Ella told me Grace had a famous relative,” one of them said, “I could hardly believe it. My younger brother used to pore over that swimsuit edition every year. I’m sure he . . .” She broke off with an uncomfortable laugh.
“I guess I was pretty popular with teenage boys,” Sam agreed, deciding that the best defense was a good offense. “I try not to think about it, because you know . . .”
The women nodded and one of them visibly cringed. “Teenage boys. They’re even more terrifying now that I have a teenage girl.”
“I’m sure Trevor is scared to death.” The woman named Jill, who was also the volleyball team’s coach, gave Sam a knowing look. “I mean, Grace is a knockout and looks way older than thirteen.” She angled her head. “She actually looks just like you. But you’re her aunt so her mother . . .”
Here it comes. Sam forced herself to keep breathing. “My twin sister was Grace’s mother. She died when Grace was a baby.” She’d said the words simply, only the facts, and to her surprise the women seemed to accept it without question. Well, she was sure they had questions but were polite enough not to ask them.
“I’m sorry,” one of them said, a shorter woman with glasses. “Anyway, Trevor’s going to have to keep watch on her.”
“I’m sure he will,” Sam agreed. “But he’s also raising Grace to understand that she has more to offer than her looks. Any boy who likes her needs to treat her well.” She shrugged. “At the very least, she can learn from my mistakes. I made enough of them, but Grace is so much stronger of a person than I was.”
She expected the judgment now that she’d opened the door to it. While a couple of the women shifted awkwardly, Jill placed a hand on Sam’s arm. “I sort of want to hate you, but I made plenty of bad choices before I met my husband . . . a bucketful of them . . . and I’m glad I didn’t have to do it with the whole world watching.”
Sam offered the woman a small smile, a real one, which Jill returned.
“Don’t let the way she looks fool you,” Jenny said, joining the group and wrapping an arm around Sam’s waist. “Sam’s not perfect. She’s a horrible driver, can’t balance a checkbook, and she laughs like a hyena.”
Sam let out a strangled laugh then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God. I sound like a hyena.”
“Shh, darling,” Jenny said, resting her head on Sam’s shoulder. “You just shut that pretty mouth and all will be well.”
While the other women giggled, Sam pushed Jenny away with a grin. “We are no longer friends.”
“That’s ok,” Jill said. “You’ve got new friends now.”
The woman with the glasses nodded. “We just lost one of our Bunco ladies. You can fill in if you want?”
“I’d love to,” Sam answered, even though she had no idea what Bunco was.
“Come and eat some of her obnoxiously healthy food,” Jenny told the women. When Sam glared at her, she threw up her hands. “Ok, I’ll admit it tastes good.”
“I’ve been gluten free for a month,” one of the women said.
“Then you’re going to think you died and went to heaven,” Jenny told her, and the group moved over to the food table.
The girls had already filled their plates and were over on the side of the rec room that held Ping-Pong, air hockey, and foosball tables. Right now, Trevor faced Grace and one of her friends across the Ping-Pong table. He glanced over and gave Sam a thumbs-up, missing a serve, which made Grace and her friend cheer and do some elaborate fist-bumping.
“You did it,” Jenny said. “You’re on your way to winning over the teenage mom brigade. The Bunco invitation seals the deal.”
“Thank you,” Sam whispered. “I’m not sure why being the object of ridicule makes me more likable, but it worked.”
“It makes you human,” Jenny explained. “Less threatening.”
“I’m not a threat,” Sam protested.
“They know that now. Or at least they suspect it.” She turned to face Sam. “We’re clear that you don’t flirt with any husbands, right?”
Sam snorted. “I gave up flirting along with drinking binges and casual sex.”
“So you and Trevor are more than casual?”
“We’re—” Sam paused, poked the redhead in the arm. “Nice try, Nancy Drew. I’m not admitting anything to you.”
“Not what I heard,” Jenny said in a singsongy voice, then jumped away when Sam would have poked her again. “My work here is done, so I’m heading back to the city. I need to pick up Cooper from science club at five.”
“What do I do now?” Sam asked, grabbing hold of Jenny’s arm as she tried to move away.
“Go talk to them.”
She felt panic rise up her spine, radiating out to seep into every pore. This was the moment she wanted to go and hide. She needed to hide. Introductions aside, what did she have in common with these women? “About what?”
Jenny looked at her like she was crazy. She felt a little crazy. “Mom stuff,” Jenny said as if it was obvious.
“But I’m not a mom,” Sam hissed. “I’m barely an aunt.”
“You can do this.” Jenny gave her a little shove toward the food table. “Just be yourself.” She chuckled. “Actually, be Chloe. What would Chloe do in this situation?”
“Make them all love her,” Sam answered immediately.
“There’s your answer.” Jenny pushed her again then turned and hurried out of the room before Sam could stop her.
“Make them love me,” Sam muttered, swallowing back another wave of panic. That had never been a strong suit of hers, making friends. Until Kendall and Chloe, she hadn’t had any real women friends other than Bryce. And a twin sister didn’t count.
Tucking her hair behind her ears, she walked over to the table and straightened a pile of napkins. “I hope the food’s ok.” She immediately regretted it. Did it sound like she was fishing for a compliment? Did she sound needy and desperate? She felt needy and desperate.
“It’s all wonderful,” the woman with the glasses said. What was her name? Susan.
“Thank you.” Damn. Total fishing expedition.
“Can I ask you all a question?” Sam bit down on her lip as she tried to formulate coherent words in her mind.
“Sure,” Jill answered for the group, somewhat hesitantly.
“What’s the secret to raising a teenage girl?” As the women glanced at each other as if trying to figure out who would speak first, Sam blurted, “I’m asking because you all seem like you know what you’re doing. From what Grace and Trevor say, you have awesome daughters.” Reverse fishing for compliments. That was good, right?
She should shut her mouth now. But, no. She kept going. “I was kind of a train wreck when I was younger. You probably all know that because most of the stupid things I did were tabloid fodder for several years.”
She tried to laugh softly, but it sounded like an injured hyena. Not an improvement. “My sister was an even bigger mess before she died. I want to be a part of my niece’s life, but I’m not sure I know how. I work with teens all the time, but it’s different with Grace. She’s part of me.”
>
She pressed her lips together but she couldn’t seem to stop the words from tumbling out. “Of course you know because you’re all mothers. Real moms and I know I’m not. But I’m trying and . . . I hope you’ll share the secret.” She smiled and swallowed against another wave of panic, because the women were staring at her. Like she was a total idiot. She felt like a total idiot.
Susan stepped forward. “You already have the secret, such as it is,” she said with a gentle smile. “Trying. No matter if they hate you or you hate them or everything you think and say seems like garbage, you keep trying.” Several of the other women nodded. “It’s as simple as it is difficult,” Susan added.
A taller woman with a dark brown pixie cut and vivid blue eyes—Dana—cleared her throat. “Ice cream and wine help too. Healthy stuff is important, but so are alcohol and chocolate.”
Sam chuckled, not her hyena cackle but an honest laugh. “I can do chocolate and a glass of wine.”
“And real friends,” Jill added, “who have your back no matter what. Raising a teenage girl is not for the faint of heart.”
Sam thought of Kendall, Chloe, and Jenny and took a deep breath. “I have those friends, and I think I’ve met a few more today.”
Susan leaned forward. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Did you really date Leonardo DiCaprio?”
Sam made a face. She hated talking about her past. Her small circle of close friends weren’t interested in who she’d been back in her wild days. She was lucky to have those women in her life. But she also understood the fascination with celebrities and she was trying. For Grace. “We went out a couple of times, but it wasn’t serious. Our schedules never really meshed.”
Several of the women sighed. “What was he like?” Jill asked.
“Funny and charming,” she told them, “but not the man for me.” She tried to hide her gaze tracking to Trevor. He’d moved on to the foosball table and, from the looks of it, was having the time of his life getting his butt kicked by three members of the volleyball team. She’d had her share of famous men and none of them had held a candle to Trevor. So where did that leave her heart?
Tell Me Again Page 18