by Soraya Lane
She smiled back at him as a waiter placed a candle on their table that flickered and made shadows dance across Sam’s face.
“See, it wasn’t so hard to tell me about yourself, was it?”
Sam winked and then rocked back, speaking Spanish and ordering. She caught a few words, but it wasn’t a language she knew well.
“You just said I had a big butt and a hairy top lip, didn’t you?”
Sam laughed and leaned in, like he was about to share a big secret with her. “I just ordered us tequilas, and the best dishes this place has on the menu.”
“We didn’t even see the menu!” she protested.
“Would you believe me if I said there were only three items?”
Mia narrowed her gaze, trying not to laugh at him. She hadn’t seen a lot of this side of Sam, the funny, easygoing side to him, away from horses and sex and … she smiled to herself. She only knew him with either horses or sex involved, period.
“No.”
Sam grinned, waving the waiter over when he saw him carrying their drinks. “I asked him for his own personal favorites, told him we’d trust him.”
Mia shrugged, happy to try anything. “To good food,” she said, holding up her glass and clinking it to Sam’s.
When she took a sip it burned a fiery trail down her throat that warmed her right to her belly. “That’s strong,” she said, taking another sip. “Strong but good.”
Sam drained his as she watched. “Glad we appreciate the same drinks.” Mia took another sip, liking the heat that spread through her body as a result of it. “I’m going to be good and drunk before the food hits the table.”
“Enjoy the buzz. I’m only having one, to take the edge off.”
Of course, he was driving. “Edge off what?” she asked.
“Sitting here with you and being forced to tell my life story.”
Mia held up her glass and clinked it to his. “Ah, yes, back to you. What were we up to?”
He grunted. “My mom left us, and for some reason as we got older, Dad pulled away from his family. Maybe he was embarrassed.”
“You’d think he’d have wanted to be closer to them since he was raising you on his own.”
Sam’s laugh was dark. “I wouldn’t call what he did raising us. In fact, I don’t think he can take any credit other than not letting us starve.”
Mia nodded, not about to attempt a soothing reply. Sam’s face said it all—the husky tone of his voice telling her that whatever had gone on between him and his dad was something he still held deep.
“You’re making me feel bad for moaning about my own dad so much,” she admitted.
Sam shrugged. “The fact that I had a shitty upbringing doesn’t mean you can’t feel the way you do. But yeah, if he didn’t raise a hand to you or make you feel like a worthless piece of shit, then he’s probably not as bad as you think. Hand on my heart, I can honestly say I’m better off now he’s dead, and I’m not trying to be an asshole saying that, it’s the truth.”
They both took another sip then, and Mia studied Sam from across the table. Talking about his father had made his eyebrows knit closer together, his face drawn as he stared down into his drink. Whatever had happened between them, even so long ago, clearly still troubled him now.
Some of their food arrived then and Mia sat back, the aroma heavenly as she looked at the plate between them. Her stomach grumbled and she laughed.
“I forgot to eat lunch, I’m starving,” she said.
Sam gestured for her to start, and she obliged, taking some of the meat from the plate.
“Steak fajitas?” she asked, making him smile, changing his face back to the warm, open expression she was used to.
“Ah, and here I was thinking you were a virgin with Mexican food.”
“I think everyone knows what a fajita is, you idiot!” Mia laughed and they traded glances, making heat flood her body as she thought about the other meaning of that word. She was definitely no virgin, not where Sam was concerned.
Mia took her first mouthful of the tender steak, putting a piece on her fork before folding the rest of into the tortilla. She nodded. “Mmmm.” She took a proper big bite, watching Sam do the same, their mouths too full to say anything other than keep eating. The peppers and steak were divine, the flavors strong and hot.
“So good,” she finally managed, licking her fingers just as another plate was put in front of them.
Sam licked his fingers and grinned at her. “It might not be expensive eating, but it’s damn good,” he said, sitting back and looking from her to the new plate of food placed between them.
“What’s this one?” she asked. “Fish?”
“Yep, fish tacos,” Sam replied, nudging the plate closer to her. “He said it’s spicy so be careful.”
She loved how colorful the food was, the fish surrounded by some sort of chili and tomato salsa that she bet was as tasty as it looked.
“I’m going to explode if I keep eating this fast,” she said.
“So sit back a bit, relax,” he said, as he picked up a taco and grinned at her. “Drink some more tequila.”
Mia did exactly that, taking a little sip, finding it refreshing after the hot food. Maybe she was getting a little drunk already, or maybe it was just that she felt relaxed in Sam’s company, but she felt good. And he was right, there was definitely something good about dining somewhere unpretentious and eating damn good food. After studying him a bit longer, watching his jaw move, his eyes meeting hers for a moment and making her feel all fluttery inside, she picked up her taco for something to do. The flavors burst in her mouth, the hot chili balanced by lime juice, but still leaving her mouth pleasantly on fire.
“Good?” he asked as she reached for her drink. She wasn’t sure if it would make her mouth hotter or help to cool it.
“Uh-huh,” she managed, wondering how he seemed so cool as he raised a brow and finished his tequila.
“Want some water?” he asked her, but he was already waving the waiter over and saying one of the few words in Spanish she perfectly understood.
Once the water arrived she drained the glass. “How is my mouth getting hotter?” she muttered, noticing the way Sam was looking at her, his grin telling her that he was clearly finding her amusing.
“The chili does that sometimes,” he said. “I’m just doing a good job of putting on my poker face.”
She rolled her eyes at him, doubtful that he was pretending. He was probably well used to food this hot and just enjoying seeing her squirm. “I actually loved it, the flavors were amazing.”
Sam pushed their empty dishes aside and leaned in closer, his elbows on the table. With his shirtsleeves rolled up and his tanned forearms on display, he looked too handsome for words. His smile was wide, his dark eyes warm as he watched her, and she wondered what he was thinking about.
“So tell me about you,” he said. “I think it’s about time you told me why you were so keen for…” his mouth kicked up in one corner, “a no-strings affair.”
Mia wasn’t embarrassed, but she always found her skin flushed when Sam talked to her like that, when his eyes never left hers and made her feel like the only person in the room. It was a feeling that she liked as much as it made her uncomfortable. “There’s not a lot to tell.”
He laughed. “Why do I not believe you?”
“Honestly, I just…” she strummed her fingers along the glass in front of her before looking back up and meeting Sam’s gaze again. “I guess I’m sick of my expectations not being met and I don’t want to compromise who I am for anyone. I’m never going to be barefoot and pregnant, happy to live off my trust fund or a husband’s bank account. But the men I meet that seem impressed by what I do, they always treat it as a hobby, or else they see me as someone to provide them with the lifestyle they want. The only guys not like that are the ones I’ve met through show jumping, but, I don’t know, nothing has ever come of those dates.”
Sam touched her fingers across the table,
his thumb brushing back and forth against her hand. “I don’t think you’ve been looking in the right places. There are plenty of men who would love you for who you are, money aside. And I bet there are guys who see you, hell, maybe even compete against you, who’d love to ask you out but they’re probably just intimidated.”
She liked his optimism, even though she didn’t agree with him. “Intimidated by me?” she asked, watching how his face changed, feeling his thumb stop moving. “So these men, they’re not like you, then? Because you haven’t seemed even remotely intimidated by me.”
“Better men than me,” he replied, reaching for her glass and taking a sip of tequila before pushing it back across the table to her. “Trust me.”
“I think you’re too hard on yourself.” The words came out before she’d had time to think about them, the alcohol maybe making her more brazen than she would otherwise have been. “I’d like to know why you were so hell bent on not ending up in a relationship. I’m at a stage in my life where I don’t want or need to settle down, but you, you give off the vibe that you don’t ever want to be in a relationship.”
More food arrived, the smell filling Mia’s nostrils almost immediately. But she still didn’t take her eyes off Sam, watching as his jaw tightened, visible even in the dim light.
“I’m not made for relationships,” he said. “Once I was, but not now.”
She was about to ask him more, wanting to find out what had changed him, what had made him the way he was, but the waiter appeared and made a fuss of asking them how their meals were. She smiled and nodded and Sam spoke, and when they were alone again he helped himself to the dish in front of them. Mia was so full she doubted she could eat much more, but she put a little on her plate.
“Chili con carne,” he said, his plate full. “He said he noticed you flapping your hands around your mouth after the last dish, so they’re hoping this one doesn’t blow you away.”
Mia laughed and looked over to see the chef leaning out of the kitchen, watching her with the waiter craning his neck beside him. She gave them a little wave before taking a mouthful of the hot chili, beef, bean and tomato dish. Like everything else, it was amazing, spicy but so tasty.
She touched her heart and smacked her lips together, making the men across the room laugh. When she turned, laughing herself, back to Sam, she noticed a change in his expression, a sadness there. Or maybe she was just imagining it.
“Pretty good, huh?” he asked.
“Amazing.” Mia put more on her plate, eating until her belly was beyond full.
“I think this might become one of my favorite places,” he said.
“We should come again next weekend and the one after that,” Mia said, “I want this all over again.” Sam opened his mouth and then she groaned, holding up her hand. They weren’t going to be together then. Sam would be gone then, and what they had would be over.
“Would it be so bad if we saw each other still?” she asked.
“The longer it goes on the harder it becomes to…”
She shrugged. “Whatever. It’s fine. I was just meaning that the food was so good.”
“You could bring preppy guy here,” Sam teased. “I’m sure he’d love it.”
Mia glared at him. “That date was a favor to my best friend. And you know what? If I hadn’t met a certain cowboy who got me all hot under the collar, maybe I’d have had more fun with him. Maybe he stared at his damn phone all night because he could tell I wasn’t that into him.”
Sam leaned back in his chair, but the way he looked at her made her feel like he was only a breath away. If she shut her eyes, she could feel that hot breath of his on her skin, could feel the weight of his body as it shifted against her, the familiarity of his touch. It was like he was undressing her with his eyes.
“Who made you so damn scared of commitment?” she asked him.
Sam gave her his poker face again. Only she saw through it and then some. “Let’s just say that whatever happened to me made me pretty certain I’d never trust anyone with my heart again.”
“Sounds like we’ve both had some pretty good relationships in the past,” Mia said, not wanting to push him and deciding to make light of it and move on. “But seriously, why did this one hurt you so bad? She was seriously that nasty?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Sam muttered, pushing his chair back. “You want to stay longer or go?” he asked.
Mia pushed her chair back and stood, too. “Let’s go.”
She watched him walk away and pull his wallet from his pocket. She let him pay; heaven knew they were paying him enough for his few weeks of work that she didn’t feel bad letting him cover the bill. Besides, she was pretty sure he would have told her off if she’d offered to pay her share, anyway.
She drank in the sight of him, never tiring of the way his jeans fitted him, the way he moved, the breadth of his shoulders and the glint in his eye when he turned to her.
“Thanks for dinner,” she said when he spun around and reached for her hand.
“Hey, you’ve cooked for me, this was my way of saying thanks,” he said, drawing her in for a kiss. She expected his lips to touch her cheek, to brush her lips perhaps, but he stopped moving and kissed her properly, like he was reminding her of what was to come, and she didn’t mind one bit.
His mouth was spicy, just like hers, the tequila making her giddy, making her want more even though they were still standing in the middle of a restaurant. Sam had some dignity though, tugging her outside as he raised his hand and waved to the waiter who was no doubt having a laugh watching them.
When they reached Sam’s truck he pushed her roughly back against it, claiming her mouth again, only this time no one was watching and he knew it. His hands skimmed beneath her top, pushing it up, connecting with bare skin, and she moaned when he pushed into her, his belt buckle cool against her stomach.
Mia raised a leg, hooked it around him, desperate to feel him even closer. Sam’s hand closed around her thigh, fingers digging deep, holding her there, before running his palm around her upper leg to cup her butt.
“I think I should take you home,” Sam muttered in her ear when he finally broke their connection, his breath fast, his mouth still inches from hers.
Mia ducked back in for another quick kiss, which turned into her grinding against him and him exploring her mouth like he’d never kissed her before.
“Home,” she whispered, running her hands down his chest, loving the feel of his hard muscles beneath it.
Sam gave her a sexy-as-hell wink before walking away from her, shaking his head like she was the naughty one. She laughed. Maybe she was.
* * *
Sam found it damn hard to concentrate on driving back to the River Ranch. Mia kept running her fingers up and down his thigh, always stopping before connecting with his crotch. She was driving him crazy.
When they finally pulled into her driveway he fought to go slow, aching to thump his foot on the accelerator and get to her place fast. Finally he pulled up by the stables, at the same time as her hand pulled away.
“You’re in big trouble,” he growled out, reaching for her, but she gently pushed him away.
“Sorry, I…”
Sam touched her arm. “You okay?”
She shook her head. “I don’t feel so good. My stomach’s kind of leaping around.”
Sam was about to respond when she pushed open the door and bolted away, the little lights that illuminated the path down to her house the only reprieve from the darkness. He followed, worried about her, but not wanting to crowd her.
He listened to her door open, soon went through it himself and shut it behind him. And then he heard a sound that made his stomach weaken. She was definitely sick.
“Hey, anything I can do?” Sam called out, moving into her bedroom to stand beside the bathroom. He didn’t look in, wanting to give her some privacy.
He heard groaning and his heart went out to her. Dinner had tasted so good, but something told h
im that maybe it hadn’t been prepared so well. But then would she be sick so soon from that? He guessed so.
He walked to the kitchen, poured her a glass of water and returned, knocking lightly on the door. “I’m coming in.”
“No, don’t!” she groaned out.
Sam did anyway, going straight in and setting the glass down on the marble top. Then when she lurched forward, on her knees, hands on the toilet seat, he scooped her hair up and held it off her face.
“Go,” she whispered. “Please. Don’t … want … you…”
He winced when she was sick again, over and over, but he patiently held her hair and rubbed her back, feeling terrible for taking her to out for dinner only to have her sick so soon after.
“Have some water,” Sam said, finding a hair tie in the drawer and managing to twist it around her hair successfully so it didn’t fall forward. Then he passed her the glass. “Here.”
She took a small sip and passed it back to him, before lying on the cool tile, her cheek pressed to it.
“You can go,” she whispered against the floor.
Sam stood and ran the bath instead, knowing she must be feeling terrible. He listened to her vomit again and returned to rub her back, doing what he could.
“I’ll fill the bath, then you can get in when you start to feel a little better,” he said.
It was almost an hour later when Mia rose from the floor, holding out a hand to him. He pulled her to her feet and slowly undressed her, slipping her camisole off when she raised her arms and then sliding her jeans down over her ankles and off. When she was left in only her lacy panties, he carefully peeled them off too, admiring the curve of her ass and the softness of her golden skin as he did so, even though he never touched her sexually while he helped her. She was sick and he didn’t touch women who weren’t in the mood.
“Here you go,” he said, taking her arm and helping her in.
She sunk down, her hair still in the rough ponytail he’d formed for her.
“Thanks,” she murmured.