by Leger, Lori
Once outside, they investigated the area around the double windows, finding nothing.
“Do you think the wind blew something against the side of the house?” she asked.
“It’s one possibility, I guess—”
“But you don’t think so?”
“I didn’t say that.” He peered into the darkness before draping his arm around Carrie’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s go back inside.”
Once inside, she caught her gaze going to the blackness outside the windows. “Can we close those curtains?”
He released the tie-backs until the drapes fell into place, sealing out the darkness. “Hey Baby, can you promise me something?”
“Depends…”
“Next time I ask you to stay inside, could you please do that? I mean, considering everything that’s happened—”
“No.”
“Final word?”
“For now, I feel a lot safer with you than alone in a house.”
“Even if you’d be locked inside?”
“Yep…”
Sam’s jaw line worked as he clenched his teeth. “I guess I could take that as a compliment—”
“You should.”
Sam gave his eyes a dramatic roll.
“Sam,” she said, her voice soft, but insistent. “Look at me.” Carrie smiled at the look of resigned worry in his eyes, recognizing his concern. She brought both hands to the side of his face and pulled it level to her own. When she could see straight into his eyes she gave him a tentative smile. “Have I told you how much I love it when you call me Baby?”
Sam cocked his head to the side, and gave her a sheepish grin. “I aim to please.”
She looped her arms around his neck as The Uniques crooned Warm and Tender Love from the speakers. The local radio station D.J. promised another hour of belly rubbing Swamp Pop from the sixties. They swayed in unison to the music as winds rattled the windows in the small living room. Flames of the gas space heater flickered with the draft as Sam maneuvered her closer to the warmth.
She flexed her shoulders and groaned as the waves of heated air radiated up her back.
“I know,” he muttered. “It gets pretty cold in here when the wind comes in from the north. I plan to change those old windows out.” His gaze settled on her. “This place needs some work.”
She studied the room as if giving it an appraisal. “It’s a nice place.”
“I’ve always thought so, but I’ve been told that I get too set in my ways and resist change.”
“Yeah?” she answered with some amusement. “If I stick around long enough, maybe you’ll let me whip you into shape.”
He raised one brow. “I’m whip-able, and you’re sure as hell welcome to try.”
She smiled and put her head down on his shoulder as they continued to dance to the old song. Suddenly, she could picture them dancing just like this, years from now, in this same house, their hair peppered with silver, their faces wrinkled, and surrounded by pictures of grandchildren and great grandchildren.
Instead of comforted by the image, Carrie felt a sudden rush of panic, as though things were moving far too quickly. She cleared her throat and moved away from him, pretending to be calmer than she felt. “I have to go now, Sam.”
He frowned in disappointment. “So soon?”
“I…I just realized how much I have to do.” She pressed one hand against her stomach, queasy with nerves, as she reached for her purse with the other. At the door, she turned, letting her gaze settle on him. “Thanks for all your help.”
She saw momentary confusion cross his features as he nodded and lowered his head to kiss her goodnight. Instead of raising her lips to him, she turned so that his mouth grazed her cheek. She gave him a stiff smile and turned to walk out the door.
He caught her wrist, halting her escape. “Don’t leave me like this without at least telling me what I did wrong.”
The metal handle of the storm door was cold in her grip in sharp contrast to his warm hand on her wrist. “Honestly, you did nothing wrong, Sam. It’s happening too fast, that’s all.” She grasped his hand tightly, and found the courage to face him. “It scares me.”
“What does?”
Carrie scanned his living room, then the porch with brightly colored Christmas lights, and finally landed on the large blue cross on his lawn. “This.” She lifted her hands to indicate all of it. “You…the way you make me feel. It’s wonderful, but I’m afraid I’ll find myself in the same situation, because I let it happen too fast.”
Sam released her wrist. “It wasn’t my intent to pressure you.” One brow lifted cockily as he grinned at her. “You could let me gloat a little for making you feel that way, even if it scares you.”
“Oh, Lord. I can see your ego inflate as we speak.”
He pulled her to him for a hug. “I can’t help it, Carrie. I’m proud as hell that you’d even consider dating me.”
She dropped her head back and groaned. By the time she straightened to kiss him, on the lips, this time, she’d accepted her defeat. “All right, Sam, you win, but I really do have to go.” Chills ran up her spine at the chuckle rumbling deep in his chest.
“After that, I’ll let you.”
She pulled her hand out of his and walked to her car, smiling to herself.
Sam stood at the end of his sidewalk, watching her tail lights disappear around the corner. He gazed up at the clear, star-filled sky, thinking about the day’s events. The sound of a diesel engine starting up caught his attention. A cold dread crept up his spine as he watched the pick-up pull out from in front of Carrie’s rent house. The two-toned truck drove slowly along his street then slowed to a near stop directly in front of him. He couldn’t see past the dull glow of the dash lights, but he felt Dave’s gaze on him.
Sam walked determinedly towards the truck, his hand reaching for the door handle. He slapped the side of the vehicle, swearing loudly as Dave sped off after Carrie.
Feeling for his keys, he swore again as he realized they were inside. Sam jumped the steps, and ran to the key rack, knowing in his gut they wouldn’t be there. “Shit! Where’d I put the damn things?” He spun around, now in full panic mode, and saw them hanging off the edge of the counter top. In five seconds he was out the door and down his steps. His truck’s engine barely had time to catch before he threw it in reverse and pulled out of his carport. Spinning his tires on the street, he sped off in pursuit of the other two vehicles.
Concern for Carrie overrode his regard for traffic laws or cops as he prayed he’d catch up to her before her ex did something stupid. What the hell kind of game was Dave playing? What was he up to? It wasn’t long before he spied the red tail lights of Dave’s truck. He passed it easily and concentrated on catching up to Carrie. At ninety miles per hour, it only took another minute to catch her. He flashed his lights a couple of times and turned on his interior light to show her it was him.
Finally, she pulled over to the side of the road and came to a complete stop. Sam pulled up behind her car, threw his truck into park when he was halfway out of the cab. He grabbed Carrie’s hand as she got out of her car and pulled her off the road.
“What’s going on?”
“Dave followed you,” he said, pointing out the approaching headlights.
The truck accelerated as it passed before them, leaving them standing on the side of the road and staring after it.
Sam pointed at Carrie’s sedan. “You can get back in that car and follow me home, hon. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you drive all the way back to Gardiner with that psycho laying in wait. It ain’t happening.”
“I don’t understand any of this. When did you see him?”
“He’d parked in front of the house, Carrie…your house. As soon as you left, he started his truck and passed slowly in front of me. He wanted me to know it was him.” He shook his head in determination. “Come on, let’s go home” he said, taking her arm.
She pulled out of his grasp. “I think he g
ot what he came for, Sam. I’m sure it’s fine for me to go back to Christie’s.”
“It’s not fine,” he growled. “I’ll have to wait and wonder for another hour if he ran you off of the road somewhere and did God knows what to you. I can’t let you do that. You’re coming home with me,” he said, as he nudged her gently to her car.
She spun away from him. “I’m thirty-six years old, Sam. Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do.”
Sam spoke before he thought. “Well, now you’re just being silly. Come on, let’s go.”
She turned an icy glare in his direction. “I didn’t leave one controlling man to fall into the arms of another,” she said, stalking off toward her car.
“Dammit Carrie, don’t be hard headed about this!”
She opened her car door and paused to send a glance in his direction. “You’re not making any points. Goodnight, Sam,” she added.
He dropped his head back in frustration. Okay, if he couldn’t reason with her, maybe he could scare her. He walked up to her door before she closed it, and leaned in the window as she buckled herself in. “All right, but I’m following you home.”
“You don’t have—”
“And when I get there I’m going to stay parked in your drive. And you can bet your ass before I leave town, I will be talking to the Gardiner police department.”
“Sam—”
“And do me a damn favor, would you?” he cut in, his voice rising in frustration. “If you see his truck pulled over somewhere, don’t stop to talk to him. If he’s in front of you, don’t try to pass him. And if he pulls up alongside you, pull into the first driveway you see, all right?” He walked back to his truck, got in…and waited. After almost a minute of waiting, he watched her make a u-turn on the highway, and head back toward Kenton. “I’ll be damned…” he muttered, as she passed him, keeping her eyes straight ahead. He maneuvered his much larger vehicle into a hundred and eighty and followed her.
By the time they made it home, he found himself wondering how Dave would take the news that, thanks to him, they were spending the night together. “I may have to shake the bastard’s hand for this,” he muttered. He pulled up alongside Carrie under the carport and watched her get out of her car, looking none too happy. “Then again, maybe not.”
Sam slammed his door thinking he should try to smooth things over. “Look, you drove all the way over here to see me. It’s my responsibility to make sure you’re okay,” he called out as she turned her back on him to walk up the front steps. He followed her inside and locked the doors behind him.
Carrie dropped her purse on the couch and turned to him. “God, you’re heard headed!”
“I can be,” he admitted, “when it’s called for.” He hung his keys on the rack and turned to point at her. “And I don’t give a rat’s ass how pissed you are, as long as you’re safe.” Sam grinned as she wheeled away from him and let loose a low string of curses that would make any Marine proud. By the time she turned back toward him, any sign of amusement was wiped from his face.
“What do we do, now?” she asked, clearly annoyed at the situation.
“You might want to call your sister if she’s waiting at home for you.” Sam handed her his cordless and walked into his bedroom to kick off his shoes. He turned on the king sized electric blanket to high then rummaged through his clothes trying to find something for her to sleep in. He could hear her on the phone, explaining things to her sister, and saying how she was sure he’d overreacted. “And she called me hard-headed,” he mused. He settled on a long-sleeved flannel shirt, faded and soft from hundreds of washings. He turned, startled, to find Carrie standing there with the phone shoved toward him.
“She wants to talk to you.”
“What for?”
“I have no idea.”
Sam took the phone, holding it as though it could explode any second. “Hello?”
“So you’re Sam.”
“That’d be me,” he said, already bristling from her tone.
“Are you using this to get into my sister’s pants?”
“What? Hell, no!”
“Why not? Are you gay?”
Sam rubbed his hand roughly over his forehead. “Oh my God.”
“Are you?” she repeated.
“Of course, not.”
“Well, then, let me give you one word of warning. If you hurt my sister, I’m going to find you and give you a world of trouble, you got that, big boy?”
Sam’s breath rushed out of his gaping mouth.
“Did you hear what I said, Mr. Langley?”
“Uh…yeah…I heard you just fine. And you don’t have to worry.” He listened as dead silence greeted him. “Are you there?”
“Yeah. Are you sure? Because she’s my sister…”
He heard her voice crack and waited for her to finish, realizing they were on the same team.
“…and that damn Dave has already put her through too many years of hell.”
He softened his comment. “I know that, Christie—and yeah, I’m sure.”
“Okay…put her back on the phone.”
Carrie waited until she heard Sam’s bathroom door close. “Chris?”
“Carrie, you didn’t shave your legs, did you?”
“Uh, last night I did, why?”
“Oh boy,” Christie groaned. “For future reference, unshaved legs are the best reason in the world to keep your pants on. Now, some guys would sleep with a lady bigfoot to get a piece, so you should carry condoms at all times.”
“Christie!” Carrie hissed.
“You need to know these things if you’re going to live as a single woman in today’s world. There are a lot of diseases being passed around out there.”
Carrie pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t think that’s a concern right now.”
“It’s always a concern and don’t you forget it. At least you can’t get knocked up.”
“Ugh…hanging up now,” she said, watching Sam’s approach.
“G’nigh—”
She ended the call and put the cordless on the counter.
“Here, let me know what else you need and I can scrounge something up.”
She took the flannel shirt and toothbrush still in the package that Sam handed her. “Thanks. This’ll do. Just get me a pillow and a blanket and I’ll take the couch.”
“No, you take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Too exhausted to argue with him, she nodded then went into the bathroom. Ten minutes later, she tiptoed out of the room, her face washed free of makeup and her teeth brushed. The tail of Sam’s clean flannel shirt trailed all the way to her knees. She didn’t see Sam around so it was the perfect opportunity to sneak into bed and avoid the embarrassment of him seeing her halfway undressed. She slipped under the covers, immediately enveloped by warmth instead of the expected iciness of cold sheets.
“Mmmm…electric blanket…yes.” She burrowed deep, pulling the toasty covers up to her nose in the chilly room.
“Do you need a heater in here?”
She turned toward the sound of Sam’s voice. “Nope, this is nice. My nose gets all stuffy if I sleep with a heater on. Thanks for turning on the blanket for me, Sam.”
He smiled down at her and took one step inside the room. “You’re welcome. You need anything else?”
“I don’t think so.”
He started to turn away but paused in the doorway. “You still mad at me?”
Carrie studied his demeanor, seeing the flash of guilt even though none of this was his fault. She pulled the covers down and reached for him with one hand.
He seated himself on the bed beside her.
“I’m not mad at you, Sam. I’m aggravated with Dave.”
He nodded, but remained silent.
“Somebody’s got long arms,” she said, trying to roll one sleeve without exposing too much of herself to the chilled air.
Without a word, he flipped one cuff into tight, neat rolls, then the other.
>
She raised her arms, now completely manageable. “Much better.”
“You look good in my shirt.”
Carrie lowered her arms and caught his heated gaze. “It’s comfortable. I might have to take it home with me.” She raised one sleeve to her nose and sniffed. “It smells like you.”
“It’s yours.” He stood up and reached for the lamp on the nightstand. “You want this off?”
She nodded, amazed at how that statement fit so many things. His clothes…her clothes…oh man…Christie was right…It had been so long. She thought about his size thirteen shoes and felt an immediate flush in her face.
“You look even better in my bed,” she heard him say, a split second before the click of the lamp. “Good night, Babe.”
“Good night,” she croaked.
Sometime during the night, Sam gave up the battle of trying to find a comfortable spot on that old sofa. He crawled into the bed on the opposite side of where Carrie slept soundly. You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.
Despite the fact that he was dead tired, it still took Sam a while to fall asleep. The image of Carrie in his flannel shirt and very little else planted itself firmly in his mind. By the time he did sleep, he was good and exhausted…and still on his side of the bed.
CHAPTER 15
Carrie awoke slowly, aware of being wrapped in warmth. I gotta get me an electric blanket. She lay there, her eyes closed, drowsy from sleeping so hard, and trying to figure out why she felt so completely comfortable.
Sam snorted in his sleep.
Carrie’s eyes flew open. What the hell? Sam was in bed with her, and somehow they’d both ended up in the middle of that California King…entangled limbs, her head on his chest, his arm wrapped tightly around her. She lifted her head from his chest and tried to inch herself back to her side of the bed. In a flash, Sam’s hand came out to grip her forearm, halting her retreat. She looked up, blinking sleep from her eyes, as she met his amused gaze with her own.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his voice rough, gravelly from too little sleep.