La Fleur de Love: The Series: Books 1 - 4

by Leger, Lori

  Sam leaned over to shake his hand. “Sure will, buddy.” Len walked out, leaving Carrie and Sam alone in the house. “Doesn’t he want to lock the place up?”

  Carrie dangled the keys in front of him. “I guess he thought I could handle it. So, how do you like me now, neighbor?”

  “Seriously?” Sam pulled her into his arms and nuzzled her neck. “I think I like you even more. Can I help move you in tomorrow?”

  She giggled, ticklish at his neck nuzzling. “I need something to move first. Mom mentioned that my cousin lives in a huge two-story house and has several sets of living and bedroom furniture, and she said I could borrow a few pieces. It’ll hold me until I get some of my own stuff.”

  “Are your kids okay with this?”

  Her throat tightened at the thought of her children. “No. I’m hoping they’ll come around. My mom swears they will. She told me to make the change and eventually they’ll end up with me.”

  Sam brushed a finger down one side of her cheek. “Do you believe that?”

  “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be doing this. I think Grant will want to graduate from Gardiner, though. He’s halfway through his junior year. I guess I can’t blame him for that.” Shaking off the urge to cry, she headed straight for the back door. “Come with me to check out the yard.” She walked onto the back porch, which was newly screened in and just right for a bistro-size table and chairs. It boasted a ceiling fan for those hot summer afternoons, as well as plenty of shelter for Toto on cold winter nights.

  “Your dogs are outside dogs, right?”

  She flipped a light switch, illuminating part of the fully-fenced-in backyard, and nodded. “Oh, I love gardenias,” she groaned, seeing several shrubs, along with two huge oak trees. “I’ll only have Toto here. He’s my dog. Lucas is Dave’s hunting dog.”

  Moonlight filtered through the branches of one oak that had to be at least fifty years old. She raised her arms toward the evening sky and inhaled the cold, crisp air of the late December night. “I don’t know about Toto, but I could be very happy here. As long as my kids are here, too,” she added in a somber note. “I’ll try to hang on until the beginning of the next school year. If they’re not here by then …” Carrie let the comment trail off, avoiding Sam’s gaze.

  She pulled her coat tight against the icy wind, and turned to examine the backside of the house. “You can’t see inside the bedrooms because of those new blinds. That’s good,” she mumbled. Her gaze gravitated toward the huge picture window in the dining area that faced the backyard, the only one with no covering. “I’ll have to buy drapes for that window. You can see clear into the living room through that thing.”

  She started for the house, and Sam followed. Once inside, she pulled a pad and ink pen from her purse to begin a list. Sam’s comment drew her attention.

  “Len did a great job with this place, didn’t he?”

  “It’s a wonderful house,” she replied. “The kids will be pleased. I think they believed we’d be stuck in a dump. Not that our house was a mansion or anything, but we were comfortable enough.” She stretched her arms out across the massive window. “I wish I had a measuring tape.”

  Within minutes, Sam had retrieved one for her and she had the measurements she needed. She let the tape snap closed and noticed Sam’s ear-to-ear grin. “Have you stopped to consider maybe you won’t like having me as a neighbor?”

  “I’d be a damn fool not to.” He stepped in to close the gap between them. “It’ll be a huge relief to have you here.”

  She blinked several times to stem the tears from forming. “I hope whoever’s making those damn calls doesn’t follow me here. I won’t feel good about this place until my kids are here, permanently. And I know they can’t be here until it’s safe for them.”

  “Somebody needs a hug.” He rocked her in his arms and whispered. “Have you taken all the notes you need for the night?”

  “I think so.”

  After returning to Sam’s driveway, Carrie stopped to retrieve a plastic container from the trunk of her car. “I brought you some goodies.”

  Once inside, Sam bit into a homemade fig tart, rolling his eyes in blissful appreciation. “Oh, God, that’s good. Please tell me you baked these.”

  “Those are my Mom’s specialty. I made the fudge and pralines, though.” She turned away when Sam grabbed a praline and held the container out to her. “I’m still too full from lunch. We always have too much food.”

  Sam rubbed his belly enthusiastically. “Sounds like a good time to me.”

  She leaned up against his counter and sighed. “And we’ll do it all over again tomorrow.” She turned to Sam to explain. “My brother, Josh, is coming in from north Texas late tonight. No one’s seen him in over a year.”

  “Your mom’s going to have a full house.”

  “Sometimes it’s a challenge to get everybody together at once. I don’t get to see some of them as much as I’d like to but we’re close for a big family.”

  Sam and Carrie spent the next hour seated beside each other on his couch, talking. One or the other got up to switch stations on his stereo when the urge hit. They kicked off their shoes, settled in close to each other, the television on but muted, and listened to music.

  “Nights like this I miss my old place,” Carrie admitted. “The smell of the fireplace on cold, winter nights. The view of the lake from the front porch. It’s really pretty out there.”

  Tightlipped, Sam left the couch and walked over to his stereo again. Instead of changing the station, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and turned to her. “Carrie—”

  She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. “Hmmm?”

  “Is, uh—I mean, would this place—” He stretched out an arm to indicate the living room and beyond. “If you decide you …” His voice trailed off, and he released a frustrated sigh. “I don’t have a whole hell of a lot to offer you, Carrie.” His eyes scanned the place, from his living room and dining area on down to the hallway. “This place is all I’ve got. It’s not fancy, and I don’t have a lot of money or material things.”

  Carrie’s breath caught at Sam’s heartfelt confession. She rose from the couch and walked over to meet him. “Money and things don’t matter to me, Sam. What matters is what’s in your heart.” She splayed her hand on the center of his broad chest. “I know you’ve got a good heart.”

  Sam reached out and gently placed one hand on each side of her face. “Thank you for that. I think you know by now how I feel about you. I just worry that maybe what I have isn’t enough.”

  “It’s enough, Sam. If we’re meant to be, what you have or don’t have materially won’t affect my decision, I promise you.”

  He pulled her close. “I want you to know I’ll do everything in my power to get your kids to like me so they’ll all want to move here. I know that’s what would make you happy, and God knows I want you happy here in Kenton.”

  She slipped her arms around his waist and gazed up into serious blue eyes. “Be careful, Sam. Talk like that could get you into big, big trouble.”

  “How so?”

  “Talk like that makes me never want to leave here.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on.”

  “Ah, but I still say once you get to know me you may not want me around.” She stood perfectly still as he traced the arch of her brows with one long index finger.

  “Bring it on, Baby. I’m dying to get the chance to prove you wrong.”

  She let him kiss her, clinging to him, her hand pulling his neck, his tangled in her hair. Another long exhibit of wanting and willpower as they both found the strength to separate.

  “Dear, God, I love your mouth,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. She moaned in pleasure, as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “And you smell so damn good. Is that the same perfume you always wear?”

  “Eau de gumbo?” she said, unable to resist. When he responded in a voice deep and raspy with need—half groan, half chuck
le—she couldn’t find it in her to laugh.

  “You have the most remarkable eyes I’ve ever seen.” His finger trailed down the side of her face and across the slope of her jaw line. “And you said it’s called Obsessed, or something like that?”

  “Obsession.” Her lids closed heavily, drugged with a sudden satisfaction that all was as it should be. Her head drooped forward to rest upon his chest as she felt the soft massage of long fingers against her scalp. Oh. My. God. She felt him, his breath, his heartbeat, his need for her.

  The sudden BANG against the wood siding of the house jarred them.

  “What the hell?” Sam leaned over to glare through the gaping black hole of the double windows behind the Christmas tree.

  Carrie clung too tightly to do anything but move with him. Nothing but darkness, muted by multicolored shadows from the tree lights reflected back at them.

  “Stay here, so I can check that out.”

  “Like hell I will.” Her voice, shrill with tension and terror, sounded foreign to her own ears. He tried again to make her stay put, but she refused.

  “Okay, but stay close,” he warned. Needlessly, as it turned out, since she’d already latched on to him like lint to one of those as seen on TV dusters.

  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?”

  He nodded. “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, her gaze kept returning to the blackness outside the windows. “Can we close those curtains?”

  He released the tiebacks until the drapes fell into place, sealing out the darkness. “Promise me something, baby?”

  “Maybe.”

  “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, even outside.”

  “Even if you’re locked inside?”

  “Yep.”

  Sam’s jaw worked. “I could take it as a compliment.”

  “You could.”

  Sam gave his eyes a dramatic roll.

  “Sam.” She lowered her voice. “Look at me.” Carrie smiled at the look of resigned worry in his eyes. She brought both hands to the sides of his face and pulled it level to her own. Gazing 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 Percy Sledge crooned Warm and Tender Love from the speakers. The local radio-station D.J. was smack dab in the middle of another hour of belly-rubbing Swamp Pop from the 60’s. 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 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, 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. She opened the front door and 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 good night. 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 brass handle of the storm door chilled her grip, in sharp contrast to the warmth of his 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 quickly.”

  Sam released her wrist. “I don’t want to pressure you.” One brow lifted cockily. “You know, 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 close 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 that rumbled deep in his chest.

  “And 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 taillights disappear around the corner. He gazed up at the clear, star-filled sky, thinking about the day’s events. The sound of a truck’s 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 rental. 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 knew it was Dave—felt the man’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 it 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. His imagination spun out of control as he contemplated all sorts of scenarios, all ugly. What the hell was Dave up to? It wasn’t long before he spied the red taillights of the truck. He passed it easily and concentrated on catching up to Carrie. At 90 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 let her know he wanted her to stop.

  Finally, she pulled over to the side of the road and came to a complete stop. Sam pulled up behind her car, was already halfway out of the cab before he threw his truck into park. 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 pointed to the approaching headlights.

  The truck accelerated as it passed 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 back home. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you drive all the way back to Gardiner with him waiting for you. It ain’t happening.”

  “I don’t understand. 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. That son of a gun wanted me to know it was him.” He shook his head, determination guiding is next actions as he took her gently by the arm. “Come on, let’s go home.”

  She pulled out of his grasp. “I think he got what he came for. 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 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 stalked off toward her car.

  “Dammit, Carrie, don’t be hard-headed about this!”

  She opened her car door and paused to send him a glare. “You’re not making any points. Good night, Sam.”