by Leger, Lori
He groaned, frustrated at her lack of concern. 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 someone in the Gardiner police department.”
“Sam—”
“And do me a damn favor, would you?” he cut in, his voice rising from his aggravated state. “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, she made a u-turn on the highway, and headed back toward Kenton. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered, as she passed him, keeping her eyes straight ahead. He maneuvered his truck into a one-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, he and Carrie were spending the night together. Hell, he may have to shake the bastard’s hand before it was over with. He pulled up alongside her under the carport. She got out of her car, looking like she could spit nails. Then again—maybe not.
Sam slammed his truck door, thinking he should try to smooth things over. “Look, you drove all the way over here to see me and that house. It’s my responsibility to make sure you’re okay.” She turned her back on him and walked 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 stubborn!”
“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 muttered a low string of curses that would make any Marine proud. By the time she turned back toward him, he’d wiped all signs of amusement from his face.
“What do we do, now?” She crossed her arms, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.
“You might want to call your sister, if she’s waiting at home for you.” Sam handed her his cordless and then walked into his bedroom to kick off his shoes. He turned on the king-size 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. He snorted to himself. And she called him stubborn? He settled on a long-sleeved flannel shirt, faded and soft from hundreds of washings. He turned, startled, to find Carrie standing, shoving the phone in his face.
“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.”
He resisted wincing at her tone. “That’d be me.”
“Are you using this situation as an excuse 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. I don’t care how big you are. You got that?”
Sam’s breath rushed out of his gaping mouth.
“Did you hear what I said, Mr. Langley?”
“Uh, yeah. I hear you, 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 big sister …”
He heard her voice crack and waited for her to finish, realizing they were on the same team.
“And Dave has already put her through too much hell.”
“I know, and yeah, I’m sure. I won’t hurt her.”
“All right then. Put her back on the phone.”
Carrie waited until Sam disappeared down the hallway. “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. Even then, some guys would sleep with a lady Sasquatch to get some. Start carrying condoms at all times.”
“Christie!” Carrie hissed.
“You need to know these things if you’re going to live as a single woman. There are diseases 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.”
“Hanging up now.” She watched Sam’s approach.
“Remember! Condo—”
She cut off the conversation and put the cordless on the counter as Sam approached.
“Here, let me know what else you need and I’ll 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 him 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. An 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 the heater on. Thanks for turning on the blanket for me, Sam.”
He smiled and took one step inside the room. “You’re welcome. You need anything else?”
“I don’t think so.”
He turned halfway, then paused. “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 kept his silence.
She attempted to roll up one sleeve without exposing too much of herself to the chilled air. “Somebody’s got really long arms.”
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 soft and cozy. 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 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 too damn long. She thought about his size thirteen shoes and her face heated immediately.
“You look even better in my bed.” A split second later, he clicked off the lamp. “Good night, Babe.”
She barely managed to croak a hoarse “Good night.”
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 oppos
ite 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 him 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.
Carrie awoke slowly, aware of being wrapped in warmth. I must get myself an electric blanket. She lay there, her eyes closed, drowsy from sleeping so hard, and trying to figure out why she was so 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 you going?” His voice was rough and gravelly.
“I wanted to put some space between us.” She moved herself to the far side of the bed. “Why are you here?”
“I live here, what about you?”
She made a face. “Always a smart ass. What, the sofa’s not as comfortable as you remembered?”
“I tried babe, I really did. I finally gave it up around three o’clock. How about you? Did you sleep well?”
Carrie nodded. “I did, but I really have to get dressed and go home.”
He turned to face her. “Merry Christmas, Carrie.”
She smiled. “I’d almost forgotten. Merry Christmas to you, too, Sam.”
“Waking up with you in my bed on Christmas morning—this rates number one on the ‘best Christmas gift’ list.” He gave her a crooked, though somewhat sleepy grin.
She blushed and pulled the covers up over her mouth. “I’m a little mortified, if you want to know the truth.”
His brow furrowed. “Why?”
The covers over her mouth muffled her reply. “Oh—dragon breath, no make-up, and messy hair. Not how I’d choose you to see me this early in our relationship. My ex didn’t even see me like this until after we were married.”
“When it was too late to take it back?”
She punched him on the shoulder. “Oh, that’s nice.”
Sam cracked a wide grin, then farted loudly. “There, that should even things up.”
“Ever the charmer,” she snorted. “And here I thought it was just a Dave thing.”
He laughed and tweaked her nose. “I’d wager it’s more of a guy thing. Naw, you look fine to me. As a matter of fact,” he drawled, reaching out for her. “I wouldn’t mind waking up to this sight every day for the rest of my life.”
“Uh uh.” She scooted away from him and out of the bed. Carrie stood and pulled at the shirt hem in an unsuccessful effort to make it longer. She grabbed her things and ran quickly into the master bathroom, but not quick enough to keep Sam from getting a good look at the hem of his shirt flapping on bare thighs.
“You look damn good in my shirt!” he called out as the door shut.
She opened the door just a crack. “You’d better be dressed by the time I get out of here.”
Carrie exited the bathroom fully dressed, combed, and made-up. The welcome aroma of bacon frying permeated the air, making her mouth water and stomach growl. She stepped into the kitchen, appreciating the rear view of Sam standing in front of the stove. “Mmm, it smells good in here.”
He spun around to face her. “Hey, pretty girl, are you hungry? I’ve got biscuits, bacon, and scrambled eggs coming right up.”
“I’m starving.” She seated herself in front of the plate of food he placed on the snack bar. “Thanks, Sam.”
“It’s the least I could do.” He shrugged. “Sorry, but I don’t own a coffee maker. We could go over to my folks if you want,” he suggested. “They’re a couple of houses down from me across the backyard.”
Carrie cringed and shook her head. “Let’s do that when I don’t feel awkward about sleeping here all night. I’ll be okay until I get back to Christie’s.”
He nodded as he served a second plate for himself. “What are we going to do about Dave?”
She waited for him to sit beside her. “You mean, what am I going to do?”
Sam shook a bottle of hot sauce over his eggs. “The man followed you to my turf; I’m directly involved now.”
She considered that for a moment. “I guess you’re right. I really don’t know what I can do other than keep Rob Ledoux informed. He didn’t break any laws.” She popped a piece of bacon in her mouth and chewed.
“You want juice or milk?”
“Juice, please.”
He poured a glass and placed it beside her plate. “Maybe we should tell Doug, my neighbor.”
She frowned, giving her head a shake. “Cops talk, Sam. I don’t need the whole town knowing about this. Besides,” she added. “Maybe now that he’s seen you, he’ll leave it alone. I promise I’ll tell Rob what happened.”
His face sobered with concern. “I’d feel a hell of a lot better explaining the situation to Doug. You’ll be a citizen of this town soon. It would help if he knew what was going on.”
Carrie lowered her head and released a low groan. “Would you at least wait until I’m gone? I can’t face anyone this morning, especially knowing what he’ll be thinking.”
“I hate to ask, but do you have a picture of him? It might help if he could put a face to the name.”
Carrie pulled an old family photo from her wallet, folded so that only she and the kids were visible. “God, this is humiliating. Before this is over with everyone in Gardiner and Kenton will know everything about my crazy ex and psycho stalker.”
Sam reached for the photo and studied it for a moment. Carrie bit her bottom lip, trying to gauge his reaction as he got his first glimpse of her and Dave as a couple. She tensed, fighting the urge to rip it out of his hands.
He glanced her direction. “You look like a cat ready to bolt, what’s wrong?”
She jutted her chin toward the photo in his hands. “I can’t explain it, but for some reason I’m uncomfortable with you seeing that.”
He smiled as he studied the picture. “That’s a good-looking lady.”
“Not good enough. He left me for another woman before the proofs came in.”
Several creases appeared on Sam’s brow as he grunted in disgust. “Can I say again what a fool your ex is?”
By eight a.m., Sam waved Carrie off and walked back inside. He hated the emptiness of his place now that she was gone. He tried to imagine her living here, in this home, giving the place her own personal touch, doing what women do to make a place their own. One thought led to another and soon he was wondering if his kids would accept her as a stepmother. Carrie was right. More than two lives would be affected by their new relationship. It would merge two families—two branches from two separate trees. Would their kids get along—eventually accept each other as siblings? Would they be able to blend as a family?
Suddenly, it hit him. The realization of the enormous sacrifice Carrie and her children would have to make by relocating—if they chose to. They’d go through a tremendous upheaval and a hell of a lot of trouble. Am I worth it? It forced him to think about the kind of man, the kind of husband he’d been. The kind of man he was now. He shook his head—there was definitely room for improvement. He vowed then and there that if he ever got the chance to start the new life he wanted with Carrie, he would be a better man and a better husband.
Sam placed the blankets and extra pillow back into his closet, then walked into his master bathroom. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent, wishing he could keep it with him. He picked up the flannel shirt she’d folded and placed on the side of the tub and held it up to his nose. That’s Carrie. He buried his face in it, thinking it was a crappy substitute for the real thing. Instead of
bringing it to the laundry room to be washed, he folded it, carried it back into his room, then placed it on the foot of his bed. He paused, catching sight of his smugly pleased expression in the mirror. “Shut up.” He turned and left the room.
Sam bundled up and went out on his porch to stare at Carrie’s rent house. Lost in his own thoughts about the possibilities, he didn’t notice Linda pull up to the front of the house until the door opened and Nick spilled out. His gangly son hauled a duffle bag from the back seat, then waved off his mom. Sam didn’t even look at the car until the brakes squealed at the intersection. No gut wrenching pain in his stomach, none of the regrets he usually felt around this time. Amazing. He pictured Carrie in his flannel shirt and in his bed first thing this morning. The sound of Nick’s throat clearing jolted him into the present.
“Hey, old man, what’re you grinning about?”
Sam turned to open the door for his son. “I didn’t realize I was, but I guess it’s because I feel so good.” He hugged Nick, then slapped him heartily on the back. “Merry Christmas, Son.”
“You too, Dad.”
Sam took his son’s shit-eating grin for what it was. “What’s on your mind?”
“I heard we’re getting a new neighbor soon.”
Sam played along, fully suspecting that at least one of Linda’s friends had called her already. “Anyone we know?”
“Nobody I know, but I heard you may know her. Some young thing, from down around Gardiner,” Nick drawled.
Sam gave his son a knowing grin. “Who called her?”
“She wouldn’t say, but she heard all about you calling around for deposit info. Whoever called Mom said this woman left her husband for you.”
“Bullshit. Carrie was six months separated and waiting on her divorce when I met her. And your mom has met her already. She walked over to our table to check her out at the steak house the other night.”
“Uh huh, I heard all about it.”
“I’m not going to lie to you, Son. I care for this woman, and I hope she’s more than a friend one day.” He leaned against a section of the ponderosa pine cabinets he’d built himself and crossed his arms. Sam stared at his son, wondering if his ex-wife had said anything to poison him against Carrie. “Look, I don’t know what she told you, and I don’t want to know.” His tone bordered on forceful. “Carrie’s a real nice lady. She’s thirty-six and has three teenagers. She’s having some trouble with her ex-husband, and I need to let you know what happened here last night before the town gossips get a hold of it.” He explained the occurrences of the previous night before leveling a serious look on his son. “To make a long story short, I made her come back to the house with me. I didn’t want her running into him down the road. Yes, she spent the night here, but nothing happened.”