by Leger, Lori
Max complied, his face somber as he concentrated on his task.
“Just like that, Max. You learn quick, little man.” Tim stood and faced Christie. “Cute kid, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” Christie spat out, looking every bit as affronted as Carrie had when Officer Beefcake called her that the first time.
Carrie laughed and placed a hand on her sister’s arm. “Don’t worry, Chris. It’s a gender thing, not an age thing, right Officer?”
He graced Christie with a smile, showing off two full rows of perfectly straight, white teeth. “That is correct. Something drilled into me at an early age.” He turned his attention to Carrie. “Chief Ledoux asked me to check on you one last time, Ms. Jeansonne. He wanted to make sure you were okay. Personally, I would have liked to see you press charges on your ex, but it’s your choice, of course.”
Carrie waved him off. “Dave’s harmless. Just a pain in the butt, is all. Besides, I’ve got bigger problems than him, right now.”
Tim nodded, looking serious. “The caller, I know. Are you convinced he’s someone other than your ex?”
All trace of laughter vanished for her reply. “Unfortunately, I am.” Carrie finished the last of her coffee and turned to her sister, her voice lowered. “I’m going to soak in the tub for a bit. Tell Mom I’ll be there in time to tell Katie and her bunch goodbye before they leave for Texas.”
She left them then, but caught the low murmur of conversation for a few minutes longer. She smiled at the thought of Christie and Officer Tim as a couple. He seemed a little uptight, but if anyone could loosen someone up, it was her sister and her adorable son, Max.
She heard the light tap on the bathroom door, followed by Christie announcing their departure. “I won’t be long. Lock up behind you, please.”
Carrie showered and shaved her legs, then put the stopper in the tub and poured her favorite scented bath crystals. She lay back in the tub, allowed the luxurious aroma of jasmine, and the sounds of blessed silence work on her frazzled nerves. No phones, no television, no radio, no sound except for an occasional drip from the faucet. Tension eased from her body, and she even dozed for a few minutes.
The water cooled and she roused herself to step out of the tub. Dried and wrapped up in her thick terry robe, she applied her make-up. She entered the living room to retrieve the brush she’d forgotten in her purse.
Another brisk rap at the door had her inching the window’s curtain aside to check. Carrie gasped, dropped the curtain, and backed slowly away from the door.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Come on, Carrie. I know you’re in there.”
Oh, God.
“Come on, please open up.”
Carrie finally reached for the locks and opened the door. She stared at Sam, his bulk absolutely filling the space.
“Carrie …”
The deep timbre of his voice sent chills down her spine. Her feet could have been planted in cement. She’d lost all capability of speech—couldn’t even look away from him. What the hell is he doing here? Did it matter? He was here … for her.
Sam cleared his throat nervously. “May I come in?”
Carrie fought the urge to throw her arms around him. She forced herself to remain silent as she stepped aside. He walked past her. By the time he turned to face her, she’d already replaced her momentary smile of jubilance with a look of sober composure.
They stood there, neither speaking, but neither willing to break eye contact.
She savored the symptoms of Sam’s unease—a nervous tug of his collar, tucking and re-tucking his shirt, and fiddling with the waist of his jeans. Her mind’s processor worked at full capacity, trying to find answers to questions. How did he find his way here? The phone numbers—he must have called someone in her family. She groaned inwardly as realization hit her. Mom.
Of course, he’d call her mother. His own had spoiled him rotten. Why wouldn’t he expect her mother to bend the rules of family loyalty to help him out? And she did. She totally did. Carrie resisted the urge to laugh. She could just imagine the discussions going on at Mom’s this very moment. Even if she was ecstatic to see him here, she wasn’t ready to let Sam off the hook so easily. She pursed her lips to keep her grin at bay. He’s cute as hell when he’s all contrite and squirmy.
Sam jerked at his collar again, as though he found the room stifling. He finally seemed to pull himself together and spoke.
“I had to come, Babe. I had to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“You certainly are. And I can see you’re okay too.”
Her gaze had all the warmth of a winter day in the Arctic Circle.
Crash—and—burn.
He took a deep breath and released it as sweat beaded on his brow. She expected the poor man to turn tail and run back to Kenton any second now. You can run but you can’t hide, Langley. His presence here proved one thing—the man was into her something fierce. So much so, he was willing to put up with her wrath, as long as it meant she kept him around. She would, but not without seeing a little fancy footwork. Carrie fought to keep her unaffected gaze in place. Show me what you’ve got, Sammy.
“Carrie, I want to apologize for what I said over the phone. I wasn’t angry with you. I was frustrated at not being able to be here with you to protect you.”
She frowned. Why would I care if you were angry? Come on, Mr. Langley, surely you can do better than that.
“When you told me you’d confronted Dave, all I could think about was how and what he’d do to get back at you, Carrie. I was terrified for you, can you understand that?”
Carrie furrowed her brow even more. You’re disappointing me …
“I swear I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do, and I wasn’t angry at you.”
It’s not happening for me, Sam. Her facial expression must have shown her distaste for his last weak effort. His tone altered into something truly desperate.
“Damn it all, Carrie, I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t keep my big mouth shut and give you the support you asked for when you called me. I’m sorry I acted like a jerk.”
Better.
Sam rubbed his face with one hand. “As soon as I said it, I knew I shouldn’t have, I knew I’d screwed myself. I tried to apologize to you, but you hung up before I got a chance. The fact is I can’t even imagine a future without you in it.”
You’re getting there.
“Hell, Carrie, when you made that comment about not being the right woman for me—” He shook his head and muttered a not so mild oath. “That’s not true. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. You’re exactly the kind of woman I want. You are the only woman I want. I can take that side of you, Carrie. I love that kick-ass side of you that’s willing to stand up for your rights and not back down from anyone. I love that you feel this way, because, from what you’ve told me, for so long you didn’t, and now you do. I can’t help but feel proud of that. I’m proud of everything you’ve accomplished. I’m proud of you, and I’m so proud that you even entertained the thought of spending time with me. Even if you never speak another word to me, Baby—I still—I will always—love you.”
His proclamation nearly knocked the breath out of her, and she fought to keep the somber expression plastered on her face.
Sam narrowed the distance between them and placed both hands on her shoulders. “Can you forgive me? Can you give us another chance?”
The tick, tick, tick of the wall clock counted the passing seconds, as they stood facing each other in the otherwise silence of the room.
Sam searched for the sound and found the clock behind Carrie. He stared at its face, not wanting to see Carrie turn away from him. The clock counted fifteen seconds, then thirty, forty-five. He lost all hope as the second hand neared the one-minute mark.
It’s too late.
He was too much of a dumbass to learn from twenty years of mistakes, even with a year of loneliness as the harshest lesson. He turned, took three steps toward the d
oor.
“Sam.” She spoke softly.
The single word stopped him in his tracks.
He turned but kept his gaze down. He couldn’t bear to watch her lips form the words he did not want to hear. Couldn’t stand to hear her say he’d blown it.
“Sometimes I just need to vent. It doesn’t mean I need you to fix things for me. I’m a big girl, and I can do that for myself. Can you understand that?”
Sam nodded, but still avoided her gaze, looking everywhere but at her. He was too terrified to see something in her eyes that he wouldn’t be able to handle. When Carrie walked up to within an arm’s reach of him and stopped, he finally lowered his gaze to meet hers. He didn’t find the anger and hardness in her eyes that he’d expected to see. He found a soft vulnerability, tempered with a strength and determination. In that moment, he really saw the woman he loved … and she was beautiful.
Her dark green robe accentuated the specks of hazel in her blue and green irises. He stared at her eyes, then down at the neckline of her robe where he could see her pulse, imagining what she wore—or didn’t wear—beneath it. She’d washed her hair obviously. The ends of a snow-white towel had loosened, freeing the soft curls along her neckline. He loved the texture, the color of her hair, loved that she wore it down. He only now realized how much he also loved it pulled away from her lovely neck and beautiful face. Carrie’s face—heart shaped with a pronounced ‘widow’s peak’, as his sister’s called it.
Drawn to her, he took a step nearer, then placed his hand on her neck to pull her gently toward him. She went to him and turned her head to lay it softly on his chest, as though to hear the beating of his heart. Sam reached up slowly and pulled the towel from her hair, let it fall to the floor. His hands came up to smooth her curls away from her face. He ran his long fingers through her thick, damp hair, gently detangling and smoothing her silky reddish brown tresses. He put both his large hands on the side of her face and raised it slowly to his. Her eyes had been closed, but she opened them wide now as she gazed up at him.
He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. Her hands clutched the front of his shirt, bunching the material, as if she was afraid to let go. He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her close as she looped her arms around his neck. He held her tight so that he could feel her, every luscious, womanly curve of her.
He broke the silence, his whisper husky and sincere. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
Once again, the clock counted down the seconds as they stood in the center of the room, neither wanting to break the connection.
Her voice, muffled against his chest, sounded as sweet as anything he’d ever heard.
“How’d you get here, Sam?”
He knew what she wanted to know, but his inner comic genius wouldn’t give it up that easily. “My truck.”
She groaned. “Always the smart ass.”
He hugged her tighter and laughed. “Oh, once I realized you’d taken the phone off the hook for good, I swallowed my pride, tucked away my manhood, and called your mom.” He could feel her smile through his shirt.
“I knew it.”
Sam took a deep breath and continued. “After introducing myself to her, I told her that I’d misjudged the situation and desperately wanted to make amends. I asked if she’d please give me the directions to wherever you were, so that I could spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
Her gaze clashed with his. “You did not say all that.”
He grinned. “Oh, but I did. Desperate times—desperate measures, and all that good stuff.” Her brow rose and he lowered his head for another kiss. Her words stopped him.
“You realize what you’ve done, don’t you?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” He ran his hands through her hair.
“Christie went over there with the full story. Therefore, everyone is at my mom’s talking about this right now. They’re all wondering what’s going on and what we’re doing all by ourselves. You’ll have to come with me.” She pulled away from him, but stopped when his tug on her belt opened the robe partially.
His face lit up as he caught a good glimpse of her smooth, pale thigh, and bare waistline.
She grabbed the gaping flap and closed it. “Hey!”
“I’ve been dying to see what you’re wearing under that robe.” He pulled her close. “And you always smell so good.” He buried his face into the side of her neck.
She scrunched her shoulders. “It’s jasmine bath crystals.” She slapped at his hands as they grabbed for her belt again. “Stop that! You haven’t kissed nearly enough butt yet.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “If you’d just open up that robe, I’d be glad to take care of that for you right now.” He leaned over to slip his hands under the robe, groaning as he made contact with the skin of her thighs. “You’re so soft.”
Carrie took the time to release a long sigh, before pulling away. “Oh no, any butt-kissing will be done on my terms—not yours. Sit. Over there.” She spun him around physically and pushed him in the direction of the sofa. “I’ll be ready as soon as I get dressed and blow-dry my hair.”
Carrie picked out a pair of jeans and a rust-colored cowl neck sweater to wear, before locking herself in the bathroom. Ten minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom fully dressed and ready to leave. “Ready to face the mob?” She reached for her purse.
He gave her a smug expression. “Do I have a choice?”
Carrie straightened. “Yes, you do. We don’t have to do this today, or ever, for that matter.” She shrugged carelessly as she picked up her jacket.
Sam gave her a low whistle as he sidled up close to her. “Then I choose to be wherever you are today.”
She cocked her head slightly. “Weren’t you having lunch with your family today?”
He grabbed her hand. “Something more important came up at the last minute.” He lowered his forehead to hers. “Did I screw things up? I mean, you’re still moving to Kenton, right?”
Her look turned sober. “I don’t think I have a choice in moving, but as to whether or not we’ll be seeing each other? I think I’ll hold off until I see how you handle my family.”
He dropped his head. “Aw hell. What if they hate me?”
Carrie giggled. “Relax, Sam. Compared to my ex, you’re an ankle-deep wade in the kiddie pool.”
“Oooh, high praise.”
Carrie laughed as she took his hand. “You want to follow me over there in your truck?”
“I’ll drive and bring you home whenever you want.” He squeezed her hand.
Five minutes later, Sam pulled into the last remaining spot in front of her mother’s home. He exited the truck and gazed at the flat countryside located several miles north of the White Lake Wetlands Conservation area, and another several miles to where it ended at the Gulf of Mexico. He closed his eyes and listened to the call of the geese as well as the distant sounds of cattle in the neighbor’s pasture. “Man, I don’t hear any of that living in town. Do the geese have a favorite spot around here?”
Carrie pointed in the pasture across the road running in front of her mom’s house. They heard the single pop of a gun in the distance and within seconds, hundreds of geese lifted in flight, filling the air with the sound of calls.
“Beautiful.” Sam breathed. “I hear Speckle Bellies and Snow Geese.”
Carrie watched the sight reverently. “It’s something, isn’t it?” she murmured. “I’ll miss this living in town.” She lifted her gaze to Sam and smiled. “You ready for your unveiling?”
As soon as they stepped inside, the sights, sounds, and smells of Carrie’s boisterous family bombarded Sam. A football game blared on TV while raucous calls of four men watching from various spots in the small living room joined the cheers of the televised crowd. Breads baking, meats roasting, and the distinctive smell of roux simmering in some kind of gumbo, had his mouth watering and stomach growling with hunger.
Carrie’s three brothers-i
n-law, Tom, Lonnie, and Craig, as well as one brother, Mack, took time out from the game to give Sam hardy handshakes when she introduced them. Sam turned from the last handshake as an older, much shorter version of Carrie entered the room.
“You must be Sam,” the woman crooned. “I’m Elaine, and you look exactly the way you did when I dreamed about you.” She walked right up to him and gave him a big hug, surprising both Sam and Carrie. One by one, he met her four sisters and one sister-in-law.
Christie introduced herself last, grinning up at him. “It’s nice to put a face to that voice of yours, Sam.”
“Yours too, Christie.” Sam leaned forward to the towheaded toddler hanging onto Christie’s leg. “And this young man must be Max.”
“Yeth,” Max told Sam, giving him a gap toothed grin. He pointed to Carrie. “That’th Aunt Cawee.”
“I sure am, buddy boy,” Carrie said, as she scooped him up and kissed him on his neck, until he chortled with glee. “Max, can you shake Sam’s hand and tell him hello?”
The toddler reached out to shake hands. “He-wo Tham.”
“Hi, Max.”
Elaine took his arm and led him to a chair at the kitchen table. “I see you were able to follow my driving directions?”
Sam nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I found her just fine, and thanks again.”
“There was something in your voice that made me think you were sincere. To tell you the truth, Carrie’s been smiling more in the last couple of weeks than she has in years. I have a feeling you’re the reason. Sam, are you hungry? We’re about ready to eat.”
Sam lifted his nose to breath in the wonderful aromas coming from the kitchen. “My mouth’s been watering since I walked inside this place.”
Carrie elbowed him as they lined up to fix their plates, buffet style. “Just like you to get an early start on buttering up my mother. She’s a sucker for a hungry man.”
“I’m a sucker for good cooking, so we should get along fine.”
“Butt kisser,” she accused.
“Pain in the ass,” he countered. “Besides, I needed all the help I could get to find you.”