by S. M. West
Wow, she really is unattractive, vile even, beneath the blonde hair, blue eyes, and ‘pretty little thing’ façade she has going on. “Yasmine, what’s going on between Sam and me is not your concern.”
She laughs, but there’s no joy in it at all. “Olivia, stop fooling yourself. You’re too old, you live in two different cities, and you don’t understand what Sam needs, what’s good for him. I can give him that. My father and I will give him what he needs—or maybe we won’t,” she taunts.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, taking the bait although I shouldn’t.
“Sam needs at least one investor for his new restaurant. He wants us and we want him, but you see, maybe we won’t want him. Maybe his business venture would look a whole lot more attractive if a certain older mother-of-two would walk away. If you care for him and want his dreams to come true, leave him alone.” We stare at each other, silent barbs flying back and forth between us, neither of us backing down. “I can set you up with a man your own age, if you’re really that hard up,” she sneers.
Shivering and giving my head a shake, I snap out of my thoughts. While Yasmine was nasty and I really didn’t like what she had to say, she did have some valid points. At the very least she reminded me that this is casual. No labels.
The past two weeks have been busy for both of us with only texts and brief phone calls. The interior plans for Mrs. Preston’s hotel are in full swing and Sam is preoccupied with Bas, managing his restaurants, and planning his new one. I want to ask him about the financial backing needed for his new restaurant, but I don’t want to pry. If I could I’d invest, but I don’t have the funds. I know who does, but I’d never ask Pete for the money—gawd, what a disaster that would be.
Sam’s on his way here from the airport. Unfortunately he can only stay the night, but it’s better than nothing. Even with this being casual I can’t deny that I do miss him.
He joins us at Colin and Sin’s where we’re spending the day by their pool as it’s a scorcher today. Her place is packed with neighbors and kids, and Sam fits right in, stripping down to reveal his striking tats and body.
Through the sliding glass doors, outside, every woman around the pool freezes and stares. I bet if I were outside I’d hear a few gasps and moans. Sam really is that incredible, but what makes him even more attractive is how unaffected he is by it all. He doesn’t flaunt his good looks, instead is just comfortable in his own skin.
“Wow,” Sin says from behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, she too is transfixed by the work of art known as Sam Beaulieu.
“I know,” I say wistfully, then I drop the bomb. “I’m going on a date next week.”
“What? With Sam?”
Turning to face her, I shake my head no. Gazing into her troubled stare, I avert my eyes, turning away. I don’t need her approval. “I’m going on a date with Mrs. Preston’s cousin. She’s been hounding me, so I caved.”
“Couldn’t you just tell her you have a boyfriend?”
“But I don’t.”
“But you slept with Sam, right?” she asks, and I stupidly and uncontrollably blush. “Okay, I’ll take that as a yes. I know you Liv—you’re not a one-night stand, casual sex kinda girl, so how is this going to work?”
“What do you mean?” I know exactly what she means, and we’re showing our age if we can’t hook up, as the kids call it. Not every sexual encounter has to be serious or lead to marriage.
“If you and Sam are having sex, it’s gotta be more than casual.”
“It’s just a fling,” I rush to respond, feeling queasy at the thought despite knowing it’s the right thing to want.
“Does Sam know that?” Hands on her hips, she’s abandoned dishing out the snacks. All her focus is on me, which I so don’t want.
“Well, we’ve haven’t said it in so many words, but…”
“So, let me ask you this: does he think you’re exclusive or not?”
I don’t want to respond. We haven’t discussed it, although I’m pretty sure I know what Sam would say—which is exactly why I haven’t wanted to discuss it. Why is she looking at me like that, like she’s my mother and I’m completely clueless?
She pushes, “Okay, how about if Sam was to date or sleep with someone else, say one Miss Yasmine Thibault—how would you feel about that?”
A growl slips from my lips and my hands wrap into fists. She smirks, knowing how I feel without me saying a word.
Contrary to my reaction, I respond, “It’s casual. It can’t be anything more.”
“Why not?”
“Because, I’m not starting another relationship. I’m almost two years on my own, and I like it. I’m getting used to it. I want to be on my own. I don’t want some man to define my life. Been there, done that, and no thank you, not going back.”
“And you think Colin defines my life because I’ve been married to him for twenty years?” she asks defensively.
“Oh, God, no. That’s not what I’m saying. I just don’t want to fall into that trap again. I have no regrets about my life with Pete.” Sin stops her task again, and her eyebrows rise as her eyes pin me. “It’s not regret. Sure, I wish things could have been different, but I can’t regret my life with him. He gave me Drew and Paige. I wouldn’t trade them for the world.”
“Aww, honey, of course not.”
“Is it wrong of me to feel like a weakling or a failure if I’ve found another man? With leaving Pete, I’d resigned myself to the fact that I’d never find a man that could give me what I wanted, and I was okay with that. I was happy on my own—truly. I was so alone with Pete that actually being alone is refreshing, exciting, and hopeful. Now, with Sam…shit, he could be everything I’ve ever wanted in a man. He’s not perfect—who is? —but I never had it this way with Pete, ever, even when things were good. I just don’t know if I’m ready. So, we’re keeping this casual.”
Looking back outside, unable to take her all-seeing stare after having bared my soul, I cast my eyes on everyone around the pool. “Besides, isn’t it weird or all kinds of wrong to have your daughter and her friend ogling the guy you’re seeing?”
She joins me at the glass and we watch Sam as he talks with Drew, Colin, and Colin and Sin’s son, Finn. He’s oblivious to Marci ogling him from the pool, along with Sin’s neighbors, Mrs. Sims, and Mrs. Patterson. Paige and Pippa occasionally glance at him but neither stare, although it’s obvious they like what they see. Seriously, what woman wouldn’t?
Sin laughs. “They’re human, and they’re teenage girls—well, not all of them are teenagers, but they’re alive. You’d have to be without a pulse and a heterosexual male to not look at Sam twice or thrice.” Her sly smile matches the twinkle in her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Not long after, we bring out the snacks and beverages and Sam catches my eye as I place the tray on the table. Leaving the guys, his smile grows wider, dimples and all, with each step toward me. Even with my niggling worries about our age difference and what my priorities need to be, I can’t resist him.
I’m fully aware that there are eyes on us; I’m not certain who’s watching as my gaze never strays from Sam, but I’m pretty sure it’s all the women. Like Sin said, I can’t blame them.
“Damn, you in that bikini has me on fire,” he whispers low and throaty into my ear. His hot breath tickles my neck as his forefinger blazes a trail from my collarbone down my arm to my wrist, sending tingles spreading throughout my body. “And that’s saying a hell of a lot since it’s a scorcher today.”
A giggle passes my lips as my knees weaken and I grab onto his biceps to keep myself standing. “Well, you’re pretty hot yourself,” I whisper, teasing my finger slyly along the front waistband of his swim shorts, his hard abs contracting at my touch.
With a devilish grin, Sam grips my waist and again leans in. “Uh-uh, you’re the hottest thing here.”
His tongue quickly licks my skin, then he nibbles on my neck. He’s driving me crazy with desire, my
wet heat pooling between my legs. Before I have a chance to either pull back in an attempt to regain my senses or give in to my lust and completely strip down for him, he whispers into my ear.
At first, nothing he says makes sense because I’m flying through the air, screaming. Then his words register: “You’re so hot that I think you need to cool off.” With a splash, I hit the water, his laughter following me to the bottom of the pool.
We end up staying for a barbecue and don’t get home until well after nine. Drew heads for the staircase, looking back at us congregated at the front door as Paige flicks off her flip flops.
“Hey Sam, wanna play some ball in the morning?”
“Ah, I’d love to, but not sure if I can. By the time we play and then I schlep back to shower and check out, I doubt I’ll catch my flight. Don’t think it’ll work out this time.”
“Check out?” Drew asks.
“At the hotel.”
“Mom, why does Sam stay at a hotel every time he comes to visit?” Paige asks.
“Um, I…” I stutter.
Before I’m able to formulate a coherent response, Drew adds, “It’s stupid. He should stay here. It’s a waste of money. And Mom”—Drew looks directly at me— “if your hang-up is us, we’re cool with Sam staying here.”
“Absolutely,” Paige chimes in.
Damn these kids. Sam’s expectant eyes twinkle, but he remains silent as both kids wait for me to say something.
“Sam can stay the night,” I say, looking straight into his eyes. A smile settles in his gaze as he steps in, bag and all, and closes the door behind him.
“D-man, we’re on for ball,” Sam declares, still staring at me like he’s ready to play with me.
The kids disperse, leaving Sam and I transfixed. His sexy shit-eating grin and the dimples are out in full force. I’m done for.
“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”
“Well, I could deny it, but what’s the point? I love sleepovers.” He winks and slaps my ass as he walks by.
No matter how much I try to keep this in the casual zone, it’s like the universe is conspiring against me.
Sam
Jogging up the walkway to Olivia’s house, my stomach somersaults in anticipation. It’s been a week since I last saw her, and I miss her like crazy. Again, I’m only able to stay a night; I need to get back for Bas.
Originally my visit was supposed to only be a few hours tomorrow, but I couldn’t fathom that. I want, need to spend more time with her. Now that I’m done with staying in hotels—thank you Drew and Paige—I plan on taking every opportunity I have to spend time with her. She’s expecting me tomorrow for a few hours, but I’m surprising her with a sleepover. I can’t wait.
Drew answers the door, his eyes widening, surprised but also worried, or perhaps even troubled—not exactly what I expected. Even when we first met and he had no clue who I was, his reaction was nonchalant. Now, he’s shocked and almost terrified. What the hell?
“Hey Sam, Mom’s not here.”
Looking back toward the driveway, I ask, “Okay. Isn’t that her car in the driveway?” He nods but doesn’t say anything. “All right. No problem. I’m surprising her. I was supposed to come tomorrow, thought I’d come a day earlier.”
Heading toward the kitchen, I glance over my shoulder at him. He’s anxious and glued to the spot.
“Is it okay if I get started on dinner? Have you eaten?”
“Ah, Sam, ah…” Sucking in a gulp of air, he runs his hand through his dirty blond hair. Quirking my eyebrow, I wait. He’s hesitant—something’s off. “My mom’s out for dinner. I’m not sure when she’ll be back. It may be late,” he says.
It’s like he’s trying to tell me something without saying it, something big, but I’m completely missing the point.
Scrubbing my hand down my face, I turn to face him, man to man. “That’s all right. Is she out with the girls or Jonah?” My tone is casual, even though he’s got my full attention.
“I have no clue, man,” he rushes to say. Now that was a lie. Drew and I are still getting to know each other, but the way he wouldn’t look at me as he spoke the words and swallowed hard tells me he’s lying. But why?
Briskly, he strides past me, eyes fixed ahead, into the back of the house. Following closely, my gaze tracks his every move as he grabs his phone and starts furiously typing. Is he texting Olivia? Or am I just being paranoid?
“Drew.” My tone is serious. Looking up from his phone, his eyes are focused and intent. “What gives, man? Do you want me to go?”
Nervously, he shoves his phone into his pocket and blurts out, “Shit, no. Sorry, just distracted. So, what are you cooking? I haven’t eaten.”
Shaking off Drew’s strange behavior, I get to work. I can’t make him come clean, and maybe it has nothing to do with me. Within minutes, Drew’s laid-back nature resurfaces as he helps make dinner. We pass the time in an easy and relaxed manner, laughing and trading stories. Drew’s tales from the construction site are hilariously entertaining, and in short order, we’re enjoying fish tacos with beer.
During cleanup, the doorbell rings. Drew looks to me, his weird uneasy expression creeping back in. “Want me to get it?” I ask.
“Nah, I’ll get it. I’ll be back.” Dropping the dish towel, he jogs out of the room. Puzzled, I continue putting the dishes away but stall when I hear, “Get the fuck out.”
It’s Drew speaking, and I’ve never heard him that angry before. Barreling to the front door, I skid to a halt at the sight of Pete glaring at his son, his face red, scrunched and tense. Flicking his eyes to me, it takes a moment, then his features cloud and become even tenser—if that’s even possible—as recognition sets in. Eyes narrowed and fists clenched, he takes one step into the house.
Like daggers, his gaze stabs me with a dark note to his tone. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“He’s welcome. I want him here,” Drew bitterly spits out. My eyes shoot to Drew, who is just as tense as his father and just as pissed off. What the hell? “You, leave,” he orders his father.
Sensing this could devolve into something real ugly, real fast, I step closer to the two men. “Pete,” I tersely acknowledge him. “Drew, everything okay?”
“It’ll be fine once he leaves.”
“Drew.” Pete’s tone softens. “I came here to talk.”
Despite the thick tension in the room, his sincerity is as clear as a bell. Curling his fists, Drew exhales a long, shaky breath and clamps his mouth shut into a tight line, his jaw tight.
“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
Calmly, I suggest, “Pete, you should go.” Inching even closer to him and the door, I try for a relaxed pose, although I’m anything but.
I have no clue as to what’s going on between these two. Olivia did mention something, but said both men refuse to tell her what’s going on. She said it was intense and troublesome, and she wasn’t exaggerating.
Pete’s stance widens, placing his hands on his hips. “Who the hell are you to tell me to leave? This is my family, my wife, my son.” His voice is loud and sharp.
“She’s not your wife anymore. You should know that, especially considering you don’t seem to have any problem forgetting what it means to be married. Leave.” Drew’s face is now strained and red.
What on earth is Drew talking about? Olivia said Pete didn’t cheat, but maybe he did and now Drew found out about it?
Pete stills, rock solid. His face is hard like stone as he surveys his son, neither of them willing to back down. I want to step in and kick Pete out, but I also need to give these guys space. If it gets violent or heads south, I’ll do what’s needed.
Pete finally acquiesces. “We will talk eventually, Drew.”
“Whatever. You don’t have anything to say that I’m willing to listen to,” Drew says dismissively before walking away.
Pete watches his son leave, his body deflating until he remembers I’m still there. With one final glower in
my direction, he stalks out the door, slamming it behind him.
“Thank fuck he’s gone.” Drew’s voice is small and defeated. “Please don’t tell my mom what happened.”
“Why?” I ask, puzzled.
“She’ll be upset and then it’ll domino from there. I can handle it. Please don’t say anything.”
“I won’t, but I don’t like the idea of keeping things from her.”
“Sorry, Sam. I shouldn’t have asked you to.”
“Listen, I won’t keep this from her, but I’ll ask her to give you space. I get the sense you don’t want to have to dodge her concern.”
With a small, hesitant smile, he asks, “Can I ask a question?” I nod encouragingly as we continue heading to the living room. “What if you know something you feel someone has a right to know, but you don’t want to hurt them? What would you do? Would you tell them?”
Shit. Maybe that’s it—Pete cheated while they were married. Fuck. He’s asking for my advice? I’m out of my depth here. I don’t want to mess this kid up, but I also don’t want to give him the brushoff. That would be a heavy burden to carry, and being the one to deliver that to his mother? Dammit, that’s harsh.
If I could help, I would, I’m just not sure it’s my place to do so. “Maybe you should ask your mom, I’m sure she’s better at this than me.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs, a small frown covering his face. He’s likely disappointed in my non-answer.
“All right, think about it: she cares about you, and if she can help, she’ll want to.”
She’s a loving and caring mother. She’s good at this and would want to help if she could. I’m not sure how hurt she’d be knowing Pete cheated; I imagine it would hurt, but how deeply now that they’re divorced? Although, he’s trying to get her back. There are the texts, and she did share with me that Pete thinks there’s a chance. She also reassured me that there isn’t, not at all.