One Night Stand: An Erotic Serial: Episode Three

by Robinson, Sarah

A little blue coupe turned into the spot seconds before he could. So quick, he almost missed it entirely. Are you kidding me?

  Sam shifted into park right in the middle of the aisle. Shoving the door open, he hopped down from the cab and stomped around the bed of his truck toward the coupe.

  "Hey!" he shouted at the driver, throwing his hands up in the air. "What the hell was that? You stole my spot!"

  Sam’s next words jammed in his throat, startled for a moment when the perpetrator, a tall, slender woman with fiery hair, climbed out of the driver's seat as he approached. As angry as he was, he was first and foremost, a hot-blooded, all-American man. It was impossible not to notice her curvy figure as she crossed her arms over her chest, or the way the sun, just beginning to drift lower in the late afternoon, illuminated the varying crimson hues in her scarlet hair. She leveled intensely silver eyes at him.

  Sam pushed away the distracting thoughts, trying to manage his irritation—and growing arousal. "Darlin, you parked in my spot." He tried for the nicest tone he could muster, but it still came out sounding terse.

  "Looks like I did." Molten eyes, somehow both angry and intoxicating, stared back at him, unrelenting.

  She's admitting it? His anger dissipated slightly, which he realized was a bit odd since the admission should have infuriated him. Something about her blatant honesty was disarming and…refreshing? Or maybe it was those soft pink lips that smirked up at the corners, that had him feeling…forgiving. "Excuse me?"

  The tiniest flash of guilt crossed her expression, but she masked it quickly, firming her jaw and pushing back her shoulders. The seductive smirk returned. "I almost crashed when you cut me off pulling into the lot. Maybe if you were paying a little more attention, rather than yelling at your dashboard, you wouldn't have nearly killed me, and you wouldn't have lost your spot. Really, I'm doing you a favor. You can take a few laps around this pretty parking lot and find your inner Zen."

  His mouth twitched, but he held tight, refusing to let the smile come. "So, you're…what? The karmic delivery man?"

  "Woman, actually, but…yeah. I guess today I am." A black tank top hugged her gentle curves and showed off one arm full of colorful tattoos as she reached into the trunk of her car and pulled out a large cardboard box then set it on the asphalt. "Someone needs to be."

  Her last words were quieter, as if to herself, but he heard them nonetheless. He noted the strain and tightness in her tone, and found himself wondering what the story was behind it.

  But then she bent down. Every coherent thought fled his brain as Sam paused to admire her blue jeans molded to a firm round ass. Damn. It'd been too long. Starting a business and having his heart broken all at the same time will do that to a man.

  Forcing his eyes away, Sam glanced back at his truck, resigning himself to finding another place to park. He didn't have the time to fight with this woman who was making his blood heat, in more ways than one. Plus, admittedly, he had cut her off and not even given it a second thought.

  She kept her back to him, continuing to unload boxes from the trunk of her car.

  "Sorry about cutting you off," Sam grumbled, though he knew she could still hear him. He didn't like apologies. He rarely gave them, but he felt caught off guard by her and didn't like it. "I'll let you have the spot this time."

  She paused slightly while he spoke, but didn't look back at him. "Let me?" When she did whirl around, her hands were straight down and fists balled. "Samuel. Jed. Wylde. You didn't let me do anything. I took that spot to teach you a lesson in manners—something you're sorely lacking."

  Sam raised a brow, a small smile on his lips despite the tightness in his chest. She knows me? Shit. Was she a one-night stand he'd forgotten? Another one of Noah's conquests with a vendetta for the Wylde boys now? He racked his brain, sweating when he couldn't place her.

  "Honestly, I don't know why I even bothered. You haven't changed one bit." Hands on her hips now, she was shaking her head in that same disapproving manner he'd gotten most of his life. He was familiar with disappointing women, and it was one of the many reasons why he kept most of his relationships to only a night or two.

  Between the sheets, he never left a woman less than completely satisfied. It was his life outside the bedroom that seemed to be the problem.

  Sam let his eyes rake over her body—from her cowboy boots to her bright pink lips. How could he have forgotten those lips? "We've met before?"

  She exhaled sharply, obviously annoyed. "High school."

  "I don't remember anyone like you from my high school." His brows raised, and he leaned forward a little, crossing his arms over his chest in a way he knew made his biceps bulge.

  Sure enough, her gaze slipped down ever so slightly, then quickly returned to his. "Well, I was a few years behind you. I was a freshman when you were a senior. Not that anyone could go to River Ridge High and not know the Wylde men."

  That was certainly true. His family was often in the spotlight because of their status. Sam's grandfather had practically founded River Ridge and after his passing, the family name continued to hold a lot of prestige through his father and uncle and their children. It also didn't hurt how affluent the family was, and how their successful, decades-long cattle ranch's charitable giving kept a lot of the town afloat.

  There was a lot of wealth in this little corner of Tennessee, but few families spread it around as much as his did, and Sam was proud of the reputation they'd built. That made it all the more frustrating when people seemed to prefer fixating on a few tales of misbehavior or drama, rather than who he and his family really were.

  Sam let his gaze rake over her body again, enjoying the heated blush that spread to her cheeks as she realized what he was doing. Tilting his head to the side, he adopted his slow smile that he knew had a reputation of making women fall head over heels. Something about this woman made him want to…flirt? He wasn't sure where the urge was coming from, or why he wasn't trying to push it away. "Don't believe anything you heard," he teased. "They're all lies."

  Her lips twitched into a smile. "I'm sure you wish they were."

  She was right, of course. He wasn't a saint by any means. He'd had his brief affairs over the last couple of years, namely when he was out of town, and with women who weren't looking for more than a night or two of his time and wouldn't end up on the town gossip mill. Not a lot of sweet talking was required on those types of evenings, and he was more than fine with keeping the walls high around his heart after his heart had been ripped out and stomped on by his last relationship.

  It had been a while since he'd actually flirted. Sam smiled at her again, deciding to enjoy the momentary lapse into the open, engaged suitor he'd once been. "A man can dream, Miss…"

  He paused, waiting for her to fill in her name.

  "Holly." She reached a hand out after a clear moment of indecision, the tension deflating between them.

  Her hand was small, almost completely encased by his when his fingers closed around her palm. The feeling of enveloping her made his blood heat, the skin connecting them sizzling. He was suddenly imaging what it would be like to slide his fingers up her arm, across her tattoos and every inch of her…

  Jesus, it really has been a while.

  Sam pushed the thought away—he was not going down that road, particularly with anyone in a town where everyone knew everyone else's business. He'd learned that lesson the hard way already. "It's nice to see you again, Holly."

  "Oh. Um…you, too." Holly's cheeks flushed and she pulled her hand back a bit slower than was necessary. He had to admit—he was a fan of her sassy Southern fire. Most women couldn't pull off being so appealing while angry, and yet, she was as soft as she was steely. "I'd chat longer, but I've got to get these centerpieces to the tables."

  She gave him a tight-lipped smile, turning back to the trunk of her car and pulling out boxes.

  Sam stepped forward to offer her a hand. "I—"

  An approaching car suddenly began honking at him for lea
ving his truck in the middle of the aisle.

  "Crap." Hopping back into the driver's seat, he circled the lot twice more until he finally found another open spot—this time, pulling straight into it.

  Climbing out of his truck, he glanced around, taking more serious notice of the volume of people crowding the entire River Ridge Park directly across from Town Hall. The highbrow festivities extended all the way to the Cumberland River and behind Main Street which was lined with pricey boutique shops. Elegant white tents covered one part of the park, and a stage with a quartet was playing soft country ballads with a crowd of onlookers all dressed in expensive summer dresses and collared shirts.

  Sam pulled his attention from the event to see Holly across the parking lot, struggling with a stack of boxes. He wanted to help her—heck, even if she hadn't been a freaking bombshell, he'd never turn away from a woman in need. But Town Hall closed early on Saturdays and if he wanted the permits today, he didn't have time for any detours.

  He sighed. His mama had raised him right and would be more than a little disappointed to hear he hadn't assisted her.

  Crossing back through the parking lot, he returned to Holly's car just as she was trying to close its trunk with her hip. "Can I help?" He pushed the trunk closed for her, trying not to laugh at the sight of her bumping her ass into the car.

  She jolted, apparently startled, causing the top box in the stack to slide off.

  Quick reflexes, Sam grabbed it before it splintered against the ground. "Whoa!"

  "Thanks." Relief flooded her voice. "Actually, some help would be great. If you don't mind?"

  "I think I owe you at this point," he teased, taking the boxes of what appeared to be intricate floral decorations, and following her through the lot.

  "You definitely owe me." Her cheeks and chest bloomed bright red as she ducked her head, obscuring his view from seeing how much farther south on her body the blush extended. "I do tend to overreact when driving though."

  There was more of a story there, but he wasn't about to pry.

  "No need to apologize."

  "Oh, I wasn't." She cast him a sideways glance that seemed downright seductive. "You deserved it."

  She's flirting with me.

  Laughter bubbled up inside him and he readjusted the boxes in his arms as they walked. "Fair enough. I help you with these, then we'll be even?"

  Holly peered at him, inquisitive eyes partially hidden beneath long lashes. "Maybe."

  Sam could deal with maybe.

  "Southern Lifestyle Magazine's Garden Party?" He read the gold lettered sign as they entered the luscious green park which had always been a gorgeously manicured garden, but had been transformed into a stunning party space for the day.

  "Yep. The magazine picked River Ridge this year—great for the town." Holly stepped under a white tent where circular tables were set up on a temporary wooden floor in an elegant reception style. She placed a box of centerpieces on the closest surface and began pulling the floral arrangements out one by one, one in the middle of each table.

  Sam began to do the same with his box, scanning the park while he worked. There was a stage and small booths with local artists selling fine jewelry and the like, as well as a white cloth-covered bar with glass stemware serving different wines to the crowd. It seemed like the crowd would migrate to the reception area for the sit-down event later, or so he guessed.

  Whoever had put this together was a pro—it had an air of ease and fun while still being polished and dignified. Clearly well-planned and organized down to the last detail, the person behind this event was exactly who he needed for the grand opening of Wyldefire Whiskey.

  Knowing his terrible luck, Sam wondered if it was Cassie's doing.

  "Sam Wylde, meet Amelia Eldridge." Holly pointed between him and a small brunette who'd just entered the tent with a rack of wineglasses.

  Amelia offered him a sad smile as she began arranging the plates and glasses on every table. "Sam Wylde needs no introductions in this town, Hol."

  Pity. There was no mistaking it in her voice, and Sam was becoming all too familiar with it lately.

  "That's what I told him." Holly laughed, apparently not noticing her friend's tone.

  Sam decided to stay civil. "It's good to see you, Amelia."

  "You, too," Amelia replied. "How are you doing? Tough weekend. You doing okay?"

  Sam swallowed the stab of humiliation that came with every reminder of his former girlfriend's upcoming nuptials this weekend—and there were a lot of reminders. In fact, Amelia was probably the fourth person to ask him about it just today in that same "poor Sam" pity-filled tone.

  Star pitcher falls in love with the lead actress of the senior play—the story wrote itself. They'd been so happy for so many years, and Sam had been certain she was his future. He was all in, but she…wasn't. Maybe she never had been.

  Even though it had been several years since their dramatic split, the entire town was still obsessed with the scandalous details. Hell, it had been quite the story.

  "I'll be fine," Sam informed her, his tone a bit sterner and the ease of his mood quickly dissipating. "It's not a big deal."

  "Really?" Amelia seemed oblivious at his attempt to end the conversation. "Man, I'd be a wreck if the love of my life was getting married to my younger brother in the biggest ceremony this town has ever seen."

  Holly's eyes grew wide as she turned from the table she was decorating and eyed the two of them. "Wow. That's…uh, well—"

  "She was not the love of my life," Sam countered a bit louder than he meant, then quickly bit his tongue. He wasn't going down this road. There was no chance he could talk about Grady and Jane's upcoming wedding without completely imploding.

  "Hey, Sam!" Bright pink hair bounded toward him as his younger cousin entered the tent holding up a phone. "Found you!"

  "Ruby?" A senior in high school, Ruby Wylde changed her hair color weekly and wore makeup so thick that he sometimes didn't recognize her. She was definitely still trying to figure herself out, but as the youngest in the family, she rested in a soft spot in Sam's heart. "What are you doing here?"

  "Noah called me," she explained, tossing her ponytail back over her shoulder. "He said you're not answering your phone."

  Sam rolled his eyes. "So, he sent his little sister to track me down? This family…" He bit back the curses he wanted to let loose and took the phone from her. Turning to Holly and Amelia, he offered a stiff smile. "Would you ladies excuse me a moment?"

  Holly nodded, turning away to give him privacy as she and Amelia began chatting with his cousin.

  Walking a few feet away, Sam lifted the phone to his ear. "Hey."

  "Sam, did you get the permits yet?" Noah's voice boomed through the line, almost like a roar but not gruff or hostile. Noah was just naturally excitable and lively, and spoke about everything with a gusto Sam never seemed to have. Possibly because Noah's life was focused on fun, while Sam's was piled high with responsibility. "We're about to light the rickyard up."

  The rickyard was where they burned sugar maple wood with whiskey in a giant bonfire to create a unique charcoal. They would later use the charcoal to slowly drip whiskey through during the distilling process. It was one of his favorite things—watching the flames demolish a giant stack of lumber only to be reborn into the very thing that made their whiskey so much better than any of their competitors.

  It was symbolic, it was dangerous, and somehow, it was beautiful.

  Creating something from nothing, Sam was more confident in their product every day. With only a few months left until the launch, he had to be. Or at least, he had been until today.

  "Not yet. Go ahead and light it without me," he said. "There's an event at River Ridge Park I'm checking out."

  "I heard. Ruby said you were fawning over some redhead. Just grab her number and bag her later. We've got shit to do."

  "Watch your mouth," Sam shot back, feeling his thin rope thinning even more. "It's your shit I'm cleaning
up right now."

  "My shit?" Noah countered.

  "Cassie quit."

  There was silence from the other end of the line. Finally, a loud sigh. "Yeah, that's probably on me."

  "Probably?" Sam almost laughed at the insanity of it all. "Seriously, Noah?"

  "Okay! Definitely. It's definitely on me." Noah sounded as frustrated as Sam felt. "I should have seen that coming."

  That'd be a first, Sam thought. His cousin was selfish as hell, never considering how his actions impacted others.

  "Yeah, you should have. But you didn't, so I'm fixing it. This party looks like it was done by a pro, so I'm going to scope out the event planner and try to set up a meeting."

  "Good call."

  For some reason, Noah's approval only pissed Sam off more. "Goodbye, Noah."

  "Bye, Sa—" Noah started, but Sam clicked off the phone before he could finish.

  Shoving Ruby's phone into his pocket, Sam turned and walked back to the tent to talk to Holly. He hoped she'd know who put this event together because it seemed like she must be working for them.

  He needed to get back on track—stay focused, finish his errands, and find a new event coordinator immediately. There was no room in his life for personal distractions.

  But damn it if he wasn't…distracted.

  Now Live!

  booksbysarahrobinson.net/wylde-fire/

  About the Author

  Photo Credit: Valerie Bey

  Sarah Robinson is the Top 10 Barnes & Noble and Amazon Bestselling Author of multiple series and standalone novels, including the Exposed series, The Photographer Trilogy, Kavanagh Legends series, the Forbidden Rockers series, and Not a Hero: A Marine Romance. A native of Washington, D.C., Robinson has both her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in forensic and clinical psychology and works as a counselor. She owns a small zoo of furry pets and is actively involved in volunteering in her community.

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