Excellent!
I should have started with that!
Cooter having the hick name to beat all hick names said it all about me.
“Yep,” I answered.
“Was that his real name?”
“No, his real name was Jeff but no one called him that.”
“Ever?”
I nodded, my hair sliding on the pillow, “Ever.”
“Not even when he became an adult?”
I shook my head.
“Jesus,” he muttered.
“Yep, he was a hick. He was, like, the definition of a hick.”
Sam just held my eyes.
“He was a fan of yours too, considering you were good at what you did and you played for the Colts, which was his team. That was, he was a fan of yours until you quit and went into the Army. He thought that was crazy. He couldn’t believe you gave up the chance of earning that kind of money to join the Army,” I shared.
“Kia, honey, I think it’s clear the guy was a dick,” Sam replied softly.
“This is true,” I muttered.
Suddenly, Sam took control of the conversation by asking, “How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight,” I answered.
“Jesus,” he muttered again.
“What?”
“You look it but your eyes say you’re older.”
I latched onto that. “Am I too young for you?”
He grinned but didn’t reply.
I felt his grin slide along my skin in a sweet way but powered through it and suggested instead, “Too old?”
He started chuckling and again didn’t answer.
I sighed.
Sam’s arms, which I belatedly noticed were wrapped around me, gathered me closer.
“So, this is the first time you’ve worn a dress like that?” he asked quietly.
“Yep,” I answered, nodding my head on the pillow again at the same time tilting it back because it was now closer to his.
“You wear it like you were born to it.”
Wow. That was nice.
“Wow. That’s nice.”
Yes. I thought it then I freaking said it.
Idiot!
He grinned.
Then he asked, “You think, you wear it like you were born to it, maybe you were born to it?”
I blinked. Then I considered this.
Then I answered, “No.”
“No?”
I shook my head.
“Why not?” Sam asked.
“Well, because that’s crazy. I live in the small town I lived in my whole life. I married a hick who cheated on me and beat me. He didn’t have a college degree and worked for a sheet metal factory and not well, if his performance evaluations and the nasty moods he’d get into after he got them were anything to go by. I also don’t have a college degree and, until recently, when I came into some money, I worked as an administrative assistant for five accountants and my job was b-o-r-i-n-g, boring in a way it was a wonder I didn’t lapse into a coma daily by three o’clock. I mean, they were nice guys but seriously, accountants and the work they did…” I trailed off and faked a yawn.
Sam grinned again.
I kept babbling.
“I got my first passport delivered two months ago. I had my first manicure, pedicure, facial and massage two days ago. I think, with all that, it’s safe to say I was definitely not born to wear a gown like this.”
“I was born in the barrio,” Sam returned immediately. “My father came and went as he pleased, he was gone more than he was there but when he was there, he was more of a dick than your dead husband. He took my mother’s money, ate her food, drank himself sick, cheated on her openly, beat the shit outta her and slapped my brother and me around. He didn’t work, not once that I knew but she did. She worked hard, she kept us fed, she kept us clothed but that was all we had and, it sucks, but you feel that as a kid no matter how hard she worked so we wouldn’t. But, even with all that shit, since we were kids and maybe before when we couldn’t even understand what she was sayin’, she told his we were bigger than the shithole that surrounded us. We were better. We were meant to live large. And she believed we’d do it; find some way outta that fuckin’ place. And by the time we got old enough to make decisions, she’d been fillin’ our heads with that so long, it sunk in. We believed her and we both worked our asses off to get out. I had added luck; God saw fit to grant me a talent that would lead my way. But Ma told me over and over, the talent He gave me was fleeting and fragile and I should not rely on it so I didn’t. I studied. I didn’t drift through college, I earned my degree. My brother wasn’t born with something like that so he found his way out and joined the Army about two days after he graduated high school. He stayed in it, they gave him the means; he got himself his degree and got on the officer track. He was going to be career Army, that was his goal, even his dream. But whatever his dream, like Ma said we would both do, we made it so we got the fuck out right after high school and never looked back.”
Touched by this as well as awed, I whispered, “That’s very cool.”
“Yeah,” he said through a smile, “but you don’t get me, honey. I’m here beside you wearin’ this fuckin’ suit and I wasn’t born to be here either. But I’m here, same as you. And wherever you are, however you got there, if it’s good, you’re meant to be there either because you earned it or life led you there and you were smart enough to hold on.”
Nine glasses of champagne or not, I found this concept profound.
Therefore, I shared that with Sam.
“That’s very profound.”
His body shook mine and the bed when he chuckled then replied, “It isn’t profound, Kia, it’s the God’s honest truth. You’re tellin’ me the woman I met at breakfast, saw last night and I’m holdin’ in my arms right now is a fraud. But I’m tellin’ you you’re wrong. She isn’t. She’s you.”
That was profound too.
I studied him then shared, “I think I need to ponder this.”
His arms gathered me closer as he chuckled again and muttered, “Yeah, you do that.”
“I will,” I agreed, tipping my head back further to look at him.
“Good,” he murmured, tipping his chin down further to look at me.
Then, suddenly, I didn’t know why and drunkenly didn’t care, I whispered, “I think I love your Mom and I don’t even know her.”
“She’s the kind of woman you love, even if you don’t know her,” Sam replied.
“She sounds like it.”
“What’s your Ma like?”
I pulled in breath and let it out softly then said, “Like a Mom. She cooks comfort food. She goes overboard with Christmas decorations. She knocks herself out for you every birthday because, for her, that was a day that changed her life in a way she liked a whole lot and she wants you to know it. We did the whole stereotype thing. Kyle, my older brother, was Mom’s little man and still is, even though now he’s big. I was Daddy’s little girl. So Mom was the one who was tough on me and Kyle got away with everything with her. And Dad was the one who was tough on Kyle and I could get anything I wanted if I ran to Dad. But, when I say tough, I mean in the sense that parents are supposed to be tough. They were good parents, then and now. I love them both and they both love me.”
“And how’d they feel about your husband?”
“They hated him,” I answered instantly.
“Yeah,” he whispered.
“They tried,” I whispered back quickly, not wanting him to think they didn’t. “That was what I was thinking about last night when you saw me. I was thinking how I should have noticed they were trying and let them help me.”
Sam’s face warmed, his eyes grew understanding and his arms gathered me closer.
Then he said gently, “We’re not goin’ there, baby, not now. Now is for us. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Okay,” I agreed readily because I didn’t want to go there, not now, not in Sam’s arms, not after drunkenly remembering t
o warn him about me and then drunkenly forgetting I was supposed to be doing that and, instead, loving living this moment with him, so much, there was no way I was letting it go.
“Okay,” he whispered.
And that was when I pressed closer rather than Sam gathering me closer and I lived that moment with him, talking about my brother, my Mom, my Dad, Paula, Teri and Missy and listening to him talk about his Mom, his brother Ben, Luci and his friend and brother-in-arms Travis “Gordo” Gordon.
And apparently falling asleep living that moment with him because, hours later, still wearing my gown, I woke up in much the same position, in his arms, pressed close and feeling something I hadn’t felt in years. Something precious I lost and, even precious, I didn’t notice it was missing but something I recognized as precious instantly when I got it back.
Safe.
* * * * *
And this brought me to now, awake, in my gown, the sun shining into the bedroom where Sam and I slept together.
And I had done everything Celeste had told me not to do (except gorging myself on food). I had drank too much and shared too much.
Shit.
I pulled in a silent, steadying breath and, eyes glued to Sam’s gorgeous, sleeping face, carefully I disentangled myself from his body, slid away, rolled and found my feet at the side of the bed.
Twisting the instant I did because I heard him move, I looked to see he simply settled more onto his front and one of his hands had gone up and disappeared under my pillow.
I let out my breath.
Then I scanned the room that also had a tiled floor and a scattering of plush, attractive, lush, comfortable-looking furniture but, obviously, in the bedroom it absolutely invited you to take a nap.
Amongst other things.
Hmm.
I tiptoed to an armchair so my thin heels wouldn’t sound on the tile and sat on it. Then I bent forward and unstrapped my shoes, not believing I’d slept in them, much less my fabulous gown, and trying to remember when I drifted off to sleep hoping that I didn’t do it when Sam was talking as that would be rude at the same time hoping I didn’t do it when I was talking because that would be embarrassing and realizing, either way, I was screwed.
I set the shoes aside and did another scan of the room, seeing it had a huge, polished wardrobe and two doors. One was the one we used to enter the room. The other, I hoped was a bathroom.
Careful to be quiet, I made my way to the door, opened it and discovered I was right. Then I slipped into it, closed the door, turned on the light, did my business and then, while washing my hands, I froze when I caught sight of myself in the mirror.
Not because I was wearing last night’s makeup, which, thankfully, didn’t look smudged and scary.
But because my hair was down and falling around my shoulders in messy, curly waves and I remembered something about last night that I forgot.
I remembered getting into telling Sam the story of Kyle and his buddies taking me and Paula (who had been my friend since high school) to our first kegger whereupon me and Paula got totally hammered and when they brought us home, both Paula and I hurled in Mom and Dad’s backyard, causing Kyle and his buddies to tell us repeatedly, loudly and without any hope of success to be quiet which resulted in Mom and Dad catching us. I was giggling at this, Sam was smiling at it and throughout telling him the story, his fingers were working in my hair, pulling out the pins.
It felt nice then and, staring at myself in the mirror, it felt nice remembering it.
But it was more.
After I finished that story by sharing with Sam that Mom and Dad had forced Kyle and his buddies to apologize in person to Paula’s parents and then mow their yard free for the summer as penance, Sam shared with me the story of the first time his brother called him when he was hammered to ask Sam to come pick him up. Sam did but Ben hadn’t shared that it was not only Ben who was hammered, his girlfriend and her three friends were with him and also needed rides home. They were not hammered but completely shitfaced and Sam unwisely loaded them all into his car whereupon three of the four females and Ben hurled in his car and he had to sell it because he could never get rid of the smell.
And while he was telling me this and I was giggling, he was running his fingers through my hair.
That felt nicer and, staring at myself in the mirror, it settled in my soul how much nicer it felt not only last night but right then, remembering it.
Okay. I was either seriously in trouble or…
I was seriously not.
I stared into my eyes in the mirror and as I did I found my lips whispering, “Fearless.”
Then I pulled in a breath, turned from the mirror, switched off the light and exited the bathroom, moving to the double, arched, windowed doors with their gossamer curtains, my eyes on a still sleeping, still beautiful Sam.
I got to the doors and opened them, stepping out on the small, stone balcony, the curtain falling behind me and I drank in the view.
Wherever you are, however you got there, if it’s good, you’re meant to be there either because you earned it or life led you there and you were smart enough to hold on.
Sam’s words came back to me and no longer drunk on champagne or the beauty of being held in his arms, I realized that Sampson Cooper was a great many things, nearly all of them good but one of them was wise.
On this thought, two arms closed around me from behind and I was pulled into a long, hard body as a stubbled chin swept my hair from the side of my neck right before lips whispered there, “Mornin’, baby.”
Those two words slid over my skin, coating it, again giving me a glorious moment of feeling invincible.
Wherever you are, however you got there, if it’s good, you’re meant to be there either because you earned it or life led you there and you were smart enough to hold on.
I closed my eyes.
Then I whispered back, “Morning.”
Sam’s arms turned me to facing him, I opened my eyes then his body pressed mine into the balustrade as I tipped my head back to look at him and see his eyes were already moving over me.
Then they came to mine and he whispered, “Right now, honey, I’m gonna kiss you.”
My stomach clutched.
Oh God.
Okay. Oh God. All right.
I was supposed to be fearless but right then, I… was… not.
“Sam –” I started but his head dropped until his lips were light on mine and I shut up.
“No,” he said quietly, his lips moving against my lips, my heart stopped beating and his voice dropped super low, super rough, it was rich velvet when he went on. “No, baby, you fell asleep before I could taste this mouth. I’m not gonna miss another chance.”
Then he slanted his head and kissed me.
I instantly freaked out.
This was not because Sampson Cooper, my fantasy man obsession was kissing me. Sam had become way more than just that, he wasn’t even close to that anymore.
This was because, except for a couple of guys in high school and some other guys who didn’t count during spin the bottle at parties in junior high, I had kissed no one but Cooter. I grew not to like the way he kissed then I grew not to want him to kiss me and I learned quickly that if I didn’t kiss him back in a way he’d like, he’d give up trying.
So I didn’t know if I even knew how to kiss. I’d forgotten or never really learned.
And I needed at that moment in my life not only to be able to do it but to be able to do it really, really well.
And needing it and freaking out about it, my head filled with garbage and I blew it.
I knew it by feeling it and I knew it when Sam’s mouth broke from mine, his head came up, I opened my eyes and saw his, for the first time since I met him, were guarded.
Oh God.
Oh God!
Sam had just kissed me, it was awful and it was also all my fault.
God!
I was mortified. Total humiliation. So bad, I couldn’t bear it.
So I didn’t.
I had to escape.
So I did.
I ducked my head, jerked sideways out of his arms and skirted him, heading toward the bedroom, all the while mumbling, “I need to find Luci and ask if I can use –”
I didn’t get to the bedroom and I didn’t finish mumbling.
I found my hand caught in Sam’s firm grip and my arm tugged, hard enough to change the direction I was going, not hard enough to hurt. I flew backward and as my body moved, Sam twisted my arm so my body twisted with it and my arm was held behind me, my front slammed into his, his other hand came up, his fingers sifting into my hair, then fisting gently to tilt it to the side at the same time he pulled it back.
This shocked me, not in bad way. Oh no, not bad at all.
It was hot.
Then his mouth slammed down on mine.
Oh man.
That was hot too.
Then his tongue thrust into my mouth.
Oh man.
That wasn’t hot.
That was scorching.
And it burned through me from mouth to toes and even up into my hair, blistering. My belly plummeted, my breasts swelled, my body melted into his, my arm wrapped around his shoulders to hold on and my tongue tangled with his because I liked what he was giving me but I wanted more.
When I did this, he growled into my mouth, his fist in my hair twisted, his fingers laced in mine doing the same, both I felt, not with pain, but with a fierce kind of possession I liked, oh God, yes, I liked it a lot. So much, I felt wet and heat flood between my legs, my hand glided up his neck to cup the back of his head and hold him to me and I pressed deep, returning the gift by moaning into his mouth.
When I did, he pressed forward, arching me backward over our arms, deepening an already deep kiss, demanding more and my moan turned to a whimper, not of fear, pain or weakness, but open, unadulterated need.
Sam tore his mouth from mine, my eyes flew open and my lips immediately protested on a breathy plea of, “Sam.”
But not a second later, his fist in my hair was an arm behind my knees, his other hand released mine but held on tight at my back, I was swept up in his arms and he made it to the bed in two strides of his long legs. Then I was down on the bed, the warmth and weight of Sam’s body was on mine, his mouth was back to mine and this was better, way, way better because it came with his hands on me, all over me, and it came with the opportunity of my hands being all over him.