He was standing but he’d shoved back the screen of the laptop, his chin was dipped and he was studying it. Then his hand came up, grabbed the top and shut it with a firm snap. Then his eyes went to the lake and his profile, I noted, looked preoccupied.
With what, I didn’t know.
How important it was, I also didn’t know him enough to know for sure.
But it looked pretty important.
And I didn’t know what to make of that since before he got that look, he was looking at my possible future home.
And that freaked me out.
But if I was ever going to get my boat trip, I couldn’t waste time on freaking out.
I had to get ready.
So I left Sam to his thoughts and did just that.
The problem was, once I got upstairs, I had to come right back down because my stuff wasn’t there so I had to ask Sam where it was.
And Sam, being Sam, meant he didn’t tell me.
No, he got up from his chair, went to the overnight case of mine he commandeered to bring my stuff to me and carried it up for me himself.
After he left, when I tested it by lifting it, it weighed approximately five pounds. Still, he didn’t let me carry it up a single flight of steps.
Okay, yes, damn.
Seriously, I liked Sam Cooper.
I knew Sampson Cooper was awesome but Sam Cooper was turning out to be a whole lot better.
Chapter Seven
That’s All You’ll Get from Me
I was sitting back, sipping my wine and thinking I’d never had a better day, not in my life.
Not in my life.
No Christmas. No birthday. No vacation with my family. And certainly not any times I’d spent with Cooter.
This was saying something. Cooter was an asshole and tore me down but my family was awesome and even when I was married to him, holidays and birthdays were great. But before Cooter, they were the best.
But no day came close to that day with Sam.
None.
My eyes slid to the side and there he was. Right there.
He was wearing faded jeans that fit him better than any jeans I’d ever seen on any man. He also had on a lightweight, white, button up the front, long-sleeved shirt that was made of soft linen. He had the sleeves rolled up nearly to his elbows. It was kind of wrinkly but Sam could make even wrinkly hot and I knew this because the evidence was sitting right beside me. Further, that shirt looked amazing against his perfect, brown skin. He wore all this like his tuxedo, with a casual, masculine grace that was immensely appealing and even more immensely cool.
What had I been missing all these years not paying attention to his clothes?
It didn’t bear thinking about.
For my part, I decided to introduce Sam to the real me, albeit the new, improved, real me since everything I was wearing I bought in Paris. I had on a pair of black, cuffed, tailored shorts which were short, as in serious leg as in Sam didn’t tear his eyes away from them for a whole minute when I walked downstairs at Luci’s ready to take my boat tour which I felt indicated I’d made another excellent fashion decision. This I wore with a slim, metallic gray, snakeskin belt and my charcoal gray suede T-strap flat sandals. I’d also paired it with a tight-fitting, ribbed, heathered, dark gray tank that had a panel of kickass lace at the top back.
This last, as with my legs, I caught Sam staring at too, numerous times that day.
Numerous.
I was thinking he liked me in shorts and tanks just as much as pretty sundresses, gowns and high heels.
This was a relief.
This was also awesome.
We’d just eaten dinner at a restaurant Luci had suggested and it was a good suggestion, the location was in the hub of it all and the food and wine were fabulous. We were seated outside and when we got there, it was early for dinner in Italy and it wasn’t very populated, except by American tourists. But now that we were done, it was filling up and the sidewalks and streets were getting busier.
The atmosphere seemed alive, you could hear the hum of conversation, smell the garlic from the kitchen, the cars and scooters going by; being out in it, I felt great, jazzed, as alive as our surrounding.
And the best part of this was being with Sam.
And the best part of that best part was partially that, even before we ordered, Sam moved his chair right next to mine so we were close but he found ways to make us closer. He did this by resting his arm across my thighs, his fingers curled in or sometimes stroking my skin, his head twisted to look at me when he spoke or facing forward when he scanned his surroundings (which was, weirdly, often, like he was expecting something). Sometimes even when he was eating and definitely when he was sipping his wine, he kept his arm across my lap. But if his food took his arm away, he kept his thigh tight to mine, not losing some form of connection.
I liked this. I liked the closeness, intimacy, his touch, his warmth and all of what this said about how he felt about me.
I also liked that it was proprietary.
To me, it said I was touch-worthy, he liked the feel of me, he wanted closeness, he was being clear he found me attractive.
But to those outside our little bubble of intimacy, it was claiming. Don’t look. Don’t even think about it. I was taken. I was his.
Some women might find this overbearing.
I thought it was beautiful.
And I was glad we didn’t miss our boat tour and even Sam agreed. Being out on the lake in the sun, the wind in my hair, the views breathtaking, eating Luci’s delicious packed lunch on the cream leather covered bench seat at the back of the glossy boat with Sam while we chatted more about family and friends, sharing ourselves, it was great, beautiful, the perfect day.
I couldn’t quite decide which views were better, from the water or from the shore. What I knew was, I was glad I had both. And better, sharing it with Sam who, after our night together, I had no issues talking with, being myself, exclaiming openly when I saw something cool, pointing it out, sharing it with him. It helped that he was no less courteous and attentive than he’d been before, helping me in and out of the boat, pulling me in his lap when he was seated behind the wheel to keep me close, folding his arms around me and stuffing his face in my neck when I made him laugh.
It was sublime.
Freaking sublime.
The whole day.
Every second.
“Il conto, per favore,” I heard Sam murmur and my eyes went from a mint green Vespa shooting by wondering how much one of those cost and also wondering if I could get one in Indiana, to Sam who was also leaning back, wineglass in his hand, his torso slanted slightly to the side toward me, arm over my legs but his eyes were on the waiter who was nodding at him, smiling and moving away.
“I thought you didn’t know any Italian,” I remarked and Sam turned his head to look at me.
“Asked for the bill, baby, didn’t recite a poem.”
This was true.
I grinned at him.
He grinned back.
Then his face got serious, he took a sip of wine and then set his glass on the table.
Then he did something even more beautiful.
He moved his arm from my lap but twisted his torso to me and replaced it with his other arm, wrapping it around my crossed thighs and pulling them even closer, tighter to his so I was forced to uncross my top leg and hook it around his knee. My bottom calf slid under my chair, my torso twisting toward his; he successfully created a private cocoon, a bubble of intimacy seated at a crowded sidewalk eatery.
“Need to talk to you about something,” he said softly, his eyes holding mine and, immediately, I leaned to the side even as I bent closer to him. I put my elbow on the table, my head in my hand and my eyes stayed locked to his, giving him my undivided attention and making sure he knew he had it.
Then I rested my other hand on his hard thigh and whispered, “What, honey?”
He didn’t speak for long moments as his eyes held mine then
moved over my face, my hair, down my torso to my elbow on the table then back to my eyes before he did something else beautiful.
He lifted his hand and trailed his fingers down my hairline, starting at the temple then back to tuck a heavy fall of hair behind my ear.
Then he said something even more beautiful and he did it in his soft, sweet, rough-like-velvet voice.
“Christ, you’re beautiful.”
Oh God. Oh man.
I liked that and felt those words glide along my skin, coating it and I knew I could live a week invincible at the feel of them.
“You would know, you see it in the mirror every day,” I replied quietly, watched his eyes warm and also watched his mouth twitch as he shook his head.
Then he settled his hand at my waist and got to it.
“I know you don’t have a lot of time left here but you said you were goin’ shoppin’ with Luci.”
I nodded.
“I need you to feel her out.”
“About what?”
“You knew your girl Celeste for three days and she shared about her daughter. I need you to find out where Luci is at about Gordo.”
“I know where she’s at,” I told him and his brows drew together.
“She talked to you about it?”
“With words?” I shook my head slightly then compounded it by saying, “No. With her eyes, definitely.”
“Come again?”
I leaned closer to him and whispered, “She’s lost, Sam. Lost and grieving. She’s in pain. You think I’m full of shit? Everything you see of Luci is completely full of shit. She’s trying to hide it so people won’t approach her about it but she’s doing a really bad job. Obviously, I’ve known her a day so I can have no idea if it’s improved. What I can tell you is, it’s still bad. As in,” I leaned closer to him, “really bad.”
“Fuck,” he whispered back, his face betraying his concern, the fingers on both hands giving me a squeeze.
“Um… sorry,” we both heard and we both turned our heads to see a man standing beside our table, looking nervous, his eyes darting between Sam and me then finally coming to rest in a way that it looked like he wished they didn’t on Sam. “I, uh…” he went on, “don’t mean to disturb you and I know you hear this all the time but I’m a really big fan.”
Holy cow!
A Sampson Cooper fan interrupting our dinner.
Wow.
I stared up at him, fascinated.
That was to say, I stared at him fascinated until I felt the fingers on both Sam’s hands give me another squeeze, this one deeper, communicating something I wasn’t certain I got until my eyes went to him. I saw his jaw was hard and I tensed and stayed that way even when I watched his jaw relax. And I stayed tense because it seemed this took effort, like he was forcing back his reaction.
I looked back to the man as he continued talking.
“I just, I see that you’re busy and… well, I didn’t want to come over but my wife said this opportunity would never present itself again. And, you know, she said it was crazy since we live in Wisconsin but we’re here and you’re here so it’s like… fate and I should, you know, not anger fate or, uh… whatever, so I just want to say that I was a real big fan of yours when you played ball but I admire the decision you made so I also, uh… want to thank you for what you did for our country. You, I… well, my son knows all about you and you’re kind of his idol. He’s seventeen and he plays ball but he’s, you know, he’s okay at it, not great but he’s pretty good. Still, he’s going into the Army, like your brother did, like you did. He says that’s what he really wants to do and we’re real proud of him but both of us, me and my wife, we think that he made that decision because of you.” He paused then finished, “Um… that’s it, uh… I guess.”
I felt for him, he was really nervous and obviously wanted to be there just as obviously as he didn’t.
I looked back at Sam to see his eyes weren’t on the man but looking across our table to something else. I followed the direction of his gaze to see a heavyset woman with a peculiar hairstyle, her upper face behind a camera which was aimed our way, her lower face taken up with a mammoth smile.
“That your wife?” Sam’s voice asked and I looked back at him then the man.
“Uh… yeah,” the man answered.
“Right,” Sam replied. “Let me pay my bill, finish talkin’ to my woman and I’ll come over, Kia can take a photo of you and your wife with me. Your boy’ll probably like that shot better than whatever’s gonna come out of the ones your wife is takin’ with her finger over the lens.”
The man’s head snapped toward his wife as did my gaze and I stifled a giggle when I saw Sam was right. She was still shooting away but her finger was totally right over the lens.
“Oh… I…” the man started and I looked back at him. Then he finished, “You’d do that?”
“Sure,” Sam replied, the man smiled huge and my belly got warm.
“That would be… well, wonderful,” the man whispered. “I’ll, uh, let you finish up then.”
“Great,” Sam said.
“Ma’am,” he said to me and dipped his head.
I smiled at him.
He rushed back to his wife.
I looked at Sam who was watching him go with an expression I couldn’t read and this was because his face was carefully blank.
“That was nice of you,” I noted cautiously and his eyes came to me.
Uh-oh.
His eyes were easily read. He was pissed.
“You know,” he said quietly, his voice rough with quelled anger, “I’d really like to know who wrote that fuckin’ book so I could hunt their ass down and rip their goddamned head off.”
Oh man.
“Sam,” I whispered, squeezing his thigh.
“No joke, Kia. Honest to God, seriously? I’m at a restaurant, wrapped around my woman, clearly havin’ an important, private conversation and they think it’s okay, it’s fuckin’ fate, for fuck’s sake, that they can interrupt us?”
“He was really nervous, honey.”
“Yeah, I’m not feelin’ this about him. He didn’t wanna be there. I’m feelin’ it for her, who’s right now takin’ photos of us, baby, still, but her finger is no longer over the lens.”
I felt my eyes get big and I breathed, “Really?”
“Uh… yeah.”
Oh man.
“Do you get that a lot?” I asked.
“Uh… yeah,” he answered.
Wow. I mean, I figured it happened and maybe even a lot. I’d just not experienced it before and, although not unpleasant, this was because it was a novelty to me. If it happened all the time, it would get very old, especially when Sam was, as he said, wrapped around me and we were having an important conversation, something our position and body language said and it was something no one could misread.
“Even if you were still playing ball –” I started, trying to find some way to soothe him but he shook his head.
“Tripled since I got outta the Army and that book came out. It happened when I was playin’ ball, definitely. But nowhere near as bad. By now, I’d be retired or lookin’ at it and also lookin’ at a future where eventually that shit would fade and become rare. I was good, people know me, they’d recognize the name, but it wouldn’t be commonplace. Now, who knows? I just know it’s been over a year since that book was published and it hasn’t died down, not even a little bit.”
I was confused.
“So why did you say you’d have your photo with them?”
“’Cause he wasn’t lyin’. His kid likes me and his kid is goin’ in the Army and his kid could see and do some serious shit because he admires me and wants to follow in my footsteps. That’s a responsibility, honey. And his kid’s facin’ that and if he gets a kick outta havin’ a photo of his parents with me, it takes five minutes of my time, I give it.”
Without my brain telling it to do so, my hand lifted to cup his jaw and then I leaned into him and I found my
self touching my mouth to his before I started to pull back.
I didn’t get far. Sam’s hand at my waist shot up, wrapped around the back of my neck and held me there.
I bit my lip and stared into his eyes which were now a lot less angry.
And after our day, after how he’d been kind to that man and why, I decided to share another secret.
“I like you, Sam Cooper, like a lot,” I whispered. “You’re not a good man. You’re a really good one.”
“Remember that, baby,” he returned instantly. “That feelin’ you got about me right now, remember that ‘cause that’s what you get from me too and honest to God, whatever this is and wherever this goes, I promise, that’s all you’ll get from me.”
He held my eyes and I let him.
He was making a point, a point he’d made with everything he’d said and everything he’d done since the very second I met him.
A point, right then, I finally got.
Then I nodded.
Then he bent toward me and touched his mouth to mine.
He let me go, turned his head, mine followed the direction of his gaze and I saw the waiter there. But Sam didn’t disentangle our legs or move away when he leaned forward to pull his wallet out of his jeans and pay. He paid in cash, the waiter smiled, bowed and moved swiftly away and Sam’s hand went to my thigh, curled around and his fingers gave me a squeeze as he muttered without any enthusiasm whatsoever, “Let’s do this.”
“Wait,” I said quickly, his eyes came to mine and my hand went to the side of his neck. “Just to finish what we were talking about, when I go shopping with Luci, I’ll feel her out and let you know. If it would be uncool for me to say anything, ask anything, I promise, I won’t push it because she’ll know that’s coming from you. But, if I think I can get her to open up to me without any blow back on you, I’ll do it. Are you okay with that?”
He grinned and answered, “Yeah, honey, that works.”
“Good,” I whispered then pulled in a breath and muttered, “Let’s get this done.”
Sam, being Sam, curled a hand around the back of my knee, lifted my leg from his, set it gently down, got up, pulled out my chair and helped me out of it. Then I nabbed my purse, settled the strap on my shoulder, he grabbed my hand and led me to the American couple.