“You’re already in,” I replied firmly and immediately.
Dad studied me for a long moment but his eyes darted to Sam and back to me before he whispered, “Thank you.”
I sucked in another breath as tears threatened again.
Dad’s eyes went to Sam and he stated, “You hold me responsible.”
My entire body grew solid because, after what Sam laid out for Ozzie, I had no idea what he’d say to Dad. The only thing I knew was he’d say it straight.
I wasn’t wrong.
“I don’t,” Sam replied and I relaxed.
“For Kia, you don’t have to –” Dad began.
“I’m not,” Sam cut him off. “I have not been in your exact position but I have been in a position to know that same shit is happening, to feel powerless, to try to run through every option available and think there are none. I said what I said to Oswald not only because he had the power to step in but he was objective and not intimately involved. The consequences you might have faced coming between a husband and wife, that wife bein’ your daughter who was too scared to be open with you so you could have no clue where she was comin’ from, were not the same for him. He compounded that by makin’ an understandable but incorrect decision on how to handle things after Clementine died. I do not hold you responsible, Ford. But it wouldn’t matter if I did because Kia doesn’t.”
I’m falling in love with you, my mind said as I stared at Sampson Cooper, listening to him speaking to my Dad as he had to me for the last week, removing the emotion, lifting the weight, taking action, giving peace of mind and doing it in a time still burdened with the unknown.
With effort, I tore my eyes away from him as this thought seared into my brain, down my spine, radiating out throughout my body and I looked to Dad who was watching Sam, his eyes working, his face suffused with a mixture of feelings he couldn’t hide, concern, gratitude and relief.
Then Dad nodded and looked to the floor, muttering, “Best get on out. Essie’ll wanna be makin’ the parfaits.”
“Sam and I’ll be out in a second, Dad,” I said to him as he turned toward the doors and I felt Sam’s gaze come to me as Dad looked at me.
Then Dad nodded and smiled, opened the door to the dining room and stopped, turning back halfway through and looking at me.
“I love you, my Kiakee, God shined his light on me the day he gave you to me and no matter what has come since I’ve never felt different, not one day, not for twenty-eight years.”
I pressed my lips together and only when I knew I could reply without it coming out on a sob, did I whisper, “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”
“Kia –” Dad whispered back.
“Even then, Dad,” I interrupted him to say. “I just forgot for seven years.”
Dad closed his eyes, opened them, gave me a small smile, his eyes moved to Sam and his smile died, “None of my business, son, and you never have to tell me but I’ll tell you, whatever it was that made you feel powerless, I’m sorry you felt it. You gotta know what that means seein’ as you know I understand it better’n anyone.”
“Appreciate that, Ford,” Sam murmured, Dad nodded at Sam then he let it go and went out the door, closing it behind him.
I watched through the windows until he was gone then I saw through the windows to the outside that Mom was getting up and heading across the deck to the backdoor.
She was done waiting to find out what was going on.
Poor Dad.
“Kia,” Sam called and I looked at him.
“Thank you,” I whispered, his eyes shifted to warm, he started to move to me but I took a step back, lifting my hand.
His brows snapped together, he stopped, his eyes went to my hand then back to my face.
“Please, let me say this,” I said softly, he held my gaze, jerked up his chin and I continued. “Thank you for assuring my Dad I didn’t blame him. Thank you for understanding, not blaming him and sharing why with him. Thank you for taking care of me from practically the moment you met me and thank you for going all out to protect me. I haven’t felt safe in a long time, Sam, a very long time. I didn’t notice it missing but I noticed the instant I got it back and that was when I woke up in your arms in Luci’s villa.”
At that, his entire face warmed, his eyes got intense and he started toward me but I shook my head and took another step back.
He stopped and his head tipped to the side.
“I need to know you understand how much I mean all that I just said,” I told him.
“I understand, baby,” he replied gently.
I nodded.
Then I pulled breath into my nose, sucking in courage, definitely unsure and more than a little scared and went on, “I’m glad, honey, but now I have to be honest with you and tell you I wanted to go to my Dad during that. Several times. I know you felt it but you wouldn’t let me. That was hard on him and it was hard on me and a lot of what was hard on me was having to stand separate from him and watch him go through it without me close.”
Sam held my eyes for a moment before he replied quietly, “I get that.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“But you were doin’ that for you, baby. I didn’t hold you back for you, I held you back for him.”
I felt my eyebrows draw together and I asked, “What?”
“I don’t know your Dad at all. But I know what I’d do, I found out that Oswald kept that from me. Your Dad had to be free to have whatever reaction he wanted to have and not worry about you.”
Okay, I could get that.
However…
“Okay, Sam, but when he was blaming himself, he needed me then.”
“No, honey, you needed him then. He needed to say it, he told you flat out. I didn’t hold you back for the reasons you’re thinkin’. I did it because he had to be free to let that shit go and you weren’t gonna let him.”
This was true.
“Right,” I whispered.
“There it is,” Sam whispered back and there was an unreadable expression on his face, I couldn’t get a lock on it, I just knew it was good.
“There what is?”
“You’re gettin’ to the place I want us to be.”
This time, my head tipped to the side. “What?”
He closed the distance, his hands went to my neck, thumbs to my jaw tipping my head back and his face came to within an inch of mine.
“Fearless,” he murmured.
“Sam, I’m not following.”
“You disagreed with me, you faced your fears, you told me what was on your mind. We disagreed, we talked, we listened. You said you feel safe with me but, Kia, honey, you don’t believe in it. Just now, you took another step toward believing and I gotta tell you, baby, it feels unbelievably fuckin’ good every time you do it when you place a little more trust in me.”
Oh my God.
That was so beautiful. So sweet.
So Sam.
My body swayed into his as my hands that were resting on his waist slid around to wrap around his back and I whispered, “Sam,” but said nothing else because I couldn’t find the words to say.
His hands left my neck and his arms folded around me as he promised quietly, “I’ll earn it all, baby.”
I pressed my lips together, nodded then dipped my chin and did a face plant in his chest.
Sam kissed the top of my head.
And just as I suspected I would never get used to him being so hot, I suspected I would never get used to him being so sweet.
And I really hoped I didn’t.
“We better join the others. Even though I got a week’s allowance of fat sittin’ in my gut, I don’t think it’d be good to dis your Mom on the parfaits at this juncture,” Sam noted, I pulled my face out of his chest and tilted it back to look at him, grinning.
“You would be correct,” I confirmed then asked with curiosity, “You count fat?”
Sam burst out laughing.
I watched and waited patiently for hi
m to finish.
He finally did then answered, telling me something I already knew, “Baby, this body does not come naturally.” Letting me go with one arm but sliding the other one up to my shoulders, he moved to my side before he propelled us to the doors. “But I don’t count fat. You don’t have to count fat to know you’re consuming too much when you eat half a dozen onion rings and go through three napkins doin’ it in order to sop up all the grease.”
He was not wrong about that.
“Told you Mom was a comfort cook,” I muttered as he pushed one of the doors to the dining room open, I pushed the other one and we walked through.
“You did not lie,” I muttered back.
We walked through the dining room and the kitchen but at the backdoor I pulled him to a halt then curled into him and caught his eyes.
“Were you okay with before?” I asked quietly.
“Which before, baby?” he asked back and I laughed softly.
“Well, not the emotional scene with my Dad or the tense scene with Ozzie, the before where half of Heartmeadow came to check you out.”
“Am I slidin’ in bed beside you tonight?” Sam asked and I blinked.
“Uh… I think so.”
Where else would he sleep?
His face dipped closer, “If the answer to that is yes, then yes, I’m okay with half of Heartmeadow coming to check me out.”
There it was again. So damned sweet.
I slid my hand up his chest to curl my fingers around his neck and warned, “You’re also sliding into bed with Memphis and, head’s up, she seems really small but in a bed she expands to five times her size.”
Sam smiled at me. “I think I’ll cope.”
“Good.”
“Your bed is queen-size, Kia, my bed is king. Eventually, Memphis will have plenty of room.”
Sam, me and Memphis in a huge bed where everyone had plenty of room.
That sounded like heaven.
I smiled back.
Mom threw open the door and ordered, “Scooch! It’s parfait time.” Then she hustled Sam and I out of her way, continuing to issue orders, “Kia, sweetie, get the ice cream and nuke it. Thirty seconds, then check. You might need another fifteen. And grab ten bowls, Ozzie is still here.”
“Right, Mom.” I started to move away but Sam caught my hand and I looked back to see his brows raised.
“Nuke it?” he asked quietly.
“Mom doesn’t like hard ice cream so she nukes it soft.”
Sam stared at me.
Then he shook his head.
Then he bent it to touch his mouth to mine.
His mouth barely landed before I heard Teri shout, “Hot!”
He lifted his head and I was relieved to see his eyes smiling.
Then he let me go and walked outside.
I walked to the freezer to get the ice cream.
Chapter Fifteen
Don’t Cross This Line
It was late morning and Memphis and I were in my kitchen with a roll of masking tape and a marker.
Sam was at Vanessa’s.
I was a mess.
My mess was multifaceted.
It was partially because I woke up at two o’clock in the morning, ready to face the day. I tossed, turned, Memphis yapped, I tossed more, turned more and finally decided to go and toss and turn on the couch so I didn’t toss and turn Sam awake. I’d just thrown the covers aside and lifted up when a steel band-like arm hooked around my belly and I found myself on my back in bed with a hot guy mostly on top of me.
“Jetlag?” Sam asked.
“Yep,” I answered.
Sam’s hands started traveling and his mouth went to my neck where he murmured, “Mm.”
Then his hands and mouth started traveling more, mine joined them, I got into it and returned the favor Sam gave me earlier, taking him in my mouth. Then Sam got into it and one-upped my favor by giving it to me in a variety of different but delicious positions. I had an orgasm I was pretty sure the neighbors could hear, Sam’s orgasm shortly followed and fifteen minutes after that, tucked into Sam’s side, Memphis returning and stretching out in the expanse of bed I’d left her, I crashed on the thought that jetlag wasn’t so bad, at least not when Sam shared my condition.
But when I woke up, I was no longer feeling so hot about jetlag. Groggy and out of sorts, I was also in bed alone and, weirdness of weird, I could hear a succession of yaps, they were measured, not random and I’d never heard Memphis yap like that.
I threw the covers back, lurched out of bed, grabbed my robe, shrugged it on and then I lurched down the hall tying the belt. I stopped dead when I saw Sam sweating, in workout clothes, his legs bent at the knees, ankles crossed, fingers curled around the top of the doorjamb. Memphis was on the floor in front of him yapping each time Sam did a pull up like she was counting them down.
“Mornin’, baby,” Sam said as he lowered his body.
Hair probably a rat’s nest, eyes fuzzy, head groggy, dazedly noting that Sam clearly didn’t share these symptoms with me (not that his clipped hair could form a rat’s nest), I stared at him and asked, “What are you doing?”
Sam pulled up then stayed up and grunted, “Pull ups,” over Memphis’s yap then he lowered himself down.
It was then it belatedly hit me that Sampson Cooper, not Sam, Sampson Cooper was in my little, two-bedroom, nondescript house in Heartmeadow, Indiana and I momentarily freaked out wondering what he saw and what he thought of me from what he could see.
Sam pulled up.
Memphis yapped.
Sam lowered down.
Sam pulled up.
Memphis yapped.
Sam lowered down.
I watched.
“You okay?” Sam asked.
“Memphis is yappy,” I answered.
“Noticed, honey,” Sam muttered then pulled up.
Memphis yapped.
Sam lowered down.
Sam pulled up.
Memphis yapped.
On Sam lowering down, I asked, “How many of those do you do?”
“As many as I can,” Sam answered, pulled up and Memphis yapped.
Sam lowered down.
I continued staring.
He was concentrating on what he was doing. He didn’t give one shit about Memphis being yappy. He grew up in a barrio and two times during football games his senior year there were kids murdered, one a stabbing during a drug sale gone bad, one a shooting during a gang war.
Sure, Cooter had had half his head blown off but not in the house and Cooter’s murder was the first Heartmeadow had seen in nearly thirty years.
Sam had lived worse, he didn’t care about my house and didn’t think it said anything about me.
He pulled up, Memphis yapped, I saw his muscles in his arms bunch, exposed by the skintight, sleeveless shirt he was wearing, and I went a different kind of groggy.
He lowered down and asked, “Are you in a standing coma?”
“Your muscles in your arms look really good when you do that.”
Yes, that’s what I said.
Sam grinned.
Then he pulled up and Memphis yapped.
When he was down, I queried, “You keep doing that, won’t you pull the wood off the doorframe?”
“This house sold?” Sam queried back.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“You care if I pull it off?” he went on.
“No,” I replied.
“You got a hammer?” he kept going.
“Yeah,” I told him.
“Then we’re good,” he muttered, pulled up and Memphis yapped.
I turned around and went back to the bedroom to get to the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, teeth brushed, hair tamed (ish), face washed, still feeling weird, I wandered out of the bedroom, down the hall and into the kitchen. Sam was no longer doing pull ups so I had an unobstructed trek to the coffee. I made it then wandered to stand in the kitchen doorway to see Sam doing one armed pushups on th
e living room floor.
Memphis was bouncing around Sam’s body as he did this, alternately getting down on her front legs, thinking he was playing.
“Your back looks really good when you do those,” I generously kept the information flowing on how hot he looked when he worked out.
“Good to know,” Sam pushed out through a hissed breath as he pushed up.
“I mean, it looks good all the time but it looks really good when you do those,” I shared.
Sam lowered down then pushed up but didn’t reply.
Memphis ran under his body.
I thought that was hilarious so I giggled.
Sam lowered down then pushed up, grunting, “You know what’s most important during a workout?”
I had no clue.
“Nope,” I replied as Sam lowered down.
“Focus,” Sam told me and Memphis jumped over his ankles.
I burst out laughing.
“Jesus,” Sam muttered as he went belly to the floor, his arm shooting out, he tagged Memphis and rolled to his back, Memphis in his arms and she was wiggling, panting and licking Sam’s sweaty neck. He did an ab curl to sitting with cocked knees, Memphis still in his arms now licking his jaw, his eyes locked on mine and he announced, “I need a gym.”
I grinned. “I’m seeing that.”
“This ‘burg have one?”
“I’ve heard rumors.”
He smiled at me.
Then he declared, “I get showered, I go get my brief from Oswald then talk to that bitch, after, we find food, hit the grocery store and find a gym.”
All humor fled at the idea of Sam talking to Vanessa.
“Baby,” Sam called softly.
“What?”
“Talk to me. What’s on your face?”
“I don’t like the idea of her sharing your air.”
“I don’t either but got no choice.”
“I don’t like that either.”
Sam put Memphis down, pushed himself to his feet and came to me. Memphis, seeing his direction, remembered she had a Momma and bounced over. I crouched, picked her up and was straightened, giving her distracted cuddles by the time Sam made it to me.
He curled a hand around my neck and dipped his chin to look down at me.
“We got a plan, information, yard sale, as many viewings as you can fit in then we’re gone. A week, at most two, then my place, beach, Skippy’s and a king-size bed.”