"I think you're both full of shit. You know nothing about what's going on with Sam and me."
"You like her, don't you?" Logan asked, his back still turned to him.
"Sure. But we're just having some fun together."
Luke got up to check the other grill. "I've played out this scenario before."
"Me, too. It's like deja vu." Logan turned to Reid, waving his tongs in the air. " 'It's nothing serious. I'm just in it for the sex. I'm not looking for a relationship.' "
" 'I don't want a commitment right now,' " Luke added. " 'Or ever. She's not the right one for me. No woman will ever be the right one for me.' "
Reid crossed his arms. "You two are hilarious, really."
"Not trying to be funny, just honest," Logan said. "It's obvious you were watching out for her. And when she showed up you nearly fell out of your chair trying to get a glimpse of her. That means something, whether you want to admit it or not."
Reid shrugged. "It can't mean anything. I'm not staying here once the project is over."
"Yeah, and I wasn't ever going to get married again," Luke said. "Look at me now."
"And I wasn't ever going to get married, period," Logan said. "So never say never, brother."
Reid decided to ignore his brothers. Their stories were different. They'd found women who made them break their rules.
Reid had a long-term life and career plan, and nothing--and no one--was going to change that.
Not even Samantha Reasor.
SAM GOT GRAMMY Claire settled in next to a few of her friends who'd shown up early. The ladies had decided on the kitchen because, as Grammy Claire explained, everyone eventually made their way into the kitchen, and all the good gossip happened in there. Her grandmother had also said all the food and drink was in there as well, so they never had far to walk.
It made sense to Sam, and Martha said she'd spend most of the day in there and that someone would be constantly in there, so they'd keep an eye on her.
Sam intended to check on her grandmother frequently, but she'd felt a great sense of relief when Grammy Claire had told her she intended to accompany her to the barbecue today, which meant she was feeling a lot better.
Now that she didn't have to worry about her grandmother, she fixed herself a glass of iced tea and wandered outside. She found Emma, Des, and Megan sitting at one of the picnic tables, so she wandered over to join them.
"Don't you look cute today," Emma said with a smile.
"Thanks. So do you. That maxi skirt and top are adorable, Emma. And I need to know where you got that cardigan. It looks so soft, and the color peach is gorgeous on you."
"Thanks. I'm going for comfort today. Early fall means our weather is ever-changing."
"Which is why I'm in pants and a hoodie today," Des said. "Of course, that's kind of my standard uniform on the ranch."
Sam's gaze switched to Des. "You could wear a potato sack and still be gorgeous, Des. Whether you're all glammed up for a movie premiere or dressed like you are today, you're still beautiful."
Des smiled. "Thank you. The check is in the mail."
Megan laughed.
"You're looking pretty hot today, too, Megan," Des said. "Meeting a date here?"
"I wish. And thank you. I just bought a new shirt and decided to show it off."
"Red is definitely your color," Emma said.
"Thanks. Now I just have to hope I don't get barbecue sauce all over it, because I intend to eat plenty of ribs today."
"Don't we all," Des said. "I do love the big party the ranch throws on the Fourth of July with all the fireworks, but I have to admit that the annual barbecue is my favorite event."
"I think we all love it," Sam said. "Not only for the chance to catch up with everyone before the weather turns cold, but because the ribs are always fantastic."
"And now I'm hungry," Megan said. "Think we could throw rocks at the guys and make them cook faster?"
Des grinned. "I don't know if it would make them cook faster, but throwing rocks at boys sounds fun. And juvenile."
"The problem is, they're a lot bigger than us, they run faster than we do, and I'm afraid of repercussions," Emma said.
"I don't think you have anything to be concerned about with your husbands," Sam said to Des and Emma. "They adore you both."
Emma looked at Des. "This is true. So we should throw rocks at them."
Des laughed. "You go ahead. Logan has unique ways of getting back at me when I pull pranks on him."
"I'm not even going to ask," Megan said.
Samantha nodded. "Me, neither."
"Speaking of us getting lucky with hot guys," Des said, "I heard you've been spending a lot of time with Reid, Sam. How's that going?"
Sam shrugged. "We haven't been spending all that much time together. Just a little here and there."
"What does that mean exactly?" Emma asked. "Are you not dating him?"
"I don't know if dating is what you'd call it."
"What she means is she's just having sex with him."
They all looked up to see their friend Chelsea take a seat. Chelsea was the outspoken, gorgeous bombshell of the group. And leave it to her to say what they were all thinking.
But Sam still shot her a look.
Chelsea just shrugged. "What? It's the truth. You are sleeping with him, aren't you?"
"Once."
"So far," Megan said.
"Which means you intend for there to be more than just once, right?" Des asked, leaning forward.
She looked at all her friends, not sure if she really wanted to get into this with them or not. She wasn't even sure where things stood with Reid, so it was difficult to talk about. Still, some advice couldn't hurt.
"I don't know. I mean, yes, I'd like to see him again. But the way we left things the other night--I don't know. We haven't managed to get together again. I had an issue with Grammy Claire and he's got work that's sort of all-consuming for him at the moment. We've both been busy, so that could be why . . ."
Chelsea frowned. "Sounds confusing as hell, if you ask me. A man either likes you or he doesn't. And once he's gotten into your pants, if there's no follow-up after, then maybe he doesn't intend to get into them again."
"Chelsea," Emma said, frowning.
Sam held up her hand. "No, it's okay, Em. Chelsea's right. I think it was just a one-time thing that neither of us expected to happen. We're definitely attracted to each other. Or we were. And maybe now that the itch has been scratched, it could be Reid isn't interested in scratching it again."
"Oh, please," Megan said. "Men are always itchy. All they ever think about is getting scratched."
Des laughed. "I have to agree with Megan. He was probably busy, but I still think he should have called or texted you."
"Oh, he did text the other night. That night he went to see the house you and Bash were interested in buying," she said to Chelsea. "I had to cancel because Grammy Claire had gotten sick."
"And was the texting hot?" Chelsea asked, waggling her brows.
"Well . . . not exactly. He texted to check on how Grammy Claire was feeling."
"Oh," Chelsea said. "That's disappointing. I mean, yes, that's nice he did that, but you didn't talk about anything hot or sexy or romantic?"
"Not really. He said he missed me."
"Well, that's something, right?" Megan asked.
"Not enough, if you ask me," Chelsea said.
"Wow, you're tough, Chelse," Des said.
Chelsea shrugged. "Hey, a woman needs to feel pursued, especially after sex. There has to be some substance beyond just the sex, and it should never be a one-time thing. And if you're not interested in just being his booty call when he's itchy, then tell him to kiss off," Chelsea said.
Now Sam was more confused than ever. But her friends were right. She was interested in Reid, but maybe not in the way he was interested in her.
"Thanks, all of you. You've given me a lot to think about."
Now she just had to t
alk to Reid.
About his itchiness and when and how or if he wanted to scratch it.
Or something like that.
Chapter 21
"WHAT DO YOU think they're all talking about?" Reid asked as he finished off a beer and loaded up another set of ribs into a pan, then piled up another set onto the grill.
"I think they're talking about how all men are assholes, how lousy we are in bed, and how our communication skills suck."
Reid arched his brow and looked over at Bash. "Or is that just what Chelsea says about you?"
Bash grinned. "I can guarantee you that Chelsea is lording it over the other women, saying her man is a stud in bed, always listens to her, and is the greatest guy she's ever met."
Carter Richards pulled his beer away from his mouth and laughed so hard he went into a coughing fit. "Goddammit, Bash. I nearly choked to death."
"While Molly is likely telling her sad story about how her fiance, Carter, has a tiny dick."
"Fuck off, Bash," Carter said.
Bash laughed. So did Reid and the rest of the guys, who for some reason had ended up gathered around the grills--and the beer.
No surprise there.
He enjoyed catching up with the guys. Before he'd left town, many of these men had been his friends. Some of them were friends of his brothers, but he'd known a lot of them most of his life. They were as much his brothers as his own brothers were. He trusted them as much as his family.
With Luke and Logan in charge of the grills, he carried a pan of fully cooked ribs into the house. Martha took them from him and laid them in the ovens to stay warm.
"How's it going in here?" he asked, taking a moment to slide into a spot next to Sam's grandmother, Claire, as well as a few other women close to Claire's age. They had several decks of cards laid out across the kitchen table.
"We're playing rummy," Claire said. "Care to join us?"
Reid grinned and rolled up his sleeves. "I'd love to."
Three games later, he'd had his butt soundly kicked, once by Claire and twice by Faith.
He got up. "You ladies are too good for me."
Claire smiled up at him. "You need to play more often."
"I do. I haven't played that game in years."
"Which is why you were so bad at it."
He laughed. "You're right about that."
He wandered off, intending to head back to the barbecue, but literally ran into Sam as he rounded the corner of the kitchen.
She was juggling a few empty pitchers, and they all went tumbling in the air when they collided. Sam grabbed one, and he lunged for the other two before they hit the floor.
"Sorry," he said. "I didn't see you coming around the corner."
"It's my fault," she said, rubbing at a wet spot on her shirt, which just so happened to be on her left breast.
Not that he had been staring at her breasts or anything.
"Need me to help you with that?"
She lifted her gaze to his, and he was instantly lost in the blue depths of her eyes. She gave him an easy smile.
"I need to refill these pitchers, and now I need to borrow a shirt from Des."
Wow. That was a quick shutdown.
"Okay."
"I'll see you around, Reid."
Before he had a chance to say anything else, she was gone.
Huh. A definite brush-off. He thought about going outside, but then changed his mind, turned around, and went into the kitchen.
Sam was in there talking to Martha.
"I, uh, need to go find Ben," Martha said after she saw Reid.
"Last I saw him he was out with the guys by the grills."
"Thank you, Reid. I'll be back shortly."
Martha left the kitchen. Sam was refilling pitchers with iced tea and lemonade.
"Need some help?"
"No, I've got this, but thanks."
He shifted his gaze to the women at the kitchen table. They were talking loudly and laughing, totally engrossed in their card game and ignoring Sam and him.
He leaned in closer. "So what's with the brush-off?"
Sam frowned. "Brush-off? I don't know what you're talking about."
"Just now, in the entryway."
She straightened and leaned a hip against the kitchen island. "Reid. I have two more pitchers to refill and I dumped some of the tea and lemonade on my shirt. Which reminds me, I need to go find Des and have her loan me a shirt."
Just as he was about to think she was going to run out on him again, she grasped his shirtsleeve. "Oh, but I do want to talk to you later, if you have a minute."
"Sure."
"Great." She gave him a bright smile. "See you around."
She grabbed the pitchers and walked out. He heaved in a deep breath and let it out, then made his way back to the grills, deciding it was best if he didn't try to figure out the mind of a woman. It would only give him a headache.
Chapter 22
DES HAD GIVEN Sam one of her Tshirts. After she had changed, she was much happier not having a giant wet spot on her breasts. Not that she minded attention of the male variety, but she preferred it not be because of boob stains.
She checked in on her grandmother, whom she'd seen yawning. Martha suggested the ladies move into the living room, so they settled in there with their glasses of iced tea and were now watching television. Sam had clicked to a classic movie channel, but Grammy Claire wanted to watch a new show about vampires. When she explained the premise about the hot vampire and how he was torn between two women, one a vampire and the other a human, all the women decided they wanted to watch that show as well.
Sam shook her head. Her grandmother was nothing if not unpredictable.
Satisfied her grandmother was settled for a while, she made her way back outside. She found her friends clustered at the same table as before. Some had gone and others had showed up. It would likely be that way for the remainder of the day now that they'd claimed their spot.
Right now it was Chelsea, Molly, and Megan.
"Where did Emma and Des disappear to?"
Chelsea shrugged. "Somewhere in the house. And Emma said something about Will and Jane and the kids being late because of Will's schedule."
Sam poured herself a glass of lemonade and they all started a conversation about Molly's wedding, which then brought up a conversation with Molly about wedding flowers--again. Once she assured Molly everything was under control, the wedding convo moved on.
"Are you excited about the wedding, Molly?" Chelsea asked.
Molly grinned. "Beyond. Thank you all for being so supportive and for putting up with my neuroses."
"You? Neurotic? No way," Megan said with a smile.
"Okay, so I might have checked and double-checked and triple-checked venue and flowers and cake and I've looked at my dress sitting in the closet about a thousand times. And I'm certain I'm driving Carter crazy asking him to make sure he's taken care of the tux rentals and that the hotel reservations have been made for family members and friends coming in from out of town. And poor Emma, she's probably going to regret ever agreeing to be my matron of honor. She's probably rethinking being my sister right now."
Megan squeezed her hand. "You sound like a normal bride to me, honey."
Molly sighed. "Thankfully, my mother has lists. Lots and lots of lists. And she loves being in charge of nearly everything. When Carter and I set the date and selected the venue, I was so happy to shove it all off on Mom. I thought I'd never have to think or worry about the wedding again."
"But it's your wedding," Chelsea said. "So inevitably you're going to obsess about every minor detail."
Molly nodded. "That's an understatement. I intended to be all laid-back about this whole wedding thing. Carter and I love each other. It took us a lot of years to make our way back to each other. We just want to get married and be official and all that nonsense."
"And then the wedding bug hit," Samantha said. She'd seen it countless times from brides-to-be who came to order their
flowers, all nonchalant about how their weddings were going to be no big deal. Until they became a really big deal.
Because that's what weddings were to a bride--a big deal.
"Oh my God, yes," Molly said. "That's exactly what it is--the wedding bug. Anyway, I'll be glad when it's over."
"And you're sure you don't want a bachelorette party?" Chelsea asked. "Because we can throw one hell of a party for you. It's a great time of year for Vegas."
Molly laughed. "Thanks, Chelsea, but Carter and I are having enough issues just dealing with work at the auto repair shop plus wedding planning. We'll party plenty on the honeymoon."
"Okay, but if you change your mind, I know people who can make us a great group deal at the last minute."
"I think Chelsea wants to go to Vegas," Megan said.
Chelsea slid a smirk Megan's way. "Maybe."
"Get your hot boyfriend to take you," Sam said.
"My hot boyfriend is busy with the bar. And the expansion to the bar. And we're house-hunting."
"And there's school for you," Molly said.
"Yes. Why aren't we millionaires who don't have to work?"
"You'd hate that, Chelsea," Sam said. "You love teaching."
"I do. But I wouldn't mind the millionaire part."
Sam laughed. Then Bash came over and pulled Chelsea away, and Molly got a phone call from her mother, Georgia, so she stepped away, leaving just Sam and Megan, whose attention was somewhere off in the distance.
Sam followed Megan's gaze and caught sight of a very hot guy riding up the driveway on a gorgeous motorcycle. He parked and got off, then removed his helmet.
Oh. Brady Conners.
Megan sighed.
"That man is so damn hot," Megan whispered.
Sam couldn't deny the truth of that statement. He was tall, with dark hair and amazing green eyes. As he strode toward the men, his worn jeans showed off one great butt, and his tight T-shirt showcased well-muscled arms and some rather amazing tattoos.
Sam leaned into her. "You should do something about that drool problem, Megan."
Megan looked over at her. "I'd like to butter him up like my best batch of cinnamon raisin bread and lick him all over."
Sam burst out laughing. "Well. That was nicely descriptive. I can tell you've given this--or should I say Brady--a great deal of thought."
"You have no idea."
Since they were currently ogling the group of guys, her gaze settled on Reid. "Oh, I think I have a fairly good idea."