More to Give (14 page)

Exactly as she’d feared. After Sam had left that afternoon, she’d felt a little bad about how she’d coerced him into coming with her. Or maybe “bulldozed” was a better word for it. But the man really did need to get out more. He was a prominent business owner on this island. He should be part of the community. As he’d been six years ago, before both their lives had imploded with one blown tire and the death of two unfaithful people.

Was that why Sam didn’t inject himself into this community? Was he refusing to let people in so no one could hurt him like that again?

Callie dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. That was the coward’s way, and Sam was no coward.

“You won me five dollars,” Will said, handing Callie a glass of white wine.

Will and Randy’s home looked rustic and quaint from the outside but was startlingly different on the inside. An open floor plan linked the kitchen, dining, and living areas, with clean, contemporary furnishings accented by a Far East piece here and there.

The home emanated elegance and simplicity but somehow offered warmth as well. Callie was eying a particularly beautiful white sculpture on the fireplace mantel as she accepted the drink. As if hanging in suspended animation, a tall, slender female figure stood regal with her head tilted to one side and her long, flowing dress dancing around her.

The piece was absolutely captivating. Callie longed to add something similar to the Sunset’s décor.

“How did I do that?” she asked, only half paying attention.

“You got him to come.”

That statement earned her full focus. “Excuse me?”

“Sam,” she said. “When I told Randy you were bringing him, he bet me five dollars that our hermit hotelier would be a no-show.”

They had a name for him? “Hermit hotelier?”

“Not as insulting as what some others call him.” Will nodded toward the corner of the dining room where Sam was in deep conversation with Lucas Dempsey. “Other than Merchants Society meetings, Sam doesn’t socialize much.”

“He told me he doesn’t have time for socializing.” Callie knew that to be an excuse, but a sense of loyalty drove her to defend him. “I doubt he deserves to be called a hermit.”

“The only time in three years that he’s attended anything other than an official meeting was last spring.” Will took a sip of wine before continuing. “That was Beth and Joe’s wedding, and he didn’t stay long.”

Still in defense mode, Callie said, “Maybe he doesn’t mingle well.” It was a bold lie, but she delivered it with as much confidence as possible.

“He doesn’t seem like the type to be intimidated by a roomful of people.”

At that moment, Randy and Joe joined the two men in the corner. Sam looked completely at ease. “You’re right,” Callie said, having to concede the point. “I’ve never known Sam to be intimidated by anything.”

Beth and Sid joined them near the fireplace. Beth was carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres.

“The Weeble here needs to eat,” Sid said, pointing at Beth, who instantly rolled her eyes.

“Must you call me that?” Beth said. “I don’t wobble that much.”

Sid’s brows went up as she snatched a spanakopita off the tray. “Give it a few weeks.”

“Remember,” Will said, “everything you dish out now, we’re going to dish right back when it’s your turn.”

Sid stuck out her tongue, revealing a green blob.

“It’s time to eat,” Will said to the room at large. “Houseboy, you’re on.”

Callie wasn’t sure whom Will was talking to until Randy excused himself from the men and strolled toward them. The extremely large man dropped a kiss on his fiancée’s cheek.

“I expect something extra in my pay for that remark.”

Will’s blue eyes turned dark as she wiggled her perfectly plucked brows. “After everyone leaves, I’ll wear the apron,” she whispered loud enough for the ladies to hear. “And nothing else.”

That earned her a kiss on the lips that lasted long enough for Sid to yell, “Get a room!”

The food had yet to be served, and this was already unlike any dinner party Callie had ever attended.

CHAPTER 14

C
allie doubted she had met a more animated group of friends before tonight. The Dempsey brothers were surprisingly amicable, considering what she’d learned during the first course. It seemed Joe’s wife, Beth, had been engaged to his brother, Lucas, before the loving couple had met. In fact, that engagement was the reason the future parents had been thrown together.

Watching how affectionate and deliriously in love Lucas was with Sid probably explained the lack of tension. Clearly, everyone had ended up with the person he or she was meant to be with. And though Sid took credit for matchmaking her brother and Will Parsons, the pair argued that they’d gotten together in spite of Sid’s efforts, not because of them.

Callie wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly, but she enjoyed being among these people. Their bond was real and went beyond familial connections. And it didn’t hurt that the food was amazing. This may have been the best fettuccine Alfredo she’d ever tasted. Signified by the fact that she all but licked her plate clean.

“If I had any cooking skills at all,” Callie said, “I’d ask for the recipe for this.”

“It’s easier than you think,” Randy said, with one of his wide smiles. Callie was still getting used to the gentle giant. He seemed friendly and kind and moved with the grace of a man half his size. And seriously knew his way around a fettuccine noodle.

“Really easy for me,” Will added. “Gotta love a man who can cook.”

“Amen,” chimed Sid.

“Stop gloating,” Beth said, rubbing a hand across the top of her pregnant belly. “We didn’t all get so lucky.”

Joe Dempsey draped an arm across the back of his wife’s chair. “I make up for my lack of cooking skills in other areas,” he said, nibbling on the pretty redhead’s earlobe, making her face match her hair.

With a nudge of her shoulder, Beth said, “And that’s the reason I can’t get any closer to this table.” She extended an arm to reach her water glass but couldn’t quite make it. Joe moved the drink closer.

The whole scene was incredibly charming, and Callie could have sworn she felt a twinge in her uterus. As if the constant reminders from her mother weren’t bad enough, now her own body was dropping hints.

“So, Sam,” Will said, “how do you and Callie know each other?”

As Sam was sitting beside her, Callie hadn’t been able to watch him during the meal. Now she glanced over to see stormy gray eyes cut her way. The look was brief, almost nonexistent, before he turned his attention to Will.

“Excuse me?”

“Callie mentioned that you two knew each other a long time ago.” Will plopped her chin into her hand like a child about to hear a story. “Did you work together at another hotel?”

“I wasn’t in the hotel business back then,” Callie said. Then she turned to Sam. “It seems you’re considered a mystery man on the island.” She included a smile with the words, though something more like panic was racing through her system. “I tried to tell them you’re a regular person. Flawed, even.”

Please smile. Please make a joke.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Sam said with a grin. Callie felt the deep timbre of his voice down to the tips of her toes as relief replaced her brief bout of panic. Returning his attention once again to Will, he added, “Callie and I shared a mutual acquaintance. But she’s right. It was a long time ago. We actually lost touch until she applied for the position here on the island.”

That was more than she’d expected him to share, but then, he’d also not told them anything specific. Thank goodness.

“Oh.” Will looked disappointed. “What a coincidence.”

Desperate to change the subject, Callie said, “I was admiring that beautiful sculpture on your mantel. Where is that from?”

Will turned to Randy. “That came from Lola’s, didn’t it?”

“That’s right,” Randy said. “It reminded me of you, so I bought it.”

Will dropped her hand to the table. “But you had that before we got together.”

With a self-satisfied grin, Randy said, “Yep.”

The dinner guests exchanged glances as the meaning of Randy’s words sunk in.

The lanky brunette smacked her fiancé’s arm as her eyes turned misty. “How come you never told me that?”

His brown eyes turned soft. “Because you never asked, gypsy.”

A collective “aw” echoed around the table, before Beth said, “What’s for dessert?”

Will laughed. “We have an assortment from Opal’s, of course. I’ll set them out on the counter.”

“I’ll help you,” Beth said, struggling to push her chair back.

“You stay there,” Will ordered. “Sid will help.”

“I’ll what?” The tiny woman across the table from Callie had remained all but silent throughout dinner.

“If you can rebuild an intake manifold, you can help set out desserts.”

“I might have to take pictures,” Lucas said. “We’ll need to document this rare occurrence.”

“Shove it, smart-ass,” Sid muttered, setting her napkin on the table. “Keep it up, and your night won’t end nearly as well as Randy’s is going to.”

Lucas hopped out of his seat. “You’re going to need a third set of hands, Will. I graciously volunteer.”

“That’s what I thought,” Sid said. She was tucked against Lucas’s side before they reached the kitchen.

Beth didn’t argue about staying in her seat. Instead, she leaned over and laid her head on Joe’s shoulder. The older Dempsey brother had darker hair and was stockier than his younger brother, but both men were affectionate with the women they clearly adored.

Callie’s uterus gave another twinge. Stupid uterus.

Sam escorted Callie to the car shortly after nine. They were both filled to the brim with pasta and sweets, as well as a glass or two of wine, though Sam had switched to soda more than an hour before they left.

For most of the trip back to Callie’s, the pair traveled in silence. Sam had done enough mingling for one night that he was content, even relieved, to be off the conversational hook. But there was something else he needed to say before they reached their destination.

“Thank you,” Sam said, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Hmm?” Callie murmured. “Thank you for what?”

Sam gave her a quick glance. “For making me go tonight. I had a good time.”

“So did I,” she replied, sounding sleepy. “I like these people. Sid is a bit of an acquired taste.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Sam’s only interactions with the ballsy boat mechanic before tonight had been at Merchants Society meetings, where she definitely felt no compunction about sharing her opinions. And in rather colorful language.

“Yes, she is.”

“But I like her the best, I think. She’s the most genuine person I’ve ever met. No frills. No pretense. What you see is what you get.”

“And what you get is a lot,” Sam added.

They laughed softly together as Sam pulled into the cottage drive. He slid the car into park as he said, “And thank you for not telling them about the past.”

Callie snorted. “I wouldn’t know how to tell them. Saying, ‘I was his wife’s best friend but then she started schtupping my husband and on a secret lovers’ getaway they were both killed in a car accident so we had a one-night stand to spite them’ doesn’t seem like dinner-party repartee.”

“Callie.”

“Well, I wouldn’t really say that last part,” she murmured, as if he hadn’t said her name.

“Callie,” he repeated. Once she turned his way, Sam said, “We didn’t have sex to spite them.”

“We didn’t?”

“No.” He might not have known exactly what he’d been thinking back then, but Sam knew exactly why he’d made love to the woman beside him. And spite had played no part in it.

“I always wondered,” she said, her voice small. “But I was never sure. And you weren’t around for me to ask.”

Sam took a deep breath as he contemplated how to respond. Finally, he said the only thing that came to mind. “I’m sorry that you were left to wonder.”

Silence loomed again, neither making a move to exit the vehicle.

“Do you want to come in?” Callie asked, as Sam had feared she might.

“Not a good idea.”

“Why not?” she asked, her voice no more than a breath in the dark.

Leaning his arms over the steering wheel, Sam turned to look at the woman beside him. “Because if I go in there now,” he said, pointing toward the cottage, “I’m not going to leave again before morning. And we both know that wouldn’t turn out well.”

“It wouldn’t?” Her quiet questions were making this harder than he’d anticipated.

“I’d say we’re already complicated enough, wouldn’t you?”

“Right,” she said, straightening in her seat. “I’m a complication you don’t want.”

“That’s not what I said.” Not wanting her would have made this whole situation a hell of a lot easier.

“No. I know. You’re right.” Callie pushed her door open and climbed out of the car, then hesitated before closing it. He could see by the look in her eyes, illuminated by the overhead light and the glare of the moon, that she hoped he might change his mind.

That he would step out of the car and follow her in.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Damn, he wanted to.

Instead, he rolled down his window and let the cool, salt-scented air fill his lungs. He’d always liked the way that scent lingered over the island. The punch of the ocean ever present in his senses. Which was likely what had him turning right instead of left at the end of Lighthouse Road.

Sam drove the Murano up Highway 12 toward the ferry station and pulled over at one of the more narrow parts of the island. He ambled through the sand to reach the top of a dune, where he sat and watched moonlight glimmer off the waves. For one dark moment, he wallowed in his loneliness, let the anger and frustration sink into his bones until he could feel himself vibrating with it.

Six years ago, he’d lost his wife to another man. She’d wanted more from Sam, but he’d been unwilling to change. Unwilling to even try to be what she wanted. More attentive. Less work-obsessed. A doting husband who was more interested in having a good time than in studying financial reports.

But Sam couldn’t be that man, so Meredith had turned to someone else. And the fact was, there was nothing more he could have given. His drive and ambition would always win out, meaning work would always come first. Sam knew that now. Whatever dim light might have been flickering inside him had died a sudden and violent death, along with his adulterous wife and her philandering lover.

And, as he’d feared, Callie’s reentry into his life was bringing it all back. The pain of Meredith’s deceit. The shame of
his
failure. If Callie knew who Sam really was, she wouldn’t have invited him in tonight.

And if she hadn’t invited him in, Sam wouldn’t be sitting on a dune, getting sand in his shoes while trying to figure out how he could have her and not hurt her.

If the moon had any answers, he was keeping them to himself. The thought made Sam chuckle at his melodramatic pity-fest. He’d reminded Callie more than once that he didn’t like dragging out ancient history. And this was why.

Because when he did, the uselessness of it always hit him full force. He couldn’t go back in time. He couldn’t change who he was, not then and not now. Callie’s question earlier in the day about whether she would be staying on after the project ended was answered in that moment.

She wouldn’t see it right away, but sending her packing was the best thing. Sam might not be able to go back and change the mistakes of the past, but he could damn well make sure they didn’t get repeated.

Callie stood with her back against the door for a long time after the sounds of Sam driving off had faded in the distance. What had she been thinking? That was easy. She hadn’t been thinking at all. She’d been feeling. Which had always been her problem.

Callie was notorious for letting her heart rule her head—something even therapy couldn’t fix. S
he was tougher now, not as eager to do others’ bidding or to contort herself into what they wanted her to be. She’d twisted herself into a pretzel to please Josh, and he’d still jumped into bed with Mered
ith.

Dr. Langdon’s voice echoed in her mind.
You have no one to please but yourself, and you should demand others accept you for who you are. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not enough.