Heaven and Hell (37 page)

“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 him 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.

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 the 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.”

I nodded.

Then I asked, “Will your badass bodyguard
battalion be joining us in North Carolina?”

“Undecided,” Sam answered. “This could be
done and at my house we don’t need them at night. My security
system is tight, impenetrable, put in by the best in the business.
Man lives not too far from here actually, name’s Callahan. But I
want you safe and I want extra eyes on you during the day so, yeah,
a smaller crew but this business isn’t sorted before we go to North
Carolina, we’ll be bringing a few of them with us.”

“It’s nice of them to do this,” I remarked
and Sam’s brows drew slightly together.

“Nice?”

“Yeah, to do you a favor like this.”

“Kia, honey, one the boys who’s huntin’ this
guy, he’s a buddy. I pulled in a marker with him. The boys who’re
watchin’ you and the other hunter, I’m payin’.”

I blinked and my lips parted.

Then I whispered, “What?”

“Private detective, lives in the same town
as Callahan, name’s Tanner Layne. Callahan suggested him. He’s on
payroll. He’s workin’ with a buddy of mine I met in the Army, Lee
Nightingale. Lee’s doin’ me a favor. Lee and Tanner suggested
locals they know to look out for you. They’re all on payroll.”

“You’re
paying
them?”

“Yeah.”

“
Paying?
”

“Uh…
yeah,
” Sam replied
.
“This
shit is time consuming, has no end date and could get dangerous.
Lee owes me for something big. But with an open-ended situation
like this, the skills I needed, the peace of mind I expect them to
give, they gotta issue invoices. Why the surprise?”