Nantucket Romance 3-in-1 Bundle (16 page)

Sam grabbed a dry tank top and pair of shorts from the stack on top of the dryer. After changing into them, she peeked through the front curtain and saw Scott hadn’t left. Having no desire to face the silent one-man firing squad, she sank onto the sofa.

All teenagers did dumb things, things they weren’t proud of—especially when observed through the eyes of their grown-up selves. She was no exception.

Scott had been her first boyfriend. He was quite the stud back then, with a different girl turning his head every few days. Landon reminded her of that after Scott kissed her, and she got so angry at him they didn’t speak for a week.

They’d been going out for three months—a record for Scott—when it happened. The Whalers were three quarters into whipping the Vineyarders, and Scott and Sam sat side by side in the home section of the bleachers.

The cheerleaders chanted below them, flipping their hair across their shoulders with each snap of the head. Scott’s attention darted to Elizabeth Wittington, a pretty blonde with slender legs and major cleavage.

She smiled at Scott, and Sam’s stomach knotted. He had an eye for pretty girls, but when she was alone with him, he acted like she was the only girl in the world. She’d wondered the night before as she lay in bed if she was falling in love with him.

Now the notion frightened her.

The Whalers scored another touchdown, and the bleachers shook as fans shot to their feet. The band blared out their fight song.

Two rows down, Aaron Stevenson, the varsity baseball pitcher, turned and aimed a crooked smiled at Sam. Funny how popular she’d become with the boys since she started dating Scott—as if all the guys suddenly wanted to find out what was so special about her.

Scott high-fived his buddies, then they sat down. He tucked the stadium blanket around her and smiled. “Warm enough?”

“Sure.” With all the bodies crammed around her, she was sheltered from the cold fall breeze.

The cheerleaders started another chant, and she watched Scott’s eyes slide down to Elizabeth again. The girl swung her hips in time with the words, and he watched every move. Sam’s stomach took a dive.

She hated the ache that sprang up inside. She wished she’d never started dating Scott. What if he broke up with her? The ache inside her grew, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach. Why hadn’t she listened to Landon? She’d let herself care for Scott, let herself need him, and she knew better than anyone how dangerous that was.

Sam jumped up from her seat, and Scott looked up at her, startled. “I’m—uh—I’m going to get something to eat.”

“Want me to go?”

She tried for a casual smile. “That’s okay.” The blanket fell back onto the bleacher.

Sam squeezed down the row, stepping over feet and nearly tripping over a handbag. When she reached the aisle, she jogged down the steps and onto the grass, walking the short distance to the concession stand.

She remembered the way she felt the night before, when Scott kissed her good night. His lips left a warm path running all the way to the pit of her stomach. When he touched her, she felt it everywhere. He’d cradled her cheek like she was precious.

Now he was gawking at Elizabeth.

She crossed her arms, hugging herself against the coolness of the night. Her feelings for him were real, and they left her raw and vulnerable. She wondered how smart
it was to hold her heart out to him so he could throw it down and stomp on it.

Fear sucked the moisture from her mouth, and her breathing became shallow. She tore away from the line, wanting to hide until this panic passed. People were everywhere, classmates talking and laughing like they hadn’t a care in the world.

She spied a gap between the concession stand and the tall chain-link fence and darted around the corner into the shadows. The wood was hard and stable against her back. She caught her breath, closing her eyes against the night. What was wrong with her? What was she going to do?

“You okay?”

Sam gasped, her eyes popping open. Aaron Stevenson stood three feet away.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

She straightened and tried to erase the emotions that must’ve been on her face. “It’s okay.”

He put his hand on the chain-link fence, wrapping his fingers around the wires. “I saw you run back here. You okay?” he asked again.

Aaron had only spoken to her once, in the seventh grade to borrow a pencil. He was quiet for a jock but didn’t want for girlfriends. Looking at him now, she noticed he had the longest black eyelashes she’d ever seen on a boy. A contrast to his tall, masculine frame.

“I’m fine.”

He leaned against the fence, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops. “Scott’s a jerk, you know.”

She looked at him, wondering why he’d say that. Everyone liked Scott.

“For staring at other girls.” He nudged her foot with his. “You deserve better.”

His words massaged her ache, releasing its knotted fist. Scott, and her feelings for him, seemed far away, and with the detachment came relief.

“You’re twice the girl Elizabeth Wittington is.” He leaned in toward her. “If you were my girl, I wouldn’t need to look anywhere else.”

His fingers ran down her cheek, leaving a warm trail. His eyes looked almost black in the shadows. He planted his other hand against the building, just above her shoulder. She wondered how he’d gotten so close.

Instead of feeling threatened, she felt liberated.
See, Sam, Scott
doesn’t have your heart. You don’t need him. You don’t need anyone.

His warm breath fanned her face. His lips closed over hers. She felt the softness of his lips on hers, the warmth of his hand on her neck. But his touch didn’t reach into the core of her, and she relished that fact.
This is how it should be, Sam. Don’t let them get too
close. You’ll only get hurt.

Her hand settled on his waist, thoughts of Scott far away. Sam pulled him closer, confident and empowered. Aaron Stevenson wanted her. She could handle that. She could handle him.

He leaned fully against her. His hand slipped inside her jacket and up her side, his palm brushing the side of her breast.

A curse split the shadows.

Aaron jumped back, banging into the fence with a clatter.

Scott reached into the space and grabbed Aaron by the sleeve of his coat, dragging him out. Before he could take a swing, Aaron pushed him away. Scott’s fists tightened, his upper body leaning forward. He was no fool. Aaron was a head taller and a lot bulkier.

Scott turned to her then, his nostrils flaring. But she saw through the anger. She clasped her elbows and looked away. A whistle pierced the night, and the band struck up the fight song.

It seemed like an eternity before she saw Scott, in her peripheral vision, walk away. She didn’t have the nerve to go back up into the stands. Later, Landon returned her purse. Scott didn’t speak to her after that, and Aaron and the rest of the popular kids went back to ignoring her.

Now, Sam shifted on the sofa, letting her head lay against the cushion. She knew Scott had told Landon everything, but Landon never asked why she did such a foolish thing. Which was good, because she had no rational explanation for her behavior.

Sam peeked out the curtain and watched them. Scott stood with his arms crossed, and Landon looked away from him. Scott was probably warning him away from her, telling him he was too good for her. Well, as far as Sam was concerned, he could save his breath. Because no one knew that better than she did.

Eighteen

“S
orry about Scott yesterday.” Landon finished screwing the new strike plate into the shed’s doorjamb. He shut the door, and the new doorknob latched perfectly.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Sam picked up the rock they’d used to prop open the door and tossed it down to the edge of the water.

Amber was visiting today, having made up with Caden. She sat on the pier, her corn-silk copper hair whipping in the wind, but Caden had waded out beyond the end of the pier, chin deep. Only her head, covered in her fluorescent orange swim cap, was visible. Sam had warned her about undertows. “Caden, come back this way,” she called.

Landon took the key from the lock and handed it to her. “He’s my friend, and he was a jerk. I feel responsible.”

Sam sighed, remembering the way she cheated on Scott. “I was the jerk, remember?”

Landon picked up the empty doorknob container and instruction sheet, wadding it up. “Still. There must be a statute of limitations on that kind of thing.” He grinned.

She shrugged, still focused on the bay. Caden hadn’t moved an inch. “That girl.” She opened her mouth to call again, but Landon set his hand on her arm.

“Caden.” He waited until she turned toward him, then gestured for her to come in.

Without hesitation, her daughter broke into a breaststroke. Sam was grateful and annoyed at the same time.

Miss Biddle crossed the lawn, holding two glasses of lemonade. “Anyone thirsty?”

They thanked her for the drinks, speaking loudly so she could hear.

“I remember the way you two were always stopping in for my lemonade and just couldn’t help myself. Samantha, the cottage is looking spiffy.”

“Thanks.” She stared at the house with a fresh eye. “It should fetch a good price.”

Miss Biddle wiped her plump hands on the tails of her bright floral shirt. “I wish you’d reconsider and stay, dear.”

Landon’s eyes met Sam’s as if to say,
See, I’m not the only one who
thinks so.

“It would be nice to have a child in the backyard again. Just like old times.” Miss Biddle fingered the large silver pendant on her necklace.

Caden had swum in, and she hoisted herself onto the pier beside Amber. Max ran down the length of it and lay beside them.

Sam took a sip of her lemonade, letting the sweet and sour blend on her tongue. The sale of the house was the ticket to Caden’s future. Sam had no other way to pay for her college, and she was going to give her daughter a better start in life than she’d had. Caden wouldn’t scrub toilets and floors for a living. If she wanted to be an anthropologist or attorney, Sam wanted to give her that opportunity.

Landon made conversation with Miss Biddle. When Sam drained the rest of her lemonade, she handed over the glass and thanked her neighbor.

“Well, I’m off to a croquet tournament. See you kids later.”

Sam hadn’t been called a kid in years and hadn’t felt like one since she was five.

“The house looks very charming, Sam,” Melanie said when she arrived to take Amber and Caden for a sleepover at her house. “When do you think it’ll be ready to list?”

“About a week, I think.” Sam glanced at Landon, but he looked away.

Caden and Amber squeezed past Melanie and out the front door, loaded down with Caden’s overnight bag and Amber’s case of sidewalk chalk.

“Caden,” Sam called.

She stopped and looked back.

“I was thinking I’d take the day off tomorrow, okay? We can go to the beach or something.”

“Cool.” Caden trotted down the porch steps.

“Have fun,” Sam called.

When they left, Sam decided it was time to tackle Emmett’s room. She shut the door that first day and hadn’t gone back in except to close the window. His was the only room not needing a coat of paint. Now that she’d sorted through the rest of the house, it was the only room left.

She opened the door and flipped on the light switch, bracing herself for the smell of cigarettes and Old Spice. Holding her breath like a silly child, she strode to the window and opened it. The evening air was warm and still. When she turned, Landon stood in the doorway watching her.

“Are you okay?”

When had she become so transparent? “I’m fine.” She brushed her hands and looked around. Where should she start? Melanie had advised her to leave the furniture until the house sold, so the bedding needed to stay. Hopefully the house would sell furnished, and she wouldn’t have to worry about the contents.

In Emmett’s room, only drawers and the closet needed to be cleaned out. She looked at the white five-panel door, then turned away.

“Let’s start with the drawers.” They could shove the clothes into bags and give them to charity.
It’ll be done and over with before I
know it.