NEXT TO ME (A Love Happens Novel Book 1) (15 page)

Sam was saved from having to reply when Ash’s phone chirped. Reading the message, he muttered a curse and straightened. “Gotta bounce. Don’t forget, I’m taking Beck and Nolan with me tomorrow. We’re wheels up at oh three hundred. Back in eighteen hours, twenty-four max.”

“Roger that,” Sam said, nodding. “Watch your six. And report, when you can.”

A group of American aid workers had found themselves in a touchy situation, their transport van making a critically wrong turn and leading them directly into a training camp for a notorious Mexican drug cartel tucked into the jungle near the Guatemalan border. Somebody had to go get the foursome out of there before Ash’s mention of mock execution became a reality for the compassionate but ill-prepared group.

Mendoza clapped his hands once, rubbing them together. “So, what am I bringing tonight? If I handle the beer and wings, will you coordinate the strippers?” He shifted uneasily, whispering the last word as he looked toward Sam’s open office door, knowing his wife sat at her own desk just down the hall.

It only took a second for Sam’s Ali-muddled brain to realize what tonight was. Shit. He’d agreed weeks ago to have the UFC Championship fight party at his house because of Mike’s new baby. Mendoza usually hosted the pay-per-view event, but apparently nothing put a damper on a party quicker than an infant in the house. Grady’s place was out because you could hardly watch a fight the right way while sitting on the floor of his unfurnished condo. A seventy inch flat screen and two bean bag chairs didn’t count.

Grinning for the first time in six days, Sam eyed the door himself. “You know the rules, no chicks at a UFC party.” He held up his hand before Mendoza could object. “Yes, even topless ones. And I’ll have everything covered unless you want something healthy and then you’re on your own. I’m not spending good goddamn money on hummus or tofu chips.”

First of all, Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a stripper. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He could, and while it was a pleasant memory for sure, it had been a hell of a long time ago and it sure as shit hadn’t been in his home. Second of all, Caroline would horse whip each one of them if she got wind of a naked woman at one of their fight parties, and she wouldn’t give a flying fuck whether she was married to him or not.

Silently agreeing, Mendoza gave him an informal salute and was out the door while Sam figured out how the hell he was going to leave the office in time to restock his beer fridge. The only good thing about hosting their fight night was that he’d be too distracted to prowl around Ali’s house like some lovesick fool or spend the night talking himself out of calling her.

Oh, and he’d have a legit excuse to drink himself into a mind numbing stupor. Maybe then he could manage to forget about her for more than five fucking minutes.

***

She appeared out of nowhere. Catching a flash of white out of the corner of his eye, Sam looked in that direction and his heart kicked into high gear. Their eyes met and held across the short expanse of sand and as suddenly as Ali Ross had walked in to, and then right out of his life, she was back again. Their connection was severed when she looked nervously away and Sam knew it right then. Despite her week long absence, Ali was still hiding.

He was sitting on his patio with Mendoza, and the two guys from his firm who stuck together like they were attached at the hip. Beckett Smith and Nolan Ellis, both former Navy and thick as thieves, were each downing their second and final bottle of beer before heading home, needing a few hours of quality shut eye before their four a.m. rendezvous with Ash. Sam was powering through his own beer at a similar pace, but had stopped counting a half dozen or so ago.

It was dusk when the small group of guys had moved from Sam’s living room, littered with empty beer bottles and greasy pizza boxes, to the flagstone patio an hour ago. Ali’s house had been dark, his automatic recon of her place telling him nobody was home. The championship fight had been over almost before it started, hardly worth the eighty bucks to see the up-and-coming Irish fighter tap out to the reigning light heavyweight title holder only minutes into the feature fight. Faced with no entertainment, thanks to Sam’s firm stance on the
no strippers
rule, they were reduced to staring at the nearly empty beach while sprawled out in cushioned patio chairs. They were having a lively debate regarding the merits of using the extremely effective triangle choke hold as a form of submission, instead of the more traditional but equally painful, reverse arm bar.

“If your opponent likes to power bomb then you’re screwed because you don’t have the angle you need, but if you find yourself on the ground, it’s still one of the most effective moves you have,” Beck said, smoothly demonstrating the triangle choke hold when he froze, all four of them turning at the sight of the stacked blonde stepping off the porch next door and onto the sandy beach.

Sam was shocked to see her suddenly appear, wearing worn denim cut off’s and a loose shirt, the white cotton rippling in the breeze like a surrender flag. Heading in their general direction, she quickly severed eye contact with him, careful not to look their way or draw attention to herself. As if four, red-blooded men weren’t going to notice her. Pete, who’d been asleep near Sam’s chair, ambled to his feet and walked to the patio’s edge, just one more male caught in Ali’s spell. The poor dog had missed her. And he wasn’t the only one.

“Let’s go for a walk, Pete.” She patted the thigh of her shorts, her voice soft. Barely loud enough to hear over the crashing waves.

Pete, who was finally learning a thing or two about manners, turned to look at Sam but didn’t wait for permission, the temptation too strong. Instead, he immediately took off with his tail wagging, trotting quickly across the sand toward her. She bent down, running gentle hands over his face and ears, smiling and speaking in a hushed voice. Lucky fucking dog. Turning, she started walking down the beach with Pete jumping alongside her, never once making eye contact with him again. Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever been so thoroughly dissed. The woman wasn’t going to say one fucking word to him after walking out of his bedroom and out of his life without so much as a thank you.

“Hey! You can’t just take off with my dog.” The words sounded testy, even to his ears.

Turning around but not stopping, she grinned and walked backwards, her blonde hair blowing wildly in the breeze. “Can Pete come out and play?”

Her words were playful, her wide smile sexy as hell, and his foul mood vanished, replaced with light and sun and relief. He must have smiled back, although he couldn’t say for sure, because she laughed then continued her barefoot walk up the beach, his dog trotting happily alongside her.

Finally looking away, he found three sets of eyes staring at him, all with equally curious expressions. Fuck me, he thought, and put his hand up to stop what was coming next but it was too late. The less than tactful prying into his personal life commenced immediately.

“Hot damn, Sammy,” Beck said in his quietly reserved manner, glancing back at Ali and watching as she disappeared down the beach. “Where the hell have you been keeping her?”

Nolan’s animated voice chimed in next. “That’s your neighbor? Score me an introduction with her, will ya? I think I saw her checking me out.” He gestured along his lean, muscled body, showcased in a mismatched striped t-shirt and plaid board shorts, with flip flops rounding out his ensemble. Fashion gone horribly wrong. “Chicks dig this.”

He was only joking because according to Grady, Nolan’s latest cupcake—because he went through them by the dozen—was making noise about moving her things into his place. At least, Sam hoped he was joking. The reverse arm bar wasn’t a move he wanted to make on one of his own guys, but right about now it sounded extremely gratifying.

“Oh, I get it now,” Mike said, nodding his head in satisfaction. “You’ve been borrowing a few cups of sugar from the pretty neighbor lady, huh? That’s what the lovey dovey look is all about, right? But, that doesn’t explain the piss poor mood lately. Unless she cut you off...”

The urge to put Mike in the same choke hold and wipe away his smug expression was strong but thankfully for him, Grady chose that moment to ring the doorbell. Thankfully for Sam, too, because it meant he didn’t have to field the locker room type questions being lobbed at him as he walked through the house to let Grady in. Hell, he didn’t have answers for them, anyway. At least none that wouldn’t make him look like a chump being strung along by the innocent looking, yet completely lethal girl next door.

But a few minutes later, when that very girl came strolling back down the beach—her hair tousled from the wind, looking a lot like it did after he put her through a satisfying tumble—it was Sam asking all the questions.

Pete was ten feet in front of her as he led the way back and Sam was surprised when Ali followed, stopping at the edge of the patio. Her expression was tentative, her bare feet still on the sand. Maybe she was waiting for an invitation to join them. Hell, maybe she thought he would call her out right there in front of everyone, demanding to know why she’d lied about her hometown, challenging her on what else she was lying about. Sam didn’t, of course, but only because Donna had raised him with better manners than that. He did hold her gaze, though, and even in the low light of the nearly faded sun, he could see weariness and fatigue, emphasized by the dark smudges under her sky blue eyes. She raised her hand in a brief wave, her eyes darting from him to the other men, who sat openly staring at her.

Nolan didn’t pass up the opportunity to lay on his charm. “Well, hello there, darlin’. You just made this beautiful view a whole lot better.”

Sam suppressed an eye roll. “Ali,” he gestured to the guys individually with his bottle of beer, “meet Mike, Beckett and Nolan.”

She smiled shyly and waved again, but didn’t speak. Looking back at him, she bit her plump bottom lip and Sam felt his pants get tighter. His desire to comfort her, to take away her troubles and then fuck her until she couldn’t move was almost too much to resist and he took a step toward her, not caring what the other guys thought. Audience or not, he needed to touch her, hold her and feel her breath on his face. Tell her in no uncertain terms that he was damn glad she’d come back.

Grady’s curious voice, and his unexpected words, stopped him cold.

“Ali? Is that you?” Stepping out onto the patio, Grady closed the door behind him. “Hey, how are you, honey? I’ve been trying to reach you for days on end.”

Shocked, Sam’s head swiveled from Ali to Grady, then back again. Her face paled as she returned his long look before smiling at Grady, who stepped past him to wrap her in his arms, giving her a friendly bear hug.

She hugged him back. “Hi, Grady. I’m good. I’m fine.”

Clearly, he wasn’t a stranger. Red hot jealously filled Sam.
Mine.
She’s mine.

It was a wonder he recognized the feeling for what it was, considering he’d never felt it before in his life, but seeing another man touch her—and with familiarity, too—filled him with something close to rage. Sam didn’t want another man’s hands on her, especially a notorious flirt like Grady Foster, and he watched in confused annoyance, trying to connect the dots. Grady knew Ali. His Ali. But how the hell he knew her was the burning question. And exactly how well, too, because the man had her goddamn phone number and had been calling her
for days on end.
And why the fuck was he still touching her?

“I was worried when you didn’t return my calls.” Taking a half step back, Grady held her arms out, surveying her as if he might find something wrong.

Her eyes darted in Sam’s direction. “I was out of town.”

“Yeah? Where did you go? Let me know next time, I’ll tag along. You know I’m always up for a good road trip and I have the perfect mixed tape downloaded to my phone. A nice blend of new age instrumental and gangsta rap.”

Sam felt his hackles rise when Ali laughed at Grady’s charismatic wit, and before he could think better of it, he lashed out. “Christ, Grady. Back off, alright?”

The fierce look Sam gave him had Grady finally releasing her. He dropped down into a cushioned chair, reading the situation correctly and not bothering to hide the laughter in his voice. “Ah. So it’s like that, is it?”

Reaching for the cooler, Sam opened the top a little harder than necessary and grabbed a new bottle of beer, twisting the cap off and side-arming it toward the metal trash can, the ping loud in the sudden quiet. He held it out to Ali, who was now sitting on the edge of a wooden bench, her arms wrapped around her middle.

“It’s not like anything.” Shaking his head, Sam returned to his own chair, wanting like hell to punch that knowing grin off of Grady’s pretty face. Taking a long pull from his own beer, he couldn’t have stopped his next words if his life depended on it. “How well do you two know each other?”

“We don’t, really.” Ali said softly, Grady speaking at the same time.

“I set up the security system in her house last month.” Grady nodded toward her beach house, his look of puzzlement clearly saying that Sam should’ve known this.

And he should have. Neither Sam, nor Ash, had ever micro-managed the guys. They were highly trained and fully capable men, after all. But he always stayed on top of every job Scorpio did, including the routine installs and mundane monitoring of each system they sold. How did her name, and more importantly her address, get by without him noticing it? And why wouldn’t Ali say anything to him about it? She had hired his own damn company, for fuck’s sake, and then never thought it was worth mentioning?

“You’re
that
Ali? Ali Ross?” Mendoza’s question interrupted his thoughts. “I was the one who did your phone consultation.” Looking at Grady with a sly grin, Mike snorted.

Holding up his hands, Grady was all innocence. “You were too busy, man. I can’t help it if you’re dumb enough to pawn the good jobs off on me. I only do what I’m told.”

“Sam pawned it off on me first. How the hell was I supposed to know?” Looking back at Ali sheepishly, he said, “I apologize for the swearing, ma’am. Grady didn’t cross any lines with you, did he? Maybe you want to file a complaint with Scorpio’s HR department? Sammy’s in charge of that, too, so I’m betting we can probably get this pretty boy,” he tilted his head toward Grady, “suspended without pay.”