The Break-Up Psychic (25 page)

“Why? Don’t trust yourself with her?” I accuse.

“I know you’re mad because I didn’t tell you about her, so I’m going to let that slide this time.”

I feel the pink blush of shame creeping up my sparsely-covered chest. Sam isn’t Tim, and I can’t hold him responsible for the mistakes of my ex. He may not have told me about Roxy, but that’s a far cry from screwing her on our leather sofa. Besides, I did unknowingly aid and abet their little reunion by arming her with an illegally imported perfume, something I’ve been regretting bitterly ever since.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for,” I say, my anger dissipating a bit.

Sam lifts his hand again and for a moment, I think he’s going to reach out for me, but he lets the hand fall back to his side. “When I saw you looking at me like I’d let you down…I ran out after you and tried to get your attention, but you were a world away.”

Remembering the tears flooding my vision during my high-speed escape, I hold myself tighter, blinking back the wetness in my eyes. “When I saw you there with her, I just—I had to get out of there. It felt so awful, seeing her touch you like that. You made it sound like you and she were finished. You said she wasn’t the right one for you.”

“And I meant it.”

“Then why couldn’t you just tell me about her? I was waiting for you to tell me, and—”

“Sounds like you’ve been following up on me,” he interjects.

I look down, regretting that I never gave him the opportunity to tell me about all of this before it got so out of hand. “It wasn’t like that. A friend told me you’d been engaged and that your fiancé up and left you one day. She also warned me you left some girls brokenhearted afterward.”

Sam crosses his arms over his chest, nodding his head in agreement to my statement. “That’s the short story.”

It’s infuriating, always waiting for him to continue. It really tests the strength of my limited patience. “What’s the longer story?” I finally ask.

“I met Roxy when I was twenty-three. You’ve seen her, she’s a beautiful woman. I fell in love and I thought being with me would be enough to make her happy, but she’s always had big dreams, and at some point, I stopped fitting into them.”

I watch him form every word, surprised by his suddenly open manner. I wait quietly for him to continue.

“As for the others, I don’t have a good excuse for the way I was acting. I didn’t have my head on straight.”

“And now you do?”

“I thought so until you showed up at the bar the other night. Your face when you saw us…I don’t know why I kept it from you.”

“Sam, I met her, the other day. The same day, in fact. She came into the shop for some perfume and she told me…”

“She told you what?”

“She told me you’re still in love with her,” I charge, watching him closely for a reaction.

“I’m not,” he says without blinking.

“But are you sure? I mean, I thought you and I… I thought we had something. I thought you felt the same way that I—”

“I do. I do, Ellie. Roxy is my past.”

“Is she really?”

“Yes.” Sam’s hand reaches out for me and this time his hold on my arm is strong and steady. “I’m crazy about you. I’ve been cursing myself for not just coming clean with the whole Roxy mess. I’m sorry if I hurt you, but you
can
trust me.”

It’s those words more than anything else that ease the tension running through my body. I can hardly remember a man ever telling me he’s sorry for hurting me, not in the unabashed way Sam’s doing right now.

“Thank you,” I say, taking a step closer to him.

“For what?”

“For coming here, for not giving up on me.”

Sam’s other hand comes around me and rests solidly on my lower back. I place my own steady hands against his warm chest and look up into his gorgeous hazel eyes. Despite my lingering unease about Roxy and her intentions, I still want to trust him.

“I want this to work,” he says, his hands moving around my back, embracing me. “I’m not used to begging, you know,” he teases.

“I can easily believe it,” I say, a tear escaping as I smile up at him.

Sam leans in close to me and wipes the tear from my face, his eyelashes dropping as he stares intently at my lips.

Amber’s voice rings out, “She’s not here, Tim. I think she went to her support group meeting for Ex-Girlfriends of Assholes.”

I jump away from Sam, heeding the warning which Amber’s shout has provided. I see Tim over Sam’s shoulder as he rounds the corner of the tent. Sam’s arms are still half-stretched between us and Tim’s eyes narrow for a fraction of a moment on our closeness, but he recovers quickly. The flash of anger from a second before is replaced effortlessly with a smile that would make the
Kar
King jealous.

“There you are. I was just wondering where you’d disappeared to,” he says easily. “Hi. Timothy Donahue, nice to meet you.” Tim extends his hand to Sam, his Rolex watch dazzling as it catches the sun.

Sam pauses for a moment then turns to face Tim, placing me squarely behind him. He accepts the handshake while I squirm my way around him to stand across from both men.

“Sam James, friend of Ellie’s.”

“Is that so? Can’t say I’ve ever heard her mention your name before.”

“Sam,” I start, in a slightly high-pitched, breathy voice, “owns the auto shop down on Fifth Street.” And he’s great in the sack.

“Sure, I know the place,” Tim says, finally dropping the handshake and taking a step nearer to me. “Small place, at the back of an alley, right?”

Sam matches Tim’s movement and I find myself sandwiched between two of the hottest men I’ve ever seen in my life. If it wasn’t such a disaster, it’d be my darkest fantasy come true.

Sam narrows his eyes but keeps an easy smile on his face. His calmness is really freaking me out.

“So, Sean, was it?” Tim provokes.

“Sam.”

“Right, Sam. Do you get out to the festival every year?”

“First time, actually. I really only came here to see Ellie.”

Sam breaks eye contact with Tim and looks squarely at me, his body turning slightly toward me, engulfing me in sexual tension that threatens to choke the life out of all three of us.

“Well, I’ve got a tent just a few down from here. I’m a financial planner for a Fortune 500 bank. Stop by, we can talk about your future.”

“Nah, don’t need it. I’ve got a pretty good idea of what my future involves.” Sam looks away from me and gives Tim another of his easy smiles. I want to warn him to not poke the bear, but I’ve lost the ability to speak.

“Still, it might do you some good,” replies Tim. “We work with people all the time who’re living beyond their means. Maybe I could share with you some financial planning tools.”

“No need. In my line of work, I’m used to spotting a tool.”

Tim’s expression darkens considerably as he allows his cool façade to slip. Sam’s standing stoically, the tough biker inside him refusing to back down, waiting for Tim to make the next move. I’ve got to do something to stop this before they tear one another apart, but I think they’ve forgotten that I’m still standing between them.

“Hey, Tim.” The sound of Amber’s voice startles me out of my stupor and Tim, shaken out of his staring contest with Sam, turns to look at her. “Doug’s looking for you. Apparently someone’s beheaded all of your teddy bears and there’s a group of preschoolers over at your tent losing their shit.”

Tim looks down at me and I can tell he’s torn between needing to get back to his booth and wanting to stay for the face-off with Sam.

“Sounds like you’ve got a massacre on your hands,” says Sam, who remains as calm as Amber. He’s going to win this battle, and he knows it.

“Shit. I’ll see you later Ellie.” Tim leans down and places a quick kiss on my cheek. The action roots me to the spot and I can feel a noticeable tensing from Sam.

“Sam, it was nice to meet you,” Tim lies, holding out his hand once more.

Sam’s easy smile is gone, and his presence feels menacing as he accepts Tim’s hand, dropping it after one shake.

“Oh and, Ellie, save me some of that honey-flavored body powder. It tasted great on you the other day.” Tim saunters out of the makeshift alley, a satisfied smile on his face as he disappears around the corner.

I’m frozen and even if I wasn’t shocked into paralysis, I don’t think I could look at Sam right now. I can feel his eyes on me, boring into the side of my head as he processes Tim’s parting words. I force my head to turn and look at him. He’s standing very still, very quiet.

Humiliation is a powerful emotion. I’m not sure if I should cry, laugh, or turn and run away. Sam’s eyes are searching my face and I wish I could tell him it’s not what it sounds like, but that would be a lie. For the past three days I’ve been punishing him for not coming clean about his ex, but I’ve been equally silent on my recent lapse in judgment with Tim. How can I accuse him of being hung up on Roxy when my own ex licked body powder off my cleavage a week ago?

“I was going to talk to you about Tim,” I start, unable to hold Sam’s gaze, dropping my eyes to stare at his chest. “It was just—”

“Don’t.”

“Please, Sam, let me explain.”

“Ellie, I only need to know one thing.”

“Yes?” I ask, holding my breath.

“Is he a problem for you? Do you still love him?”

My mouth forms the words before my brain can register what they’ll be. “No, I don’t.” Relief sweeps through me at the admission. I don’t love Tim anymore. I’m starting to think I never really knew what love was.

Sam considers my words for a moment before leaning down to place an achingly gentle kiss on my parted lips. I wait two heartbeats before opening my eyes to look up at him.

“You better go deal with Amber,” he says, backing away from me as I lean forward, wanting more of him. “I’m pretty sure she’s got a bag full of teddy bear heads stashed somewhere.” Sam turns to leave but looks back over his shoulder as he reaches the end of the tents. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, watching his back as he disappears. “I’ll see you.”

I place a shaking hand to my lips and lightly trace the places where Sam’s lips touched mine. Every cell of my body is humming at the memory of his touch. I know I can’t abandon Amber, not after the sacrifice those teddy bears made for the sake of my love life, but the thought of make-up sex with Sam James doesn’t make the decision to go back to work an easy one.

I walk slowly around the back of the tent and enter the booth by pulling back the heavy canvas. Amber is back in her corner, her svelte body still a source of fascination for me. “Thank you for the warning about Tim and for the distraction, though I regret any teddy bears had to be harmed during my rescue mission.”

“Whatever. But you should really be thanking Brook. She’s the one with stuffing on her hands.”

“What?” I gasp, looking over to Brook who turns at the sound of her name. “It was you?”

Brook raises her shoulders and kicks at a lumpy trash bag on the ground by her feet. “Well, when I saw Tim
goin
’ ‘round the side of the tent, I knew there was
gonna
be trouble. I can’t have two men
fightin
’ at the back of the booth when my bottom line’s at stake.”

“I can’t believe you did that for me. I thought Amber…” I allow my sentence to trail off as declaring my belief in Amber’s evilness goes without saying.

“What can I say?” says Brook. “You can’t work around Amber for three years and not pick up a trick or two.”

“Wow, thanks, Brook,” Amber says, a smile threatening the corners of her mouth.

Amber and I walk to the front of the tent, joining Brook at the picked-over table. Products are scattered all over the place thanks to the rush of afternoon shoppers. We’re going to have to restock the booth before tomorrow. Another day in this ridiculous uniform with Tim’s unyielding stare adding ten degrees to the already high temperature.

“Does this mean you’ve forgiven me for the uniform, Amber?” Brook asks.

“Not even close. But if I were you, I’d avoid drinking from your water bottle for the rest of the day. In fact, go ahead and put it through the dishwasher a few times before you use it again.”

For a moment, Brook looks as though she’s going to tell Amber off, but a frustrated cry meets our ears and we all lean over the table to witness Tim in the middle of the thoroughfare spiking a headless teddy bear to the ground. I look at Brook and Amber and we can’t stop the hysterical laughter from overtaking us at the sight of Tim’s frustration. Amber retrieves the bag full of bodiless heads from beneath the table and hands me one. I turn the sweet, fuzzy face over in my hands. I don’t know what’s going to become of my love life, but I know I’ll never be alone. There’ll always be a friend around to behead a stuffed animal for me when I need it.

I can’t decide if I should burn the pink hot-pants or wear them under my clothes from now on. On one hand, it’s the most hideous, ridiculous piece of clothing I’ve ever worn. On the other hand, their unforgiving thinness and lack of appropriate coverage kept me at an arm’s distance from the funnel-cake stand all weekend. I proceed with folding the dainty material and bury the shorts in the back of the dresser drawer Luanne’s loaned to me. I guess it’s time to start thinking about where I’m going to live. I’ve been a houseguest for nearly a month now, and the smell of fried-rice has permeated my entire wardrobe.