All-American Girl (10 page)

“I hope so, for your sake. But I think you might be in denial, and I’m afraid I’m not nearly as forgiving.”

“Faith, Samantha. You must learn to have faith in people, and in yourself. Trust should also be high on your list.”

“Well, I admit I’m a work in progress. And I don’t come with a guarantee. Most people throw me back nowadays.”

Gram giggled and held out her arms for a hug. Samantha hesitated before sinking into her grandmother’s warm embrace. “The people who throw you back aren’t the ones you want anyway.”

Samantha eased out of the light grip. “You’re the best, Gram. I’ve got some cleanup work to do on the shop, but I’ll be by again soon.”

“All right. Do me a favor, would you?”

“Anything.”

“Take care of yourself.”

Samantha kissed her grandmother’s forehead. Taking care of herself was something she’d given up on a long time ago, but was something she wouldn’t mind starting to do again. “I will.”

“All great changes are preceded by chaos.”
~Deepak Chopra

T
HE
T
OWN
W
AS
B
USY
, parking was a problem, and all Samantha wanted was to get to the antique shop and continue her cleaning spree. Now, more than ever, she wanted the place to shine like new when her grandmother walked through those doors again.

Before making it to the shop, Samantha made a spur-of-the-moment decision and stopped by the Queen Diner. She had an urge to talk to Candice.

“Morning, Samantha.” Candice shuffled the tray she was holding and reached out for an embrace. Samantha hesitated before surrendering to the friendly gesture. “Give me a sec to get rid of this load and we can sit and chat.” She nodded toward the bar. “Have a seat over there and I’ll be right with you.”

“All right.” Samantha took a seat.

The waitress behind the bar handed Samantha a menu. “Can I get you something?”

“Just coffee, thanks.”

“Coming up.”

With a hot cup of strong coffee, Samantha relaxed. It amazed her how the simplest of acts—like sitting in a diner sipping the best coffee she’d ever tasted, getting ready to talk to an old friend—could lighten her mood. It was strange; why hadn’t she ever felt like this in New York?

“Whew.” Candice strolled over and took the seat next to Samantha. “It’s been a busy morning. Sorry you had to wait.”

“Oh, that’s okay.”

Candice eyed the empty space in front of her friend. “What? No breakfast?”

Samantha laughed—and it felt good. “Have you seen Cole around recently?”

Candice’s forehead crinkled. “Not for a few months, but Lance mentioned he saw him the other day. Why?”

“Do you know what he’s been up to?”

“Not really. Lance has dealt with him a lot more than I have.”

“Lance? Why?” Samantha clanked her cup on the table. Just hearing his name sent waves of irritation flowing over her skin. Candice nodded and gave Samantha another one of those irritating I-know-something-you-don’t-know smiles.

“I don’t think that’s my story to tell. You should ask him.”

Hell would freeze over before Samantha did that. After making a fool of herself the night before, and with the way he’d treated her that morning, she was not about to track him down and ask him what he knew. There was no way she would act like she needed Lance. The
last
thing she needed was him.

“I can tell you that Cole started working at the shop more when Dorothy started getting sick.”

Samantha’s face twisted. How many times did she have to be reminded that she had left her grandmother to the vultures?

“Why do you want to know?” Candice asked.

“Just curious, I guess.” Samantha wasn’t about to share the story with anyone else. Being a failure for Gram was bad enough; sharing it with the world was entirely different. “I haven’t seen him since I’ve been back in town. I just want to talk to him about something.”

Candice’s eyebrow rose a fraction.

“Maybe I’ll see Cole around.” Samantha placed some cash on the counter and rose. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Oh, Samantha…”

“Hmm?”

Candice smiled at her mischievously. “Did Lance stop by the house last night?”

Samantha cursed silently and shuffled her feet. It all made sense now. Candice was sneaky. “Yes, he did.”

“And? Did you get everything worked out for Dorothy’s house?”

Hell, she didn’t know. She didn’t remember two licks from the night before. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good. One more thing before you go. I know you have a lot going on, and I wanted you to know that if you need anyone to talk to—I’m here. And don’t let Lance get under your skin too much either. There are two sides to every story.”

What the hell? There was that name again. Thinking Candice needed medication, Samantha shook her head and walked out.

Once she got back to the shop, tension gripped Samantha’s body. Between her grandmother, Cole, and Lance, she had more than enough to occupy her mind. With all that stuff, her waiting novel was last on her list of to-dos. As she cleaned, she tried to drudge up the memories from the night before. She drew a blank, and that irritated her to no end.

She didn’t like the look on Lance’s face when she awoke that morning. He had studied her, judging her reaction as he walked—half-naked, no less, and annoyingly handsome—into her room. She hoped he’d gotten an eyeful of her shock…and that he hadn’t seen her desire. And for some God-forsaken reason she didn’t like how upset he’d looked when he left.

As she pushed another antique couch into position, Samantha decided she didn’t care that she’d upset him. She’d spent enough time caring about him, and she wasn’t about to start that again. Besides, it was as obvious as the dirt on her clothes that he didn’t give a damn about her, then or now. The last thing she was going to do was
care.
As she wiped the trickle of sweat from the back of her neck, she resolved that no man, especially Lance, would interfere with her life. She could still try the high road with him, but she didn’t have to like him.

A loud thud on the table behind made her spin around. Lance stood just a few feet away with a playful lift of his brow. It made her see red.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. “It’s incredibly rude to sneak up on people and scare them half to death.”

Lance snorted as he leaned back against the mahogany table, his dark, toned biceps flexing and stretching the short sleeves of his white T-shirt. “Well, seeing as how it’s also rude to yell obscenities, kick people, and be all-around sarcastic—I don’t think you have a lot of room to talk. People in glass houses, and all.”

“Now is not the time for one of your lectures.”

“Oh, forgive me.” He picked up the folder on the table and pushed it into Samantha’s hand. “I just came to give you these.”

“What’s this?”

“The estimates for your grandmother’s house.”

Estimates?
“I’m confused.”

He shifted, his eyes glinting in amusement beneath the subdued lighting of the glass chandeliers. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Stop that.”

His lips lifted into a partial smile. “Stop what?”

“Mocking me.”

“Oh, is that what I was doing? I thought I was just asking a question.”

Samantha flipped through the rest of pages and placed the folder on the table. “Fine. I get it. That’s why you were at the house last night. I’m guessing at some point we discussed it, but I don’t really remember much.” She rolled her shoulders uncomfortably.

“I think we covered that this morning.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

“Listen, about that—”

Lance closed the distance between them and put his hand on the back of her head, threading his fingers through her hair. The elastic that held her ponytail loosened. A small tingle sprung up at the base of her neck as his fingers lightly rubbed along her scalp. Samantha shivered.

“How is your head, by the way?”

“Um…fine…just fine.”
Please stop touching me, please stop touching me
. The band in her hair lost its grip and fell to the floor, and her hair fell in a mass of waves around her face. She looked up through her lashes as an emotion she hadn’t seen in twelve years flickered over Lance’s face. Longing. There was no mistaking that expression. Damn it, she had to be hallucinating.

Lance abruptly moved his hand and took two steps back. His lips were pressed in a hard line, and his eyes squinted questionably.

“Look over the estimates,” he said coolly. “How about I stop by tonight and go over them?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“I can refresh your memory about the specific changes we talked about.”

Oh, her memory was just fine. But they were the wrong memories. From that one touch, she was back in his pickup truck, the night sky sprinkling moonlight over their naked bodies. The light caresses of his hands over her skin. His hands were soft then, smooth and possessive as they claimed every inch of her body. The sparks had erupted deep within when he’d touched her, and when they finally…

“Sam?”

He could make her feel so good, and so used. She shook her head firmly, trying to block out the feelings that were flooding her brain, desperate not to think of him like that. Samantha hadn’t forgotten how heartless he had been; she didn’t need him working on Gram’s house, being that close.

“No,” she said. “I don’t need your estimates. I’ll find someone else to do the work.”

He frowned. “Why the change of heart all of a sudden? You were ready to accept my help last night.” He regained the two steps he’d put between them and pressed her against the couch. “As a matter of fact,” he whispered dangerously close to her face, “you offered me something more. Much more. If it weren’t for your condition
and
the fact that I’m a gentleman, I’m might have even taken you up on it.”

God, had she actually offered to sleep with him? Embarrassment hit her full force, and she suppressed the urge to duck under the nearest table and hide her flushing face. She must have been toasted to make an offer like that. Losing her virginity to him, only to be pushed aside the next day like moldy bread, was traumatic enough. No way in hell would she ever let herself get wrapped up in anything like that again. No more alcohol for her. Ever.

“Get out. I don’t need your help.” The memories of the night they’d shared and what he had done to her were too much. She didn’t even want to look at him. “I don’t need anything you have to offer.”

“You’re the one who offered, Sam. Don’t forget that.”

She tossed the folder at him. He caught it against his chest. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten anything. Like what a bastard you are. Trust me, had I been sober, I would have kicked you in the balls and sent you home screaming rather than sleep with you. Getting you into bed is the last thing on my mind.”

She turned to walk away but he caught her wrist.

“Jesus. Every time we talk, you verbally slap me. What in the hell did I ever do to you?”

She whirled around, eyes wide, heart racing. “What did you do?” She snorted and jerked her arm out of his grip. “You’ve got the nerve to ask what you
did?
Are you fucking serious?”

“Damn right I’m serious. I’ve been yelled at, kicked, and practically spat on every time I see you. Through that, I’ve done nothing but try and help you. I’ve heard New Yorkers have attitude problems, but I had no idea you would come back such a pain in the ass.”

She smacked him across the face. For only a second he looked stunned, before his face was wiped clean of any emotion. She took a step back, hands over her open mouth. What had she just done?

“Do you feel better now?” he asked.

She shook her head, tears pricking the back of her eyes. “Oh my God. I’m…I’m sorry…I—”

She couldn’t believe she’d resorted to physical violence. The one thing she knew
never
to do. No matter what he had done to her in the past, hitting him—or anyone—wasn’t the answer. She’d just failed the most important lesson Dr. Wade had ever taught her.
Never use violence against another person to solve your problems. It leads only to pity and loss.
A blanket of shame covered her from head to toe, making the urge to fall to the floor and cry even worse. She was a failure. At failure at life. At keeping her rage in check. At everything.

“Why don’t you just tell me why I make you so angry?”

She couldn’t muster a response.

“Sam?”

“Please, go away. I want to be alone.”

“Fine, I’ll go, but I expect an answer to my question. I’ll be over tonight around six.”

“Don’t bother. I won’t be home.”

“You’ll be home, Sam, and I’ll be there.”

No, she wouldn’t—she’d be buried in the backyard because her guilt was going to kill her first.

“Lay a firm foundation
with the bricks that others throw at you.”
~David Brinkley

“W
HAT’S
W
ITH
T
HAT
L
OOK
on your face?” Candice asked as she wiped down the counter.

Lance shrugged and took a seat. “What look?”

“The one that says there’s something going on in that hard head of yours.”

“There’s always something going on up here, sis,” he said, tapping his temple. “That’s nothing new.”

Candice laughed. “Well, I won’t argue with that. But
this
look,” she said, patting his cheek, “has discontent written all over it.”

He flinched at the sting of pain from Samantha’s smack. “I just left the antique shop. Sam’s not very happy with me.” He didn’t blame her; he shouldn’t have called her an ass. But he didn’t understand why she hated him so much. Then she’d given him an innocent—almost longing—look when he had touched her head. His mind flashed back to the one time she had been beneath him, giving him the same look. Remembering the feel of her supple skin sent electricity to every nerve.

Candice cocked her hip and pursed her lips. “Couldn’t keep that temper of yours under control, huh?”

He shifted uncomfortably. His jeans were constricting him. “It wasn’t my temper.”

Candice’s brow shot up in an inquisitive stare. “Oh no…you didn’t press her, did you?”

“I did—at the same time I was saying some not-so-nice things.” He didn’t need to explain further. Candice knew what had happened between him and Sam all those years ago.

“Why?”

He didn’t know why, exactly. His fingers rubbed roughly over his face. One thing he did know was that he was tired of her constant bad attitude toward him. The more she spit derisive remarks in his direction, the more he wanted to silence her with his lips, comfort her with his touch, thrust into her and have her screaming and aching beneath him. Hell.

“Because I couldn’t help myself. I’ve done my best to help her so far, and I think I’ve been pretty nice considering our past. But she’s not going to get over whatever made her an ice princess unless she faces it.”

“What if it’s just you?”

Lance narrowed his gaze. “It’s not just me. Look how she treated you when she came back to town.”

Plus, he’d never done anything to deserve her contemptuous behavior. All he’d done was give her one night of passion—of love—and she’d fled town, without saying two words to him. She had demons, he understood that, but they didn’t come from him. At one time, he had some of his own demons, and if it hadn’t been for Sam’s grandmother and his own sister, he never would have gotten through it.

“I’ll figure something out,” he said. “I’ve got to do something.”

“Well, Lance—it almost sounds as if Samantha means something to you.” Candice winked at him.

“Listen, besides the pain in my thigh and now the one on my face, she hasn’t meant anything to me in twelve years.” The lie burned his tongue. He owed Samantha more than she knew, but he didn’t want to care about her. He vowed long ago his heart would never belong to another woman. Jax’s mother had spoiled Lance’s outlook on love and marriage, and Samantha had built the foundation of his dislike of love long before that; it had stuck with him.

“Your face?” Candice gaped. “Did she smack you?”

He nodded.

“What on earth for?”

“I told you, I cornered her. This time—she snapped.”

“After all you’ve done for her, she smacked you?”

Lance rose and shook his head. “She doesn’t know.”

“And she never will if she keeps pushing people away.”

“I haven’t figured out how to get to her. She’s a beehive tightly locked away in an iron safe. If I shake it up or try to break in, she comes out fighting.”

“You know…” Candice pressed a finger to her lips. “She met Jax the other day.”

“What? When?”

“The morning you went to get the paint off Mr. Johnson’s cat.”

“Well, no wonder he’s been having nightmares.”

Candice shot her brother a belittling look. “Not funny.”

He laughed. “I was kidding.”

“Anyway, you’d be surprised how much she softened up while she talked with him.”

“Sam? Soft?” He gaped in surprise. “I don’t believe it.”

Candice walked around the counter and gripped her brother’s forearm. “Believe it. I was pretty surprised myself. This
new
Samantha seems to flinch at everything. I would’ve thought she and kids would go together like oil and water.”

If he had thought Sam couldn’t shock him anymore, he was wrong. Maybe Sam still had a soft spot—for kids anyway. “Yeah. That gives me an idea,” he said.

Candice smiled playfully. “That’s my specialty—giving people good ideas. Now if only I could have some of my own.”

“Thanks, sis.” He bent down and kissed her forehead. “I owe you one. And don’t worry, one day you’ll have a big, bright idea for yourself.”

She sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Now go or you’ll be late picking Jax up.”

“All right. I’m going to stop by and see Dorothy and then head out to Sam’s.”

“You’re going back into the fire?”

“Yup, but this time I’ll have my own watering hose.”

“Evening, Dorothy.” Lance strode into Dorothy’s recovery room and walked over the bed. Jax came shooting in right after him.

“Grammy! Grammy!” Jax pounced on the bed and gave Dorothy a big hug. Her eyes lit up brighter than fireworks on the Fourth of July.

“Hey there, cutie.” She ruffled his hair. “I’ve missed your smile. How are you?”

“Great! I got to play with Jason today, and we got in trouble trying to put his dog in the washing machine.”

“Oh my.”

Jax twisted his face and scratched his nose. “Well, Jason tried, but I told him that wasn’t the way to wash the dog. But he just wouldn’t listen.” He leaned in to whisper in Dorothy’s ear. “I think he got spanked after I left.”

Dorothy glanced at Lance, who smiled with an authoritative but appreciative grin. He was proud of Jax. The boy was full of energy and bounced off the walls like a ball of rubber bands, but he was a good kid and knew the difference between right and wrong. Jax had been raised without a mother, but Lance thought he’d done a pretty good job alone.

“Is that all?” Dorothy asked.

Jax lifted his boney shoulders and held out a toy. “Dad also got me this new dinosaur today for passing my alphabet test in school.”

“That’s wonderful!” Dorothy reached out and took the dinosaur in her hands. “What kind is it?”

“It’s a T-Rex!” Jax flashed a quick smile and jumped off the bed. He ran over to Lance and wrapped his arms around him. “Thanks again, Dad.”

Lance patted the top of Jax’s head before bending down and scooping him up for a bear hug. “You’re welcome, Jax. After all—” Lance tweaked his nose “—you did all the hard work, right?”

“Yup!”

“Keep it up.”

“Oh, I will!” Jax cocked his head and looked as though he was considering something. “There’s another dinosaur I want—”

Lance interrupted him with a long, deep laugh. Jax knew how to get what he wanted. He wasn’t spoiled—far from it—but he knew the benefits of hard work.

“We’ll discuss that later, okay?”

Jax frowned. “Oh, okay. Can I go to the vending machine for a snack?”

Lance dug some change out of his pocket and handed it to Jax. He cupped the coins in both hands and jingled them as he walked out the door. Lance shook his head in amusement as he took a seat next to Dorothy.

“He sure is something, Lance.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky. How’s the therapy going?”

Dorothy let out a long sigh. “It’s okay. Did the doctor tell you my memory is starting to improve?”

“No, the doctors won’t talk to me anymore since Sam came back into town. I guess you could say she put the clamp on it.”

Dorothy smiled as she reached for Lance’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

He glowered. “For what?”

“That you have to deal with Samantha.”

That piqued his interest a smidge. “What about her?”

Dorothy waved a hand in the air. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I am talking about. I mentioned the other day I thought something was wrong. I’ve heard all about her attitude.”

“From who?”

“Well, from lots of people. Burlington is not that big, you know. My doctor, the nurses, a few friends who work at the bank.
She tries her
best to hide it when she’s here, but I see it in her face. She has a tendency to treat me like I’m breakable and then lashes out at others.” Her voice dropped. “And then there’s you.”

He did his best to keep a poker face. “What about me?”

“You don’t think I notice that sour look on your face when we talk about her?”

Lance snorted as he leaned back into the wooden chair. It was hard and cool, the same way he was trying to keep his expression.

When Lance didn’t respond, Dorothy continued, “It’s not always a sour look, you know. There’s another look…”

“Grammy!” Jax burst into the room, shaking a bag of M&M’s. “When you get all better, can we make some of those special cookies? They’re yummy!”

“Of course, dear, just as soon as I get home. Promise.”

“Thanks!”

Lance rose and bent to give Dorothy an affectionate hug. “We’ve got to run.”

“We’re having pizza with Samantha!” Jax called out.

Lance groaned inwardly. He hadn’t really wanted Dorothy to know that. He loved the woman like a grandmother. Like a mother, really. After the death of his own mother, Dorothy had helped him in immeasurable ways. Now that Dorothy needed help, he’d be there for her. And for Samantha.

“Samantha, huh?” Dorothy looked up at Lance thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I’m going to be doing the work on your house for when you get better. We’re going over to discuss the details.”

“That’s wonderful. You two will do great together, I’m sure.”

Whoa. It didn’t sound like she meant the construction. Lance shook his head as he grabbed a piece of paper out of his wallet. “I almost forgot.” He handed the folded paper to Dorothy. “Here’s the last payment.”

Dorothy unfolded the check, then refolded it. “Thanks, but I told you not to worry about it. I’ve just been so happy with the results that I would have let you keep it all.”

“Well, that’s nice, but I pay my debts. And I wouldn’t feel right had I not given you back every cent for helping me change my life. I owe you for that alone. A million more payments wouldn’t be enough.”

Dorothy blushed. “Oh, stop.”

“No, I mean it. I wouldn’t be what I am today without you, Dorothy.”

“Me neither!” Jax chimed in.

She snickered. “All right. I’ll take it. But I’m afraid you’ll need to give this check to Samantha. She’s in charge of all my finances now.” She handed the check back to him.

He clenched his teeth. The last thing he wanted to do was give Sam the last payment on the loan he’d owed her grandmother. Sam would ask questions. He didn’t want to talk about his past with a woman who wouldn’t come to terms with her own.

“Okay.” He took the check and put it back in his wallet. He would give it to her later. Maybe a lot later. “Gotta run.”

“Bye, Grammy!” Jax gave Dorothy one last hug before running over to his dad.

“We’ll come again soon,” Lance said as he ushered Jax out the door.

Her smile brightened, wrinkling her face. “And I’ll be waiting for an update on everything.”

The pizza was nestled between them on the seat, filling the cab of pickup with the smell of cheese and pepperoni. Jax shifted anxiously in his seat and tapped his fingers on his new T-Rex.

Lance turned the truck onto Sam’s street, Templeton Drive. He knew it well from the time he used to spend there when Sam was younger and even after Sam ran off to New York. Over the years, Dorothy’s house had become his second home. The thought of having Sam back in it was, well, distracting.

“Dad! Dad!” Jax called out as he pressed his face to the window. “This is the same street Doug lives on. His house is right there!” He pointed out the window at a blue bungalow sitting right next to Dorothy’s house. “And there’s Grammy’s house!” Jax paused and frowned. “Wait, Samantha lives next to Grammy and Doug?”