Chasing Kings (17 page)

Ethan forced a smile, nodding with Julian’s jokes while silently praying the older man would walk away.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Ethan.”

“Mmhmm,” Ethan managed to mumble.

“This makes us even. In the books.” Julian patted him on the back again. “But we’re old friends now, you and I. And I sometimes depend on the kindness of old friends. Understand?”

Ethan did understand. He got the message all too well.

He might be out of the red, but he was never going to be free of Julian.

When Julian left, Ethan glanced at the receipt he’d been given. It was a standard casino payout receipt, and he was about to crumple it up, but something made him look twice. It should have said cash from winnings, but instead it was cash from credit.

He studied it more carefully, and as the realization of what it was dawned on him, his stomach churned, threatening to bring up all the booze he’d just had. He must have read the slip ten times over, each time hoping it would change. If he could alter what was on it, he wouldn’t need to acknowledge the truth of what she’d done for him and all the repercussions that went along with it. It was a cash withdrawal slip from Sam’s personal credit card, not from table winnings.

The depth of what that meant struck him like a bucket of ice-cold water. Sam had lost his money, but instead of making him face Julian without it, she’d taken out ten thousand of
her own money
to pay off his debt.

He stared at the slip, still not fully comprehending it.

Why in God’s name would she do that?

Why would she go out on a limb for him, putting
herself
so deep into the hole to save his sorry ass?

And more importantly, how the hell was he going to repay her?

Sam rolled over, and her nose brushed against the rough stubble of Ethan’s jaw. For a moment she was surprised, forgetting how she had come to be in bed with him, then doubly surprised to find him still there with her.

“Hi.” He pulled her closer, tangling his legs with hers and placing kisses on her forehead, nose and lips. “You sleep okay?”

“Yeah.” She melted into the warmth of his body, the perfect smell of his skin—musky with a lingering hint of their sex on him. “You?”

“I had to go out for a bit. Took care of something.”

She raised her face and met his eyes. “And it’s all good?”

“It’s all good.” He didn’t seem as relieved as she’d hoped, and she worried the guy might have given him some trouble.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I promise. We’re golden.” He kissed her again, the teasing graze of his tongue chasing away her doubts, making her forget the concerned look on his face.

When he pulled back, the smile he gave her wasn’t lascivious. It was so sweet and open it made her feel warm all the way down to the bottom of her belly.

Sam thought about the money she owed and the river of shit she’d be paddling her way out of once she got home. But she took one look at him, and her problems faded away. For right now, she had it good.

Everything else could wait.

With each new kiss from Ethan she let all the worry and drama slip away. Money was money, and maybe it was worth it to have a few minutes like this.

At least she’d let herself believe that until the Visa bill came.

Chapter Twenty

Two weeks later

“I need something really naughty.”

The words on their own weren’t what Sam expected to hear on a bright Saturday morning, but coming from the miniscule, seventy-eight-year-old woman standing in her shop door, they were all the more out of place.

“I beg your pardon?”

Jessamine Bowler once claimed she began progressively shrinking after she turned fifty, and if things continued at their current pace, she’d vanish before she had a chance to die. She was currently under the five-foot mark, and that put her puffy orb of white hair under Sam’s chin. Bright eyes set under a deeply wrinkled brow stared up at her.

“I said…” Jessamine articulated her words slowly and clearly, as if Sam were the one losing her hearing, “…I need something
really
naughty.” The old woman thumped a pink-spined paperback against Sam’s chest and tapped the cover with a gnarled, pale fingertip.

Danielle Steel.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Sam took the novel so Jessamine would stop shoving it at her.

The older woman stepped backwards, wobbling slightly, then gave Sam a conspiratorial smirk. “I want to read something…tawdry.” A wink.

Sam couldn’t pretend she’d heard wrong. Mrs. Bowler was pushing eighty, and she’d just requested literary porn. Smut. She wanted the dirty stuff. And these days, who didn’t? It seemed like every other person who walked into Sam’s bookstore lately—especially since she’d gotten home from Vegas—wanted their reading to be a little on the wild side.

“Not you too,” Sam groaned, though she laughed as she said it. With the recent surge of interest in erotic titles, each one she sold served as a reminder of her NC-17 romp with Ethan. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in something else? Some Mary Higgins Clark? Some Proust for light reading, maybe?” She raised her brows hopefully, directing Jessamine’s attention to the dozens of loaded bookshelves with a sweep of her hand. “
Anything?
”

“Nope. Romance. Hot, quick and nasty. I don’t have all the time in the world, you know.”

Hot, quick and nasty.
A pang shot through Sam when a wicked thought of Ethan surfaced. A man she hadn’t seen and had barely spoken to since her plane had lifted off the tarmac at McCarran International.

Sam sighed and pointed to the newly expanded erotica shelf. “The ones on the front-facing row are all
Publishers Weekly
top picks,” she added. “Very highly recommended.”

“Have you read any of them?”

“Not really my thing,” Sam said, walking away from Mrs. Bowler and sitting on the high stool behind her counter. True, the dirty books weren’t her cup of tea, but not because she had anything against the content. More like nothing in the pages of those books could compare to the passion she’d experienced in real life under the skilled hands and tongue of Ethan Silver.

Since she’d gotten home, she’d tried her best to forget what had happened in Vegas. It wasn’t easy considering she nearly had a coronary every time she looked at her statement online. But all the same, Sam had her shop, she had her small-town life, and that was enough for her.

It had to be enough, because Ethan hadn’t called, and their only communication now was via short one- or two-word texts that made her more sad than happy. They’d spent the whole weekend in bed, but once she’d left, he’d practically vanished from her life.

She tried to be okay with the idea of never seeing him again, but some days—like when ancient old ladies asked for smut recommendations—Sam had to wonder if she was only kidding herself. Her time with Ethan had been the most exciting week of her life, and she could admit she’d hoped there was a way it could have continued. Too bad that didn’t seem like a possibility anymore.

While Mrs. Bowler hemmed and hawed over different trade paperbacks with scantily clad women in various bondage gear on their covers, Sam opened her laptop and browsed an online catalogue of upcoming releases. She added some paperback mysteries—popular with the old men at the diner—and more romance novels. She wasn’t going to deny the folks in Edison Falls a little extra spice just because she was suddenly sex-deprived.

A biography of Vàclav Havel—a Czech politician—caught her eye, and she added it to the order for herself. Nice and dry, no sex there.

Who was she trying to fool? She was just doing everything in her power to resist Googling Ethan for the seven hundredth time since getting home. Much to her embarrassment, she had visited the picture of them he’d posted online so many times that whenever she typed “t” into her address bar, it autocompleted the Twitter link for the photo.

They’d been happy in that picture, with a world of possibility ahead of them. Then Julian had ruined everything.

“I’ll take these.” Mrs. Bowler plopped a stack of shiny books on the rough wood counter, and Sam added the pink Danielle Steel to the short tower.

As Sam was ringing the books up, the bell over her stained-glass front door tinkled. A cold breeze wafted into the store, and some determined snowflakes followed the new arrival in.

“Hi,” Sam greeted without looking up. “I’ll be right with you.”

A masculine grunt was the reply, diverting Sam’s attention from Mrs. Bowler to see who had come in. The new arrival slipped down one of the aisles before she could see his face, but the rear view was worth a long glance. He wore faded jeans that hugged a divinely rounded butt and a battered brown leather jacket snug across his wide shoulders. His hair was a short crop of dark brown curls, and Sam’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding so hard she thought she might have a heart attack then and there.

She’d lived in Edison Falls her whole life, and in all those twenty-six years she had never seen anyone with an ass like that because that ass didn’t belong to anyone from Edison Falls. Mrs. Bowler must have noticed Sam’s distraction, as the older woman craned her neck to follow Sam’s rapt gaze down the aisle.

“Oh my,” Mrs. Bowler said, tapping the counter thoughtfully. “I’ll take one of him too. To go, please.” She cackled at her own joke, and the man turned to see what they were laughing at.

For a moment Sam was so dumbfounded at Ethan’s sudden appearance she couldn’t look away. She thought she was imagining him, except Mrs. Bowler had to see him too if she was making coy jokes.

His full lips quirked up in a grin when he caught her looking, and Sam shook off her stupor, returning her attention to Mrs. Bowler.

“Um. That’ll be…uh…” She jammed a few buttons on the cash register, trying to remember her basic motor functions. “Forty-three sixty, please.”

Mrs. Bowler handed over her credit card, and Sam completed the purchase, cramming the books into the reusable bag her best customer always insisted on using. Sam hurriedly handed over the receipt and bid Mrs. Bowler happy reading.

“You have fun, dear.” The older woman winked and bustled out the door, the bell chiming her exit with a jingly flourish.

Sam gripped the edge of the desk, the rough surface grating against her hands, and took a deep breath.

When Sam failed to say anything, he offered her a raspy, “Hi.”

She caught her breath and stared at him, unable to speak or move. She stood behind the counter and watched as he shifted from one foot to the other, looking down at his boots self-consciously.

When she finally managed to get a word out, she wished she hadn’t, it sounded so pathetic. “Ethan?”

He smiled that stupid, soul-jarring smile of his, and Sam’s heart swelled to near bursting. All the feelings she thought she’d left behind in her Vegas hotel room were suddenly on her all at once, making the room feel small and far too hot.

“Hi, Sam.”

“Are you…? What are you doing here?” The words sounded harsh, but it was only because she was having trouble swallowing, and her throat felt dry while her tongue was ten times too big for her mouth. “How did you find me?” she croaked.

“Samantha Hart? You think there are a ton of women with that name who own bookstores in Oregon?” He shrugged, his smile never wavering. “Did you not want me to find you?”

She shook her head, then not sure if that was giving the right answer, she switched to nodding. “I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.”

“I wasn’t sure you would either.”

At least he was being honest.

“You barely answered any of my texts. Saying ‘fine’ or giving yes or no answers…” Her grip remained tight on the countertop. She wasn’t sure what she would do with her hands if she released it. She would either hold on to him so tight she’d never want to let go, or she was going to slap him.

“I didn’t know what I could say to you.” The bruise on his face had healed, but there was still a slightly yellow shadow left behind. His lip had healed up nicely though, and it would have been a shame if she hit him and made a new mark.

That there were no new bruises on him had to be a good sign.

“Julian has been leaving you alone?”

“For now.”

Her knuckles began to throb, and finally Sam had to let go of the counter. “It’s good to see you. You look—”

“Sam, I know what you did.”

“What?” She didn’t think her heart could have beat any harder, but now her pulse was hammering so loud she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.

“The money. I know what you did to get me that money. That it was yours, not the casino’s.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she felt embarrassed. “Oh.”

Ethan took a few steps closer but left a gap between them as he placed a white slip on the counter. He seemed as afraid to touch her as she was to be touched. The paper was her withdrawal slip from the casino. It had been touched so often it was clear in places. Ethan looked from the counter back up to her. “You saved my life. Do you understand that?”