Crazy Love (13 page)

“Maybe we should just sell it.” He retorted icily. He turned on the faucet and began rinsing out his brushes.

“That’s certainly an option, I suppose…but I thought if Mama wanted to stay—”

“I’ll think it over.” He flipped off the sink with an authoritative voice that stopped me from pressing him. I hadn’t heard him sound so commanding since before…Daddy. It was refreshing, but also more than a little confusing. I held my hands up in concession.

“Fine. But don’t take too long.”

I turned my face skyward, basking in the glorious sunshine as Jayse and I walked arm in arm down Broughton Street. Nervous energy had me practically crawling out of my skin. Trip had called me with the news that his mother was hosting a charity event and Violet would be there. We finally had an opportunity to put our surreptitious plan into action. I was sure if we pretended to be dating, she’d become outrageously jealous, and I could help him to get her back.

So for the second time in less than two weeks, I was dress shopping. Trying on clothes really wasn’t my thing, but thankfully I had Jayse on my side. When I asked him for fashion advice, he insisted we make a day long extravaganza of it. Or, in his words, “day of complete and total happiness”. We began with a decadent brunch at The Firefly Café and had booked pedicures and chair massages for the late afternoon. In the meantime, I needed a dress that, in Trip’s words, was “both classy and hot at the same time”.

Fuck
.

I suspected I’d look a bit like Leo Dicaprio at dinner in
Titanic
during this event, but making Violet jealous had been my idea, so I had no one to blame but myself. Jayse, in typical Jayse fashion, seemed oblivious to my internal nervous breakdown. He prattled on, discussing simple accessories and insisting I have a clutch purse and shoes that match. He had “a vision of the look” I needed, and since his
a capella
group had coincidentally been asked to perform at the same fundraiser, he felt it was his duty to make sure I reflected well
on him
. Thriving in his natural “retail therapy” habitat, he practically floated down the sidewalk, chattering about the amazing set list his group had assembled for the event.

As I half-listened, I thought about Sam. Trip had also invited me to Sam’s birthday weekend. I had a little time to decide. It wasn’t until the weekend before Christmas. He was having it at Trip’s beach house on Tybee Island. I argued that I wouldn’t know anyone but Sam and that Sam and I were not exactly friendly, Trip encouraged me to bring Jayse along. I reluctantly agreed, though this would just complicate matters. Jayse still believed – like everyone else did – that Trip and I were an item. Jayse was sure to balk at the sleeping arrangements if I stayed with him, and I could
not
share a room with Trip and guarantee I wouldn’t misbehave. Though I knew it was highly unlikely, I hoped we’d have Trip and Violet reunited by that time, and then the whole charade could be over.

Jayse had been teasing me all day about having “a sugar daddy with oceanfront property.” I really wanted to spill my guts and tell him that I was still pathetically single, but for all of this to work, he had to believe the ruse. Jayse was physically incapable of keeping a secret, and no one could know Trip and I weren’t together. It was all an essential part of our scheme.

I knew I should pick up a gift for Sam while we were out and about, since I never get time to shop. I couldn’t help but feel very apprehensive about the idea. What do you get the man who literally has, or at least has the money to have,
everything
? But how awkward would it be to go to a birthday bash for him and be the only one who didn’t have a gift?

What the hell do you get a guy who has millions of dollars to toss around on any little thing he likes?

I thought about the cuff links that Trip bought him and decided to give the gift a little bit more thought before lamely resorting to an impulse buy. Besides, today I was carrying around Trip’s cash and was on a specific mission. We’d had a wicked fight about his giving me money, but he’d insisted on paying for my outfit for the event. It was probably for the best; I may have ended up in a gown borrowed from a drag queen or a vintage dress from the Salvation Army.

“This one.” Jayse yanked a lavender gown off the rack and held it up in front of me critically. It had a halter top and a straight skirt with a side slit. I had to say, color-wise, Jayse knew his stuff.

“I don’t know, it looks awfully clingy.”

“The skirt and color are conservative. Balance, my dear girl. Try it on. I’ll look for shoes.”

After paying for Jayse’s selection, we decided to take a much-needed food break. In the spirit of our “perfect day” theme, we went to B&D’s for lunch. We sat in the same side of the booth, as we always did, so that we could watch people come in the door and dissect them in our typical snarky manner. Blissful bitchiness over double cheese burgers. I had just ripped on a yuppie couple and had Jayse laughing appreciatively when the door chimed again and Sam Beaumont walked through it.

Sam looked incredible, as always. His bright eyes seemed to match his aubergine sweater, which stretched across his sinewy shoulders and arms as if tailored specifically for him. Based on Trip’s comment about his “tailor,” maybe it was. I felt the smile vanish from my face. Those bedroom eyes of his scanned the room and met mine. He slowed his stride for a moment and shifted his gaze to Jayse, whose approval for Sam’s appearance was expressed in a wordless vocalization that sounded as if he’d just bit into a salted caramel.

“Mmmm…” He murmured narrowing his eyes at Sam and turning to me with a sexy grin. The grin faltered when he saw my face, which suddenly felt all tingly and splotchy. “You know him?”

“Sam. Beaumont,” I managed, with the talent of a ventriloquist. Jayse whipped his head back in Sam’s direction, his blonde curls bouncing chaotically. Sam wore his frosty politician’s face now as he proceeded past us to the bar where he was greeted by an attractive black man whose grin lit up the restaurant. Sam took the seat next to him, and the man slapped him on the back in a familiar manner.

“Oooo. Yummy! Tell me you know
him
, too!” Jayse drooled.

“Nope. Sorry.”

“Damn.”

Our food arrived, but I noticed my appetite had vanished. I could hear Sam’s friend exclaim, and I peeked over my shoulder at them. Sam gesticulated with his hands as he spoke, and his friend seemed to listen with surprise and fascination. As Sam continued, the man continued to nod emphatically. Sam lifted his drink to his lips and glanced in my direction. I whipped around and practically ducked down in the booth on instinct.

“Smooth, Annie.” Jayse snorted and tossed some cash on the table and stood. “Stop drooling over your boyfriend’s brother and eat something. I’m running to that shoe shop next door. I’ll be back in five.”

Panicked at being abandoned in the same vicinity as my attractive nemesis, I hissed Jayse’s name. He pretended not to hear me and sashayed out the door. I took a few cleansing breathes, trying to push my bathtub wet dream out of my mind. The way Sam had stared at me in Trip’s studio last week, like I had nothing on at all, still had me tossing and turning. I shook my head at my own craziness, then cut my burger in half and took a bite. It was so good, I took an even bigger bite, and that’s when I saw Sam’s friend pass by my booth. He cast me a curious glance and then beamed at me. As I watched him head into the men’s room, I felt my shoulders tense as I waited for Sam to pass by. I just wanted to avoid another awkward confrontation. Trying to look deeply involved in my food, I reached for the condiments. The top of the ketchup bottle popped off, dumping its entire contents on my plate. I swore around my half chewed beef and grabbed a handful of napkins just as Sam slid into the seat across from me.

“Big ketchup fan?” His greeting sounded playful, but his posture was as uptight as they come. I choked down my oversized mouthful and washed it down with a drink.

“Hello, Sam. What brings you to B&D’s? Slumming?”

He scoffed at my suggestion. “This happens to be my favorite restaurant. What about you? Hot date?” His jaw muscles worked overtime. I felt the sides of my mouth twitch at the thought.

“You could call it that.” My obvious amusement seemed to infuriate him, but he somehow managed to stuff it all back inside, as always.

“I thought you were with Trip. What’s with the blonde dude?” He deadpanned, almost sounding carefree and curious. Almost. I toyed with my straw and took another drink.

“Who? Jayse?” I smiled naughtily, enjoying that someone as intelligent as Sam could be so imperceptive.

“Are you a couple?”

I started giggling, which quickly progressed into a full throated chuckle. “A couple of what?”

Sam’s expression remained unchanged, but his entire face turned scarlet.

“I’ll take that as a no. So why’s this guy giving me dirty looks?” Sam continued when my laughter died down. I started cackling again because Jayse had most assuredly been giving him dirty looks, but not in the way Sam meant. Sam rolled his eyes, but he seemed mildly entertained by my reaction. It was at that moment that Jayse reappeared beside the booth.

“Sam, this is my roommate, Jayse.” I managed, attempting to conceal my amusement.

“Hello.” Sam began in an oh-so-Sam-like way. All polite and guarded and scrumptiously southern.

“Charmed, I’m sure.” Jayse’s effeminate lilt caused Sam’s eyes to widen in surprise. Jayse turned back to me with jazz hands. He was so excited he practically sang his words. “Guess what I found? Beige ‘fuck me’ pumps!”

He placed his hands on his hips as if waiting for the accolades.

“Yay! How much?” I reached for my wallet.

“Eighty.” He replied and I winced, pulling out a 100 dollar bill which I handed to him. He waved it in the air and practically skipped out the door.

“I see.” Sam stammered, looking after Jayse with shocked awe, as if he were some mythical beast. I simply nodded, relishing the humiliated expression he wore. “Listen. I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Which time?” My retort tasted overly harsh, but I held his gaze anyway. I’d moved beyond his “daddy issues” comment, but I’d be damned if
I
was going to blink first!

“Take your pick.” He didn’t flinch at my question, just smiled wryly. There was a pause as he glanced at the table top as if looking at notecards for what to say next. When he spoke again, he leaned forward slightly, fixing his impressive eyes on me. “Dealing with Trip has been…challenging the last few years. He tends to bring out the worst in me. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for what I said in the car. I was way out of line. I hope you’ll accept my apology, especially since it looks like we’ll be crossing paths a lot.”

It wasn’t until I exhaled that I realized I’d been holding my breath the entire time he spoke. I’d had a lot of time to think about his intentions the day we met, as well as Trip’s revelations about his past exploits. Though I knew what Trip had confessed was likely just the tip of a gargantuan iceberg, knowing even that much allowed real sympathy for Sam. And I was actually starting to like him
. A lot.

Oh shit.

I was afraid. Like jittery-trying-to-get-your-keys-to-unlock-the-car-door-when-you-hear-footsteps-behind-you-in-a-dark-parking-lot afraid. What the hell was it about Sam that freaked me out so much?

You aren’t afraid of him, Annie. You’re afraid of
you
.

A feeling of serenity settled over me, and I wanted to tell Sam that I was over our little war. That Trip and I weren’t seeing each other. That I’d had a naughty dream about him and that I
ached
to watch his reaction as I described it in explicit detail. I wanted to explain that I’d been a megabitch the day we met and that I would very much like to start over, too.

But I needed to help Trip and stick to our plan. I wished I could find a way to convince Sam that Trip wasn’t permanently broken. If I could just get Sam to listen to reason and give Trip one more chance…

One more chance. Would Trip make the most of it? Would he just tumble off the wagon if Violet ignored our little show and went and got married anyway? I considered how many times I’d foolishly bought my mother’s promises to change. On reflex, I flashed back to the day I told my grandparents that my mom’s boyfriend was touching me. The abject terror I felt when they confronted her was nothing compared to the rage when she proceeded to betray me. I listened in horror as my mom calmly explained that I’d been on cough medicine with codeine and that I’d hallucinated the entire thing. And even as I felt my blood boil and my temples throb like they might explode, I didn’t argue. Why bother? I could see by the looks on my grandparents faces that they wanted, no
needed,
it to be true. After all, wouldn’t it be a relief if they didn’t have to worry about me being irreparably damaged? Wouldn’t it be easier to
not
call the police and not have to take in three kids when my mom and the pervert ended up in jail? The sudden, crystal-clear memory racked me with nausea. I dropped my fork and covered my mouth with my napkin as tears sprung into my eyes. I felt Sam reach across the table and place his hand softly on my arm.