It's in His Kiss (19 page)

Sam sat heavily. “And if they don’t?”

“We’ll see. Maybe a transplant if there’s a serious lifestyle change,” Josh said, and paused. He didn’t say it, but Sam heard it—
if he’s lucky
. Sam looked at his dad.

Mark met his gaze, the usual flash of guilt in his eyes.

Shit. “It’s going to be okay,” Sam said.

Mark nodded.

“It is,” he reiterated, because like Becca said, saying it twice would make it so.

Sweet baby Jesus,” Olivia whispered.

Becca hummed her agreement but didn’t take her eyes off front and center, which was a pack of three surfers out in the water. Cole, lean and rangy. Tanner, with more bulk to his muscle.

Sam, of the broad shoulders and ripped abs.

Becca stared at them and took a lick of her ice cream.

Olivia stared at them, too, and took a lick of her ice cream.

It was Sunday afternoon, and they were both off work. They’d made a pit stop at Lance’s ice cream stand on the pier, where Becca had also bought a bag of ranch-flavored popcorn for herself for later, and then they’d planted themselves on the sand to watch the show.

“I’d have paid money for this,” Olivia said. “Who’s the deliciously mocha-skinned one?”

“Tanner,” Becca said.

“Tanner’s pretty damn fine,” Olivia said.

“They’re
all
fine.”

Olivia snorted. “Like you’re looking at anyone besides Sam.”

This was true. Still, Becca tore her gaze off the guys to look at her cohort. “How do you know Sam but not Cole or Tanner?”

“Sam stopped one night on the highway when I had a flat tire and helped me fix it. Until I moved into the warehouse, I’d never seen the other two; they’re not exactly my shop’s usual clientele.”

Becca smiled at the thought of any of the three guys shopping at the very lovely but very feminine store Olivia had created. “You could probably easily go out with either of them, if you’re interested.”

“I’m not,” Olivia said. “At all.” But she kept looking.

So did Becca.

That night, Becca FaceTimed with Jase, who was at her parents’ house. He asked her again to come to Seattle for his upcoming concert.

And though Seattle was only two hours from Lucky Harbor, she once again declined.

Her mom and dad tried to pressure her into saying yes. They were worried about Jase, and for good reason. But Becca couldn’t carry that burden alone again, not even for Jase.

“He can’t continue without your support,” her mom said.

Becca wanted to say,
And what about me? Who’s giving me support?
But it was far too late for that question.

Jase had nudged their mom out of the way and rolled his eyes at Becca. A we’re-in-this-together gesture that
was so familiar, Becca
ached
. He looked good, she thought. Great actually. Rested. He’d gained some of his weight back, but the telltale signs were there, and she knew why her mom and dad were worried. He talked too fast, too scattered, and his eyes were way too bright.

He didn’t ask her about herself. He didn’t dare, because he knew. And when Becca came right out and asked him if he was using, their connection was suddenly lost.

She tried calling him back but he’d gone radio silent.

And a radio-silent Jase was never a good thing. Anxiety kept her up all night, watching the moonbeams dance across her walls. At dawn, she forced her concerns out of her head and went to work. Since she was early, she started the coffee and used her phone to search for cheap sheet music for the kids.

A minute later, Sam walked in. As he did every morning, he went straight for the coffeepot. He was in his usual uniform of loose, low-slung board shorts and a tight rash-guard T-shirt that clung to his mouthwatering body, complete with the cool sunglasses that made him look like the perfect combination of delicious and trouble. “Good weekend?” she asked.

“I worked on a boat.”

“You did?” she asked. “I never saw you.”

He eyed her over the rim of his mug. “Yes, you did. You and Olivia watched us surf.”

“Oh.” She felt the blush creep up her face. “Saw that, did you?”

“Little bit,” he said, obviously amused. “So did Lucille, by the way. She posted a pic of you on Pinterest, and you both look like you might be drooling.”

“It was really good ice cream,” she said weakly, and
desperately sought a subject change. “So, how’s your dad?”

“He’s facing liver failure, but there’s meds, and his doctor is hopeful.”

“And you?”

“I’m going to kick his ass if he screws this up,” Sam said simply. “He’s not acting like a guy who got some really bad news. He’s acting like he was awarded a trip to Disney World.”

“That’s because he’s living with you. It’s a dream come true for him.”

Sam didn’t say anything to this. Instead, he gestured to her phone screen. “What’s that?”

Clearly, he’d made his own subject change. “I’m trying to find music for the kids.”

“You get a budget, or you spending your own dough?” he asked.

“No budget.” She shrugged. “It’s not too expensive, and I want to do this right with them. What’s going on with the lights?” she asked, pointing to the duffel bag on his shoulder.

He set it at her feet.

She bent down and unzipped it, and then stared at the neatly stacked lights, still in their packaging. “You bought new ones,” she accused.

“Yeah, so?”

“So that’s cheating.”

“You had a problem, it’s solved,” he said simply.

She stared at him. Wasn’t that just like a guy. “I could have untangled them,” she said. “Eventually. I’d have saved you money.”

“Now you don’t have to.”

Maybe she should have been annoyed. Instead, she felt that frisson of awareness skitter up her spine. His gaze met hers, his heated, and she had to remind herself to breathe. Not just awareness, she admitted, but hunger.

Need.

Damn. He was potent.

Luckily the phone rang, and she shook off the lust and answered, “Lucky Harbor Charters, how can I help you?”

Unluckily, she sounded breathless and . . . aroused.

Sam drank more coffee, but he had a definite smugness to him, cocky bastard.

“The grouch in yet?” Mark asked in her ear.

Becca watched Sam mainline the coffee and wondered if he was ready to face his dad this early. “Uh . . .” Sam’s laser beam eyes were still on her. She smiled reassuringly.

He didn’t return it.

“Darlin’, I know he’s there. If you’re there, he’s always nearby somewhere.”

Was that true?

“How about you just hand him the phone.”

Her gaze was still locked on Sam’s. “Maybe I should take a message.”

“Darlin’, you’re sweet. Way too sweet for the likes of him. And if I wasn’t dying of liver failure, I’d prove it to you myself.”

Sam took the phone from Becca’s hand. “Stop trying to protect me,” he told her. “And stop flirting with my employee,” he said into the phone.

“Just showing you how it’s done,” came Mark’s tinny voice, loud and clear, making Becca realize that Sam had heard everything his dad had said.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Never better. Except for the fact that I’m on my deathbed. But you, you’re not okay.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked.

“You’ve got a good couple of decades left before you’ve got old-man problems and need a blue pill to get it up, and you’re ignoring that pretty young thing right in front of you.”

Sam looked at Becca.

Becca busied herself by racing her fingers over the keyboard of the computer.

Sam leaned over her and booted up the dark screen.

Becca bit her lip and met Sam’s amused gaze. With a blush, she turned away.

“What do you need, Dad?” Sam asked. “I left you breakfast on the stove.”

“Oatmeal’s disgusting,” came Mark’s answer.

“Oatmeal’s good for you.”

“Sheila called,” Mark said. “She wanted to remind me I promised to pay for the crib.”

“Didn’t she already steal all your money?” Sam asked.

Mark sighed.

“You ask for that paternity test yet?”

“Only an asshole would do that right now,” Mark said.

“A
smart
asshole,” Sam countered.

“It’s not an expensive crib,” Mark said. “I told her to go cheap with all this shit.”

Sam rubbed the spot between his eyes. “You can’t go cheap, Dad. Not with a baby.”

“It’s just a loan,” Mark said.

“Uh-huh,” Sam said.

“So . . . you’ve got enough to cover it?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Sam said. “I’ve got enough.”

“You’re not going to have to steal it, are ya?”

“Dad—”

“Kiddin’,” Mark said. “Sheesh. This kinda reminds me of when we needed rent money, and you nearly got the shit beat out of you for—”

“Yeah, great times,” Sam interrupted. “Gotta go. Check your account later on today.”

“Love ya, Sam.”

Instead of responding, Sam reached past Becca and hung up the phone.

“That was nice of you,” Becca said into the heavy silence. “To loan him money.”

“It won’t be a loan.”

She figured. “It’s sweet he always says he loves you,” she said. “Really sweet.”

Sam looked like maybe he wanted to say something, but he didn’t.

“What?” she asked.

“They’re just words.”

“Well, yes,” she agreed. “But it’d be nice to hear them.”

He looked at her for a moment. “So your parents, they never—”

“They’re not . . . demonstrative.” How the hell did they get on this? Oh, yeah. Her own big mouth. “I want to hear how you nearly got beat up.”

“The rent was past due, and there was no food. We needed money.” He shrugged. “So I found some.”

“Found?”

“The apartment next door was a grow house,” he said. “The lady who ran the place liked me. She used to feed me sandwiches sometimes. I was in her kitchen when
she was called to another part of the house. I went to her utensil drawer—which was where she kept her cash hidden—and borrowed some. Then I went to a house down the street where there was always a pool game. I doubled my start-up money in an hour. Where I got caught was trying to return the original amount to the utensil drawer.”

She stared at him. “How old were you?”

“Thirteen.”

“Holy crap.”

He shrugged. “I was an old thirteen.”

She imagined that to be true.

“My dad took a lot of shit from the neighborhood for it,” he said. “We eventually had to move. It was really stupid of me.”

“How was any of that your fault?” she asked indignantly.

He laughed. “I stole the money, Becca.”

“You had no choice!”

“There’s always a choice,” he said.

She shook her head. “You were a kid. Practically a baby. You were stuck in a bad spot and didn’t know better.”

“The pool house where I played, those guys weren’t exactly Boy Scouts. I brought some real trouble down on my dad’s head.”

She wondered if he always did that, took everything on his shoulders, but she already knew that he did. She rose out of her chair and moved toward him. And then, as he so often did to her, she got in his space and cupped his face. “Not your fault,” she said.

He flashed a small smile that shifted his stubbled jaw against her palms and gave her a shiver of pure lust.

This seemed inappropriate given the conversation, so she let him go and stepped back. “So how many times did that happen, you nearly getting killed trying to keep you and your dad together?”

He made a noncommittal sound and turned to the counter to set down his empty mug, rolling his shoulders like his neck hurt. “You ask a lot of questions.”

It occurred to her that he’d probably watered down the story, and hadn’t even told her the worst of it. She moved close and set her hands on his shoulders.

His muscles were vibrating with tension.

“Shh a sec,” she said, and dug into him, pressing her thumbs into the strained muscles.

He held himself still for a long moment under her ministrations, but finally she felt his shoulders drop and relax, and he let out a low, very male sound that seemed to have a direct line to her nipples.

“Seems like you do have a weakness,” she murmured.

Reaching back, he grabbed her hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing her palm. “More than one.”

Her stomach fluttered. “So, tell me. Did you stay out of trouble after that?”

“Oh, hell no. There was the time I threw the football through the window of a different neighbor—”

“Ha,” she said, laughing. “I did that, too. Only it was a softball. I had to work for a month on the yard, and my brother still teases me about it.” She met his gaze and saw that he was smiling, but there was something else there. “Did you have to work on the yard to make up for the cost of the glass, too?” she asked.

“Not exactly. The ball sailed through the window and beaned the neighbor on the head, and gave him a concussion.
Which wouldn’t have been a problem, except he happened to be having sex with the woman who lived on the other side of him. While her husband was at work.”

She gaped. “Serious?”

“Serious as the heart attack she claimed to have. The guy came after my dad with a tire iron.”