It's in His Kiss (20 page)

“Oh, my God.”

“Luckily my dad’s tire iron was bigger,” he said.

She blinked. “Holy cow. What happened?”

“My dad got arrested, and child services got involved.”

“Oh, Sam,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. That, and a whole host of other shit, landed me here, in Lucky Harbor. With Cole’s family.”

“And you don’t blame yourself for any of it, right?”

He laughed, but the sound was mirthless.

She reached for his hand and entangled their fingers. “Okay, so you do blame yourself. I know you must feel pretty stupid about that, seeing as what I said before is still true—none of what happened was your fault.”

He choked out another low laugh, but she could see how uncomfortable he was that he’d told her the story. She wasn’t uncomfortable; she was the opposite. She was getting a real peek inside the tough, impenetrable Sam Brody, and she liked that peek. She liked the man. But she knew saying so wouldn’t be welcome at the moment, just as she knew she had to lighten the mood or he’d leave. “You probably get a different reaction when you tell a woman that story, right?” she asked in a teasing tone. “You probably get all hugged up on and then taken to bed to be mothered.”

His green eyes gave her a look that said he was on to
her but that he’d play. “You want to take me to bed and mother me?”

“Well, mothering you isn’t the
first
thing that comes to mind . . .”

He smiled. His arm slid around her waist, and he brought her up against his hard body. “That’s good to hear,” he said, “but I’ve never told a woman that story before.”

“Why not?”

“You really do ask a
lot
of questions.”

This was true. “It’s the writer in me,” she said. “Even if I’m just a jingle writer.”

He laughed. “It’s not the writer in you. It’s the
nosy
in you.”

“Maybe,” she admitted.

“Once a peeper . . .,” he said, and kissed her neck.

She shivered. “It’s hereditary,” she claimed. “My parents, they’re nosy about everything. Where’s Jase’s itinerary, what’s Jase doing right now, why isn’t he answering his cell, who’s he seeing? Blah blah.” She caught the look on his face and shut up.

“Does everything they’re nosy about have to do with Jase?” he asked.

From day one . . .“They don’t really have to be nosy about me,” she said. “I’m usually the together one. Terrifying as that is to imagine.” She flashed a smile.

He didn’t return it. Instead, he was looking at her like she was starting to make sense for him, and she didn’t like the way that felt. “Jase has some . . . issues,” she said. “He was born premature and almost died a bunch of times. He was small and weak, and played the piano like an angel. He wasn’t exactly a popular kid. It didn’t
matter when we were traveling and playing together, but after I stopped, it was hard for him. I still protected him the best I could, but as it turns out, out I wasn’t all that good at it.” She paused. “He says he’s been sober for a few months now, and I have high hopes he’s being honest about it.” Hope, but not a lot of faith.

“He’s an addict?”

“Yes, but he’s not a bad guy.” And damn it, there she went defending him again. That was a hard habit to break.

“If he’s a good guy, then why weren’t you honest with him on the phone at the Love Shack?” Sam asked.

“Wow.” She gave a little laugh, uncomfortable at the direction the conversation had taken. Clearly, he believed Jase was a threat to her, but that wasn’t the case. At all. “You have a long memory. I just don’t want him worrying about me, that’s all,” she said. “He’s got a lot on his plate with his upcoming tour. There’s so much pressure there. He’s got this huge musical gift, but he’s not good at concentrating.”

Sam looked into her eyes. Something intense there made her feel both good and just a little bit off her axis. “And what about you?” he asked quietly.

“What about me? I walked away from that life.”

“Why?”

“I screwed it up. And
now
who’s asking too many questions?” she asked. “Anyway, I went into jingle writing, and that’s that.”

“Everyone screws up, Becca,” he said. “Some more than others.” He raised his own hand in the air and waved it.

She laughed despite herself. “I’m not cut out of the same cloth as my family,” she said. “I’m not nearly as talented. Jase is amazing. He’s just not all that good about
harnessing it. We’re a dysfunctional family, I know, but I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of family.”

He nodded, clearly knowing all about dysfunction. “It’s time.”

“Time?”

“For lesson number three,” he said.

The quick subject change threw her. As did how fast her body tightened at the thought of what that lesson might entail. At what she
wanted
it to entail.

“Boating,” he said.

She sighed.

He laughed.

She gave him a little shove, or she went to, but he caught her up and surprised her by pulling her in for a hug that made her blow out another breath. “You know what you are, Sam Brody?” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. “A big, fat tease.”

They both knew there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. They also both knew exactly what she meant. She wanted him again. Still. And she knew she wasn’t alone in that wanting. But she found she was alone in the falling. And she
was
falling, for him. She was falling for a guy who didn’t intend to fall back. She got it, she really did. In Sam’s head, love meant people relying heavily on you, and you couldn’t necessarily rely on them back.

If she pursued a relationship with him, it’d be an uphill battle all the way, but that wasn’t what held her back from saying
When
. It was far simpler than that.

Just the one night with him had nearly ruined her for all other men. Another night would do her in for sure. “Boating sounds good,” she said.

Much later that night, Becca was sitting on her bed with her keyboard, staring down at her notebook where she’d scrawled some lyrics. She was playing her fingers over the keys, looking for a melody, when a knock came at the door.

She knew Olivia was working in her shop late tonight, so it couldn’t be her. The third apartment was still vacant. Becca hadn’t ordered a pizza, and she knew Sam was avoiding her at night because he was smarter than she was. Especially after he’d taught her how to operate their boat today, a venture that had ended up being more a lesson on self-control and restraint.

She’d never been good at either.

But now she could at least passably assist on any excursion if needed, and that ability, along with all the other new skills she’d picked up this summer, made her feel good.

Really good.

Setting the keyboard aside, she rose and made her way to the door. “Who’s there?”

No one answered.

Going up on tiptoe, she peeked through the peephole.

No one. Odd. She backed away and sat back on her bed, but didn’t reach for the keyboard. She glanced out the windows. Night had fallen, and she hadn’t pulled the sheets over them. Which meant she was basically sitting in a fishbowl.

She heard a sound from the hallway.

Her stomach clenched as fear slid into it. She’d read somewhere that a brain recognized fear in less than one second and prepared itself by flooding the body with adrenaline. Turned out that was absolutely true.

You left the fear behind
, she reminded herself. Long behind. Gone were the days of jumping at every noise outside her New Orleans apartment.

Besides, she was in Lucky Harbor. Nothing to be afraid of here. But she reached out and turned off her lamp. This made her slightly less visible, but it also put her in the dark. She moved to the windows and yanked the sheets across them. Halfway back to the lamp, she heard another sound from the hallway.

Fear stole her breath, and she backed up until she ran herself into the countertop of the kitchen. She could hear her own breathing, harsh and panicked, and it brought her back to last year. Angry at herself, she grabbed her purse and rifled through it for her phone. She stared at the dark screen. She didn’t have a lot of options here. Calling her first choice was going to make her look weak and vulnerable, and oh, she hated both with a passion.

She called anyway.

Sam had closed up the warehouse and was halfway home when his cell vibrated from an incoming call. Not his dad telling him yet again why his crook of a girlfriend thought she needed a five-hundred-dollar stroller, though the name that flashed on his screen didn’t ease his tension any.

Becca.

There was only one reason for a woman to call this late at night. And though he’d never been adverse to a booty call, he hesitated. A booty call was light. Casual.

But nothing was ever casual with Becca. They’d gone there once, and he now knew that she had the potential of getting to him,
really
getting to him, in a very big way.

The biggest.

And still, he answered. “Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice was a soft whisper. A scared soft whisper. “You’re not by any chance outside my door, are you?”

“No, but I can be.” In the middle of the deserted highway, he whipped a U-turn.

In his ear, Becca let out a breath. “No. It’s fine. I’m sure it’s nothing. Never mind.” And she disconnected.

Sam pounded out her number again and waited through three tense rings before she picked up.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m being ridiculous. Ignore me.”

“Not gonna happen, babe. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I heard a sound.” She was still whispering and still sounding terrified, which just about killed him. “Thought I heard footsteps outside my door, and then a knock. But no one was there.”

“Cole’s still on the boat,” he said. “I’m going to hang up and call him. Keep your phone in your hand. Ten seconds, Becca. I’ll call you right back—”

“I don’t want to bother—”

“Ten seconds.” He disconnected and called Cole, waiting with impatience for him to answer, hating that Becca was scared and alone.

Cole finally answered with a “Yo, Grandma.”

“You on the boat?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I’m calibrating the—”

“Run over to Becca’s. She heard someone outside her door and is terrified.”

“On it,” Cole said, good humor gone.

Sam disconnected and called Becca back.

“Are you here?” she asked breathlessly.

“Not yet, but Cole is,” he said. “Any second now. I’m going to stay on the phone with you until he’s got you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m staying on the phone,” he said firmly, grinding his teeth when he got caught at the train tracks just outside of town and had to wait for a train. “Is Olivia home?”

“No, she’s working late,” Becca said.

“You expecting anyone?”

“No.” She blew out a breath. “God, it sounds so dumb now. I shouldn’t have watched
Criminal Minds
earlier. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Hearing it twice, knowing she was trying to make it true, almost had him smiling as he downshifted for a light. “You locked in?”

“Yes, but seriously, I’m sure it’s nothing. Someone was lost, probably. . .”

“Make sure you’re back from the windows so you’re
not highlighted to anyone outside,” he said. “Sit tight, I’ll be there in five.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Becca. I’m already almost there. And Cole should be there any second.”

Even as he said it, through the line he could hear three short knocks on the door, and then Cole’s voice. “Becca. Honey, it’s me.”

“He’s here,” Becca said to Sam, her voice filled with relief.

“Peek first, Becca.”

“I see him.”

“Okay, babe. I’ll be right there.”

It took him three more very long moments to get back to the harbor. He ran up to Becca’s door, and Cole answered.

“She’s spooked,” he said in a low-pitched voice. “But she won’t let me get close enough to touch her. I don’t know what’s up. I don’t think it’s good, bro.”

Sam’s gaze searched out the loft and found Becca in the club chair by her bed. She had her arms wrapped around her legs, her forehead to her knees, looking like a ball of misery. He strode directly to her and crouched beside the chair. “Hey,” he said softly.

“I’m sorry,” she said to her knees. “I totally overreacted. I’m fine, really.”

Anyone could see plain as day she was just about as far from fine as she could get. He set a hand on her bare foot, and she nearly leapt out of her skin. “Just me,” he said softly, keeping his hand on her.

Her skin was icy, but she curled her foot trustingly into his big hand.

Sam glanced back at Cole, who gave him a small shake of his head as he filled a glass of water and brought it over.

Sam took it from Cole and handed it to Becca. “Drink this.”

While she did, Cole quietly said, “I ran the exterior to get here. Didn’t see anyone. The door to the building was closed but not locked. Her door was locked. No cars in the lot but mine.” Cole squatted beside Sam and looked into Becca’s pale face. “How you doing, honey?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I really appreciate—”