NEXT TO ME (A Love Happens Novel Book 1) (20 page)

A few more taps and his screen popped up a wealth of information on one Daniel Davis. It seemed that good old Danny had just finished a three month stint in county lock up for domestic assault.
Domestic.
What a fucking gem. Speaking of breaking something, Sam wanted to start with that preppy asshole’s perfect nose and work his way down from there, not that he would feel any better about this whole situation if he did. Wiping that pretentious smile off his blue-blooded face would only give Sam temporary satisfaction and sore knuckles for the rest of the day.

Ali was married.
Was
. That was the keyword here, he reminded himself. As in, used to be but isn’t anymore. Her ex-husband might be the one needing the reminder however, based on his possessive comments from this morning. That was a guy clearly in denial about the end of his marriage if Sam ever saw one, and in his business, he came across plenty just like him. Their ego was always bigger than their brain and their grip on reality was skewed in their favor.

But Sam’s anger wasn’t really directed at the slick guy in the thousand dollar suit. No, it was all aimed at Ali, the girl who had looked him right in the face and lied. So she wasn’t married, that much was true. But not a whole hell of a lot else that she’d told him was. And the million dollar question was why. Why would she feel the need to lie to him about things that wouldn’t have made a difference to him, anyway? Telling him that she was recently divorced or that she was from Oklahoma—or that she was so goddamn smart she went to NYU on a full ride, for fuck’s sake—wouldn’t have scared him off. Maybe he would have thought twice about screwing her six ways to Sunday an hour after he’d first step foot in her house, but then again, maybe not. Last night was undeniable proof that he didn’t always think with the the right head when she was within arms reach.

Sam stared at the report he’d tossed down on his messy desk and sighed, cursing long and low as he ran his fingers over his tired eyes. Thankfully he was alone in the quiet office, empty as usual on a late Sunday afternoon, and there were no prying eyes to witness his meltdown. Goddamn it, he was pissed. And worse, he was fucking hurt because there was more going on here than just a simple omission about her marital status or a white lie about geography. If it were only those things, Ali wouldn’t have kept them hidden, especially when he’d asked her outright. There was more, Sam knew that much for sure, but no way in hell was he ready to hear it from Ali herself. He was going right to the source on the one issue that had been gnawing away at his gut since last night. The connection between Ali and his sister.

Thanks to those two women in particular, his phone had been blowing up for the past few hours. Donna had left one message and sent two texts, all wanting to confirm he would show his ugly mug—her words—at their monthly dinner tonight, which according to her math meant he better be on his way already.

As for the other messages, all coming from a despondent sounding Ali, Sam dismissed without responding. Leaving her on the beach, with tears filling her eyes as she scrambled to cover her ass, had been the right thing to do. He’d loaded Pete up into the car and hightailed it out of there, barely glancing at the bright white Mercedes parked in front of her house. It was hours later before she’d started calling. Hours
after
her ex-husband had shown up, and even though Sam would deny it to his dying day, his mind had been conjuring up all kinds of tormenting shit, imagining them engaged in a heated sexual reunion even though her sheets still smelled like him. And when his phone had finally rung, showing Ali’s name on the display, his heart had tripped and that sent his short temper soaring even higher. He should be dismissing her as a liar and a fraud, letting her go as easily as she came. He should be checking her off as nothing more than a great lay, although clearly one for the record books, and moving on to greener pastures, thankful he uncovered her deceptive behavior before the shit got too deep.

So why the hell was he feeling like she’d just sucker punched him below the belt and sent him to his knees? And like she could easily placate him with the right amount of apologetic bullshit and crocodile tears? Not that she was apologizing. Instead, her messages were geared more toward him being a knucklehead and a chicken shit, and less toward her being dishonest. She had actually called
him
, a former sniper in the United States Army with countless confirmed kills, a chicken shit. That took some kind of balls and had him nearly calling her back just so he could defend his manhood. The lady knew how to get to him and Sam admired her gumption. If Ali’s intention was to get him to talk to her, that little stunt had almost worked, but his stung ego had him sending her calls to voice mail and deleting the texts without a glance.

His phone chimed now, the chirping sound loud in the silent office, but this time it was Donna calling him out for being late. Damn it, he’d been sitting here stewing about Ali for the last hour when he should have been on his way to Chula Vista and his own personal version of hell—the suburbs.

Breaking every speed limit posted, Sam was there in record time, shaving a good ten minutes off the normal hour long drive.

“You’re late. That’s very bad manners.” The chastising voice of a five-year-old greeted him at the front door, blocking his entry into the messy house. “Did you bring me a present?”

Sam had to look down to respond, amazed that he now had a total of three females royally pissed off at him. He was having quite the fucking day. “You’re right and I’m sorry.” He held his hands up in surrender. “And I don’t have a present for you, but I did bring a dog. Does that count for something?”

The childish screaming that took place was loud and scared the shit out of Pete, who wasn’t exactly fond of unpredictable, short people and was currently hiding behind Sam’s legs.

“Oh, Uncle Sammy, thank you. I love her.” Ava’s little voice melted Sam’s heart and he stepped aside as she wrapped her fingers, sticky with God only knew what, around poor Pete’s furry neck. “Can I keep her? Please, please, please?”

The dog looked at him with pleading eyes and Sam shrugged, as if he was actually considering it. “You can keep him for the next few hours. Until I leave, okay?”

“But I want her, Uncle Sammy.” Her whine was dramatic, as if having a puppy was the very answer to all her problems. Pete, not happy about being called a girl, looked back toward the car, telling Sam as best he could that they should get the hell out of there, like pronto. Not gonna happen, buddy.

Donna appeared in the foyer, seeming eager to crush the little girl’s hopes and dreams, sparing Sam the task. “No, you absolutely may not have a puppy, Ava. Now go wash that mustache off and change your dirty shirt before dinner.” Shooing her daughter toward the bathroom, Donna shook her head and waved Sam in. “I swear the babysitter lets her drink red punch just to spite me. I’ll never get that stain out.”

Sam followed her into the large kitchen, which looked like a tornado had recently touched down. “You think she’s conspiring against you? Because you’re such a neat nick, right?”

His point was well made when he had to move a kid-sized pair of pink cowboy boots, a half eaten bag of potato chips, two orange highlighters and an Architectural Digest from a kitchen chair, just so he could sit down. He raised a brow and held up the magazine, the irony not lost on him.

“Don’t judge.” Her tone wasn’t teasing, but it made him smile anyway.

So did the scent of roasted lamb chops and his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since last night. That slimy fucker had probably eaten his goddamn pizza, too.

“You haven’t been in touch lately, Sam. Is work really busy?”

He made a non-committal sound, tapping one of the highlighters on the table, turning it end over end. “Hey, what do you know about the woman who moved in next door to me?”

Donna’s attention went from the bubbling saucepan on the cooktop to him and she pursed her mouth, thinking for a second. “You mean Ali Ross?” At his nod, she continued, “Well, thanks to her I now have a zero balance on all my credit cards. That deal was a slam dunk and made me top sales person at the firm. The commission was huge, Sam.” Pointing a wooden spoon dripping some kind of sauce in his direction, she added, “And since you told me that advertising on bus stop benches was a waste of money, I feel the need to rub this sale in your face. Got myself slapped on five more up in La Mesa last week.”

“She got your number from a city bus?” He couldn’t hide his disbelief.

“Not the bus. The bench,” she huffed indignantly, as if plastering her face on the side of an air polluting city bus was somehow more distasteful than the bench itself. “And if that’s the caliber of client I can expect, then I wish I’d done it years ago.” Pulling a large, roasting pan out of the double oven, she dabbed the meat with fingers he hoped to hell were clean and nodded her head. “Okay, it’s done. Let’s eat.”

Walking to the kitchen table carrying rainbow colored, plastic plates, she yelled for Ava and swiped her arm across the scarred wooden surface, clearing the rectangular tabletop in one smooth move as she pushed all the clutter to one end. Sam grabbed the silverware and helped her, his mind stuck on yet another juicy detail about Ali. The woman had more than enough cash in the bank to purchase an expensive beach house in an upscale community, yet she had hired a realtor after seeing an advertisement on a fucking bus stop bench.

“Hey, did she call you about the alarm? I gave her your card and told her Scorpio could take care of it quickly. She was always in a hurry.” Her eyes rounded. “Oh, no! Did she talk to Asher instead? I’m telling you, Sam, that guy is bad for business. Sure, he has a face for the ladies and a body to positively die for, but his attitude is not suited for customer service. I told her to talk directly to you.”

Sam nodded, ignoring the comment about Ash’s anatomy. Donna just confirmed that Ali had indeed known about him.
Before
he knew about her. “I put Mike on it.” Who put Grady on it.

“You guys should start paying me referral fees, you know. Maybe Asher can come over and work it off doing hard labor. Lift something heavy and get all sweaty. Take his shirt off...” she paused, sighing. “Anyway, Ali surprised me when she chose that house. We’d looked at dozens and none had the tight security she was dead set on. I only showed her that old beach cottage because I’d had lunch with the listing agent the day before and he told me the owners would entertain any offer. And then she picks it,” Donna said, snapping her fingers, “just like that. A house sitting in the middle of a public beach, with a broken security system and no guard at the front gate. Ava! Move it!”

Ava’s pounding footsteps were loud considering she was only a tiny girl, and she came skidding into the kitchen, the red punch mustache a mere shadow of its former self.

Sam leaned back in his chair. No dog trailed behind her. “Where’s Pete?”

“I’m dressing her up for a fashion show,” her nose wrinkled. “She’s not ready yet.”

Not bothering to remind her that the dog was a boy, Sam spotted him, hiding behind a half dead ficus plant. He was wearing a pink t-shirt and a purple headband with a red flower stuck to it. Holy shit. There was no way Sam was ever getting that poor animal into the car again.

Shaking his head, he shoveled an enormous amount of food onto his plate, thinking about what Donna had just revealed. “Why would she do that?”

Donna gave him a dirty look. “She likes to play dress up, I guess. Jesus, Sam, give her a break. She’s only five.”

“Yeah, I’m only five.” Ava proudly held up four fingers and starting chanting, “Gee-zus, gee-zus, gee-zus.”

Donna glared at him and mouthed,
way to go, asshole
. To which Sam mouthed back,
you said it, not me
.

“I meant Ali.” Taking an large bite of food, he chewed slowly, lamely adding, “Ross.” He wanted to push his sister for more details, but not give himself completely away. She didn’t need to know that he was on a first name basis with his cute and conniving neighbor. That he knew what she looked like naked. What she felt like gripping him from the inside out. How she sounded when he made her come with his mouth.

“You mean why would she buy a house that wasn’t even close to what she told me she wanted?” Donna’s shrug was quick. “I have no idea.”

Sam ate in silence then, pretending to listen as Ava brought him up to speed on the jam packed social life of a first grader. He nodded as she told him—in painstaking detail—about her best friend Sara’s birthday party last weekend, about her new Princess Ariel doll who was now bald because she had
accidentally
cut off all her red hair, and how when the classroom played Heads Up Seven Up before nap time, a boy named Dakota would slam his fist against her raised thumb instead of pushing it down nicely as the teacher had instructed. Sam was going to find that little pussy named Dakota and kick his ass. And with a dumbass name like that, the kid better get used to it, too, because it was sure to be the first of many. Poor, bullying bastard.

“Have you met her then?” Donna asked absently, as soon as Ava’s incessant flow of all things important to a little girl blessedly stopped. “I told her a big, bad Army Ranger lived right next door so there was no need to worry about peeping Toms or ax murderers. You’re more of a deterrent than even the best neighborhood watch.”

“Uncle Sammy, are you bad?” Ava asked with awe, happy to know she might not be the only one who struggled with right and wrong.

He shook his head at the little girl and she pouted, but Donna took his gesture as a response to her original question.

“You should meet her, Sam. Go over and introduce yourself. She seems normal. Down to earth and not full of herself. And very pretty,” she emphasized. “Scared of her own shadow, but still. I really liked her.” Reaching over to wipe Ava’s messy face, she told the girl to go play with Pete, and started carrying dishes to the sink. As it filled with soapy water, she turned to him. “I got the vibe that she might not like kids, but other than that, I thought you two would hit it off.”