Page 34 of Stand
“Don’t forgive me for what I did then, Ty. I knew better. I had plenty of examples of how not to be a bitch. I chose to ignore them.”
He leaned forward. “But you know it now. That makes you a whole different person. And you’re sitting there with bruises on your face thatmyex-wife put there. I think that gives you a free pass on anything that went down in high school.”
She put her hand to her jaw. “I wish I’d gotten to her sooner. Your face is a mess. And Matt!”
“Yeah. But it wasn’t your job to help us, and you did it anyway.”
The switch from memories of twenty years ago and Julia’s actions yesterday almost gave him a headache. In a million years, he never thought he’d be sitting here, comforting Sam about her life in high school. Let alone acknowledging that he’d be a lot more hurt if she hadn’t intervened.
“Anyone would have, for God’s sake. Surely?”
“Well, they didn’t. You did.” He smiled at her. “Thanks. Again, again, again.”
Her bright Fielding smile broke through her intensity. It was like looking at the sun. Ty’s heart gave a disturbing tug. “You’re welcome, welcome, welcome.”
They were pretty close now, their bodies leaning over the table. Sam’s lips were slick with watermelon juice. God help him.
He’d been this close to her once before. It had been dark then, and secluded. And she hadn’t mentioned it once in all these days they’d been thrown together. But he’d remembered every second of those minutes, and his body reacted to her now. Back then she’d smelled like rum and Coke and pot. Now she was fresh and bright, so bright she hurt his eyes. He could see the lines fanning out from her eyes and the tan marks under her bra strap. He could have stared at her for hours and not be tired of learning every single little thing about her skin.
Did he lean farther forward, or did she? He only knew that his hand had come out to cup her shoulder, which was warm and smooth, and he could feel that bra strap under his fingers. She was so effortlessly sexy. She couldn’t even eat fruit without making him want to—
Later, he’d swear she kissed him, but it really didn’t matter. All he knew was that he’d been dying to lick that watermelon off her lips, and now he was. Her mouth was as plump and inviting as it looked. She gave a little sigh, and Ty used it as permission to move his hand to touch her hair, which was thick and strong; he thought he could feel all the individual strands against his newly sensitive fingertips.
Her hands were on his waist. Maybe they were holding him up. He didn’t know. He could only continue to lean forward and kiss the most intoxicating woman he’d ever known, to feel her breath against his wet mouth and taste her lips again and again and again, not opening his mouth because this couldn’t be real but desperate for the dream to continue, to take whatever she could give him, for this second only. And then this one. And this one…
A car’s exhaust fumes made their way into his fuzzy brain, imposing on the glorious scent of Sam’s skin. He opened his eyes, hating to come back to his surroundings.
An electronic click sounded right below them.
He broke away and looked to his left, beyond the porch railing. A man in a plain white T-shirt and nondescript jeans was holding a camera up to them and had obviously just taken a photo.
“Hey!” Ty yelled, but the man clicked the camera again, then bolted back to his car.
“What the hell?” Sam was out of his arms and halfway down the steps before he could follow her, but the car had already driven off. “Who was that? Press?”
The Fieldings had history—bad history—with the press, but Ty knew that wasn’t it. He tried to gather his scattered thoughts. From kissing Sam to this? “She’s gotten someone to follow me.”
“What?” At least Sam looked as jarred as he did. Her hair was staticky and stood out all over where his hands had been in it, and her cheeks were flushed. “Oh, Julia?” she went on, effectively stopping his inventory of her face. “God, that sucked. I feel so exposed.” She hugged her waist. “What good does it do to follow you? She’s already in jail! There were a hundred witnesses to what happened yesterday. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He went back up the steps to the front door. He hated how shaky his legs felt. He couldnotlet down his guard again. “I don’t know anymore. Her decision-making is… clinically bad. And her parents back her up. They’ve got the money to pay a PI. Not that I’ve got anything to investigate. For Christ’s sake.”
He opened the door. He’d had a few moments of healing there on the porch. Kissing Sam had been an A-1 level of stupid, though as long as she’d been willing—and she had been, he knew that much—who cared if they kissed? Despite the stinging wound under his eye, he might have considered himself happy in that moment.
So much for that idea.
“I’m going to go check on Matt,” he said.
“Okay.” Her voice was lower, showing that vulnerability again. Ugh, he wanted to wrap his arms around her and keep her away from peeping photographers and manic ex-wives and everything.
But she was Sam Fielding, and she wouldn’t appreciate his machismo. He’d do better ifshewas the one looking out forhim.
No. You don’t get to have that. Not until the kids are safe.
He turned away from her and entered the cool, dark house.
Chapter 9
Sam stayed on the porch until she heard footsteps above her, going into Jake’s room where Matt still lay. Then she collapsed onto the nearest chair, whose old wicker groaned at her sudden weight.